Winning at Losing

Best friend, worst enemy!

In November of 2014, I went in for my annual checkup…for the first time in 4 years. Not very annual, right? I knew I had been delaying taking care of myself since my family moved back to our hometown and decided to be proactive and make an appointment with a new doctor. We all hate finding new medical providers, I’m sure, but there is something even more daunting about being a woman and trying to find what my grandmother demurely refers to as a “lady doctor.” Anyway, I decided to find someone and just go so I could take care of myself and try to ward off the many diseases that seem to be taking more and more of us in the 40 to 60 age range.

I really liked my new doctor but there were several things I didn’t like at all about the visit. For one thing, my blood pressure was through the roof, literally. At 160/110 I was in heart attack and stroke range. During the visit, my blood pressure was taken three more times. While it did drop a little, it was still ridiculously high and I had to admit that each of the times I visited a doctor the two years prior to my appointment with her (always at urgent care centers because I had some infection or another), it had been equally high but I chalked it up to being ill each time. The doctor gave me the name of another female doctor, a general practitioner, and advised me to go see her to get my blood pressure under control before something catastrophic occurred. A few weeks after my visit, a nurse called to give me my lab results. My cholesterol was terrible, I was Vitamin D deficient, and the nurse stated, “Doctor R would like for you to lose 30 pounds.” I’m 5’2″ and weighed in at a bit over 200 pounds, yet I scoffed at the nurse, at her suggestion I meet with a nutritionist, and told her that I too would LOVE it if I lost 30 pounds but didn’t see that happening. It was, after all, weeks from Christmas and I am a Southern girl. I was looking forward to my Christmas feast!

The holidays passed, the scale crept up a few more pounds, and life moved forward. I had done nothing about my blood pressure or my weight or anything else. Then, in March I attended a professional conference. As I sat in a room of over 500 school librarians from around my state, it dawned on me that a lot of us were overweight. Not just a little overweight, but probably with enough extra mass to qualify as morbidly obese in many cases, me included. This was not a happy thought. I began to wonder how many of us would become ill or even die over the next year from weight issues and all the complications those extra pounds carried with them. Not long after, a beautiful woman from our church succumbed to a very long battle with liver cancer. She didn’t have breast cancer or ovarian cancer, she wasn’t an alcoholic, she had never been overweight, she had always been active, she didn’t smoke, she was a good Christian and a saint to many, many rescued dogs in our county. Yet, she died of an insidious cancer that stole her away from a loving husband and an absolutely devastated 15 year old daughter. And there I sat, in that church, in that moment, with my 12 year old daughter as my husband attended this lady’s funeral rights, knowing my health was at risk because of my lifestyle. There I sat with every opportunity to do something, anything, to change my life and the lives of those I loved. Between spending time with my colleagues and putting this lovely soul to rest, I decided that it was time to get off my butt and on my feet and do something to improve my health and quality of life.

In the previous year or two, I had occasionally used an app called MyFitnessPal to journal my eating habits and lose a few pounds. Since I was already familiar with the app and had a modicum of success using it in the past, I began with it once again on March 16, 2014. It has a calorie counter, stores weight and measurements, and even does a nutritional analysis of your foods if you record them fairly accurately using the featured barcode scanner or searching the app’s huge catalog of foods and calories (some foods have various and sundry calorie counts, however, and I always choose the middle or highest count just to be fair to myself). You can even connect with friends or through FaceBook if you want, which I did not. As I set a goal to lose 20 pounds and the app calculated how many calories I should have per day, I decided to attempt to walk around more at work, which can and often is a very sedentary job, and try to adhere to the calories I had been allotted. I also made an appointment with the general practitioner, dared my family to even use the word “diet”, and started paying more attention to what I put in my mouth. By day 4, I had succumbed to commercialism and ordered a Fitbit One online. I needed something to track this change I was undergoing. I needed a testimony to my determination. That is the best $100 I have ever spent in my life and I wear it every day. On one occasion, I forgot to move it when I changed clothes and literally felt paralyzed for a few minutes. How could I move and it not be documented?!

Our sweet Lab. Age 13!

I quickly determined that I could not continue to eat boxed, bagged, or otherwise packaged foods. While some of them were low fat, fat free, etc. they were also high in sodium. Sodium is one of the devils of high blood pressure. I had to make an actual lifestyle change. I began reading more and more about nutrition, fats, cholesterol, and high blood pressure. I quickly figured out that I would have to eat foods as close to their natural form as possible. Out went most of the junk food, much to my 12 year old’s chagrin. In came fresh fruits, vegetables, and lean meats. Our family started eating in more often than not, McDonald’s became a rare treat, and we settled into a nice little rhythm. I also added more exercise. I began walking my aged dog around the “little loop” in our neighborhood each day before school. He is getting old and having mobility issues, and at first I was afraid I would hurt him. My veterinarian assured me that this mild exercise, at his pace, was actually good for him and would preserve his muscles in the long run. In the evenings, after school and when our schedule allowed, I would walk our whole neighborhood, which included the “big loop”, the little loop, and a cut through road. This route is about 4 miles. An average person at normal activity level should walk at least 10,000 steps or approximately 2 miles at a minimum each day. I wasn’t doing that in my previous life, not even close. My new personal goal became a minimum of 10,000 steps (nearly 5 miles with my short legs) and at least 10 flights of stairs, which I set with my handy Fitbit.

With my daughter often having athletic practice after school, leaving me with about 2 hours to either spend driving back and forth or doing something productive, I made the way across the street from our school and joined a new gym. I am not a fan of gyms. I don’t like people looking at me and I don’t like seeing svelte bodies in tanks and tight shorts roam around my bulk. However, this was Planet Fitness, and true to their commercials, there was no gym-timidation. The staff always greeted everyone politely and once inside, I discovered that the people working out were often just like me and we all moved through our routines without so much as a nod most of the time. I liked it.

It was time for my doctor’s appointment. I’d done some research on high blood pressure, I’d lost about 8 pounds, and our school nurse advised me that IF I had to take a medication, I should request a low dosage of an older drug since so many of the new ones have mega side effects. You’ve seen and heard the commercials, so you know what I mean. Doctor S is a petite, attractive, and highly intelligent woman, and I discovered that I was very lucky to get an appointment with her. In fact I was her LAST new patient for a while. She was too busy with three children, a husband who is also a physician, and her patient load. She quickly told me she wanted to make sure she had time for her patients and didn’t like the thought of them waiting for weeks to see her. We discussed my issues, my latest blood work, and my blood pressure. I told her what I was doing, explained my desire to avoid massive drug interventions, and asked her advice. She told me she wanted me to stick to only 2,300 mg of salt per day, then pointed out that while it seemed like a lot, it was only a teaspoon. More obsessive label reading for me! (Did you know that ALL packaged meats have sodium in them as a preservative and that frozen meats and fish can have HUGE amounts of this preservative?!) She told me she was a very conservative physician and only wanted to give me a low dosage of a very well researched and older drug to see what would happen. She decided that with my dietary changes, she would not address my high cholesterol yet, instead giving my eating habits time to stabilize and see how that effected my numbers. By my next appointment six weeks later, I had lost 13 pounds, was in much better control of my sodium and food intake, had been determined in my exercise regime, and was feeling much better. My blood pressure was still high, but a tiny bit better. She boosted my medicine from 5 mg to 10 mg and life went on.

Let me take a minute to say that while I felt better by my first 6 week visit with my doctor, I NEVER felt bad. Many people with high blood pressure suffer terrible headaches, fatigue, aches and pains, light headedness, and more. I never had these issues. I say this to warn my dear readers that even if you exhibit no signs of health issues, that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Take time to take care of yourself so you can be there for those who love you and depend on you. Just because you don’t know you are sick doesn’t mean that illness won’t kill you. It’s like standing in a cage with a hungry lion and thinking that if you don’t make eye contact, it won’t notice you. Foolish to say the least.

Mountain view from a recent hike with the girls.

I am 118 days into my new lifestyle. I still don’t and never will call it a diet. It isn’t. It is the way I live now. I have lost 38 pounds and 7 inches from my stomach, with several more disappearing from other places. At my current weight of 164, I eat 1,450 calories give or take. I get more for more exercise and my Fitbit and MyFitnessPal apps work together to help me maximize my exercise and eating habits. I feel great, I have a better attitude over all, I deal with stress by walking and not by eating, and I have seen changes in my family and friends as a result of the changes I’ve made. They see me, a bonafide couch potato, walking AND running AND sweating, and they feel inspired. At school, my colleagues and my students see me walking around the building, up and down stairs, at least once a day. At first, they thought it was strange, but now they look for me to ask questions, to discuss issues, or just to check in. I have great friends who walk with me, and one fantastic friend who schedules mountain hikes and other fun outings where we talk about work, family, and nonsense while “glistening” in the sun. My new neighbor, a 23 year old, has seen me walk so much that she now goes along each evening and we talk, from two very different perspectives, about marriage (she is newly wed, I will celebrate my 22nd anniversary soon), family (her two dogs, my menagerie and my nearly teen), and other things. All of my neighbors look for me on the roads, which is great since we have no sidewalks! They honk and wave. They speak to me from their yards and cheer me on, and a few have even started walking themselves. One older gentleman recently told me he was trying to be more like me. What a compliment! My husband and daughter have survived the initial shock of the changes, although my husband still gets a little freaked about the fact that I suddenly WANT to be outside and am often sweaty (and, yes, a little smelly). They are eating better along with me, and my daughter even occasionally dons her workout gear and does yoga or other exercises with me. I am winning at losing and my only regret is that I didn’t do this sooner in my life. I have another doctor’s appointment in a few weeks. Both my doctor and I are excited to see where I am. She, too, is a great cheerleader. And my spirit? You got it…irrepressible! And I hope and pray that yours is too.

Below I have sketched out what I eat and so forth. I am not a doctor. I am not a nutritionist. This is what works for me. You will have to find what works for you.

What I eat:

• Breakfast – Most often, 2 egg whites, a serving of low fat cheese, a banana, and sometimes a piece of toast (low calorie, high fiber) with low-sugar preserves. (Remember, I am not diabetic, so I do not have to worry about sugar levels…you may!) Sometimes I mix it up with low fat yogurt, cottage cheese, etc. I try to keep my breakfast to around 300 calories.
• Snacks – I have two a day, around 200 calories each usually. This is often fresh fruit or veggies (small tomatoes, sugar snaps, carrots…all in the raw for crunch), but sometimes I eat packaged snacks like Popchips (to die for…watch that salt!), Quaker Quinoa bars (which my husband swore he would never eat but loves), or something else. Sometimes I might NEED a piece or two of Dove dark chocolate, a Snackwell Devils Food Cookie, or something else. I’m not a martyr! And I do love chocolate!
• Lunch – Salad with low fat dressing, usually a vinaigrette or homemade dressing, with a lean piece of meat (I love chicken). I have also eaten reduced fat Ritz crackers and light Laughing Cow swiss cheese spread in a pinch, along with salad.
• Dinner – Salad with low fat dressing, a lean meat (9/10 hamburger or other beef, Alaskan flounder or other fish, lean pork chops occasionally, and chicken, chicken, chicken), sometimes baby potatoes with a little olive oil spray and Mrs. Dash seasoning (there are several flavors now).
• I also eat black beans, chick peas, hummus, guacamole, Minion graham crackers (girl gotta snack), and other things. I stir fry veggies with a bit of olive oil or real butter. I use olive oil spray for practically everything. I try new things, try new recipes, try old recipes with lower fat and salt modifications, etc. I don’t limit myself, but I have naturally cut out most “white carbs” like bread, rice, and potatoes. I just don’t crave them so I don’t eat them very often. In fact, I crave very little, and when I do it is usually an emotional desire rather than physical hunger. I’ve become much better at asking myself WHY I want to eat something out of the norm. If I can figure out the why, I either don’t eat it or I say, “Oh, yeah, I’m eating it!” I still eat ice cream on occasion and when times are rough, there is nothing like a 100 calorie Fudgesicle.
• I eat out. Thanks to MyFitnessPal, I can sit with the menu and try to find something that is both appealing and healthy. Sometimes, I have to have a burger and fries or pizza or whatever. I do not deny myself foods. I make conscious decisions about what goes in my mouth. If I eat it, I log it in my food journal. I don’t “cheat” or leave things out because the only person I am cheating is me. If I have a bad day, I have a new day coming up soon. Nothing is ruined or over. It’s just a bad day.
• During the school year/work week, I make sure I prepare enough salad and meat on Sunday to get me through the week without stress. I know my schedule, so I know when during each week I will have time to restock and replenish my meals. Running out of foods or getting a hurry will also make you more prone to eat foods you really don’t want and are not the best for you.
• I do not drink anything with caffeine. I do not drink diet sodas unless I just have to have a fizzy…then it is diet ginger ale, Sprite Zero, or another clear soda. I mostly drink water. I try to drink a minimum of 10 glasses a day (80 ounces). It isn’t as hard as it seems. I keep a cup of water by me at all times, even at work. I also add flavor with fresh fruit or with a Lipton decaffeinated flavored green tea bag.

Vitamins:

Along with my blood pressure medicine, I take vitamin D3, fish oil, and B12. I also had to add sugar free plant based fiber tablets to my diet because, even with all the fruits and veggies, I wasn’t eating enough fiber to make the old tummy happy. Two to three of these tablets a day seem to keep me on track and they aren’t THAT terrible. I’m sure there are other fiber supplements out there, but this works for me.

Exercise:

Faithful friends!

I try to walk and run (in intervals…I have never had a runner’s high, but I’ve spotted buzzards circling overhead a few times!) every day. In my 118 days, I have NOT missed one day of exercise. I have a deep seated fear that one day is all it will take to unhinge me. Now that it is summer, I get up early in the morning, walk my dog, bring him home, and hit the road again. I take about an hour and half each morning as my time to run, walk, sweat, listen to audio books, or listen to my tunes. I’m selfish with this time. My family knows I am not happy if they interrupt, but most of the time, I’m home before they are even awake. During the school year, I walk my dog in the morning, try to walk our building at least once during the day, and do my neighborhood run or the gym or walk with my friends after school. Our school building has stairs, so I do all 10 flights at least once, sometimes twice. I also have exercise videos and “standard” exercises in my head that I can do whenever I have time or feel like something new. If I get bored, I change things, but I always get my mileage in. One thing I realized is that I must be selfish with my exercise time. It is up to me to make sure I take care of my health.

The more you exercise, the more calories your body burns, so (technically) the more you can eat. However, I try very hard not to exercise just to  eat more. In fact, at this point, I am supposed to eat about 1,450 calories per day to reach my next goal weight. I could, with exercise, eat nearly 2,000 based on my Fitbit/MyFitnessPal calculations, but I try very had to stick to the base. If I do eat more than the 1,450, I have cushion, but I don’t make that an excuse to overeat.

Weight:

I weigh every day. I may be a little obsessed. Yes, my weight fluctuates, but I weigh each morning so I know what is going on with me. If I had a big meal the night before, I expect to a be a pound or two up, but I don’t intend to allow that to stick for more than a few days. I cannot ignore the scale and get back up to where I was. It is part of my new life. I did recently find myself “stuck” or plateauing for about three weeks. I became very frustrated and angry. But when I reviewed my eating habits, I realized I was adjusting from my “school life” to my “summer life” and had been eating more than normal, more snack type foods than normal, so I began to reign myself in. I did not try to convince myself that muscle was replacing fat, excusing the weight, or anything else. That may be true, but I still have plenty of fat AND I knew very well what I was putting in my mouth.

Benefits:

• Much better state of mind.
• Better stress management. If you’ve read my other entries,  you know my daughter is not the easiest child in the world, and she will be 13 in a matter of weeks! Instead of freaking out, yelling, and arguing with her, when she pushes my buttons, I walk. I remove myself from the hormone drenched trenches and exercise. This lets her settle down and keeps her from pursuing the issue. By the time I get back, we can revisit the situation if necessary, with a more rational mind set. This, of course, is not always appropriate, but I have found it to be so most of the time.
• Better family relationships all around. I have become more self-possessed, more willing to let my family know what I want and need, instead of being angry that they can’t read my mind or just figure out what I want them to do around the house. We talk more, laugh more, and are more relaxed with each other.
• Better work relationships! In my job as a school librarian, I can either go out and talk to people or stay in my library and wait for people to come to me. Guess which is more productive! I have found that my walks keep me more in tune with the school, our teachers, and our kids. When folks see me, it reminds them of questions they have, projects they are working on, and that I am available to help them with whatever they need. They now look for me in the halls and often make it a point to stop me or call me into their rooms. So what if I carefully plan my route to go by as many rooms as possible during their planning times!
• Better food! We eat so much better. I haven’t opened a boxed or packaged food in months. We have seriously reduced the amount of processed foods in our house, and my daughter is becoming more aware of her food choices, which will help her become a healthier adult.
• Better, healthier looking skin and hair. I get more sunshine since I walk/run outside most days, so that helps with Vitamin D production, and Vitamin D helps maintain strong bones. I have a little tan that gives my skin a healthy glow (45 SPF, baby!). Even my teeth look better since I’ve cut out sodas and other staining foods and actually use them more to eat. Have you ever noticed that most packaged food is mushy and doesn’t require much chewing?
• Looser, better fitting, better looking clothes. I have lost 3 sizes and feel much better about the fit of my clothes. I even bought a dress for the first time in forever. I got rid of ALL my larger sizes. I’m not keeping them to make myself feel like it is okay to regain the weight. I don’t want that to be an easy thing for me.

Helpful Articles:

I found these articles helpful in one way or the other in my journey. The MyFitnessPal app has a featured blog, so sometimes I get recipes or ideas from there. The Rock article just let me know how much you have to eat to maintain that body! Read about his cheat DAYS! Geeze!

• The Upside of a Weight-Loss Plateau
• Five Things that Happen if You Quit Sugar for Life – I haven’t completely done this, but I eat much less sugar now.
• Think Raw Veggies are Best? Think Again – After reading this, I looked up the vegetables and studies in other places and found the same theories. I decide to err on the side of caution and cook these guys.
• Why a Piece of String Could be Better than BMI – I use the string method. My daughter’s ratio is spot on. I have a 6 inch gap! Work in progress…
• The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up – Why I threw out those too big clothes!
• Man Proves Mere Mortals Cannot Eat Like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson – This guy tried to eat “The Rock’s” diet and got violently ill. The article proves to me that ALL things are best in moderation.

Ever Think About Death?

Arlington National Cemetery by Irrepressible Spirit, all rights reserved.

I know, it’s a completely rhetorical question. Who doesn’t think about death? Some very odd people once swore that animals know nothing of death or life span and, therefore, do not mourn or fear dying. Granted, I had a dog named Buckwheat who seemed to love getting hit by cars. His last moment on Earth was literally seconds after exiting my mom’s car after a trip to the vet. He ran right out into the road to be hit by yet another car. I blame that on sheer stupidity though, not on a lack of fear. I was in my teens, but I still remember walking in the house, grabbing a big trash bag and holding it open while my sister and cousin hoisted him inside. I don’t think any of us said a single word.

My sister, cousins, and I were country kids. We watched my uncle and cousin slaughter chickens one summer, later refusing to eat anything in the freezer in the white butcher paper. We had dozens of baby chicks, some faring better than others. We watched my grandfather and uncle shoot rats and snakes. We buried puppies and kittens that just didn’t make it, living too close to the road with children who maybe weren’t as mindful as we should have been. And, of course, my grandmother made us go to a funeral or two. I remember the first time she made me go with her. She sat in the tub shaving her legs and giving me the run-down on what happened at funerals and how I should behave. My sister got out of attending because she was a wild tomboy and my grandmother could barely make her put on a dress without wrestling her to the ground.

In my life, as in many others, I have experienced death. When I was a teen, my sister’s dance instructor died at a tragically young age in a car accident. We didn’t dwell on her being dead, but in what must have happened as her car accordioned. We were too young to grasp the depth of fear and pain she may or may not have experienced, instead dwelling with morbid fascination on what lay beneath the lid of the coffin. Later, a great uncle we barely knew was electrocuted as he tried to fix a leak in his basement. My sister and I watched my great-grandmother die in my grandparents’ living room, where my grandmother ministered to her every need as she suffered what the doctor called “hardening of the arteries” in the 1980s. And so on and so on until adulthood.

Death started hitting pretty hard in my adult years, which happens to each of us who manages to make it to our adult years. The longer you live, the more likely someone close to you will die. My childhood friend lost her father several years ago. This was followed by the death of my mother-in-law, a lady who cannot be described or summed up in a sentence or even a 10,000 page book, so I won’t try now. I will say I am one of the few people fortunate enough to say I loved my mother-in-law and she loved me. Nearly one year to the day after losing her, we lost my grandfather. Both of these deaths occurred in August and both deeply affected our families, including my young daughter who had to cope with a birthday surrounded closely by death of those nearest to her heart. She actually began to fear the approach of her birthday for a year or two afterward, and I must admit, I held my breath as well and took careful stock of the health and geography of each of our loved ones. We had a rough couple of years, but finally made it through that veil. This summer, August crept in again and the month seems to hold my family in thrall because we lost yet another loved one.

Houston, can you hear me? Come in Houston…

Our 18-year-old rescue cat Tilly decided this August, just as I began my twentieth year of teaching, that she was done with our funny farm and ready to move on to whatever lay beyond this life. She came from the first school I worked for. One day some girls brought her into the library, just a tiny handful of fur and attitude, and they told me some bad boys were throwing her in front of the moving school buses. Later a teacher confirmed their story and said each time he’d grab the kitten and drop her to safety on the other side of the fence, she’d shoot right back onto the bus loop. My principal saw her and declared he’d always wanted a library cat. Tilly filled that role very well for a while. The kids named her Matilda after the Roald Dahl character, and she went back and forth with me to and from school for a couple of years. Eventually she tired of the daily grind and the thirty minute commute, not to mention the constant and unwelcome attention of middle school children, and became a stay-at-home cat.

Tilly ruled our household with an iron paw. She made us vacuum around her, refused to move from in front of the door, where she would languish in the heat of the sun until she was limp as a dish rag. She whipped my beagle loving, rabbit hunting husband right into shape, making of him a soft and warm pillow at her whim. If guests came over, they’d just have to find their own seat because she wasn’t moving. She tormented us by sitting just far enough out of reach and yowling for milk or whatever struck her fancy in the early morning hours. When our next rescue moved in, she accepted him as long as he followed her rules. Then, she quickly trounced our rambunctious Labrador Retriever puppy into shape by beating his chest like a drum. Up until her death, when he would get Tilly and our other cat confused because their coloring was so similar, he would take pause to give a sniff before trying to chase her. If he had the wrong cat, he’d quickly move on and pursue his more playful companion.

The Monday before school started for us teachers, I found Tilly laying on the rug in the kitchen. I was not surprised, and assumed she was gone, but this was just an intermission for her. We had watched her decline over the past three years, first losing most of her vision, then losing her ability to move as gracefully as she once had. My daughter would wonder when Tilly would breathe her last and what we would do when that time came. Tilly moved herself into our laundry room, where she spent most of her time sleeping in a big basket on a soft pillow. Sometimes she would grace us with her appearance, most often as we ate in the kitchen, but sometimes joining us in the den to watch a show or sneak one of our snacks. That Monday morning, Tilly was only resting on her way to cat heaven. She rallied after some love and time in my lap and seemed to come around. My husband and I discussed what we should do and decided there was no point in taking her to the vet just yet. There would be no heroics for Tilly. She had lived a grand life and now that time was coming to a close. She did not seem to be in pain, she would eat a tiny bit and drink a little, then get in her basket and sleep. We all spent some time with her, petting her, holding her if she was out of her bed, and letting her know we loved her.

Finally, on that Thursday, my husband called me at work and was in more than a bit of distress. He asked if I had checked on Tilly that morning. I confirmed that I had and she seemed about the same. Apparently she had rapidly declined in the few hours since I left the house and it was time to take her to the vet for help along her path. I told him to go ahead and assured him that I had said my goodbyes that morning, as I did every morning throughout this process. My daughter wanted to bring her home afterward and bury her. My husband wasn’t sure he could. After all, Tilly had been our first real attempt at raising anything beyond ourselves. I told him to do whatever he was most comfortable with and explain it as best he could. When I got home that evening, my daughter told me about Tilly’s funeral, how they had buried her at my father-in-law’s beside one of his beloved pets. Tilly lived and died with all the dignity befitting such a wondrous creation, and my daughter had her way and gave Tilly a fond farewell.

Do I think about death? I certainly do. Do I fear death? No, not really. I mostly fear the pain that will probably be associated with getting to the death part. I know what comes after my last breath here, and I look forward to it. There will be no vast emptiness, no cold aloneness, no fear, no pain. There is life beyond this one, and Jesus Christ assures of this in his own words when he tells us, “In my Father’s house are many mansions…I go to prepare a place for you.” (John 14:2, KJV) I’m not going to rush into it headlong like my old Buckwheat, who never met a car he didn’t like. I’m going to try my very best to savor and enjoy each moment I have with my loved ones, even when they get on my very last inflamed nerve, and I’m going to treasure each joy and trial God provides to mold me into the creature He would have me be. I know I’ll take a good bit of hammering and tempering to be the woman and Christian I am intended to be. I’m still not there yet, and whether I am to set an example or learn from an example, God will fit me for Heaven and his eternal plan. Until that time, I will try to glory in the Irrepressible Spirit He has gifted us all.

Thanks Paw Paw!

Father’s Day is a difficult time of the year for me. Hallmark doesn’t make a card that says, “Thanks for divorcing my mom and leaving us alone so we could have a normal life.” That’s the card I would have to buy for my father. My mother married him when she was fresh out of high school and had me shortly thereafter. He was a good looking man, and he still is. Sadly, he was also an alcoholic, and not the good kind. He was verbally and physically abusive to my mother, and most of my memories of him involve the smell of beer and shouted words. I also vividly remember him hitting my mother as my younger sister and I lay huddled in our small beds in the trailer we lived in back then. Thankfully, he never hit my sister or me, other than giving us spanking for what most would say was us just being curious kids. Once, I took apart a view master disk to see what the little pictures looked like. For that, I got the belt. I also had to remember to wake up in the wee and dark hours of morning to make sure my sister had not wet the bed in the night. If she had, I was supposed to change her sheets and tuck the wet ones way under the bed for my mom to drag out and wash once my father left the house. I was four at the time.

We did not have to live in this situation for very long. My mother finally got the strength and courage to leave for her sake and for ours. We were doubly fortunate because we moved in with my Mimi and Paw Paw, my mother’s parents. See, they were probably the reason my father never actually abused us. He was deathly afraid of them, and rightly so. My grandmother, yes, my Mimi, was not above lobbing anything close at hand at your head if you ticked her off. Nor was she above shooting at you. She kept a loaded .22 in her room, and we grew up knowing not to touch the gun with diamond on the side. My grandfather was just walking thunder and lightning. No one messed with him. Not ever. But both of them knew what all parents learn. Sometimes you just have to watch your children make mistakes, pray for their safety, and then open your arms when they come home. They did just that. They took the three of us in, raised us with my mom, and helped us become the first college graduates in our family. Not everything was sunshine and roses. The house was a little cramped, we got clothes when school began and when we grew out of what we had, and we didn’t dine on lobster and steak. We were loved though, and there was no doubt about that, even though my grandfather wasn’t one to say so. My grandmother gave us most of the hugs and just about all of the “whuppins”, but my grandfather provided shelter, warm beds, and the money my grandmother needed to run the household. My mother? Well, now as an adult, I know she was working her butt off to pay off debts she and my father accumulated and he didn’t pay. He was mostly out of work, even though he is highly intelligent and still loves learning to this day. She also had to pay for clothing and school stuff for us, a car to drive to work, and all those things children seem to think show up like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. What she couldn’t do, my grandparents graciously did, without ever making us feel like interlopers. As years passed, I saw many homeless and helpless pass through the doors of my grandparents’ house. There was always room for one more, always. And holidays had the house nearly bursting at the seams with family members from all over, family friends, and folks that just didn’t have anywhere else to go. My grandfather insisted on feeding everyone who needed or wanted a meal, no questions asked.

Clampett Truck – Ralph Foster Museum

Now Father’s Day, as I’ve said, is difficult because of my father, a man my sister calls “the sperm donor.” But my Paw Paw? Ten feet tall and bullet proof doesn’t even cover it. He was a man’s man. He owned his own business and knew everyone. My sister and I cringed when he told us to come along to the store with him to pick up milk or anything, because we knew it would be an all day journey. He couldn’t go anywhere without five or six people, men and women, stopping him to talk. He was worse than any hen party in the country, but he was ours and we were secretly proud any time he put us in the “Jed Clampett truck” and took us on errands. He wasn’t a warm, fuzzy, affectionate man. He didn’t cuddle, not with us, but when he grew older I was lucky enough to watch my little cousins and my daughter wallow all over him like puppies with not a wicked word from his lips. When I was a child, though, I remember playing in the yard or porch with my sister and two cousins – they lived in the same yard, in their own house – and stopping dead in our tracks to watch him walk across the yard to and from our house and shop where he made custom cabinets. He seemed so tall and incredibly aloof in his sawdust covered overalls and work books. Of course, once in a while he’d have his pants rolled up because of the heat, and we would laugh and call him “Ivory Snow” because his legs were so white they glowed in the summer sun. He never said a word, even if we called to him. He’d just look at us and give a nod. That was it. But it was like he was shouting he loved us. We’d smile and go back to whatever mischief we were up to.

Even now, four years after his death, my cousins, mom, aunts, uncles, grandmother, and everyone else still living who knew and loved him talk about our favorite memories of Paw Paw and laugh our heads off. Some of my favorite memories? Him singing to us on the porch on hot afternoons. I do remember sitting beside him or even on his lap when he sang. He’d sing the Witch Doctor song, John Henry, Sixteen Tons by Tennessee Ernie Ford, Little Red Caboose, and Mockingbird. When my little girl came along, I looked up the lyrics to many of the songs and sang her to sleep with them. Neither Paw Paw nor I would ever make the cut on The Voice or any other show, but we both sang from our hearts, and I can still hear his voice singing to me today. I also remember the very first time he ever told me he loved me. I was in fifth grade, yes, fifth grade. Up until that point, he had never said out loud that he loved me, but in fifth grade I was a captain in the Safety Patrol at school. Our group was going on an overnight field trip, something I had never done in my life. Something I wouldn’t have been allowed to do if my grandfather had not been friends with the police officer that arranged the trip and was chaperoning. As he dropped me off at our meeting point, I got out of the truck and told him, “Love you, Paw Paw.” I think I nearly fainted when he said, “I love you too.” I know I froze with the door handle still in my hand. I didn’t dare make eye contact. That would have been too much. Later in life, he began having seizures for some reason I never really understood. After that, it seemed he saw his own mortality and became much more affectionate and loving. He began telling everyone he loved them, giving hugs, and being more open. We were lucky to get to enjoy that for a few decades at the very least. I remember the summer my cousin and sister found a BB gun and spent a good hour shooting the windows out of an old barn back behind our house. My grandfather walked up and asked what they were doing. He knew, of course. They looked at him the way you’d look at the Grim Reaper, and with good cause. He just shook his head and walked away. My sister still says she doesn’t know if he reacted that way because he really didn’t care or because he knew if he spoke further, he’d kill them both. I also remember loading up in the van on Friday nights with my grandparents and their friends and heading off to the fish camp. The crowd changed frequently, but it was always a fun-filled event. I remember the many trips to the beach with my grandparents and their siblings, along with cousins and whoever else showed up. We pulled a camper to the beach, and we and our relatives sat up quiet the little commune. I remember going to the amusement park at the beach, running behind the DEET truck as it sprayed mosquitos (yes, it makes me cringe now), my sister cannonballing into the whirlpool, and the year I drank a whole half-gallon of chocolate milk before going to bed in the top bunk of the camper and giving my Paw Paw a most unwelcome shower later that night. As a teen, I remember my grandparents dancing. My Mimi and Paw Paw danced in a competitive clogging group, but they also went to dances each weekend with friends, and would entertain us in the kitchen by doing the two-step and whatever else came to mind. I loved watching them dance, and even when he developed dementia and couldn’t hang on to much, he danced once holiday with my grandmother while we stood watching and trying our best not to cry with both joy and sorrow. He was sometimes a tough fellow, but he gave us such a rich and mostly happy childhood. A childhood we would not have otherwise had. Lots of good time and not too many sad or bad ones.

Paw Paw and my sister. Handsome, yes?

I also remember my grandfather’s character. He had a temper to be reckoned with, but never raised his hand in violence. Of course, he didn’t need to. His creative cursing and yelling would scare ten years off your life. We always made sure to avoid the temper if at all possible, but my grandmother didn’t hold her tongue, which frequently provided some real entertainment for my sister and me. We already knew who would win any argument, so sometimes we would be so bold as to keep a silent score as they had their battles of the will. Make no mistake, he let Mimi win. He knew which side his bread was buttered on. This taught my sister and I that not all men used physical violence to control their relationships. He also worked hard, all the time, but was always home each evening for dinner at the table with the family. At night, we’d sit together and watch Good Times or Gunsmoke, or whatever else was on TV. We only had one television for most of my childhood, and what Paw Paw wanted to watch is what we all watched. My sister and I were the remote control. He’d walk in the den, and if my sister or I were in his big recliner, he’d say, “Your Mimi wants you.” Well, we were slow learners…and always went if Mimi or Paw Paw called. He’d sit down in his chair and laugh like a maniac. I guess it was more fun for him than simply saying “move your butt.” He also never, ever drank alcohol. When I knew what the stuff actually was, my grandmother told me that most of Paw Paw’s brothers were alcoholics and because of that my grandfather swore off alcohol and didn’t approve of anyone drinking it under his roof. Another good turn for me and my sister. And as short tempered as he could be when we disappointed him (not often) or made him angry (house full of women, remember?), he was also a tolerant man. He didn’t seem to mind one bit that the women and girls in his house ruled the roost. He knew he was the only rooster in the hen house. We brought home stray animals, “helped” him in his shop by taking everything under the sun apart or driving nails in his wood, we broke stuff as kids do, we were a strain on the budget when we wanted what other kids had. He didn’t say a word. When my great-grandmother, who was a character I could write a whole book about, got too old and feeble to live alone, he did not hesitate to have her move in with us an take over. He handed over most of his earnings to my grandmother and counted on her to do what needed doing. Of course, he always had some “pocket money” too, which he readily shared any time we wanted a special treat, were going on a day trip or vacation, or anything else. I also found out in my adulthood that he used to go to the little store in the fork of the road below our house and buy bags of penny candy for my less fortunate cousins. My cousins who lived one street over and  could barely afford shoes or clothes for school. Every single Saturday, he’d go to that store, line up bags, and fill them up. Then, he’d leave them with the store owner and my cousins knew to walk up to the store and pick them up. Yes, Paw Paw was a fine man, a humble man, and didn’t care one bit if people knew it or not.

On this day after Father’s Day, I just want to let people know that even when our own fathers disappoint us, when they don’t give us the love and support we need, there is usually someone somewhere willing to step in and be the role model we need. If there isn’t a person on this earth who can do that for you, look to our Heavenly Father. He certainly more than fills the bill. Yes, at times, He was harsh. Especially in the first five books of the Bible. He did some shocking things there. But, you know what, he also gave His people more chances than any of us would to shape up and do right. He made a sacrifice I doubt many fathers could bear. He gave us His one and ONLY son, sacrificed that son for our own sake because we simply could not do right, and then He let that sacrifice stand for any messes we might make now and forever. Some people say we shouldn’t refer to God as a Father. Some people say that there are folks out there who have terrible experiences with fathers, and they’re right. I was lucky, honestly. My father took out his hatred and meanness on my mother. He didn’t turn it on me. He didn’t do what some so-called fathers do to their children…you know what I mean. But he was certainly no role model. Even now, years later, when I occasionally talk to him, he admits he didn’t like children then and doesn’t care for them now. He still has his problems and he is certainly not someone I look up to; but if not for his genetic material, I would not be here and if not for the experiences he placed in my life, I would not be the person I am. God is Creator, Father, Mother, and whatever else you need to fill the empty holes in your life. He will place the people you need in your life if you let him. For me, it was my Paw Paw and now my husband. My husband is a little bit of my grandfather, NONE of my father, and a little bit of his father. He is affectionate, full of Christ’s love, dedicated to me and our family, tolerant like my Paw Paw, and brave enough to stay married to my crazy self for nearly twenty years so far! There are people in our lives who hurt us, who strengthen us, who make us happy and sad, but they cannot overshadow God’s love if you don’t let them and if you remember that no matter where your genetic material came from, God is your proud and loving father. Cling to this prefect Father and He will gift you with an irrepressible spirit.

Mean Girls

Mean Girls, starring Linsdey Lohan, c2004. Source IMDB.

Over the past several weeks, I have had more than my share of “mean girl” encounters. It amazes me that we are raising young women who actually seem to be more Beast than Beauty. What on Earth are we teaching our girls? Do parents honestly think that creating confident, independent, successful young women equates with raising ungrateful, foul mouthed, misinformed, arrogant, intolerable, cruel girls?

My re-introduction to this most offensive species occurred when a colleague told me about a YouTube video in which an attractive, but obviously less-than-intelligent and certainly overly ego-centric for her age, young woman rants against the Asian people who offended her in the UCLA library by simply being Asian. After making fun of the way Asians talk, she then refers to herself as a “polite, nice American girl that my momma raised me to be.” I am sure her mother is still cringing at being associated with her daughter’s outburst at all. Yes, perhaps a particular student of Asian decent was in the UCLA library during finals week, talking on the cell phone, but to malign an entire population because of one rude person’s offense is so far past being “nice” or “polite” that I do not even have words to describe the disgust I felt. Of course, she did incur the backlash that such vapidness deserves. She is no longer a student at UCLA. She did, however, spark creativity in several people who followed her video with much commentary on Asian people, her idiocy, and her inability to use wise judgment in using social media. My personal favorite, which is full of creativity but lacks the vulgarity that much of the commentary includes, is by a young musician named Jimmy. It is a great response to a bully, which is what all mean girls are. I hope that this will be a good lesson for the young woman and that she will have the good sense to better educate herself before making such comments in a format that pretty much lasts forever in our current society. Thanks to the use of social media, we cannot simply make such missteps in judgment disappear.

The second offense was from a student at the University of Maryland. This young woman felt it was socially acceptable to send a foul-mouthed e-mail to her sorority sisters, who she felt were not performing up to par in their socializing with fraternity bothers. I have heard a lot of foul language in my life, but I must say I think this person could possibly make even Quentin Tarantino blush. A news article reporting her resignation from the sorority can be found here, but I warn you that the excerpts from her rant are extremely vulgar.

Both of these young women were college students, who I assume were attending college to later move on to a good career. So, what were they thinking? Obviously, not very much at all beyond their own selfish desire to ensure that everyone knew what was on their minds. Well, they certainly managed to do that. As the mother of a 10-year-old girl, who I struggle to raise with an awareness of those around her and how her actions and words effects them, I can only imagine the horror and shame these two have brought on their families. In the past, youth have certainly made mistakes, caused embarrassment to their families, and done harm to others as they tried to find their place in the world; but, with the dawn of social media and the ease of access — without an IQ test or mental stability requirement — is making it easier for these young women (and men) to make utter fools of themselves, possibly ruin future opportunities, and shame those who know them. And what purpose does it serve but to spit venom and be mean-spirited?

I mentioned my daughter. The most heart-wrenching episode of mean girl bullying was directed at her. Her school hosts an annual Talent Show to give students in grades four and five an opportunity to showcase their special gifts. Now, they also judge these kids and award prizes to the top three acts, but that commentary comes later. Anyway, when the talent show was announced earlier this month, she was very excited that she and three of her friends were going to collaborate on the Cup Song. I did not know what that particular piece of music was, but I assure you I quickly learned. She was actually pretty good. I mean anyone who can keep a rhythm with a cup and sing words both in tune and the correct order is pretty talented in my book. The day of the Talent Show tryouts, she was not so excited when she came home. Why? Because her “friends” decided to have a “singing contest” on the playground that day and decided she was not up to par. Then, during the actual try outs, they warned her that she “better not” perform the Cup Song because two acts doing the same song would reduce their chances of winning. She sang “Amazing Grace” instead and made the cut. Now, I was one angry momma, but by that time my daughter had adjusted to the situation and decided to go with the flow. She is a go with the flow girl in such matters, thankfully, even while she is absolutely die-hard in others (see past posts!). Later, she and another friend developed a little routine to another song, and both were happy with the results.

The Talent Show was this past Thursday. She and her friend performed, as planned. They did okay. Nerves really got to her friend and all the choreography was lost in the moment. They persevered and completed their act, however. A brief intermission was called while the judges tallied their scores. During that time, my daughter went over to the head mean girl and congratulated her on her group’s performance. She snubbed my daughter. I did not personally see this, but found out about it when my mother grabbed my arm in her steel-vise grip, cutting off all circulation, to make a rude (inappropriate but not public) comment about the little girl’s behavior. I might get angry, but my mom is a piranha in blood-soaked waters when someone messes with her grandbaby! I settled mom, told her my daughter was fine, and sat back for the judging. My daughter and her friend did not make the top three. The mean girls won first place. During the judging, where was my daughter? Standing right beside her fair-weather friends and congratulating them.

After the Talent Show, there were many tears from my daughter and other disheartened ten and eleven year olds. While I love that her school gives her an opportunity to showcase her talent or at least her sheer courage, I do not like that they feel it necessary to “judge” the kids. I know they do this as a fund raiser and that it is strictly voluntary. I also realize that as the mother, I did allow my daughter to participate even though she participated last year and also did not win, and also cried a river. However, when my child chose to participate on both occasions, I warned her of what could happen and both times she still wanted to participate. I cannot fault my daughter for her courage and willingness to try against all odds. That would not be good parenting and might deliver a message to my daughter that I think she is incapable of success. The absolute opposite of my goal in raising a healthy, social functional, and successful – in whatever form that may take – child.

My question goes right back to how some of us are raising our daughters. Why are we teaching these young girls that they have to be absolutely cruel and hateful to make a path in this world? Why are we watching them bully and abuse each other? You aren’t going to tell me that the girls I refer to here did not demonstrate such mean-spiritedness before the incidents I discuss. Their parents and friends had to know about these personality traits. In fact, my guess is, their parents encouraged such behavior as the girls grew and their friends found such behavior amusing and daring. Amelia Earhart, Harriet Tubman, and Eleanor Roosevelt, to name a few, were daring. These girls are just plain disrespectful, spiteful, and ignorant.

I know there may be several reasons for this arrogant disregard for others. These girls may have Princess-itis. They may have had to “get tough” to make it through childhood due to unstable home lives, abuse, or personal brushes with bullies. They may have had to raise themselves as their parents left them to their own devices while the parents enjoyed their personal lives, forgetting they had created another living being. Who knows? The child in my daughter’s class is a child. She has a way to grow. Things could be different for her. The two college students? I’m sorry, but there is no excuse for being college age and still carrying on like a temper tantrum throwing toddler. No matter what shaped and formed them, unless they suffer from mental illness, they should know better. I know age and maturity do not go hand-in-hand, but hopefully this very hard lesson will help them shape up and become more mindful of their actions, especially given the fact they will be reminded of their transgressions for years to come thanks to the format they chose to use.

My daughter? She’s moved on past disappointment. She will leave elementary school behind and become a middle schooler next year. She’ll be picked on again. She is small for her age, a good foot shorter than her classmates, and she petite. The middle school years are also prime years for bullying. Fortunately, she will be going to school with a new group of students since I am taking her to my school. I know she’ll face some hardship there too. I’m her mom, which gives cruel children fuel for their hate-fires. But she’ll have a strong, supportive infrastructure there as well, including a dear friend from church with family values matching her own and my good friends and colleagues who will watch out for her. She’s no shrinking violet. She’ll stand on her own two feet and fight for what she believes, which usually involves standing up for others while taking punches to her own ego. She’s a good girl and I’m proud of her. I hope that is something more and more people can and will say about and to their children. Don’t let your child, girl or boy, bully others. Don’t demonstrate to them how to victimize by doing so yourself. Children do learn what they see at home. They take it to heart and they respond to it. You may not think they are paying attention to you when you use a racial slur, curse someone out at the stop light, or trash-talk your boss or your friends, but they are. They are paying attention and they are learning that it is okay to act that way. Don’t want that? Then change your behavior, be a positive and loving role-model, and have actual conversations with your child about how you expect her or him to treat others.

Give your child something to be proud of and she or he will become something you can be proud of. God gave us an irrepressible spirit, but he did not give us a right to be cruel and vicious. Light hearts, kind hearts, can be irrepressible without repressing others.

Related Articles

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Bullying Statistics

Five Ways to Raise Kind Children

Fixing the Mean Girl Syndrome

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Beginning again…

I am an educator. I am pretty sure I’ve mentioned that in the past. Recently, after much ado, I decided I would begin a professional blog. Lots and lots of people in education and everywhere blog. I follow over 30 of those people and depend on them for advice, new ideas, and inspiration. Sometimes I count on them to go on a rant about something I’m really mad about but, since I didn’t have a professional blog, didn’t really have anywhere to vent. So, I’ve decided to commit to blogging about my profession. I started looking around for the best fit for my needs, and lo and behold, I ended up right back here at WordPress and found my personal blog Irrepressible Spirit! Wow! I couldn’t believe I had been away for over a year this month. I couldn’t believe that while I was AWOL my blog had over 500 hits. That’s more than one a day for each day I’ve been gone. So, it seems, we live on in perpetuity somewhere out in blog hosting land.

Surprise!

What have I been doing over the past year that kept me away from my keyboard and kept me from using any innocent blog reader as an instant friend and therapist? It would seem I’ve been really busy living. My husband and I settled back into our hometown after a seventeen year absence. Our church congregation seems to like us well enough to have kept us for two years this June.  My sister (read this part really fast) found out she was pregnant for the FIRST TIME at 41, planned a wedding to her long-time love, got married, bought a house, and had a baby…all in a span of about six month. I babysit my nephew and see him at least once a week. He’s four months old even though he looks like he’s six months. He still has a bobble head.

One of my husband’s college friends had a massive heart attack at the age of 45. That was pretty sobering. The first time one of our friends from our generation died without the words “cancer” or “tragic accident” anywhere in the equation. We do hate to be reminded of our mortality. My daughter keeps me busy as she pursues her place in this world and I drive her around. She’s attempted soccer and volleyball and is now hoping to become a YouTube sensation. I’ll keep you posted on that. I went to our great country’s capitol for the first time in my life this past July. Took along my mom, who had also never been, my sister, and my daughter. My daughter’s favorite part was riding the Metro. My mom’s favorite part was me letting her sit down for more than 5 seconds before dragging her off on our next adventure.

I went to Detroit, MI for the first time ever in October. It will probably be my last. I was there for professional development, but on the plane and in the city, heard from several residents that it wasn’t the best place in the world for an unseasoned traveler to roam around.  I am on several committees through professional organizations and at work. I accepted a challenge from my dear friend and school literacy coach to read 200 books in 2013…I’ve read over 70, so I guess I’ve been reading a lot. We are six weeks away from summer vacation, I’ll be going to Washington again next month, I’m planning for next school year. To top it off, my daughter is weeks away from leaving fifth grade and becoming a, dare I say it, MIDDLE SCHOOLER!

Yep, I’ve been busy. But since I’ll be blogging about my profession, I figure that will just give me more fodder for my personal blog, so I’m back and I hope a person or two drops by over the course of this year. Boy, do I have a few stories to tell! And, boy, do I need free therapy! Hopefully, my insights will give you a grin or giggle now and then. Hopefully, we will work together on keeping our spirits irrepressible, as God intended.

Raising G Kids in a PG-13 World

As my daughter enters the preteen stage, I am finding it more and more difficult to find “safe”, age appropriate media for her to enjoy. I don’t want to completely cut her off from television, movies, games, or the internet. I think that would be unwise and leave her unprepared to go into a world where she will have to make intelligent choices for herself about what is and is not good for her. As a school librarian and lover of books, I certainly don’t want to prevent her from experiencing the joys of reading. However, it’s getting very difficult to balance what our mainstream society seems to deem appropriate and what I consider okay for my child. I try to be careful about the television programming and movies I allow her to view. We don’t buy or play games with mature ratings, violence, or foul language. She even knows that when she goes to a family member’s house, she is not to watch, listen to, or play with things we view as inappropriate or “inapropro” as she calls it. She’s been known to turn off TV’s and rat out her cousins. Fortunately, I live in a family where this doesn’t spark a world war. The kids take it in stride and their parents, my cousins, just roll their eyes behind my back and move on. They, for the most part, allow their children to view whatever they are watching and don’t filter as much but they respect that I do have those expectations for my daughter.

At age 9, my daughter wants to explore her world, she has questions about boys (heaven help me), and of course, she has school friends whose parents have very different values than my husband and I try to impart. What to do? Give in? Give up? Be that crazy mom at the end of the cul-de-sac yelling about trashy girls in furry boots and too-short shorts? Again, I have to go back to finding a balance and I also have to rely on my own instinct, intelligence, and research. That last bit is exhausting.

You’d think I’d be an ace detective where research is concerned since I have been a school library media specialist for nearly 18 years, but either I’m getting old, the lines are getting blurry, or people just don’t seem to flag the “bad stuff” anymore. Are we getting desensitized to hate, violence, cursing (uncreative cursing, I might add), sexual innuendo, blatant sexual content, and the list goes on… Are we really just going to go with the “everybody’s doing it” theme? I just can’t. I don’t want my daughter to think it is okay to do whatever you want, whenever you want and I don’t want her to think I’m okay with her taking in what has now become PG-13 material. I censor (ewww, bad word for librarians), I shelter, I cover her eyes. She’s used to it. Barely even flinches. All I have to say is “grown up stuff” and she moves on.

Don’t worry though, I do adjust the “grown up stuff” theme as she ages and I have to explain things she encounters in her daily life. This would include, most recently, the topic of suicide. She saw something about a suicide on the news at a relative’s house (we don’t watch the news when she’s around, sorry). She said something about “doing suicide” and my momma bear antennae began quivering. I simmered down, sat her down, and asked if she knew what suicide meant, where she had heard about it, and we began a discussion about how sad and tragic such an event is and the terrible damage it does to those who are left behind in the wreckage. I then asked if she really thought about such things and explained that if I, as a teacher, heard a child talking about suicide, I was legally bound to get that child some help. We left that conversation with her realizing the tragedy of suicide and understanding that she can actually talk about these things with her mom and dad without having us become accusatory or, worse perhaps, apathetic. Of course, this doesn’t mean by any stretch of the imagination that I want her reading about suicide or watching movies about it. Let’s not give our kids too many ideas, folks.

We have a DVR at home too, so we usually end up recording shows rather than watching them live. This gives us the opportunity to fast-forward through anything we really don’t want to focus on, like commercials for dating sites with women fantasizing about sexual encounters before even meeting a guy. We also generally watch most of our recorded TV as a family and can discuss any rough stuff, including more and more often, bad language.  Even our favorite cooking shows have more bleeps than Steven Tyler gets on American Idol! One of our current favorites is Once Upon a Time, but sometimes it does get racy. Like the time we had to explain what a “tramp” was when the mayor secretly sprayed it on the car of an accused adulterer…which is another story… I also let her watch Dance Moms with me, using fast forward to get through most of the bad behavior and cutting to the dance. Of course, I don’t fast forward it all because it offers a good opportunity to talk about good decision-making, how even adults aren’t always right and sometimes act badly, and why her father and I make the decisions we make about her life and activities…and would never put up with Abby Lee! Other than that, she is stuck with Disney, Nickelodeon, and her video collection. Of course, with Nick, she can’t watch Teen Nick and some of the Disney stuff makes my husband foam at the mouth since nearly every show is sans parents and full of smart-mouthed, disrespectful kids. Thankfully, she really doesn’t watch that much tube anyway. We’re too busy and she is one of those kids who really likes to help with the cooking and other activities a good bit of the time.

Now, my ulterior motive for this post! Books targeting preteen audiences are really getting out of hand. Publishers and authors are no longer simply pushing the envelope. They are setting that baby on fire with napalm! As a middle school librarian, I have to select and purchase books for students in grades 6 through 8, roughly ages 10 to 13. This is becoming more and more difficult as issues of sexuality, teen violence, and other “feel-good” topics become more prevalent and more detailed in novels for this age group. Twice this year, I have ordered books that I wouldn’t let my own daughter read and question whether or not I should let anyone else’s kids read. Both had excellent reviews, listed grades 6 through 8 as the target audience, and seemed from the book blurb appropriate for “my kids.” When I received them, it was a very different situation. One had every curse word but the “big bombs” in the first 20 pages and the other was full (and I am not exaggerating) of every turn of phrase to describe a penis and/or erection that a creative middle school boy might use or think of. The language was crass, the novel held no appeal beyond shock value, and having read the book to give it the benefit of the doubt, I was left feeling more than a bit traumatized. Do boys have this problem in middle school? Certainly. Do they need to talk about it? Sometimes. Did this book give them any real advice or coping mechanism? Absolutely not. So, in total frustration and confusion, I turned to my colleagues and asked them what they thought about current trends in preteen publishing, raising kids in a PG-13+ world, and how they dealt with these issues as educators and librarians. By far, the responses leaned toward “depend on the reviews and follow your selection policy” than toward upset or a need to question. Several colleagues, whose opinions I dearly value on most occasions, stated they were not in their positions to act as a censor or raise anyone’s children for them but to simply provide the best resources available to their students. To me, this is a cop-out. Educators have long been charged with acting in loco parentis, or in place of the parent, when children are dropped off at the school door. This means we are to make good decisions for children, who quiet honestly are ill-equipped to make them for themselves more often than not, as long as we avoid trouncing on their civil liberties. And since civil liberties range from freedom of expression to the right to bear arms, we have to adjust accordingly based on the population we serve. I admit educators haven’t always done a stellar job with this charge and you can probably find 50 incidents of bad choices made by educators in the blink of an eye, but the theory is sound. Otherwise, no parent in her right mind would leave her children at school.

While I certainly depend on reviews from highly esteemed selection tools like School Library Journal and Booklist and have, over the years, learned to avoid recommendations from VOYA and Kirkus because they are way more liberal than I or my parents will ever be, I am finding that these resources aren’t giving me the information I need to make an intelligent, informed decision. The books I mentioned above had starred reviews in both of my top tools! The good news is that I did learn from my mistake without damaging a child or getting called to the principal’s office because I was fortunate enough to pick up the books and read them before circulating them. I’m sure a few have slipped through my fingers though and I won’t know about them unless I decide to read them or someone points them out to me. Do I think books should have ratings like TV shows, movies, video games, and music CDs? I’m not sure. Even with those ratings, parents still make bad decisions and kids seem to flock to anything rated above their age range. It would be like wrapping Playboy in Fruit by the Foot. From my colleagues, however, I have learned of a few more tools to put in my selection tool box and I have discovered some on my own.

Goodreads is essentially the world’s biggest book club. Even I share book reviews there. The great thing about this site, that reviews all kinds of books at all levels, is that readers make comments and often reveal nitty-gritty details that can help you make an informed decision about book purchases. If I had read the reviews here for one of the books, I would not have purchased it.

CommonSenseMedia is one of my favorite parent tools. This website has a Christian slant, but since I’m slanted that way too, it is okay with me. It reviews books, movies, video games, apps, etc. giving these items an age-range rating as well as letting you know about possible inflammatory content. The site also provides you with good suggestions for discussing such content with your child. If you read some of the user comments, you’ll notice the organization has more sense than the commentators in many cases. I guess they got lost on the Information Superhighway. The site is not as inclusive as Goodreads and features limited reviews, but more than enough for the average parent/consumer.

Books That Won’t Make You Blush from West Bend Community Library in who-knows-where is a list of books that do not contain sex, violence, or cursing but are written for grades 6 and up. Guess this proves it can be done, right?! Again it is not all-inclusive, but a pretty extensive list. I’ve also discovered that if you Google (who knew that would be a verb?) “books that won’t make you blush” there are many, many more lists like this in Cyberland.

As far as the internet goes, you can set up filters and so forth but there are also a few “safe” search tools out there. One I recently learned about is Sweet Search, which searches 35,000 websites that have been evaluated by educators and research experts. Does this mean the there won’t be any PG-13+ content? Probably not, but it does mean the information will probably be more accurate than a Google search or Wikipedia. We have KidZui on our daughter’s laptop and that is the only search tool she’s allowed to use without our direct supervision. At school, I encourage our students to use databases provided through our State Library and websites I have compiled for their projects.

The bottom line is that yes, we can raise G rated kids in the society we live in. In fact, the more parents I talk to, the more I realize I am not alone in this battle. More and more adults are realizing what the media and our culture is doing to our children. And more and more of them are looking for good alternative entertainment for their children. We don’t have to rob our kids of their childhood innocence to help them fit in. We can give them the tools and the knowledge to fight back with flagrant use of the term “inapropro” and the justification for it. More than once my little spit-fire has informed her friends that her mom knew better than to let her ________________ (fill in the blank) because she just wasn’t ready for it. She may get mad about missing out, but she appreciates that we love her enough to say no. It takes courage to swim against the current, but if our daughter grows up to be a conscientious adult who actually knows right from wrong and chooses right most of the time, then it will be well worth the bruises. Keep swimming upstream and remain forever irrepressible!

Easter People

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:16 (ESV)

Eastern Bluebird

Spring has truely arrived in the Carolinas. Everything is “twitterpated“. The squirrels are chasing each other like mad, I’ve had to explain to my daughter why the mockingbirds are locked in mortal combat, and my dog and I dodge mating mayflies like crazy on our daily walk. Inchworms are plentiful too. You can barely walk under a tree without getting some cool inchworm gear hanging from your hair or t-shirt. The most wonderful news at my house is that we have some new boarders. An Eastern bluebird couple has taken residence in the newspaper slot under our mailbox. Good for them we get most of our news online! Good for us, we get to watch the wonderful spring ritual of new-born birds right in our yard! Of course, my husband has sworn he will not check the mail again until all fledglings have winged away to their own digs. My daughter and I are braver souls. Today we investigated the nest with a flashlight AFTER making sure mommy and daddy had flown the coop. We have at least 1 egg so far, but can’t really see into the dim box that well. We are thrilled and can’t wait until our grandbirds are born. Of course, the mail delivery person may ban us from the delivery route if the parents get too territorial in the days to come!

I love spring and the promise of renewal it brings. Unlike New Year’s Day when we are supposed to look back on our many transgressions and promise to do better, spring reveals God’s promise that no matter what, there is a hope for renewal and rebirth through Christ. We, of course, have to give ourselves over to Him for him to fulfill that promise. This is often the tough part. It is so hard for people to just hand ourselves over to our creator. We have been talking about this for several weeks in Sunday School class as we have participated in a book study by Chip Ingram. Chip’s story is one many of us have lived through and one many of us are still struggling with. The good news, both from Chip and Jesus, who delivered it first, is that is doesn’t matter where we are in our struggle. We can just turn it all over. God will take all we have, the treasure and the trash, and give us new hope though Jesus Christ. What a wonderful promise.

Just as my bluebird family has that inborn desire to nest, pair up, and make new bluebirds, we as God’s creation have that inborn desire to turn ourselves over to Him and accept the promise He made when he sacrificed His only Son for our sins. Jesus accepted the burden of our sin because He loved us, we relive and renew that moment each year through our Easter traditions, and with each spring that passes we once again have the opportunity to take that Easter promise as our own. Sadly, we are often more bird-brained than the birds and fight our internal impulse to give it all to God and we hold on to what holds us back, holds us down, and keeps us from lifting high the cross of the resurrected Jesus. We are Easter people, we serve the risen Christ. Now, if we can lay aside all that keeps us from receiving that precious gift and represses the joy Christ has for us, we can fully accept and flourish in that gift. As I said this past week in Sunday School, we hold on to so much only to realize later that what we were holding on to wasn’t a treasure at all, but a burden. Unleash your burdens, accept your Easter gift, and embrace the irrepressible spirit Christ has set aside just for you! Have a blessed and joyful Easter and delight in all that spring has to offer.

Change Requires Courage

One of my favorite authors is Patricia Cornwell and because I “liked” her book page on Facebook, I occasionally get little blips on mine. Today, this quote from her page popped up: “What might knock you down can teach you to climb.”

You know when you’ve been through some rough waters and all of a sudden you see that sunset on the horizon or you’ve had a really bad day and discover that YES, there are still chocolate chip cookies in the cupboard? Well, that is what this quote was like for me today. Just the right encouragement at just the right time!

“Change is inevitable, growth is intentional.” ~ Glenda Cloud

I am working on a presentation about change or transition that I will present to my colleagues at a state conference next Thursday. We all experience change and there is nothing we can do about most of it except deal with it and move on. Our lives change as we age. Our knees pop when we go up the stairs, we can’t walk as far or as fast as we used to, we forget things. Our relationships change. We experience the death of loved ones, marriages, the birth of new babies.  Families and friendships form and reform as people move from place to place, drift apart and drift together. Jobs change. Life’s priorities shift. But how do we cope with all of this? Are we run over by life and change or do we embrace it and experience personal growth?

While change can be scary, it can also be exciting. In fact there are some people out there who thrive on change and cannot sit still for even a minute before trying to find a new adventure. I am not one of those people. I do not, however, fear change. Change gives us an opportunity for a fresh start. A chance to wipe the slate clean and begin again. A chance to learn something new about ourselves and question some of the “truths” we grasp at when confronted with something difficult.

I am in my eighteenth year as a school library media specialist (librarian without the bun and way cooler toys for those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about).  Now, if you want change, this is the job for you. I was a librarian; then when computers started cropping up everywhere, I became a computer technician. We moved from McIntosh computers with the 5-1/4″ floppy drives to networked PCs with, gasp, the INTERNET! I had to start learning to not only fix but also use all these things, manage networks, and then teach both adults and children how they worked. That’s when I graduated to “Library Media Specialist.”

My job is never the same, not even from one hour to the next, and I love every minute of it. I tell people I didn’t have ADHD until I started this job! I have to move from task to task and still be able to accomplish something at the end of the day. If I have 8 minutes between classes, then that is 8 minutes to do paperwork, shelve a few books, read an article or two on new trends, pull resources for teachers, or shoot e-mails to colleagues. I eat lunch over my keyboard and rarely have time for potty breaks. It is fast-paced fun!

This year, of course, I became a media specialist in a new location. This is the fourth job change I have made in my career but I have to say this has been by far the easiest because I have, of course, learned new things with each change. I have also challenged myself this year by presenting at a local school district conference on a new piece of technology and by creating the presentation about transitions that I am preparing for next week. This is new for me, in my profession, and will of course lead to more growth. I also feel I’ve learned a thing or two about changing schools, jobs, moving, and so forth that just might benefit someone else. I want to share my experiences and hopefully make someone else’s journey a little less rocky.

I’m getting better at making changes. Weeks after beginning my new job, a colleague walked into my library media center and said, “You look like you’ve been doing this forever.” I told her I had, but she went on to say that my transition to this new place with these new faces appeared seamless. That made me smile because no matter how fast my little feet might be treading water under the surface, I really do want to appear to be unruffled on top. My teachers, parents, students and administrators have too many other things on their minds to worry about me, here, in the job I love. I am one of those people who can say my job is fulfilling and brings me joy.

Keep your spirit “difficult or impossible to restrain.” Keep it irrepressible!

Parenting isn’t for sissies!

Veruca Salt

I began this blog in October as a way to express some of my frustration and confusion over parenting but also as a way to celebrate the joys in my life. Celebrating the joys does, after all, remind us of exactly why we are here on Earth. Lately, our life has been a maelstrom of malcontent, with lots of yelling, kicking walls, and throwing things. No, my husband and I aren’t at war. Nor are we yelling at our child. Instead, my child is having a difficult time of adjustment in her young life. Why? Because after so many years of letting her control the situation, make parenting decisions, and anything else I could do just to make it through one more day with at least one or two bright spots, I have decided to step up to the plate and actually be a parent. It isn’t easy. It is tiring, frustrating, confusing, and just plain hard. Sometimes I can’t believe so many millions of people choose this as a way of life…I also can’t believe my mother ever allowed my sister and I to make it to adulthood.

So, what changed, you ask? A meteorite shower? An alien probe? A burning desire to make my hair go completely white before I turned 45? No! Believe it or not it was a FREE Kindle book. The book is called Unspoil Your Child Fast and it was offered through Books-on-the-Knob, a wonderful daily blog that provides a list of free or nearly free eBooks from a variety of sources. It has been a godsend,  but also can be overwhelming. Hence the 90 books I have currently downloaded but am yet to read! But back to this life-changing book and the H-E-Double- Hockeysticks it has wrought for a certain nine-year-old.

No longer FREE but worth the price!

Now, I know there are a lot of parenting books on the market and I also know that most people, like me, cannot come to terms with the fact they have unleashed the monster they are now kowtowing to. Sadly, after reading Dr. Bromfield’s checklist of 12 “spoil factors” and marking 9 of them, I knew that at least in my case, I was a teeny tiny bit responsible. Okay, I solely destroyed my own life. There, I’ve confessed! The good news is that this particular book provides real advice on how to undo the damage for children from age 2 to well into the teens (although they may get really creative with their “punishment” for trying to change their cushy life styles). There is no psychiatric mumbo-jumbo. Just very realistic tools for parents to use in teaching their children how to become a valued and participating part of the family. Now, it does come with its warnings and one is that this is no easy journey. First of all, children who have been spoiled for years don’t particularly want anything to change. Second, they are really creative at making that crystal clear. Children, particularly younger children, do not have the vocabulary to tell you they are unhappy with the “new sheriff in town.” Therefore, they get angry, yell, throw things, kick walls, etc. But, I have to say that after several weeks of using the techniques Dr. Bromfield outlines in his book, things are beginning to take a turn for the better.

Tonight, however, has been no picnic. Well, maybe one in Kansas during that tornado that swept Dorothy to Oz. My daughter and I had a wonderful day together. We went to help out at the church Bar-B-Que, packing plates for folks all day, talking to our church friends, and just having a really good time. She was well-mannered, helpful, and eager to participate in everything going on. We came home and enjoyed a short television program together with her daddy, who had the sad task today of performing a funeral for a man who died way too young. My husband went off to a meeting and my daughter and I got ourselves together, buckled ourselves in the van, and headed to my mom’s for a pleasant visit. Then, everything went South. Now, this is not unusual with my daughter. She is kind of like that owl sitting in a tree waiting for the cute little bunnies to be lulled into a sense of bliss before flying down, scooping one up, and making it dinner so I wasn’t really surprised. It is almost like too much niceness bottles up a bunch of venom and she just has to let it out.  She began making demands, telling me what I would and would not do, telling me her plans regardless of my thoughts or opinions, and vigorously kicking the seats for all she was worth. Then, I performed Dr. Bromfield’s “shock and awe” tactic. I said not a single word but turned our van around as soon as it was safe to do so and headed right back to our driveway. I then grabbed my purse and walked into the house. After observing her from inside the house, watching her bounce around so violently in the car that she actually shook it…a feat for a 55 pound child…I went out, opened the door and told her to come in because it wasn’t safe for her to have such a tantrum in the car. I told her she could finish in the house. As irritating as they are, tantrums are a healthy way for children to express their anger and frustration as long as they are “controlled” tantrums that injure no one. I know some of you are thinking that a belt would reset it a lot faster, but all that teaches children is that the biggest person that hits the hardest wins and I really try to avoid that. As a teacher, I see the effects of bullying quite often and have no desire to contribute.

After a bit of wrangling inside the house and a bit more hostility, I moved my daughter to her room and told her to shut the door until she felt like talking instead of yelling and kicking. I sat down in my husband’s office to see what her next move would be. She started throwing things inside her room, which is fine. We’ve already established that anything left on the floor after one of her tantrums went straight to a local charity and she knew the rules. I checked on her a few times to make sure she was safe and she’d rear up from behind the bed and growl, letting me know all was progressing smoothly. When she made her appearance in the office, she made a few more demands, decided she would call her Grammy herself, and tried a few idle threats. I told her to be nice or go back to her room. She explained that she couldn’t actually get back in her room because of all the stuff piled up by the door. I offered to open the door and gave her two “charity boxes” explaining that as she cleaned up she could put anything she really no longer wanted inside the boxes. Her response? A mild “OK.” Strange, right? She then went in her room, shut the door, filled her boxes, remade her destroyed bed, and came out again. We made it through bath time and moved to pajamas. Throughout this process, if I left her sight she asked where I had been. She was afraid I was in her room taking her things. I told her I had no need to take anything because she had already taken care of her mess. She also became very affectionate and needy, a sign of the guilt she felt over being so rowdy and angry before. As I helped with PJs she said, “Mommy, I feel sorry for you.” When I asked why she responded, “I feel like a ruined your whole day.” Before reading Unspoil Your Child, I may have reacted negatively to both her clingyness after battle and her worry over ruining my day. In fact, in the past I would have been so overwrought and angry with her from participating in her temper tantrum with my own that I would have criticised her and agreed she’d ruined my day. I’m being the grown-up now, however, so I instead explained that I had a wonderful day with her up until her tantrum and I realized she was only frustrated during her tantrum. I also assured her we would have time for more fun tomorrow. We then polished off the evening with dinner, tooth brushing, and a bedtime story.

While she was a terror for about 2 hours today, I helped her manage her anger and tantrum by giving her a safe way to “fall out.” I didn’t return her anger with my own and I didn’t participate in her shenanigans. Instead, I stepped back, watched her behavior as it morphed from anger to guilt to a re-establishment of equilibrium, and moved on. Not once did I yell, get mad, or feel like my head was going to explode. My daughter saw that I wasn’t going to back down regardless of her behavior. Because I wasn’t getting worn down and exhausted, I had no need to cave to her whim. I am being a parent and I have to thank Dr. Bromfield for that. I know that if I continue down this new path, by the time my child reaches those awful, gut-wrenching teenage years she and I will have established the kind of relationship that will  make that turbulent time less rocky for her and her parents! I can maintain my irrepressible spirit and give her the gift of parents who lead her through those dark valleys of adolescence into the light of a promising young adulthood. Parenting isn’t for sissies, but if we strive to do our job well, we will certainly reap the reward with adult children who are loving, compassionate, and self-sufficient.

Doing Good

It has been a while since I’ve posted. Life has been really, really BUSY! January is nearly gone and while I have hated this long, cold, dreary month, I have to admit I can’t believe we’ll be saying goodbye in less than 48 hours! This month, I have celebrated my 42nd year on this Earth, finally attacked the literacy closet at my school (an item on my “To Do” list since August), and actually begun to read some of the eBooks I downloaded on my Kindle Fire. Wow! I have also been delighting in the fact that it is no longer pitch dark at 6:00 PM! To top it off, my sister sent me a beautiful picture of a double rainbow she saw on her way to work last Friday. You can barely see the second rainbow above the first, but I promise it is there.

I didn’t make any resolutions as the calendar turned from 2011 to 2012. I haven’t done that in a long time. Why lie to yourself and start the year off on a bad note? Instead, I try to take my pastor-husband’s suggestions to heart and focus on what I WILL do instead of what I WON’T do. That’s a good idea, don’t you think? It is an idea I embraced when we moved back to our hometown last June. I decided then that instead of trying to figure out all the reasons I can’t do things, I would instead try very hard to focus on how to do more for others…how to do more good.

Now, I’m no lazy bones by any means. Most days, I’m up a little before 6 AM and don’t sit down until about 9 PM. I work my full 8 hours and then some, I do my “chores” more or less, and I run my daughter around to her engagements. Since we’ve returned to our hometown, I also try to visit my grandmother at least a few times a week and spend more time with my extended family, which now includes grooming Mimi’s crazy cat (see earlier post). I go to Sunday school and church each week. I am a jealous protector of “my time” however. I don’t want to lose a single moment that I may be able to spend reading a bit on the couch, watching a favorite show, or running around with my sister. Last June, as we packed boxes to move, I decided to have a change in attitude and be a little less concerned about my personal time. I decided that instead of saying (as I always have), “Well, if you can’t find anyone else, I will…” that I would just go ahead and commit. I’ve been doing pretty good too, if I do say so myself. I haven’t volunteered for everything because laundry and vacuum fairies haven’t descended on my humble home, but I’m doing more than I have in the past. Know what I’ve discovered? I’m more content, less stressed, and I really do enjoy jumping in and helping out.

With my new determination to be more flexible and do more good, I have been able to help on a variety of levels. I helped welcome new sixth graders to our school this summer so that when they arrived in August they’d know a few friendly faces, I helped our women’s circle at church collect coats and other warm clothing articles for those less fortunate, I volunteered for our missions committee and we are planning some stellar activities to raise money for the needy in our community and reach out to everyone from children to the elderly, I’m taking an active role in my professional organization, and boy am I putting myself “out there” technologically by working on all sorts of school committees, blogging (lucky you!), Tweeting, and a flurry of other activities. Through it all, I try to be a positive light and encourage others. I try to do just a little more and leave each area a little better. I try to do good.

What can you do today to try to enrich not just your life, but the lives of those around you? Give a colleague a smile, pick up your neighbor’s newspaper, give an old friend or estranged family member a call. Not sure where to begin or where you best fit? Ask around. Seek out a church family if you don’t have one. Google “Volunteer” and your area. Try to give a little bit of the MANY blessings you have received back to those around you. Don’t feel blessed? Well, here’s your chance! Reach out and grab it. Keep your light shining and be an irrepressible spirit, bringing joy to those around you. You’ll find the joy in your life too.