It is time to write an update on the kids. Life is flying by me and the moments are slipping away...
Ethan:
I have discovered a little tick of Ethan's. When he is excited or nervous, he makes noise. Not necessarily words, but just strange, bizarre and very quickly irritating noises. I am sure it will pass, but I find myself saying, quite frequently, "Ethan, enough with the noises." He asks me nearly every week to have lunch with him at school. I never understand this request, because when I am able to fulfill this request, he doesn't really talk to me. However, today, I will oblige this request. Schoolwork always seem to be second on the list. He cares, but not enough to make it a priority. Nevertheless, he ended up with all As and one B on this first report card of the year. I still feel that I have to stay behind him a bit too much. It is time for him to increase his level of independence. We also are working on "fairness" and the extreme focus he has on always making sure he gets what his sisters have. He is still quite the funny man and enjoys guitar, choir and swimming.
Sadie:
Jay and I had an appointment at the pediatrician's office yesterday without Sadie. This regards the various amounts of paperwork we and her teacher have completed about her behavior. The outcome of the paperwork was not surprising to me - ADHD (strong Hyperactivity) and also some tendencies for ODD (Oppositional Defiance Disorder). We are opting NOT to put Sadie on medication because her school work is not suffering. Instead, our pediatrician, who no longer prescribes medication to any child for the above, has a different type of behavior-modification plan, and a nutrition plan. He believes in integrative medicine, looking at multiple approaches. Can I get an AMEN? We go back in a couple of weeks to receive our "manual." Meanwhile, I believe Sadie has calmed down a bit in class, but there have been some social issues that have concerned me. In the meantime, schoolwork is still above average, swimming is her first love and she does nothing but draw and read with her free time. Tell me again why we should be concerned?
Lily:
Oh, lovey Lily. Always starving. That is the first thing I can write. She is doing well with academics in school, but could be a bit better in consistency with writing. We continue to practice at home, but honestly, it just isn't a strong point for her. Otherwise, reading is coming very easily and math concepts not a struggle. She is the youngest in her class and the teachers say that sometimes that shows, but not in the majority of her work. There is an occasional morning when, as the teacher assistant said, "She just doesn't give a flip," but that doesn't seem to be as often anymore. At least she is not asking/crying to stay with me in the mornings anymore. She has started some swim lessons with the same coach as Ethan and Sadie. She was very timid at first, refusing to swim with him. I asked her why. Her response, "Because he has hair on his chest." Obviously, she has not looked closely at her own bear-like, furry father. It appears that she has grown out of that and seems to really like doing what Ethan and Sadie do, "with their clothes on." This would mean that she likes doing, "dry land practice" that the kids do prior to swimming when they are still dressed in shorts and t-shirts. Funny. Her other activity is piano and I was excited to see her looking at the music while playing and not at her hands last night. Progress! The most comments I receive from others is how "loving" Lily is. Still quite the snuggle bug.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
A Visit to the See the Mouse...and others.
Our first trip to Disney 5 years ago, ended by us promising Sadie and Ethan that we would return when Lily was 5 years old. As the years passed, the kids never let us forget this "promise." Therefore, I found myself planning our second trip to Disney World in August, right around the time of Lily's 5th birthday. However, we kept it a complete surprise until we went to school to pick them up the day we were leaving. What a fantastically difficult, yet very rewarding surprise to keep!
Let me start by saying that prior to going to Disney in 2004, I can say that was not a big Disney fan. Sure, we watched the movies, but didn't "get" Disney in all of its wonderfulness. The last time I had been to Disney was when I was in 4th grade, - 28 years ago. In fact, I had a bit of snobbery when it came to Disney clothing. For the life of me I could never figure out why any adult would wear something with a Disney character on it. It just seemed a bit childish. In fact, I tended to pass on any Disney licensed product for my children, too. Just seemed a bit cheap and a tad too American. Yes, I will eat these words later in this post.
Disney in 2004 was a very special trip. My father paid for the entire family to go. We believed, at the time, that my sister was in complete remission from her breast cancer. It was a celebratory trip and simple a trip of a lifetime. Less than 2 months after our return, the cancer was found in her brain. What a blessing for God to time our trip without the thought of cancer hanging over us.
Now, it was my family's time to return to Disney. This would be Lily's first trip, because she was only 9 months old the firs time around and stayed in High Point while we were away. I am not sure who was more excited about this trip in the end. I would venture to guess me. There is something like seeing Mickey Mouse on that first day that just brings you back to being 5 again. I squealed his name like a little girl, "Ohhh - It's Mickey!'
We did things a little differently this trip. We rented a house which turned out the be the best decision. We also took my mom and stepdad - a huge help and blessing. It was so very nice to have another "mom" to help take kids to the million trips to the bathroom each day.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
A Plain, White Family
The story had been swirling around in our family for years. Each time it was told, the intrigue and mystery grew. I imagine what little information poured out as the story unfolded became slightly embellished. However, the possibilities that the story held, gripped me and mesmerized me.
It was first told to me 10 year ago, a tale resurrected from long ago memories. I was pregnant with my first child and was grieving the loss of my great aunt, Iris. The family was gathered at the funeral home waiting for visitors to pay their respects and offer condolences. An elderly gentleman entered the room. He was of African-American decent, the only of such color in the room.
The funeral director approached him and asked, "Are you a friend of the family?"
The gentleman replied, "No, I am family."
I am sure my head did a double take as I sized up this man, of a different race, whom I had never heard, as he came into the room quite confidently. He approached the open casket of my dear, great-aunt Iris. My father shook his hand, my grandparents spoke to him and I just stood there.
Later, when the evening was winding down, I found the time and words to ask my grandmother who the man was. This is what I was told:
His name is Charlie, my grandmother explained. When he was a young man, he came to live with my great-grandparents, my Aunt Iris and my uncles. It was the same house that Iris lived in until her death. He lived under the stairs, which was a tiny bit of a closet, and helped around the house and yard. He came to live there because his own mother was having trouble, financially, with caring for him. It was always understood that somehow he was family, but no one really talked about it. She added, he still lives in High Point over on Cedrow.
The story was told with a matter-of-factness that surprised me. After all, I was just told that one of my great-grandparents must have been involved in an interracial affair. Most likely, my great-grandfather, Frank. It was a potential scandal of magnificent proportions taking place in the 1910s or so. The fact that this man still resided in our town and yet, was not still involved in our family greatly bothered me. Questions swirled around in my brain.
What was/is his relationship to ours?
Do I have an entirely other family that I do not know?
Is that when the more than the average, wide-nose trait that dons most of the Aulbert family moved into our gene pool?
If he is family, what happened that no one really knows the story?
What has happened to him?
If related, why did our family abandon him after all these years?
Over the years I have often thought of this man, Charlie. Being the investigator and the family writer, it is probably in my nature to seek out these stories of massive intrigue. However, with three small children, a sister with cancer, building a house and well, life, the quest for the truth fell by the wayside. That is, until, my grandfather passed away this summer.
Charlie, being in the early stages of Alzheimer's, did not come to the funeral this time. However, my grandmother looked up his number and called to inform him of this passing. His wife, Elouise, answered the phone. My grandmother explained why she was calling. Elouise called out to him, "Charlie, it is Reba. She is calling to tell you your brother has died." And, with that, I decided that it was time, time to uncover the truth.
I procured Charlie's number from my grandmother and phoned him. His son answered the phone and I explained who I was and that I wanted to talk to Mr. R about his relationship with my grandfather. An appointed day and time was set for the next week.
I arrived at their house, anxious to meet what I hoped was a whole new branch of our family. Given the amount of political correctness thrust (read: crammed) into my education at Chapel Hill, I was pathetically riveted by the fact that I could have a mixed-race heritage. According to my education, I should almost be ashamed of being from a plain, white family. The implications of somehow escaping this label were limitless in my mind. It was my single focus....to bring together and celebrate my new-found African-American heritage.
The door to the house opened before I could even knock. The elderly black man said, "Hello!" and immediately drew me to him in a big bear hug. His wife, I presumed, stood behind him waiting her turn for another hug filled with warmth, making me feel quickly at home.
We sat down and and after thanking them for allowing me into their home, I wasted no time getting straight to the point. I recounted what I knew of Charlie and his relationship to our family. I finally asked, point blank, "Are you related to our family?" I held my breath...
Charlie replied, "No, not blood related."
I admit, I was disappointed. The next logical question was, "Then why do you refer to my great-aunts and great-uncles as your brothers and sisters?"
Charlie answered, "Because they treated me like family."
I sat there listening, slowly comprehending what he was telling me. Soaking it all in.
He continued by saying, "My family was very, very poor. I had 13 brothers and sisters and my mother could not take care of us all. Your family brought me into their house to help around with the yard and other house maintenance. I ate at the table with them. I slept in their rooms in a bed. I went to church with them at the Quaker church, sitting on the same pew. I was fully accepted by them. I was one of their own. They called me their son. That was really rare in the 1930s."
He continued to tell me more about life with my great-grandparents - funny little anecdotes, insights into personalities, etc. When he came to live with them, it was the first time he had experienced indoor plumbing. He was, understandably, very grateful for this fact. I have always known that my great-grandparents were not affluent. In fact, they were not even what was considered middle class. Money was always a bit tight and yet, they took on another mouth to feed and clothe.
As I listened, I became keenly aware of the ridiculousness of my original goal of the visit. It was completely embarrassing. Instead of thinking that my family would be elevated to some higher, more esteemed level because of its racially diverse and scandalous background, I realized that my family was, in fact, already quite different. They were unique because they broke the racial barriers that were prevalent during those days. They knew how to treat another human being with dignity, compassion and love, despite the culture of the south and really the entire nation. This fact was profoundly more important.
I heard from Charlie that time was the reason for the disconnect between our families, not discord. He moved out of the house when he was around 20 and lived on the other side of town. It wasn't common for races to intermix socially. Both were just more comfortable in their own territory. My great-aunt would continue to call him to help around my grandfather's house until my great-grandfather's death in 1971; my aunt always paying him for his help. He was extremely thankful for my family and their care. I teared at hearing his heart-felt appreciation.
We continued to talk. Me, hearing more about his youth, his family, his grown children. He, hearing about mine. I left Charlies' house not sure if I would ever see him again, but filled with a better sense of the stock of people from which I come. It is a legacy that I will enthusiastically continue and teach my children. My plain, white family is maybe not so plain after all.
It was first told to me 10 year ago, a tale resurrected from long ago memories. I was pregnant with my first child and was grieving the loss of my great aunt, Iris. The family was gathered at the funeral home waiting for visitors to pay their respects and offer condolences. An elderly gentleman entered the room. He was of African-American decent, the only of such color in the room.
The funeral director approached him and asked, "Are you a friend of the family?"
The gentleman replied, "No, I am family."
I am sure my head did a double take as I sized up this man, of a different race, whom I had never heard, as he came into the room quite confidently. He approached the open casket of my dear, great-aunt Iris. My father shook his hand, my grandparents spoke to him and I just stood there.
Later, when the evening was winding down, I found the time and words to ask my grandmother who the man was. This is what I was told:
His name is Charlie, my grandmother explained. When he was a young man, he came to live with my great-grandparents, my Aunt Iris and my uncles. It was the same house that Iris lived in until her death. He lived under the stairs, which was a tiny bit of a closet, and helped around the house and yard. He came to live there because his own mother was having trouble, financially, with caring for him. It was always understood that somehow he was family, but no one really talked about it. She added, he still lives in High Point over on Cedrow.
The story was told with a matter-of-factness that surprised me. After all, I was just told that one of my great-grandparents must have been involved in an interracial affair. Most likely, my great-grandfather, Frank. It was a potential scandal of magnificent proportions taking place in the 1910s or so. The fact that this man still resided in our town and yet, was not still involved in our family greatly bothered me. Questions swirled around in my brain.
What was/is his relationship to ours?
Do I have an entirely other family that I do not know?
Is that when the more than the average, wide-nose trait that dons most of the Aulbert family moved into our gene pool?
If he is family, what happened that no one really knows the story?
What has happened to him?
If related, why did our family abandon him after all these years?
Over the years I have often thought of this man, Charlie. Being the investigator and the family writer, it is probably in my nature to seek out these stories of massive intrigue. However, with three small children, a sister with cancer, building a house and well, life, the quest for the truth fell by the wayside. That is, until, my grandfather passed away this summer.
Charlie, being in the early stages of Alzheimer's, did not come to the funeral this time. However, my grandmother looked up his number and called to inform him of this passing. His wife, Elouise, answered the phone. My grandmother explained why she was calling. Elouise called out to him, "Charlie, it is Reba. She is calling to tell you your brother has died." And, with that, I decided that it was time, time to uncover the truth.
I procured Charlie's number from my grandmother and phoned him. His son answered the phone and I explained who I was and that I wanted to talk to Mr. R about his relationship with my grandfather. An appointed day and time was set for the next week.
I arrived at their house, anxious to meet what I hoped was a whole new branch of our family. Given the amount of political correctness thrust (read: crammed) into my education at Chapel Hill, I was pathetically riveted by the fact that I could have a mixed-race heritage. According to my education, I should almost be ashamed of being from a plain, white family. The implications of somehow escaping this label were limitless in my mind. It was my single focus....to bring together and celebrate my new-found African-American heritage.
The door to the house opened before I could even knock. The elderly black man said, "Hello!" and immediately drew me to him in a big bear hug. His wife, I presumed, stood behind him waiting her turn for another hug filled with warmth, making me feel quickly at home.
We sat down and and after thanking them for allowing me into their home, I wasted no time getting straight to the point. I recounted what I knew of Charlie and his relationship to our family. I finally asked, point blank, "Are you related to our family?" I held my breath...
Charlie replied, "No, not blood related."
I admit, I was disappointed. The next logical question was, "Then why do you refer to my great-aunts and great-uncles as your brothers and sisters?"
Charlie answered, "Because they treated me like family."
I sat there listening, slowly comprehending what he was telling me. Soaking it all in.
He continued by saying, "My family was very, very poor. I had 13 brothers and sisters and my mother could not take care of us all. Your family brought me into their house to help around with the yard and other house maintenance. I ate at the table with them. I slept in their rooms in a bed. I went to church with them at the Quaker church, sitting on the same pew. I was fully accepted by them. I was one of their own. They called me their son. That was really rare in the 1930s."
He continued to tell me more about life with my great-grandparents - funny little anecdotes, insights into personalities, etc. When he came to live with them, it was the first time he had experienced indoor plumbing. He was, understandably, very grateful for this fact. I have always known that my great-grandparents were not affluent. In fact, they were not even what was considered middle class. Money was always a bit tight and yet, they took on another mouth to feed and clothe.
As I listened, I became keenly aware of the ridiculousness of my original goal of the visit. It was completely embarrassing. Instead of thinking that my family would be elevated to some higher, more esteemed level because of its racially diverse and scandalous background, I realized that my family was, in fact, already quite different. They were unique because they broke the racial barriers that were prevalent during those days. They knew how to treat another human being with dignity, compassion and love, despite the culture of the south and really the entire nation. This fact was profoundly more important.
I heard from Charlie that time was the reason for the disconnect between our families, not discord. He moved out of the house when he was around 20 and lived on the other side of town. It wasn't common for races to intermix socially. Both were just more comfortable in their own territory. My great-aunt would continue to call him to help around my grandfather's house until my great-grandfather's death in 1971; my aunt always paying him for his help. He was extremely thankful for my family and their care. I teared at hearing his heart-felt appreciation.
We continued to talk. Me, hearing more about his youth, his family, his grown children. He, hearing about mine. I left Charlies' house not sure if I would ever see him again, but filled with a better sense of the stock of people from which I come. It is a legacy that I will enthusiastically continue and teach my children. My plain, white family is maybe not so plain after all.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Outer Me: All is well. Life is running smoothly.
Inner Me: Why can't Sadie get it under control? Will she ever have friends? Why do other mothers think I am not giving this all I have? Why can't Ethan stay focused? His homework should not take 2 hours. Do I really have to remind my kids to brush their teeth in the morning and at night? Why do I feel all alone in trying to solve parenting issues? Why can't Lily earn an "O" in handwriting? I am sure this is just another reason her teacher believes we should have held her back. Why can't I say NO to anyone with a request? Why am I not supermom? I mean, I should have all the time in the world to have a clean house, a perfect dinner each night, kids well behaved, clean with perfect marks in school...because afterall, I am not really "working a real job," right?
Outer Me: If I just clinch my jaw hard enough, I can bear my way through this. I can still present myself that all is well.
Monday, October 05, 2009
It is Monday morning. I don't like starting off my week stressed. Yet, here I am. Super-sized stressed. I thought I would feel a sense of relief this morning with my high school reunion behind me. Instead, I am sitting on my bed wondering how I will get everything done. Oh, it will come together, but it won't be pretty. History proves it. I will not make pretty choices concerning my words, my attitudes, my view. I don't want to spend the next two weeks hating my circumstances.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
My Sunday Reflection
Crossroads are a natural part of life's journey. Fairly predictable at the end of education endeavors, decision on marriage and bearing children. But, I think the ones that are the most difficult involve less on the factual statuses of life and more on matters of the heart.
I have spent two years at a crossroad. Written all throughout this blog are posts littered with depression, questioning, with a sprinkling of some epiphanies, yet no action has really been taken. It is much easier for me to write about being at the crossroads and what I think I should do than actually stepping forth, making a move, getting off of the "x marks the spot" and journeying on.
Last night I found myself at the foot of my beautiful Sadie's bed while she slept. My purpose in being there was to pray for her, to petition to God for wisdom and understanding into a beautiful mind that has become an enigma to me.
You see, this school year has brought to the surface the struggles that each individual member of my family has, but in no one more obvious that Sadie. I noticed a decline in her behavior over the summer. Little acts of disobedience. Little manipulations. Little lies. Little aggravations. I was not the proactive mother. Our summer schedule left little time to enforce discipline measures. Jay traveled much of the time. Honestly, I was just tired of being a mom. Tired of being, actually.
As the school year has progressed, so has Sadie's transgressions. A little bit of talking in class has become a lot of talking in class which has become talking while the teacher is instructing which has become impulsive loud acts, which has become hitting another child with a book, chasing around a hair in the air while class is being conducted...etc., etc., etc. This only parallels her behavior at home causing me to be consumed with anger and for me to attempt warp drive in the control department. If I just clamp down hard enough, rant and yell enough, I can squash her into this box that I think she should fit in. I searched the internet - ADHD, Oppositional Defiance Disorder, Boredom, Highly Intellectual, Differentiation in the Classroom - looking for answers, solutions, problem-solving on my own. Do you hear the problems already?
I have spent two years at a crossroad. Written all throughout this blog are posts littered with depression, questioning, with a sprinkling of some epiphanies, yet no action has really been taken. It is much easier for me to write about being at the crossroads and what I think I should do than actually stepping forth, making a move, getting off of the "x marks the spot" and journeying on.
Last night I found myself at the foot of my beautiful Sadie's bed while she slept. My purpose in being there was to pray for her, to petition to God for wisdom and understanding into a beautiful mind that has become an enigma to me.
You see, this school year has brought to the surface the struggles that each individual member of my family has, but in no one more obvious that Sadie. I noticed a decline in her behavior over the summer. Little acts of disobedience. Little manipulations. Little lies. Little aggravations. I was not the proactive mother. Our summer schedule left little time to enforce discipline measures. Jay traveled much of the time. Honestly, I was just tired of being a mom. Tired of being, actually.
As the school year has progressed, so has Sadie's transgressions. A little bit of talking in class has become a lot of talking in class which has become talking while the teacher is instructing which has become impulsive loud acts, which has become hitting another child with a book, chasing around a hair in the air while class is being conducted...etc., etc., etc. This only parallels her behavior at home causing me to be consumed with anger and for me to attempt warp drive in the control department. If I just clamp down hard enough, rant and yell enough, I can squash her into this box that I think she should fit in. I searched the internet - ADHD, Oppositional Defiance Disorder, Boredom, Highly Intellectual, Differentiation in the Classroom - looking for answers, solutions, problem-solving on my own. Do you hear the problems already?
The height of these acts occurred this week, resulting in an explosion or rather a possible implosion of our family. As typical with the workings of God, desperate times draw you close to Him and you reach a new heightened sense of awareness of Him and His love. Monday was just one of those days...
So, there I was, sitting beside my sleeping angel desperate to hear from Him. As I prayed for my child's heart, the light began to shine into my own heart. I wasn't just praying fervently for her, I was praying desperately, soul-searchingly for me. I needed my God. The tears became sobs. I was broken, yet again.
How could I have gotten to this place? Admittedly, by my own two feet. Walking away from Him. On my own.
Easily, I cried out to God to draw us both close to Him. He comforted my heart. He soothed my soul. The next day, God continued speaking to my heart in my bible study. This is what I learned:
1) God is not asking me to problem solve this situation. He asks that I just love her, turn her to Him, apply necessary discipline. Ultimately, I must have faith that He who does a good work, will be faithful to complete it. I should never be desperate or exacerbated.
2) I must shore myself up with the word. My life's history clearly shows how being the word is hugely impacting to me in every single part of my day. The highest of highs, the joy of of joys comes from being with my Savior. My entire countenance changes, a supernatural change that I can not create myself. I am able to transcend the struggles of this world to live with a peace that truly passes all understanding.
3) I must role model self-control which can not come from me, but from the Holy Spirit. If I am flying off the handle, having my little adult fits, rages, etc., how in the world can I expect Sadie not to?4) I must not let how this world defines a "good" child be my guide for Sadie, nor can I let the rolling eyes and judgements of other parents, teachers, etc. to shame me, doubt my parenting, or define success for me. This is between me, Sadie and God.
I would like to say that all of this changed the remaining days of the week, like a miracle was performed and Sadie showed marked improvement. No. That was not the case. However, there was a miracle in my ability to handle it, to administer appropriate punishment, to turn her heart to the Lord. We have had some very sweet prayers and discussions as well as some very tough discipline measures. For example, her room contains only with her bed and clothing.
Therefore, I wait. I pray and I wait expectantly. It is nice to have the crossroads to my back. You know, I might be walking a very long time, but I have faith that somewhere along that path, the trees will bear much fruit.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Who do YOU belong to?
I saw this on a DVD today during my bible study. I nearly jumped up and shouted AMEN! I am HIS! I am CHOSEN! I am ANOINTED! Therefore, I have HIM residing in me, giving me the strength, wisdom and power when I do not! So, I ask you today, just as Priscilla Shirer did to me...Who do YOU belong to?
Soliloquy by Priscilla Shirer
Who do you belong to?
He is the first and the last, the beginning and the end. He’s the keeper of creation and the creator of all. He’s the architect of the universe and the manager of all time. He always was, always is, always will be unmoved, unchanged, undefeated and never undone.
He was bruised but brought healing, He was pierced but eased pain, He was persecuted but brought freedom, He was dead and brings life. He is risen to bring power and He reigns to bring peace.
The world can’t understand Him, armies can’t defeat Him, schools can’t explain Him and leaders they can’t ignore Him. Herrod couldn’t kill Him, Nero couldn’t crush Him, the new age cannot replace Him and Oprah cannot explain Him away.
You remind yourself, that He is light, He is love, He is longevity and He is the Lord. He is goodness and kindness and faithfulness and He is God. He is holy and righteousness and powerful and pure.
His ways are right, His word eternal, His will unchanging and His mind is on us. He’s our Savior, our guide, our peace, our joy, our comfort, our Lord and He rules our lives.
I serve Him because….His bond is love, His yoke is easy, His burden is light and His goal for us is abundant life. I follow Him because He’s the wisdom of the wise, the power of the powerful, the ancient of days, the ruler of rulers, the leader of all leaders. His goal is a relationship with me.
He’ll never leave you, never forsake you, never mislead you, never forget you, never overlook you, and never cancel your appointment in his appointment book.
When you fall He’ll lift you up. When you fail, he’ll forgive you. When you’re weak, He’s strong. When you’re lost, He’s your way. When you’re afraid, He’s your courage.
When you stumble, he will steady you. When you’re hurt He’s gonna heal you. When you’re broken, He will mend you. When you’re blind, He will lead you. When you’re hungry, He will feed you. When you face trials, He’s with you. When I face persecution, He shields me. When I face problems, He will comfort me. When I face loss, He will provide for me. And when we face death, He will carry us all home to meet Him.
He is everything, for everybody, everywhere, every time and in every way. He is your God. And that sisters, is who you belong to.
Soliloquy by Priscilla Shirer
Who do you belong to?
He is the first and the last, the beginning and the end. He’s the keeper of creation and the creator of all. He’s the architect of the universe and the manager of all time. He always was, always is, always will be unmoved, unchanged, undefeated and never undone.
He was bruised but brought healing, He was pierced but eased pain, He was persecuted but brought freedom, He was dead and brings life. He is risen to bring power and He reigns to bring peace.
The world can’t understand Him, armies can’t defeat Him, schools can’t explain Him and leaders they can’t ignore Him. Herrod couldn’t kill Him, Nero couldn’t crush Him, the new age cannot replace Him and Oprah cannot explain Him away.
You remind yourself, that He is light, He is love, He is longevity and He is the Lord. He is goodness and kindness and faithfulness and He is God. He is holy and righteousness and powerful and pure.
His ways are right, His word eternal, His will unchanging and His mind is on us. He’s our Savior, our guide, our peace, our joy, our comfort, our Lord and He rules our lives.
I serve Him because….His bond is love, His yoke is easy, His burden is light and His goal for us is abundant life. I follow Him because He’s the wisdom of the wise, the power of the powerful, the ancient of days, the ruler of rulers, the leader of all leaders. His goal is a relationship with me.
He’ll never leave you, never forsake you, never mislead you, never forget you, never overlook you, and never cancel your appointment in his appointment book.
When you fall He’ll lift you up. When you fail, he’ll forgive you. When you’re weak, He’s strong. When you’re lost, He’s your way. When you’re afraid, He’s your courage.
When you stumble, he will steady you. When you’re hurt He’s gonna heal you. When you’re broken, He will mend you. When you’re blind, He will lead you. When you’re hungry, He will feed you. When you face trials, He’s with you. When I face persecution, He shields me. When I face problems, He will comfort me. When I face loss, He will provide for me. And when we face death, He will carry us all home to meet Him.
He is everything, for everybody, everywhere, every time and in every way. He is your God. And that sisters, is who you belong to.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Low, Again
The last two weeks have swirled by with the fury of a blizzard. I use the word blizzard because much of it felt as if I were stranded in blackout conditions. It really wasn't so much the circumstances, but my inability to handle them.
For the past 14 days, someone in my house has been sick. They have been so painfully sick that we have had numerous trips to the doctors, hospitals and finally a three-day stint at Brenner's Children's Hospital. My sad, pitifully merciless heart has grown a bit as I have held my two oldest while they have writhed, cried and screamed their way through the massive cramping and stabbing war going on in their bellies. What is must be like for parents who must experience this daily with their chronically ill spawn. That is a journey I beg God not to send me through.
My own inability to soothe my children, bring them comfort, find a solution has sent me spiraling. It is that battle of control, once again. The urge to focus, become obsessive, on matters completely not eternal, has wound me tighter than a tick. Ranting has, unfortunately, become the norm and it only takes a tiny blip in my scheduling to send me careening over the edge of the tightrope I walk as a mother. I am gone before I can even attempt to grab at that rope and salvage some bit of the show. My husband, my children, my extended family, even the dog -no one has been immune.
I could list everything on my mind at this very minute, but none of them really matter. What I do recognize is that I am in a very bad place. I do not have the skills to make sense of it all. This is not how I want to live as I have lived better. I am not enjoying this season of life and I should. Sometimes, you just have to know when to raise the white flag of surrender...again.
For the past 14 days, someone in my house has been sick. They have been so painfully sick that we have had numerous trips to the doctors, hospitals and finally a three-day stint at Brenner's Children's Hospital. My sad, pitifully merciless heart has grown a bit as I have held my two oldest while they have writhed, cried and screamed their way through the massive cramping and stabbing war going on in their bellies. What is must be like for parents who must experience this daily with their chronically ill spawn. That is a journey I beg God not to send me through.
My own inability to soothe my children, bring them comfort, find a solution has sent me spiraling. It is that battle of control, once again. The urge to focus, become obsessive, on matters completely not eternal, has wound me tighter than a tick. Ranting has, unfortunately, become the norm and it only takes a tiny blip in my scheduling to send me careening over the edge of the tightrope I walk as a mother. I am gone before I can even attempt to grab at that rope and salvage some bit of the show. My husband, my children, my extended family, even the dog -no one has been immune.
I could list everything on my mind at this very minute, but none of them really matter. What I do recognize is that I am in a very bad place. I do not have the skills to make sense of it all. This is not how I want to live as I have lived better. I am not enjoying this season of life and I should. Sometimes, you just have to know when to raise the white flag of surrender...again.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Do You Need a Nanny?
I found these questions on another website: http://www.nannydeprived.com/
Take the Nanny Deprived Quiz :
1) Have you ever eaten a random cheerio, puff, or pretzel just because you had no where else to put it? My Answer: more times than I care to admit!
2) Have you ever vowed to never again wear white due to constant grime, bodily fluids, and dirt showing minutes after you've gotten dressed? I don't think I own anything white except for one t-shirt.
3) Have you ever used your garden hose to wash down a high chair, stroller or child? Yes to these three and throw in booster and car seats, too. I have hosed them down, only later to find the dog napping in it, leaving dog hair all over it, forcing you to repeat the wash down again.
4) Have you ever walked around with a half eaten cookie in your pocket? Yes, and other little tidbits around the house. These days it ends up being a lego piece or hair clips that I find and mean to deposit in their rightful place. They end up on my dresser at the end of the night when I empty my pockets.
5) Do you look forward to going to the doctor or dentist just so you can sit in the waiting room and read a magazine by yourself? I can remember this being the highlight of my mother of preschoolers day. Looking back, that is so sad. We should be helping each other out more in this area. However, I know that when I did have a break from the kids, I had to spend it wisely - doing the errands that were insanity-inducing with them, like Costco.
6) Have you ever used a public restroom while holding a child on your lap because there was no where else to put them? No, actually, I don't think so. I think it is because I always crammed the stroller into the stall with me.
7) Have you watched Yo Gabba Gabba? I'm so sorry if you have! Yes. I think this show is just bizarre. Some of the songs are catchy, but in general I just don't get it. I would add to this, What is the most annoying chidren's show on tv? I vote Yo Gabba Gabba.
8) Have you ever found marshmallows in your slippers? No. But, I have found legos. Ouch!
9) Have you ever counted down the hours until bedtime? Yes. Who hasn't???? Now that they can manage this on their own, I enjoy those few moments of "catch-up" time we have when I tuck them in. Who hasn't looked at the clock and said, "Oh, it is time for bed!" The clock said 6:45 pm, but it didn't really matter because the kids didn't know how to read the clock, yet!
10) Have you perfected the fine art of changing pee soaked sheets while still mostly asleep? Yes.
11) Have you been forced to discuss or explain the plot of a Disney movie while trying to merge onto an interstate in rush hour traffic? Yes. The focus tends to be on Star Wars or SpongeBob as my kids are a little older. However, with the school year in full swing, we are detoxing from tv. There really isn't much time for it. Our conversations about shows is decreasing. Imagine that.
12) Have you ever had to use preschool safety scissors to cut a major package because that was all you could find? I did this today.
13) Have you ever cleaned grilled cheese off of your sunglasses? This one is a little tough. I can't say grilled cheese, but I can say that I have cleaned off unknown food gunk that attached to my glasses while they were stuffed into the bottom of my pocketbook. Does that count?
14) Have you ever answered the door wearing "princess jewelry"? Yes.
15) Have you ever run out of batteries on PURPOSE? Run out of batteries? I have just taken them out!
16) Have you named your dust buster and consider it part of your family? Fred.
17) Can you tell what time it is based on what show is on Noggin or Nick Jr? Yes. During her preschool years, I knew that when Wow Wow Wubzie ended, it was time for Lily's nap.
Gratefully, many of these are no longer applicable since my children are of school age. How many did you get? Can you add some of your own?
Take the Nanny Deprived Quiz :
1) Have you ever eaten a random cheerio, puff, or pretzel just because you had no where else to put it? My Answer: more times than I care to admit!
2) Have you ever vowed to never again wear white due to constant grime, bodily fluids, and dirt showing minutes after you've gotten dressed? I don't think I own anything white except for one t-shirt.
3) Have you ever used your garden hose to wash down a high chair, stroller or child? Yes to these three and throw in booster and car seats, too. I have hosed them down, only later to find the dog napping in it, leaving dog hair all over it, forcing you to repeat the wash down again.
4) Have you ever walked around with a half eaten cookie in your pocket? Yes, and other little tidbits around the house. These days it ends up being a lego piece or hair clips that I find and mean to deposit in their rightful place. They end up on my dresser at the end of the night when I empty my pockets.
5) Do you look forward to going to the doctor or dentist just so you can sit in the waiting room and read a magazine by yourself? I can remember this being the highlight of my mother of preschoolers day. Looking back, that is so sad. We should be helping each other out more in this area. However, I know that when I did have a break from the kids, I had to spend it wisely - doing the errands that were insanity-inducing with them, like Costco.
6) Have you ever used a public restroom while holding a child on your lap because there was no where else to put them? No, actually, I don't think so. I think it is because I always crammed the stroller into the stall with me.
7) Have you watched Yo Gabba Gabba? I'm so sorry if you have! Yes. I think this show is just bizarre. Some of the songs are catchy, but in general I just don't get it. I would add to this, What is the most annoying chidren's show on tv? I vote Yo Gabba Gabba.
8) Have you ever found marshmallows in your slippers? No. But, I have found legos. Ouch!
9) Have you ever counted down the hours until bedtime? Yes. Who hasn't???? Now that they can manage this on their own, I enjoy those few moments of "catch-up" time we have when I tuck them in. Who hasn't looked at the clock and said, "Oh, it is time for bed!" The clock said 6:45 pm, but it didn't really matter because the kids didn't know how to read the clock, yet!
10) Have you perfected the fine art of changing pee soaked sheets while still mostly asleep? Yes.
11) Have you been forced to discuss or explain the plot of a Disney movie while trying to merge onto an interstate in rush hour traffic? Yes. The focus tends to be on Star Wars or SpongeBob as my kids are a little older. However, with the school year in full swing, we are detoxing from tv. There really isn't much time for it. Our conversations about shows is decreasing. Imagine that.
12) Have you ever had to use preschool safety scissors to cut a major package because that was all you could find? I did this today.
13) Have you ever cleaned grilled cheese off of your sunglasses? This one is a little tough. I can't say grilled cheese, but I can say that I have cleaned off unknown food gunk that attached to my glasses while they were stuffed into the bottom of my pocketbook. Does that count?
14) Have you ever answered the door wearing "princess jewelry"? Yes.
15) Have you ever run out of batteries on PURPOSE? Run out of batteries? I have just taken them out!
16) Have you named your dust buster and consider it part of your family? Fred.
17) Can you tell what time it is based on what show is on Noggin or Nick Jr? Yes. During her preschool years, I knew that when Wow Wow Wubzie ended, it was time for Lily's nap.
Gratefully, many of these are no longer applicable since my children are of school age. How many did you get? Can you add some of your own?
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
A low day in the life of mothering
Today was not a stellar day in the life of my children. Relationally, this impacts me, their mother. Oh, I am sure it will pale in comparison to what lies ahead as we enter the wildly hormonal teenage years. However, in the life of elementary students, well, this ranks pretty low on the success rung for me, the mom.
This morning, it was all Lily. Three years of preschool and only a handful of days did she ever cry at leaving me. Now, in kindergarten, she cries every morning, asking, rather begging to stay with me. One of the deciding factors to send her on to 'big school' this year was that she has always loved school and has never exhibited separation anxiety. In fact, none of my children have had any bouts of such for more than a couple of days. Not only does this delay us in getting ready in the mornings, it frustrates me because I have no real idea how to handle it. She is fine in the classroom which makes me believe this is a power thing?? See? I have no idea.
Fastforward to pick-up time at the school. My first hit was when my eyes landed on Sadie's teacher. She promptly walked towards me and as her eyes flitted everywhere but into mine, I could tell that bad news was eminent.
"Sadie, had a bad day today. She had several warnings and went on yellow. We had two specials today and both teachers mentioned Sadie's behavior, too. She had a very hard time controlling herself today. I have moved the children around and I have partnered Sadie with a very quiet girl, so we will see if that helps."
As she finished talking, another teacher brought Sadie outside. I was a bit confused, because Sadie was supposed to be in the holding area and evidently this other teacher thought she wasn't supposed to be there. This other teacher announced quite loudly, "I found Sadie hanging out in the holding room." It made for a quite a confusing and slightly embarrassing moment as all other parental eyes seemed drawn toward my direction.
As I found out, Sadie had also taken it upon herself to help another student, who had a cast on his foot, down the elevator. Elevators are not allowed to be used by students unless instructed by the teacher. Sadie had not been instructed to do so. Yay to Sadie for being helpful, right? But, I know she only did it to ride the elevator.
Then, Lily came outside only to announce to me that she had had, "a very bad day, Mommy." Sigh. I tracked down her teacher only to be told that she had some trouble listening and focusing today. She acted very tired throughout the day.
Next comes Ethan. I barely glanced at his teacher, afraid of what might come next. I did get a nugget of encouragement in that the teacher said there was a, "bit of hope." This comment comes after last week's statement from the teacher, "I could stand for Ethan to be a bit more 'present' in the classroom." I thought that was a diplomatic way to state what really translates to: he needs to get his act together. As we walk away, one of Ethan's friends comes running after him carrying something in his hand. He shouts to my always forgetful son, "Ethan, you forgot your lunchbox!"
We traipse off to the car, all pretty dejected and low. As we left school to head to Ethan's guitar lessons, I tried to be positive. "Did you all get my notes in your lunch today?" Coincidently, they all said, "(Child's Name), you are the best! I love you! Mom,". No one clearly answered me, adding to my feelings of resignation.
While continuing on to our afternoon activities, Ethan decided to change into swim gear in the car before his guitar lesson. I emphasized to him to make sure he got everything back into his swim bag. Ethan responded with, "Oh, Mah-um." He scampered out the car door. Soon after, I picked him up from guitar and deposited him and Sadie at the pool for swim team.
Imagine my shock when I arrived to pick them up from swim team, Ethan announced to me, quite audibly I might add, that I forgot to pack his swim suit and he had to swim in his exercise shorts. Apologizing, I scurried to the car, only to check the back seat and find, viola! his swim shorts.
I announced that we were meeting my own father for dinner. Sadie collapsed in a heap because there was no brush to help her pool head. Ethan started to cry, yes cry, because he did not have dry underwear to put on. The thought of going commando sent him into a tailspin. But wait...he could don his still dry swim suit. Solution! And, my step mom might have a brush. Life could move on.
During dinner, Sadie fell asleep and Lily burped twice so loudly that patrons of the restaurant turned their heads in dismay. Lily could also not sit still which meant constantly kicking her nearest neighbor, me, with her feet. Upon arriving home, the car stayed parked halfway down the driveway as we have had our driveway resurfaced. Therefore it took three, long trips from the car to carry in all that accumulated in that day alone. Lily stumbled up the driveway, wearing only one shoe, carrying the other one as dejectedly as I felt.
As I walked to the car on the last trip, I picked up Ethan's underwear and a pair of his socks that had fallen out of his bag which laid quite pathetically on the wet driveway... oblivious to him, of course. In the laundry room, while unpacking swim bags, I pulled out a t-shirt from Ethan's swim bag. I held it up and showed it to him. I already knew the answer before I asked.
"I think that is Coach Rob's t-shirt. How did that get in my bag?" Seriously, Ethan? Seriously?
Tonight, I ask myself, "Can I hold this all together for an entire school year?" I really should get paid more for this job on days like today. I think this will definitely be the year of repetition -repetition in what comes out of my mouth. "Focus, Self-control, You are OK, FOCUS!" There has to be an easier way, right?
This morning, it was all Lily. Three years of preschool and only a handful of days did she ever cry at leaving me. Now, in kindergarten, she cries every morning, asking, rather begging to stay with me. One of the deciding factors to send her on to 'big school' this year was that she has always loved school and has never exhibited separation anxiety. In fact, none of my children have had any bouts of such for more than a couple of days. Not only does this delay us in getting ready in the mornings, it frustrates me because I have no real idea how to handle it. She is fine in the classroom which makes me believe this is a power thing?? See? I have no idea.
Fastforward to pick-up time at the school. My first hit was when my eyes landed on Sadie's teacher. She promptly walked towards me and as her eyes flitted everywhere but into mine, I could tell that bad news was eminent.
"Sadie, had a bad day today. She had several warnings and went on yellow. We had two specials today and both teachers mentioned Sadie's behavior, too. She had a very hard time controlling herself today. I have moved the children around and I have partnered Sadie with a very quiet girl, so we will see if that helps."
As she finished talking, another teacher brought Sadie outside. I was a bit confused, because Sadie was supposed to be in the holding area and evidently this other teacher thought she wasn't supposed to be there. This other teacher announced quite loudly, "I found Sadie hanging out in the holding room." It made for a quite a confusing and slightly embarrassing moment as all other parental eyes seemed drawn toward my direction.
As I found out, Sadie had also taken it upon herself to help another student, who had a cast on his foot, down the elevator. Elevators are not allowed to be used by students unless instructed by the teacher. Sadie had not been instructed to do so. Yay to Sadie for being helpful, right? But, I know she only did it to ride the elevator.
Then, Lily came outside only to announce to me that she had had, "a very bad day, Mommy." Sigh. I tracked down her teacher only to be told that she had some trouble listening and focusing today. She acted very tired throughout the day.
Next comes Ethan. I barely glanced at his teacher, afraid of what might come next. I did get a nugget of encouragement in that the teacher said there was a, "bit of hope." This comment comes after last week's statement from the teacher, "I could stand for Ethan to be a bit more 'present' in the classroom." I thought that was a diplomatic way to state what really translates to: he needs to get his act together. As we walk away, one of Ethan's friends comes running after him carrying something in his hand. He shouts to my always forgetful son, "Ethan, you forgot your lunchbox!"
We traipse off to the car, all pretty dejected and low. As we left school to head to Ethan's guitar lessons, I tried to be positive. "Did you all get my notes in your lunch today?" Coincidently, they all said, "(Child's Name), you are the best! I love you! Mom,". No one clearly answered me, adding to my feelings of resignation.
While continuing on to our afternoon activities, Ethan decided to change into swim gear in the car before his guitar lesson. I emphasized to him to make sure he got everything back into his swim bag. Ethan responded with, "Oh, Mah-um." He scampered out the car door. Soon after, I picked him up from guitar and deposited him and Sadie at the pool for swim team.
Imagine my shock when I arrived to pick them up from swim team, Ethan announced to me, quite audibly I might add, that I forgot to pack his swim suit and he had to swim in his exercise shorts. Apologizing, I scurried to the car, only to check the back seat and find, viola! his swim shorts.
I announced that we were meeting my own father for dinner. Sadie collapsed in a heap because there was no brush to help her pool head. Ethan started to cry, yes cry, because he did not have dry underwear to put on. The thought of going commando sent him into a tailspin. But wait...he could don his still dry swim suit. Solution! And, my step mom might have a brush. Life could move on.
During dinner, Sadie fell asleep and Lily burped twice so loudly that patrons of the restaurant turned their heads in dismay. Lily could also not sit still which meant constantly kicking her nearest neighbor, me, with her feet. Upon arriving home, the car stayed parked halfway down the driveway as we have had our driveway resurfaced. Therefore it took three, long trips from the car to carry in all that accumulated in that day alone. Lily stumbled up the driveway, wearing only one shoe, carrying the other one as dejectedly as I felt.
As I walked to the car on the last trip, I picked up Ethan's underwear and a pair of his socks that had fallen out of his bag which laid quite pathetically on the wet driveway... oblivious to him, of course. In the laundry room, while unpacking swim bags, I pulled out a t-shirt from Ethan's swim bag. I held it up and showed it to him. I already knew the answer before I asked.
"I think that is Coach Rob's t-shirt. How did that get in my bag?" Seriously, Ethan? Seriously?
Tonight, I ask myself, "Can I hold this all together for an entire school year?" I really should get paid more for this job on days like today. I think this will definitely be the year of repetition -repetition in what comes out of my mouth. "Focus, Self-control, You are OK, FOCUS!" There has to be an easier way, right?
Monday, August 31, 2009
How I See Things
I don't know how this fiasco really got going, but I think it was the suggestion of a "dear friend." You see, this friend had always wanted to try wearing false eyelashes. On a whim, I picked up a couple of pairs of lashes and appropriate adhesive and decided in conjunction with her birthday, we could give it a go. Here are the "lessons learned" from my first and last false eyelash application. I say "last" because I can only envision needing them for a "lady of the night" costume and I can't at this point in my life foresee this need.
1) It takes two people to apply eyelashes. I have no idea how anyone can attempt this frivolity by themselves and be successful. I attempted this on my own and the results were similar to a one-armed wallpaper hanger. It just didn't happen. Maybe it is achievable for the younger generation who still has 20/20 vision. But, with age comes far-sightedness for most of us, you know, the ones who really need this product, and application is impossible. Your natural eyelashes get in the way because, after all, their purpose is to protect the eye and anything coming near it. You start squinting to see your upper lid with the one eye that is left open, blurring your vision further. The lash ends up being adhered about halfway up your eyelid, creating a freakish, stunned-in-the-headlights look.
2) The adhesive glue must have been invented by a man. The suggested accompaniment to the lashes comes in a proportionately much larger tube than needed. You are supposed to apply the glue to the teeny tiny thin line that actually attaches to your lid. Again, failure is eminent if your eyesight is poor, see #1. The tip of tube of glue is very tiny, but despite all efforts of only squeezing out a little, inevitably, it comes out in globs. Our solution was to squeeze out a tiny drop on our finger and run the eyelash strip along it, but that was after 3 eyelash application attempts which created a clumpy look to the lash. See # 5.
3) Too much glue creates something that can only be described as eyelash dandruff. It would make much more sense if the glue dried clear. See #2. Rather, it dries white. After seeing numerous white specks of dried glue throughout my newly applied lashes, I realized the "attention" the dandruff might cause would not be for the long, luscious lashes I now batted. There might be some other solution, but the only one I could come up with was using the tip of my mascara to color the dried specks and flecks. I did consider a sharpie, but the toxic smell of permanent marker so near my nose might result in a "marker high." Not only would I look like a more street-worn prostitute, but I might have the added bonus of acting like I was stoned.
4) Eyelashes are not reusable, despite claims of this possibility on the packaging. It is inevitable that you will use too much glue, which then seeps into the lashes causing them to clump together. Instead of multiple, perfectly fanned out lashes, you end up with three large clumpy ones. Attempts to remove the dried adhesive is impossible. I first ran the lashes under warm water. This only accentuated the clumpy look to the lashes. Using superior brain reasoning, I took a q-tip and some fingernail polish remover which also did not work and actually may have started the disintegration of the "natural" look of the lash. With the dried glue dandruff and resulting three clumped lashes, I am not sure I wanted to use them the first time, let alone for subsequent costumes.
5) Problems will arise if you use a hair dryer at any point while applying lashes. Maybe this point is moot for most people and it might point to a deficit in my mental computing. BUT...I thought that I could dry out and attempt re-fanning the eyelash back into its original shape. Not only did this not work, but the air flowing out of the dryer hit the other lash, sending it flying away across the bathroom. Now, what does one do with ONE eyelash?
6) If you look in the mirror and you think you weird or funny, you probably do. I kept thinking that I looked like I had sucked in my cheeks and was transformed into this hoity toity upper class, much older lady of society. Not quite the runway super model that I had envisioned. It just looked ridiculous. My friend assured me that I looked good. I have begun to question my "friend's" such label in my life. Out in public, most people I encountered stared into my eyes with inquiry, pondering, "what the heck is going on there and why did she do that to herself?"
7) Sunglasses and long lashes do not work together. I didn't think about this one prior to putting on my sunglasses, but the lashes were so long that they hit the plastic every time I blinked. That was annoying, so I wore my sun glasses a little lower on the bridge of my nose. Lucky for me, my appearance of peering over the sunglasses only accentuated to the snobbish, much older lady. I guess you could trim the lashes, but I knew I could not do that naturally, so I lived with it. In the car ride to lunch, I kept looking in the mirror, trying to adjust what I had just super glued to my lid. Amazing I didn't wreck the car in my vanity.
8) There is a reason why God created short lashes. Did you know that if you look down and then look back up, while wearing long lashes, your hair will get caught in them? Ridiculous. Forget glamour. Now, you just look like Cousin It from the Adam's Family.
9) Your husband will not be complimentary. The big question was, "Who will notice?" Sometimes it was hard to tell, but I am pretty sure that most people were trying to figure out just what was going on with my eyes. Sadie was the first one to say, "What did you do to your eyes, Mom." And, Jay, after arriving home from work said, "What is up with your eyes? Did you just draw lines on your lids?" I think it is safe to assume that this was not complimentary.
10) You will forget about the lashes and instead, start thinking you have something in your eye. All it will take is one quick swoop of the hand and off comes one lash. For my friend, the most unfortunate of circumstances in the life of a lash occurred. Her lash flew off her eye, landing at the feet of her dog who was waiting for some attention. In one nanosecond that dog surveyed the little black wisp that landed at his feet and promptly ate it. Game over.
I have no doubt that "professional" application yields different results. However, I cannot justify the expense of such cosmetics. And, since my own attempts at applying and wearing the lashes were stunningly pathetic and awkward, not to mention poorly received by my family, I think I will just stick with my own. That I just how I see things.
1) It takes two people to apply eyelashes. I have no idea how anyone can attempt this frivolity by themselves and be successful. I attempted this on my own and the results were similar to a one-armed wallpaper hanger. It just didn't happen. Maybe it is achievable for the younger generation who still has 20/20 vision. But, with age comes far-sightedness for most of us, you know, the ones who really need this product, and application is impossible. Your natural eyelashes get in the way because, after all, their purpose is to protect the eye and anything coming near it. You start squinting to see your upper lid with the one eye that is left open, blurring your vision further. The lash ends up being adhered about halfway up your eyelid, creating a freakish, stunned-in-the-headlights look.
2) The adhesive glue must have been invented by a man. The suggested accompaniment to the lashes comes in a proportionately much larger tube than needed. You are supposed to apply the glue to the teeny tiny thin line that actually attaches to your lid. Again, failure is eminent if your eyesight is poor, see #1. The tip of tube of glue is very tiny, but despite all efforts of only squeezing out a little, inevitably, it comes out in globs. Our solution was to squeeze out a tiny drop on our finger and run the eyelash strip along it, but that was after 3 eyelash application attempts which created a clumpy look to the lash. See # 5.
3) Too much glue creates something that can only be described as eyelash dandruff. It would make much more sense if the glue dried clear. See #2. Rather, it dries white. After seeing numerous white specks of dried glue throughout my newly applied lashes, I realized the "attention" the dandruff might cause would not be for the long, luscious lashes I now batted. There might be some other solution, but the only one I could come up with was using the tip of my mascara to color the dried specks and flecks. I did consider a sharpie, but the toxic smell of permanent marker so near my nose might result in a "marker high." Not only would I look like a more street-worn prostitute, but I might have the added bonus of acting like I was stoned.
4) Eyelashes are not reusable, despite claims of this possibility on the packaging. It is inevitable that you will use too much glue, which then seeps into the lashes causing them to clump together. Instead of multiple, perfectly fanned out lashes, you end up with three large clumpy ones. Attempts to remove the dried adhesive is impossible. I first ran the lashes under warm water. This only accentuated the clumpy look to the lashes. Using superior brain reasoning, I took a q-tip and some fingernail polish remover which also did not work and actually may have started the disintegration of the "natural" look of the lash. With the dried glue dandruff and resulting three clumped lashes, I am not sure I wanted to use them the first time, let alone for subsequent costumes.
5) Problems will arise if you use a hair dryer at any point while applying lashes. Maybe this point is moot for most people and it might point to a deficit in my mental computing. BUT...I thought that I could dry out and attempt re-fanning the eyelash back into its original shape. Not only did this not work, but the air flowing out of the dryer hit the other lash, sending it flying away across the bathroom. Now, what does one do with ONE eyelash?
6) If you look in the mirror and you think you weird or funny, you probably do. I kept thinking that I looked like I had sucked in my cheeks and was transformed into this hoity toity upper class, much older lady of society. Not quite the runway super model that I had envisioned. It just looked ridiculous. My friend assured me that I looked good. I have begun to question my "friend's" such label in my life. Out in public, most people I encountered stared into my eyes with inquiry, pondering, "what the heck is going on there and why did she do that to herself?"
7) Sunglasses and long lashes do not work together. I didn't think about this one prior to putting on my sunglasses, but the lashes were so long that they hit the plastic every time I blinked. That was annoying, so I wore my sun glasses a little lower on the bridge of my nose. Lucky for me, my appearance of peering over the sunglasses only accentuated to the snobbish, much older lady. I guess you could trim the lashes, but I knew I could not do that naturally, so I lived with it. In the car ride to lunch, I kept looking in the mirror, trying to adjust what I had just super glued to my lid. Amazing I didn't wreck the car in my vanity.
8) There is a reason why God created short lashes. Did you know that if you look down and then look back up, while wearing long lashes, your hair will get caught in them? Ridiculous. Forget glamour. Now, you just look like Cousin It from the Adam's Family.
9) Your husband will not be complimentary. The big question was, "Who will notice?" Sometimes it was hard to tell, but I am pretty sure that most people were trying to figure out just what was going on with my eyes. Sadie was the first one to say, "What did you do to your eyes, Mom." And, Jay, after arriving home from work said, "What is up with your eyes? Did you just draw lines on your lids?" I think it is safe to assume that this was not complimentary.
10) You will forget about the lashes and instead, start thinking you have something in your eye. All it will take is one quick swoop of the hand and off comes one lash. For my friend, the most unfortunate of circumstances in the life of a lash occurred. Her lash flew off her eye, landing at the feet of her dog who was waiting for some attention. In one nanosecond that dog surveyed the little black wisp that landed at his feet and promptly ate it. Game over.
I have no doubt that "professional" application yields different results. However, I cannot justify the expense of such cosmetics. And, since my own attempts at applying and wearing the lashes were stunningly pathetic and awkward, not to mention poorly received by my family, I think I will just stick with my own. That I just how I see things.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
This morning, I was getting in the car from Target alone. So this is the reward for all those days of fit throwing and tantrums, emotions, etc. Silence. Time to myself. A moment of breathing and not calculating my next move to stave off the next fit and whine. My brain did not know what to do. My kids have all left the nest.
He Makes New Every Morning
Despite not being a morning person, I do love how every morning generally brings a new perspective, a fresh start and a reinvigorated focus. Here is where I am this morning as opposed to yesterday:
Of particular focus is the phrase, "smashing warped philosophies" and, "fitting every loose thought and emotional and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ." Generally, I don't read the Message version of the bible too often, but I really liked how this was interpreted.
My quiet time was spent reflecting on how I have not been using the "tools of my trade," otherwise know as the word of God, to smash, squash, demolish, destroy and tear down the bondage my battle with weight and ultimately my battle with control has had me in. Reading this passage also gave me a boost, strengthening my resolve that His word can kill of the world's pressures and ideals which is from a, "massively corrupt culture." Instead of constantly and consistently keeping God's purpose and image of me in the forefront, I have let the world's, "marketing or manipulation," drive me. I have not been making an a purposeful, concerted effort to stop these thoughts and habits in their tracks with the word of God. Therefore, "clearing the ground of every obstruction," between me and my Father.
My walk with this Lord has been quite immature lately. I let it just come and go like the waves on a beach. Sad that I have reached this point in my spiritual walk, I know. It is time to be habitual and purposeful again, "building a life of obedience to maturity." Always available, always faithful, His word and prayer are, "tools...ready at hand." What a perfect time to draw close to Him, this morning which He has made new for me.
"The world is unprincipled. It's dog-eat-dog out there! The world doesn't fight fair. But we don't live or fight our battles that way—never have and never will. The tools of our trade aren't for marketing or manipulation, but they are for demolishing that entire massively corrupt culture. We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ. Our tools are ready at hand for clearing the ground of every obstruction and building lives of obedience into maturity."
2 Corinthians 10:3-6 (The Message)
Of particular focus is the phrase, "smashing warped philosophies" and, "fitting every loose thought and emotional and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ." Generally, I don't read the Message version of the bible too often, but I really liked how this was interpreted.
My quiet time was spent reflecting on how I have not been using the "tools of my trade," otherwise know as the word of God, to smash, squash, demolish, destroy and tear down the bondage my battle with weight and ultimately my battle with control has had me in. Reading this passage also gave me a boost, strengthening my resolve that His word can kill of the world's pressures and ideals which is from a, "massively corrupt culture." Instead of constantly and consistently keeping God's purpose and image of me in the forefront, I have let the world's, "marketing or manipulation," drive me. I have not been making an a purposeful, concerted effort to stop these thoughts and habits in their tracks with the word of God. Therefore, "clearing the ground of every obstruction," between me and my Father.
My walk with this Lord has been quite immature lately. I let it just come and go like the waves on a beach. Sad that I have reached this point in my spiritual walk, I know. It is time to be habitual and purposeful again, "building a life of obedience to maturity." Always available, always faithful, His word and prayer are, "tools...ready at hand." What a perfect time to draw close to Him, this morning which He has made new for me.
Hair Where?
Yesterday, while waiting to pick up kids, my carpool mom began talking about what a delight my little Lily is. This is the first year she has had the pleasure of Lily's company in the car rides to or from school. Lily does have a certain charm about here when she so chooses to let it shine.
Then, my carpool mom began to giggle and said, "Oh, I should tell you what she said in the car ride this morning."
Immediately, my red flag flew up the pole of warning in my mind. I braced for it.
Lily said, "I have hair on my bottom."
My eyes became a little larger and I brought my hand to my forehead. "Oh, great. That is just lovely," I responded.
My carpool mom told me she asked her to repeat what she had just said to make sure that she heard correctly. Lily repeated, "I have hair on my bottom."
At this point all the other ears in the car perked up to such a statement of private matters. Not to be undone, Sadie had to contribute to the topic of body hair knowledge.
Sadie said, "Yes, but boys have a lot more hair than girls do," at which point all five children began to giggle and laugh.
My carpool mom held it together and confirmed that yes, we have little hair all over our bodies. And, Sadie, yes men often do have more hair all over their bodies than women.
Lily, feeling the need to explain her discovery finished the conversation with, "I saw the hair on my bottom when I took my bath." Delightful, Lily.
Thankfully, this all took place in the confines of the car ride to school. I just makes me wonder what she is saying at school. It is probably best I do not know.
Then, my carpool mom began to giggle and said, "Oh, I should tell you what she said in the car ride this morning."
Immediately, my red flag flew up the pole of warning in my mind. I braced for it.
Lily said, "I have hair on my bottom."
My eyes became a little larger and I brought my hand to my forehead. "Oh, great. That is just lovely," I responded.
My carpool mom told me she asked her to repeat what she had just said to make sure that she heard correctly. Lily repeated, "I have hair on my bottom."
At this point all the other ears in the car perked up to such a statement of private matters. Not to be undone, Sadie had to contribute to the topic of body hair knowledge.
Sadie said, "Yes, but boys have a lot more hair than girls do," at which point all five children began to giggle and laugh.
My carpool mom held it together and confirmed that yes, we have little hair all over our bodies. And, Sadie, yes men often do have more hair all over their bodies than women.
Lily, feeling the need to explain her discovery finished the conversation with, "I saw the hair on my bottom when I took my bath." Delightful, Lily.
Thankfully, this all took place in the confines of the car ride to school. I just makes me wonder what she is saying at school. It is probably best I do not know.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Numbers Game, part 3
The weeks that have passed since writing The Numbers Game, Part 2 have been a struggle for me. Actually, using the word "struggle" is an incredible understatement.
I was determined not to step foot on the bathroom scale since declaring I would not allow it to be a part of my daily routine any longer. However, it began weighing heavily on my mind every morning as I prepared myself for the day. The scale sat in its usual place, taunting me, calling me so desiring to wield its power over me and dictate to me if I will feel good about myself today or not. I had resisted, until a week ago.
During this hiatus from the bathroom scale, I felt as if I were growing larger by the moment. My clothes all seemed to be shrinking and every morning I found something in my closet I thought was just a tad tighter than the last time I wore it. No one mentioned to me that it looked like I had lost weight lately and this compounded my panicky feelings. My days consistently battled with low self- esteem and of measuring and comparing myself to every other woman I encountered. I apologize if that makes anyone reading this feel uncomfortable, but I am trying to bear it all today in this post.
Fast-forward to this past week. Jay had a doctor's appointment and despite working out 3 days a week, he gained enough weight for his doctor to be concerned. Yeah, ok, so some of it is muscle weight, but he and I know that most is not. Additionally, I know that I had put on some pounds since mid-May, how much, I did not know. However, since he was going to be cutting back, I figured out I would be supportive and jump on the band wagon.
I knew it wasn't going to be pretty. I have been uncomfortable in most of my clothes and my eating habits have been completely out of control. As I stepped onto the scale, I let out an audible gasp, my stomach began to knot. I have gained 12 pounds since mid-May. 12 pounds.
Do I know how petty all of this is? Yes. Is it completely out of perspective? Yes. Are there a million more things in this world that are more important? Yes. Yet, I am con summed with this.
Control. There is it, that word again. Self-control, discipline, focus, manage; whatever word you want to use, it describes what I battle in my life. My control verses God's control. For 5 years, I have controlled my weight, allowing me to better deal with all of the other uncontrollables in my life - children, husband, death, work, house, etc. Now, even that is out of my control. My inner self has completely come unglued, chaos reigning and borderline depression setting up camp.
I can remember a time when my house was my controllable area. Cleaning an exorbitant amount - wiping baseboards weekly, cleaning blinds weekly, organizing and reorganizing closets. I chose this focus because my weight was so vastly out of control, I didn't even see it as an area under my influence. As the children grew and became more destructive to the house and I began my journey to physical fitness, my focus shifted to something I could actually dictate, food consumed. Compounding that were the added burdens of cancer and death - two variables completely out of my hands.
I am very angry with myself. My anger at my weight gain is superseded by my anger at myself for wasting so much emotional energy with this topic. I am extraordinarily disappointed at how I treat others around me when I feel this inwardly chaotic. I transfer my frustrations at failing at my own ridiculous goal of perfection to my children. I was very unfair to them yesterday and I am still struggling with that reality this morning.
Now I am scrambling, lowering my caloric intake, drinking water by the jug full, all the while growing agitated and completely aggravated by my constant state of hunger and desire for chocolate. For what, I ask myself? To feel in control again. The irony of the statement does not escape me; I know nothing is truly under my control.
I have had seasons when I was at rest in my life, when I was not running that treadmill of constant work and control. Short-lived these seasons were, but I have lived them. Disappointingly, I am back in this pit of numbers, scrambling on my own, by my own strength to gain footing to climb out of it. I know failure is assured with this method, and yet, my sinful tendency is to solve it on my own, with my own control.
I know what I need to do, but will I do it? It is another season of brokenness and I pray that it will be the last one with this stronghold I will have to endure. I pray for the end to this maddening numbers game.
I was determined not to step foot on the bathroom scale since declaring I would not allow it to be a part of my daily routine any longer. However, it began weighing heavily on my mind every morning as I prepared myself for the day. The scale sat in its usual place, taunting me, calling me so desiring to wield its power over me and dictate to me if I will feel good about myself today or not. I had resisted, until a week ago.
During this hiatus from the bathroom scale, I felt as if I were growing larger by the moment. My clothes all seemed to be shrinking and every morning I found something in my closet I thought was just a tad tighter than the last time I wore it. No one mentioned to me that it looked like I had lost weight lately and this compounded my panicky feelings. My days consistently battled with low self- esteem and of measuring and comparing myself to every other woman I encountered. I apologize if that makes anyone reading this feel uncomfortable, but I am trying to bear it all today in this post.
Fast-forward to this past week. Jay had a doctor's appointment and despite working out 3 days a week, he gained enough weight for his doctor to be concerned. Yeah, ok, so some of it is muscle weight, but he and I know that most is not. Additionally, I know that I had put on some pounds since mid-May, how much, I did not know. However, since he was going to be cutting back, I figured out I would be supportive and jump on the band wagon.
I knew it wasn't going to be pretty. I have been uncomfortable in most of my clothes and my eating habits have been completely out of control. As I stepped onto the scale, I let out an audible gasp, my stomach began to knot. I have gained 12 pounds since mid-May. 12 pounds.
Do I know how petty all of this is? Yes. Is it completely out of perspective? Yes. Are there a million more things in this world that are more important? Yes. Yet, I am con summed with this.
Control. There is it, that word again. Self-control, discipline, focus, manage; whatever word you want to use, it describes what I battle in my life. My control verses God's control. For 5 years, I have controlled my weight, allowing me to better deal with all of the other uncontrollables in my life - children, husband, death, work, house, etc. Now, even that is out of my control. My inner self has completely come unglued, chaos reigning and borderline depression setting up camp.
I can remember a time when my house was my controllable area. Cleaning an exorbitant amount - wiping baseboards weekly, cleaning blinds weekly, organizing and reorganizing closets. I chose this focus because my weight was so vastly out of control, I didn't even see it as an area under my influence. As the children grew and became more destructive to the house and I began my journey to physical fitness, my focus shifted to something I could actually dictate, food consumed. Compounding that were the added burdens of cancer and death - two variables completely out of my hands.
I am very angry with myself. My anger at my weight gain is superseded by my anger at myself for wasting so much emotional energy with this topic. I am extraordinarily disappointed at how I treat others around me when I feel this inwardly chaotic. I transfer my frustrations at failing at my own ridiculous goal of perfection to my children. I was very unfair to them yesterday and I am still struggling with that reality this morning.
Now I am scrambling, lowering my caloric intake, drinking water by the jug full, all the while growing agitated and completely aggravated by my constant state of hunger and desire for chocolate. For what, I ask myself? To feel in control again. The irony of the statement does not escape me; I know nothing is truly under my control.
I have had seasons when I was at rest in my life, when I was not running that treadmill of constant work and control. Short-lived these seasons were, but I have lived them. Disappointingly, I am back in this pit of numbers, scrambling on my own, by my own strength to gain footing to climb out of it. I know failure is assured with this method, and yet, my sinful tendency is to solve it on my own, with my own control.
I know what I need to do, but will I do it? It is another season of brokenness and I pray that it will be the last one with this stronghold I will have to endure. I pray for the end to this maddening numbers game.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Job Seeking 101
The start of the school year is the most depressing time for me. Change and transitions are never fluid and calm in my spirit. Instead they are like a thousand rocks crashing and crunching around. Constantly being grounded up and rumbling. Schedules that are on paper, but not yet lived out, completely stress me out. I would love for my nature to be different, but it is not. For example, not fully understanding how my kids should be dressed when they arrive at swim practice verses what they should pack has swirled around in my brain more times than I care to admit. Anyway...
Last week, I was driving to "work." By "work" I mean some very loosely defined hours at the office where I pick and choose the lesser of the evils to accomplish that day. I explained to Jay, my husband, that if I helped out at our business I would have to have tasks that did not significantly impact accounting or inventory. My purpose in doing so was to minimize the level of conflict we have experienced in the past from working together. Of course, what is there to do that doesn't drastically affect these two areas? Human Resources. I have written and distributed the official Employee Handbook and posted two job listings on Monster. com.
The first posted position on monster was for a basic warehouse position. The pay is appropriate for an entry level job and nice benefits are to commence upon completing a 90-day probationary period. There is the possibility of upward mobility with the job, so we were looking for someone willing to work hard and grow with the company.
I believe evidence of our recession can be measured with the following statistic. 120 resumes received within 2 weeks, for an unskilled job listed on monster. I can't imagine what volumes we would have received had we placed a classified in the newspaper. We also posted a position for an IT Manager which, last count, we received over 200 resumes from interested applicants.
Sifting through all of this information, calling prospects on the phone, interviewing applicants, I have gleaned a few tidbits of information over the past several weeks and I thought I might pass along. Let my experiences be to your gain!
1) If you have not worked longer than 3 months at any of the 8 jobs you have had in the last 2 years, it is probably best that you explain why you are unable to pass a 90-day probationary period. Your chances of being hired are pretty low.
2) If I ask what your previous employer might say about you and your answer is, "Well, probably not very good since I just walked out on them." Your chances of being hired are pretty low.
3) On your resume if you say that your reason for leaving is that you had conflicts with new management styles. Your chances of being hired are pretty low.
4) When asked in an interview to tell me about when you were part of a team that worked successfully together and your answer is, redundantly, "It was when they all worked together," thus giving me a simple definition of teamwork, your chance of being hired are pretty low.
5) On your resume if you list under interests, "I have 13 children," it does makes me think twice. I will still interview you, based on your qualifications. If you want your chances of being hired to go up, take that OFF your resume.
6) If you have established your own website to promote your skills and qualifications, it would be to your advantage if you would not have paragraph after paragraph written about your interest in astronomy and star trek.
7) To add to #6 you might also increase your chances of being employed if you would remove the tab from your website marked "donations." Yes, as strange as this sounds, companies may think twice about someone who openly and without shame posts a paypal button on their website to receive funds for themselves rather than a social cause.
8) If you ask if you are going to be drug tested during your interview, "You know, so you won't take some "medication" that shows up on drug tests," your chances of being hired are pretty low.
9) If you ask me to "hold on" while you ask loudly, "Can someone drive me over to High Point for an interview on Wednesday," your chances of being hired are pretty low.
10) If a family member responds to the request for an interview because the applicant does not speak English well enough to speak on the phone themselves, your chances of being hired are pretty low.
11) If you attempt to post a "resume" to the job listing with only your name and phone number, your chances of being hired are pretty low.
12) If you post the following statement, "This is my sister's computer and I can't put my resume on," your chances of being hired are pretty low.
13) If you show up for an interview wearing ragged, dirty shorts and a t-shirt, your chance of being hired are pretty low. It is a warehouse position, but a pride in personal hygiene is still essential.
14) If you live out of state and believe that we might pay for "relocation" expenses for an hourly warehouse position, your chances of being hired are pretty low.
Lastly,
15) Non-working phone numbers supplied will, surprisingly, lessen your chances of being hired.
This is not a complete list of my experiences; I could on with probably 30 more, but you get the picture. Most of these seem to be "common sense" issues really. For example, if you don't have transportation, don't let me believe that you are the mercy of whomever happens to be in the room at the moment.
Sadly, the experience also shed light on a certain population segment that is must be suffering the greatest during this economic downturn. We received multiple resumes from people in their 50s who had worked at one or two places their entire lives. These are people who were employed by the furniture or textiles industries so prevalent in our geographical area, working in a warehouse for their entire careers. With the recession and outsourcing overseas, most of these industries have drastically downsized or ceased to exist altogether. After 15 or 20 years with the same company, these workers were making a nice hourly wage with good benefits. However, these same dedicated and loyal workers did not have positions that required continuous education or training. They have been left without computer skills and experiences now needed by most companies. Where do they find jobs? Who is hiring this segment of the population? Hard working people whose chances at decently paying job are very low.
On the flip side, I was stunned at the presentation either through resumes, over the phone or in interviews of well over 60% of the applicants. I believed that with so few jobs available in this area, with so many people out of work, that the younger generation would step it up a bit, attempt to sell themselves and want to be hired. Most were amazingly clueless or really didn't want to be hired.
In the end, I was able to find 2 strong applicants who we have hired for the warehouse. We are still wading through the IT resumes as those skill sets are more involved. Interviews should begin next week. Wish me luck.
Last week, I was driving to "work." By "work" I mean some very loosely defined hours at the office where I pick and choose the lesser of the evils to accomplish that day. I explained to Jay, my husband, that if I helped out at our business I would have to have tasks that did not significantly impact accounting or inventory. My purpose in doing so was to minimize the level of conflict we have experienced in the past from working together. Of course, what is there to do that doesn't drastically affect these two areas? Human Resources. I have written and distributed the official Employee Handbook and posted two job listings on Monster. com.
The first posted position on monster was for a basic warehouse position. The pay is appropriate for an entry level job and nice benefits are to commence upon completing a 90-day probationary period. There is the possibility of upward mobility with the job, so we were looking for someone willing to work hard and grow with the company.
I believe evidence of our recession can be measured with the following statistic. 120 resumes received within 2 weeks, for an unskilled job listed on monster. I can't imagine what volumes we would have received had we placed a classified in the newspaper. We also posted a position for an IT Manager which, last count, we received over 200 resumes from interested applicants.
Sifting through all of this information, calling prospects on the phone, interviewing applicants, I have gleaned a few tidbits of information over the past several weeks and I thought I might pass along. Let my experiences be to your gain!
1) If you have not worked longer than 3 months at any of the 8 jobs you have had in the last 2 years, it is probably best that you explain why you are unable to pass a 90-day probationary period. Your chances of being hired are pretty low.
2) If I ask what your previous employer might say about you and your answer is, "Well, probably not very good since I just walked out on them." Your chances of being hired are pretty low.
3) On your resume if you say that your reason for leaving is that you had conflicts with new management styles. Your chances of being hired are pretty low.
4) When asked in an interview to tell me about when you were part of a team that worked successfully together and your answer is, redundantly, "It was when they all worked together," thus giving me a simple definition of teamwork, your chance of being hired are pretty low.
5) On your resume if you list under interests, "I have 13 children," it does makes me think twice. I will still interview you, based on your qualifications. If you want your chances of being hired to go up, take that OFF your resume.
6) If you have established your own website to promote your skills and qualifications, it would be to your advantage if you would not have paragraph after paragraph written about your interest in astronomy and star trek.
7) To add to #6 you might also increase your chances of being employed if you would remove the tab from your website marked "donations." Yes, as strange as this sounds, companies may think twice about someone who openly and without shame posts a paypal button on their website to receive funds for themselves rather than a social cause.
8) If you ask if you are going to be drug tested during your interview, "You know, so you won't take some "medication" that shows up on drug tests," your chances of being hired are pretty low.
9) If you ask me to "hold on" while you ask loudly, "Can someone drive me over to High Point for an interview on Wednesday," your chances of being hired are pretty low.
10) If a family member responds to the request for an interview because the applicant does not speak English well enough to speak on the phone themselves, your chances of being hired are pretty low.
11) If you attempt to post a "resume" to the job listing with only your name and phone number, your chances of being hired are pretty low.
12) If you post the following statement, "This is my sister's computer and I can't put my resume on," your chances of being hired are pretty low.
13) If you show up for an interview wearing ragged, dirty shorts and a t-shirt, your chance of being hired are pretty low. It is a warehouse position, but a pride in personal hygiene is still essential.
14) If you live out of state and believe that we might pay for "relocation" expenses for an hourly warehouse position, your chances of being hired are pretty low.
Lastly,
15) Non-working phone numbers supplied will, surprisingly, lessen your chances of being hired.
This is not a complete list of my experiences; I could on with probably 30 more, but you get the picture. Most of these seem to be "common sense" issues really. For example, if you don't have transportation, don't let me believe that you are the mercy of whomever happens to be in the room at the moment.
Sadly, the experience also shed light on a certain population segment that is must be suffering the greatest during this economic downturn. We received multiple resumes from people in their 50s who had worked at one or two places their entire lives. These are people who were employed by the furniture or textiles industries so prevalent in our geographical area, working in a warehouse for their entire careers. With the recession and outsourcing overseas, most of these industries have drastically downsized or ceased to exist altogether. After 15 or 20 years with the same company, these workers were making a nice hourly wage with good benefits. However, these same dedicated and loyal workers did not have positions that required continuous education or training. They have been left without computer skills and experiences now needed by most companies. Where do they find jobs? Who is hiring this segment of the population? Hard working people whose chances at decently paying job are very low.
On the flip side, I was stunned at the presentation either through resumes, over the phone or in interviews of well over 60% of the applicants. I believed that with so few jobs available in this area, with so many people out of work, that the younger generation would step it up a bit, attempt to sell themselves and want to be hired. Most were amazingly clueless or really didn't want to be hired.
In the end, I was able to find 2 strong applicants who we have hired for the warehouse. We are still wading through the IT resumes as those skill sets are more involved. Interviews should begin next week. Wish me luck.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Why Should I Attend My 20th High School Reunion?
With mixed feelings, I am a part of my high school reunion committee. I have more than enjoyed reconnecting with those on the committee, but there is a bit of stress in the planning process and the "what if no one comes" thought is always lingering in the back of my mind.
I enjoyed my high school years, but they were also full of angst, awkwardness and the daily highs and lows of what I imagine are typical for those early pubescent years. While working on this committee, all those good and well, not-so-good memories have been thrust to the front of my brain. Interestingly, when discussing them with my former classmates I have come to the following conclusions:
1. Time has a way of distorting much of what I remember as being factually accurate.
2. Twenty years is a long, long time to retain everything that occurred in high school. Most of us remember with some vivid detail our closest friends, vaguely remember just the names of those on the outside of our circle and those beyond that are simply forgotten.
3. No one, with rare exception, is the same as they were in high school. Every one has ridden the roller coaster that is life since graduation day - life full of elation and devastation, dreams realized and dreams unfulfilled, careers, marriages, divorces, and children, moving away and remaining here. I am not the same person as I was in 1989 - not mentally, emotionally and definitely not physically either.
Despite where life has taken us and the evolution of who we now are, we still have a common bond; We are the class of 1989. Some still say we were the best class to ever pass its hallowed halls. I say we were unique, a class that seemed to be unified despite our friend groups and interests. It comes at no surprise then that I find myself "friends" on facebook with more than 100 people just from my high school, mostly from my graduation class. Technology such as facebook and myspace have reconnected our generation more than any other and so it begs the question, why should I go? I already know what most people are doing, where they are living and visit my closest friends from that age on average once a year. And, frankly, why do I care?
1. Modern computers are great, they do not replace face time. Seeing someone, laughing (and not LOL-ing), telling stories, recounting lives is not the same as instant chatting over facebook. Being able to shake hands, hug, and reconnect in the flesh will never replace sitting behind a screen and keyboard.
2. A chance to gather at one place at the same time. I see my close knit group of high school friends fairly regularly - some weekly, some once a year, but have not been all together at one gathering in at least 4 years. One person I have not seen once in 15 years and she was one of my best friends, filling a spot in nearly every high school photo I have. This reunion gives me the chance to create a collective memory with those that shared in those teenage years.
3. It is one weekend. One night only, if you only choose to attend the main event on Saturday night. One weekend out of the last 1,040 that we have lived since graduation. Seriously, no one can't sacrifice a night with those statistic, right?
4. Reliving the past. I don't think anyone is pining away for their high school days. Yet, every once in a while it is a hoot to laugh it up about the ridiculousness that occurred in the late 80s. Who doesn't look back at those 80s hairstyles and fashions and roll in hysterics? At the time, I remember thinking that I just couldn't look more "in style" than those days with that a-line hairstyle (orange due to the overinduldent use of "sun-in"), acid wash jeans and big earrings (which have revolved back in style, by the way). Reviling in the years of our youth, of little responsibility and lots of drama is a rite of passage.
5. If you still aren't sure about coming, think of it as a last-chance prom, complete with all your favorite tunes from the late 80s. A photographer will be there to capture the memories, too. This time, your date will most likely be someone you wish you had gone with the first time. And hey, this time, if you want to go to that hotel room after, you will be legal!
6. The reunion is a night where all the planning has been done for you. I can't remember the last time I got a night out that I did not have to organize in some way. Of course, I won't get this either as part of the committee, but YOU can.
7. Grandover. The location of our reunion is reason enough to attend. It is beautifully stunning with multiple areas where groups can hang out and reconnect. Additionally, the secured room rate should make every one think twice about going home after this event.
8. Your attendance means more to everyone else than it does you. Instead of thinking, "What do I have to gain from attending," begin thinking, "What do others gain from my attendance?" You may not care to attend, but your classmates DO care if you are there. Personally, I find it utterly fascinating to hear what paths people have traveled in their lifetime. Maybe you think yours is fairly bland, maybe you aren't happy with what you have "accomplished," maybe life didn't pan out as you planned. Not only am I sure this is an innacuracy created by your mind, don't let insecurities prevent you from attending! Adding to that, through facebook, I have found I have quite a bit in common now with people that I didn't have the chance to be friends with in high school. I can't wait to see them at the reunion!
9. Closure. Did you leave something unsaid or undone? Now, I don't mean dredge up that time that someone stole your significant other and view the reunion as your chance at revenge by bringing out the boxing gloves to kick some booty. What I mean is, did you miss that opportunity to tell someone what an impact they made on you during those years? Did you pass up the chance to speak to a classmate because that would have been "uncool" at the time? Is there a classmate who has had a particularly difficult journey since high school who you can encourage?
10. It only happens once in our lives. Who knows if there will be another reunion? Who has the guarantee of life tomorrow? That might sound a bit morbid, but realistically, there is a strong possibility that someone at this reunion will not be around in 10 years. Don't wish that you had attended.
For those reading that aren't a part of my high school graduating class, the song accompanying this post is our class song. "Freebird" by Lynard Skynard. What can I say - we were a southern, rural high school with a lot of pride, a slight redneck feel and a smoking area. To quote the first part of the song:
If I leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on, now,
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.
Class of 1989, it is time to reunite, reconnect with old friends and share your life experiences with others. Hope to see you there.
I enjoyed my high school years, but they were also full of angst, awkwardness and the daily highs and lows of what I imagine are typical for those early pubescent years. While working on this committee, all those good and well, not-so-good memories have been thrust to the front of my brain. Interestingly, when discussing them with my former classmates I have come to the following conclusions:
1. Time has a way of distorting much of what I remember as being factually accurate.
2. Twenty years is a long, long time to retain everything that occurred in high school. Most of us remember with some vivid detail our closest friends, vaguely remember just the names of those on the outside of our circle and those beyond that are simply forgotten.
3. No one, with rare exception, is the same as they were in high school. Every one has ridden the roller coaster that is life since graduation day - life full of elation and devastation, dreams realized and dreams unfulfilled, careers, marriages, divorces, and children, moving away and remaining here. I am not the same person as I was in 1989 - not mentally, emotionally and definitely not physically either.
Despite where life has taken us and the evolution of who we now are, we still have a common bond; We are the class of 1989. Some still say we were the best class to ever pass its hallowed halls. I say we were unique, a class that seemed to be unified despite our friend groups and interests. It comes at no surprise then that I find myself "friends" on facebook with more than 100 people just from my high school, mostly from my graduation class. Technology such as facebook and myspace have reconnected our generation more than any other and so it begs the question, why should I go? I already know what most people are doing, where they are living and visit my closest friends from that age on average once a year. And, frankly, why do I care?
1. Modern computers are great, they do not replace face time. Seeing someone, laughing (and not LOL-ing), telling stories, recounting lives is not the same as instant chatting over facebook. Being able to shake hands, hug, and reconnect in the flesh will never replace sitting behind a screen and keyboard.
2. A chance to gather at one place at the same time. I see my close knit group of high school friends fairly regularly - some weekly, some once a year, but have not been all together at one gathering in at least 4 years. One person I have not seen once in 15 years and she was one of my best friends, filling a spot in nearly every high school photo I have. This reunion gives me the chance to create a collective memory with those that shared in those teenage years.
3. It is one weekend. One night only, if you only choose to attend the main event on Saturday night. One weekend out of the last 1,040 that we have lived since graduation. Seriously, no one can't sacrifice a night with those statistic, right?
4. Reliving the past. I don't think anyone is pining away for their high school days. Yet, every once in a while it is a hoot to laugh it up about the ridiculousness that occurred in the late 80s. Who doesn't look back at those 80s hairstyles and fashions and roll in hysterics? At the time, I remember thinking that I just couldn't look more "in style" than those days with that a-line hairstyle (orange due to the overinduldent use of "sun-in"), acid wash jeans and big earrings (which have revolved back in style, by the way). Reviling in the years of our youth, of little responsibility and lots of drama is a rite of passage.
5. If you still aren't sure about coming, think of it as a last-chance prom, complete with all your favorite tunes from the late 80s. A photographer will be there to capture the memories, too. This time, your date will most likely be someone you wish you had gone with the first time. And hey, this time, if you want to go to that hotel room after, you will be legal!
6. The reunion is a night where all the planning has been done for you. I can't remember the last time I got a night out that I did not have to organize in some way. Of course, I won't get this either as part of the committee, but YOU can.
7. Grandover. The location of our reunion is reason enough to attend. It is beautifully stunning with multiple areas where groups can hang out and reconnect. Additionally, the secured room rate should make every one think twice about going home after this event.
8. Your attendance means more to everyone else than it does you. Instead of thinking, "What do I have to gain from attending," begin thinking, "What do others gain from my attendance?" You may not care to attend, but your classmates DO care if you are there. Personally, I find it utterly fascinating to hear what paths people have traveled in their lifetime. Maybe you think yours is fairly bland, maybe you aren't happy with what you have "accomplished," maybe life didn't pan out as you planned. Not only am I sure this is an innacuracy created by your mind, don't let insecurities prevent you from attending! Adding to that, through facebook, I have found I have quite a bit in common now with people that I didn't have the chance to be friends with in high school. I can't wait to see them at the reunion!
9. Closure. Did you leave something unsaid or undone? Now, I don't mean dredge up that time that someone stole your significant other and view the reunion as your chance at revenge by bringing out the boxing gloves to kick some booty. What I mean is, did you miss that opportunity to tell someone what an impact they made on you during those years? Did you pass up the chance to speak to a classmate because that would have been "uncool" at the time? Is there a classmate who has had a particularly difficult journey since high school who you can encourage?
10. It only happens once in our lives. Who knows if there will be another reunion? Who has the guarantee of life tomorrow? That might sound a bit morbid, but realistically, there is a strong possibility that someone at this reunion will not be around in 10 years. Don't wish that you had attended.
For those reading that aren't a part of my high school graduating class, the song accompanying this post is our class song. "Freebird" by Lynard Skynard. What can I say - we were a southern, rural high school with a lot of pride, a slight redneck feel and a smoking area. To quote the first part of the song:
If I leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on, now,
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.
Class of 1989, it is time to reunite, reconnect with old friends and share your life experiences with others. Hope to see you there.
Friday, August 21, 2009
The New School Year
Well, it is done. The last one is out of the nest and into "big" school. The first day was fraught with tears and sadness as I adjusted to the end of the "mother of preschoolers" season of life. It is still difficult to fathom that I have an entire day (at least until 2:30) to myself. But, I find it isn't taking long to settle quite nicely into this new life of solitude!
That first morning, however, as I finished fixing Lily's hair, she jumped up, turned around and proudly inquired, "Mommy, how do I look?" I had quickly control my blubbering and weakly attempted enthusiasm with my, "Great!" response. She ran into our bedroom saying with so much exuberance I thought she might just burst, "Daddy, look at me!" There she stood with her plaid, school-girl jumper and little light-yellow, peter pan collared shirt underneath, bobby socks and brown Mary Jane shoes. Her hair, with almost white high-lights from the summer sun was pulled up, away from her face with a ribbon that matched her jumper. Her glasses clean for a change, nearly sparkling from the twinkle in her eyes. Her smile as large as I have ever seen it. My baby...looked so very grown-up.
Seeing all three children dressed in their uniforms with those excited, but slightly nervous smiles on their faces brought such a mixed bag of emotions for me Tuesday morning. I was proud, excited, nervous, slightly stressed, and filled with some snippets of joy, probably the same as what they were experiencing. At this exact moment in time as I type this, I can say what a blessing raising my children has been.
We spent the week before school started at the beach with two other families. There were a total of 8 children ranging in age from 2 to 11. Chaotic at times, yet full of hilarity and relaxation. Observing all the children's behavior and the typical behavior that comes with their varying ages, I realized not only how much my children have grown and adjusted, but just how far I have come in this child rearing journey. I also caught some glimpses of what life can be like as my children grow and mature and this brought some positive anticipation.
Here are some highlights from the first week of school:
Lily:
She was extremely excited on her first day. After several weeks of asking, "How many more days until school?" she was finally able to get on her uniform, pick up her new pink, monogrammed messenger bag and Tinkerbell lunchbox and start kindergarten. Jay and I walked each of the kids to their classrooms, with Lily being last. She went right into the class and found her seat. As I bent down to give her a kiss she told me, "Ok, you can go now." Little Miss Independent! When I picked her up, I learned that she had had a good day, but was not quiet at lunch so did not get a piece of candy. However, they did get doughnuts for a snack that afternoon and for the most part, she did well. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.
The next day, Lily became a bit cantankerous when I insisted on walking her in again instead of dropping her off at the sidewalk. At the same time, however, she requested to stay with me instead of going to school. So, a mixed bag of emotions. She has become quite the planner, declaring her desire to alternate which shoes she wears each day, alternating how she wants her hair done and alternating what uniform combinations she wears. She has never verbalized such plans before school started.
On her third day, she received a green smiley face on her thumb, but did not get candy because she 1) hoarded all the blocks put at her table because she wanted to build something big and became a bit difficult when she had to share 2) Mixed play-do colors together (oh, the horror) and 3) Had a bit of a hard time settling down during their 15 minutes of rest. When I "confronted" her with her transgressions in the car, she broke down crying and asked me, "Are you disappointed with me? Mommy, I am so sorry." It was quite pitiful. But, I assured her that I was not disappointed, all was forgiven and that tomorrow would be a new day when she could try just a bit harder. She is definitely fluctuating between wanting to be at school, being completely exhausted, wanting to stay home with me, wanting my help and wanting to do it all herself. It is a bit tiring for me!
Sadie:
This year brings a new teacher for Sadie after having the same teacher for both kindergarten and first. The adjustment is a bit difficult for her. In the car ride to school this morning, she indicated that having a new teacher was hard and that she wishes she was still with Mrs. Newell. On the other hand, she was thrilled that her most of her closest friends are in her class. 2nd grade brings a lot of change at our school - much more responsibility and more work. She is struggling with controlling her talking. Wonder where she gets that from? Yesterday, she changed her light to yellow after being warned two times. I support the teacher in her efforts to clamp down this early in the year. Sadie, in her usual fashion, tried to blame the problem on others who were talking to her, and yet, again, I turned her right back to one responsible for choosing to open Sadie's mouth. At this point, I don't have a clear sense of how this year will be for Sadie.
Ethan:
Thrilled. Just over the moon. He is in love with his teacher this year. It is a male teacher and he knows just how to reach those boys. He knows exactly what to say to them to touch their hearts. I truly believe this will be Ethan's year to blossom. The teacher actually got on the playground and played kickball with them, talked to Ethan about his favorite band, Skillet, and told the kids that if they are misbehaving, he will talk to them individually, but will not embarrass them in front of the class. Three major points for Mr. B in Ethan's eyes! Every day, Ethan has come home with something exciting that has happened, something that has gotten him jazzed up. I just LOVE it!
Outside school the kids will be involved in a few activities. However, I hope the schedule will actually provide forced study time and one-on-one time with each of the kids and their school work while we wait for the others in their respective commitments. Interestingly, Sadie was not interested in doing scouts as in last year or piano. As she stated this summer, "All I want to do is swim." Here is how our schedule plans out this fall:
Monday - Ethan has guitar lessons and then Sadie and Ethan go to swim practice
Tuesday - Ethan has scouts
Wednesday - Ethan has Bel Canto (the school choir), Lily has piano lessons (at the school as well) and then Sadie and Ethan have swim practice.
I tried to squeeze everything in so that we only have two days of running around, enabling us to be home by 5:20 on Monday and Wednesdays. Wednesdays are no-homework days for us (the beauty of going to a Baptist school) so that will be helpful. I think it is a doable schedule. I just wish I could arrange for swimming for Lily on Mondays while the others are at their swim practice.
Now, as for me...Along with my usual household duties, cleaning out and organizing the house as well as working on several (read a mile long list) home projects are my first order of business. I will schedule some focused writing time, sign-up for a Thursday morning bible study and will probably spend at least a couple of mornings in the office helping Jay with some minor details. That sounds like enough for now.
That first morning, however, as I finished fixing Lily's hair, she jumped up, turned around and proudly inquired, "Mommy, how do I look?" I had quickly control my blubbering and weakly attempted enthusiasm with my, "Great!" response. She ran into our bedroom saying with so much exuberance I thought she might just burst, "Daddy, look at me!" There she stood with her plaid, school-girl jumper and little light-yellow, peter pan collared shirt underneath, bobby socks and brown Mary Jane shoes. Her hair, with almost white high-lights from the summer sun was pulled up, away from her face with a ribbon that matched her jumper. Her glasses clean for a change, nearly sparkling from the twinkle in her eyes. Her smile as large as I have ever seen it. My baby...looked so very grown-up.
Seeing all three children dressed in their uniforms with those excited, but slightly nervous smiles on their faces brought such a mixed bag of emotions for me Tuesday morning. I was proud, excited, nervous, slightly stressed, and filled with some snippets of joy, probably the same as what they were experiencing. At this exact moment in time as I type this, I can say what a blessing raising my children has been.
We spent the week before school started at the beach with two other families. There were a total of 8 children ranging in age from 2 to 11. Chaotic at times, yet full of hilarity and relaxation. Observing all the children's behavior and the typical behavior that comes with their varying ages, I realized not only how much my children have grown and adjusted, but just how far I have come in this child rearing journey. I also caught some glimpses of what life can be like as my children grow and mature and this brought some positive anticipation.
Here are some highlights from the first week of school:
Lily:
She was extremely excited on her first day. After several weeks of asking, "How many more days until school?" she was finally able to get on her uniform, pick up her new pink, monogrammed messenger bag and Tinkerbell lunchbox and start kindergarten. Jay and I walked each of the kids to their classrooms, with Lily being last. She went right into the class and found her seat. As I bent down to give her a kiss she told me, "Ok, you can go now." Little Miss Independent! When I picked her up, I learned that she had had a good day, but was not quiet at lunch so did not get a piece of candy. However, they did get doughnuts for a snack that afternoon and for the most part, she did well. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.
The next day, Lily became a bit cantankerous when I insisted on walking her in again instead of dropping her off at the sidewalk. At the same time, however, she requested to stay with me instead of going to school. So, a mixed bag of emotions. She has become quite the planner, declaring her desire to alternate which shoes she wears each day, alternating how she wants her hair done and alternating what uniform combinations she wears. She has never verbalized such plans before school started.
On her third day, she received a green smiley face on her thumb, but did not get candy because she 1) hoarded all the blocks put at her table because she wanted to build something big and became a bit difficult when she had to share 2) Mixed play-do colors together (oh, the horror) and 3) Had a bit of a hard time settling down during their 15 minutes of rest. When I "confronted" her with her transgressions in the car, she broke down crying and asked me, "Are you disappointed with me? Mommy, I am so sorry." It was quite pitiful. But, I assured her that I was not disappointed, all was forgiven and that tomorrow would be a new day when she could try just a bit harder. She is definitely fluctuating between wanting to be at school, being completely exhausted, wanting to stay home with me, wanting my help and wanting to do it all herself. It is a bit tiring for me!
Sadie:
This year brings a new teacher for Sadie after having the same teacher for both kindergarten and first. The adjustment is a bit difficult for her. In the car ride to school this morning, she indicated that having a new teacher was hard and that she wishes she was still with Mrs. Newell. On the other hand, she was thrilled that her most of her closest friends are in her class. 2nd grade brings a lot of change at our school - much more responsibility and more work. She is struggling with controlling her talking. Wonder where she gets that from? Yesterday, she changed her light to yellow after being warned two times. I support the teacher in her efforts to clamp down this early in the year. Sadie, in her usual fashion, tried to blame the problem on others who were talking to her, and yet, again, I turned her right back to one responsible for choosing to open Sadie's mouth. At this point, I don't have a clear sense of how this year will be for Sadie.
Ethan:
Thrilled. Just over the moon. He is in love with his teacher this year. It is a male teacher and he knows just how to reach those boys. He knows exactly what to say to them to touch their hearts. I truly believe this will be Ethan's year to blossom. The teacher actually got on the playground and played kickball with them, talked to Ethan about his favorite band, Skillet, and told the kids that if they are misbehaving, he will talk to them individually, but will not embarrass them in front of the class. Three major points for Mr. B in Ethan's eyes! Every day, Ethan has come home with something exciting that has happened, something that has gotten him jazzed up. I just LOVE it!
Outside school the kids will be involved in a few activities. However, I hope the schedule will actually provide forced study time and one-on-one time with each of the kids and their school work while we wait for the others in their respective commitments. Interestingly, Sadie was not interested in doing scouts as in last year or piano. As she stated this summer, "All I want to do is swim." Here is how our schedule plans out this fall:
Monday - Ethan has guitar lessons and then Sadie and Ethan go to swim practice
Tuesday - Ethan has scouts
Wednesday - Ethan has Bel Canto (the school choir), Lily has piano lessons (at the school as well) and then Sadie and Ethan have swim practice.
I tried to squeeze everything in so that we only have two days of running around, enabling us to be home by 5:20 on Monday and Wednesdays. Wednesdays are no-homework days for us (the beauty of going to a Baptist school) so that will be helpful. I think it is a doable schedule. I just wish I could arrange for swimming for Lily on Mondays while the others are at their swim practice.
Now, as for me...Along with my usual household duties, cleaning out and organizing the house as well as working on several (read a mile long list) home projects are my first order of business. I will schedule some focused writing time, sign-up for a Thursday morning bible study and will probably spend at least a couple of mornings in the office helping Jay with some minor details. That sounds like enough for now.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Friday, August 07, 2009
Blessed Assurance
What must it be like to lose the person you have lived with, loved with for 67 years? They are here, you are with them, holding their hand and then, they are gone. Sixty-seven years together, sharing it all and now...alone.
This is where I find my grandmother. Alone, in her house for the first time in my lifetime. Due to my grandfather's deteriorating condition over the last 11 years, but specifically the last 3 years, she has barely lived in that house. It must also be a bit strange to her to wake there and not hurry to him.
Over the last 8 months, she never left his side whether in the assisted-living center, the hospital and at his final stop, the Hospice Home. She toiled over him, catering to his every need, cleaning and trimming his beard, feeding him his every meal until he could no longer eat. Now, she is at home, in quiet and solitude, trying to figure out how to start living again.
My heart hurts for her. She is a strong woman, but her heart is shattered. I know how much I miss him and I know it can't compare. The day after his death she asked me through her tears, "Why did he have to leave me here? Why couldn't I have gone with him?"
I took the girls to her house this evening to eat dinner. She is over run with the generosity of friends who have brought her food and it has given me an excuse to hang out in a house with so many of my own warm memories. Not that I need an excuse to come to her house, but I wouldn't want her to feel the need to prepare anything for me.
It was standing in her kitchen that she spoke the words to me that I know now had been brewing in her mind for several days. In almost a whisper, she said to me with the rims of her eyes filling with tears, "I don't know for sure if he is in heaven." I waited to hear more. She continued, "While he was dying, I told him, you are going on a journey to see Jesus, but I never talked to him about it. We never spoke about it, Kelsey. I just don't know." My own sadness for her nearly tore me down.
I imagine it was partly their generation and partly the uniqueness of their relationship that prevented the discussion of this "deep issue." Despite what was clearly the love of a lifetime, full of laughter, fun, devotion and affection, my grandmother could not recall hearing my grandfather speak of his love for our Savior. My grandfather was a member of their church, he was a leader, an usher, and yet, she never talked about Jesus with him. Not growing up in the church, there were zero conversations with my father about religion, let alone Jesus, until after I became a believer. I know many relationships in my own circles that are the same. It is easier to talk to a stranger whom you might never see again than your own family members and closest friends. I think that even though you have this person with whom you share everything, sometimes it still seems too personal.
Back in the kitchen, I pulled my grandmother to me, putting my hands on her shoulders. I remembered why I was so sure that he was in heaven. My precious, dear sister, years before she became ill and before my grandfather's mind no longer functioned in our world, had had a conversation with him. When Ansley became a believer, she was immediately on fire for Him. She spoke to every one she held dear about Him and praise the Lord for that. She had talked to my grandfather about his faith and he told her that yes, he believed in our Savior and what He had done for him.
As I retold this conversation to her, her crying became heavier and a bit louder, and yet, it became the sound of joyous relief. The burden of the past several days was lifted and there was that blessed assurance.
It is strange to be in a place of ministering to someone so much older and wiser that yourself. She has been the teacher and I have been her student our entire lives and now because of life circumstances our roles seem to be reversed. Is this just another reason I had to lose Ansley? So, I could guide my own grandmother through her own grieving process?
Sometimes I wonder if I say too much. Is it better to not know what is around the bend when "around the bend" is not all rosy and pretty? I think she thought that with the assurance of knowing where my grandfather is now that the hole left her in heart would heal. I had to tell her that that hole would always be there - maybe not as painful or large, its edges no longer sharp and jagged, but it would always be there. She would always miss him. The words slipped quickly from my mouth and I worried that it might cause her more sadness. But, they were out and I couldn't shove them back in.
I try to keep my grandmother focused on the future and all the things we can do together. She desires to know her great-grandchildren. She talks about building her strength so she can get rid of her cane. She speaks of trip to the beach, or "to the coast" as she calls it. We talk of cleaning out the house, taking the girls for tea, redecorating her living room. "All in time," We say to each other.
The irony of feeling like you have all the time in the world does not escape me when I have just lost someone dear to me. The reality is that we don't have all the time in the world. We will all die. It is that fact, along with this conversation with my grandmother that has stirred me to throw open the doors to conversations about Him. It is time to have those difficult, deep and possibly "too personal" conversations with some of my closest and share the blessed assurance that is mine.
This is where I find my grandmother. Alone, in her house for the first time in my lifetime. Due to my grandfather's deteriorating condition over the last 11 years, but specifically the last 3 years, she has barely lived in that house. It must also be a bit strange to her to wake there and not hurry to him.
Over the last 8 months, she never left his side whether in the assisted-living center, the hospital and at his final stop, the Hospice Home. She toiled over him, catering to his every need, cleaning and trimming his beard, feeding him his every meal until he could no longer eat. Now, she is at home, in quiet and solitude, trying to figure out how to start living again.
My heart hurts for her. She is a strong woman, but her heart is shattered. I know how much I miss him and I know it can't compare. The day after his death she asked me through her tears, "Why did he have to leave me here? Why couldn't I have gone with him?"
I took the girls to her house this evening to eat dinner. She is over run with the generosity of friends who have brought her food and it has given me an excuse to hang out in a house with so many of my own warm memories. Not that I need an excuse to come to her house, but I wouldn't want her to feel the need to prepare anything for me.
It was standing in her kitchen that she spoke the words to me that I know now had been brewing in her mind for several days. In almost a whisper, she said to me with the rims of her eyes filling with tears, "I don't know for sure if he is in heaven." I waited to hear more. She continued, "While he was dying, I told him, you are going on a journey to see Jesus, but I never talked to him about it. We never spoke about it, Kelsey. I just don't know." My own sadness for her nearly tore me down.
I imagine it was partly their generation and partly the uniqueness of their relationship that prevented the discussion of this "deep issue." Despite what was clearly the love of a lifetime, full of laughter, fun, devotion and affection, my grandmother could not recall hearing my grandfather speak of his love for our Savior. My grandfather was a member of their church, he was a leader, an usher, and yet, she never talked about Jesus with him. Not growing up in the church, there were zero conversations with my father about religion, let alone Jesus, until after I became a believer. I know many relationships in my own circles that are the same. It is easier to talk to a stranger whom you might never see again than your own family members and closest friends. I think that even though you have this person with whom you share everything, sometimes it still seems too personal.
Back in the kitchen, I pulled my grandmother to me, putting my hands on her shoulders. I remembered why I was so sure that he was in heaven. My precious, dear sister, years before she became ill and before my grandfather's mind no longer functioned in our world, had had a conversation with him. When Ansley became a believer, she was immediately on fire for Him. She spoke to every one she held dear about Him and praise the Lord for that. She had talked to my grandfather about his faith and he told her that yes, he believed in our Savior and what He had done for him.
As I retold this conversation to her, her crying became heavier and a bit louder, and yet, it became the sound of joyous relief. The burden of the past several days was lifted and there was that blessed assurance.
It is strange to be in a place of ministering to someone so much older and wiser that yourself. She has been the teacher and I have been her student our entire lives and now because of life circumstances our roles seem to be reversed. Is this just another reason I had to lose Ansley? So, I could guide my own grandmother through her own grieving process?
Sometimes I wonder if I say too much. Is it better to not know what is around the bend when "around the bend" is not all rosy and pretty? I think she thought that with the assurance of knowing where my grandfather is now that the hole left her in heart would heal. I had to tell her that that hole would always be there - maybe not as painful or large, its edges no longer sharp and jagged, but it would always be there. She would always miss him. The words slipped quickly from my mouth and I worried that it might cause her more sadness. But, they were out and I couldn't shove them back in.
I try to keep my grandmother focused on the future and all the things we can do together. She desires to know her great-grandchildren. She talks about building her strength so she can get rid of her cane. She speaks of trip to the beach, or "to the coast" as she calls it. We talk of cleaning out the house, taking the girls for tea, redecorating her living room. "All in time," We say to each other.
The irony of feeling like you have all the time in the world does not escape me when I have just lost someone dear to me. The reality is that we don't have all the time in the world. We will all die. It is that fact, along with this conversation with my grandmother that has stirred me to throw open the doors to conversations about Him. It is time to have those difficult, deep and possibly "too personal" conversations with some of my closest and share the blessed assurance that is mine.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Paw
My grandfather...
Harold "Chip" Ashford Aulbert of Jamestown, passed away on August 2, 2009 at Hospice Place of High Point after an 11-year journey with Alzheimer's.
Chip was born on November 30, 1921 in High Point, NC to Frank and Sudie Aulbert.
Chip attended High Point High School. When Chip was in the 10th grade, he began to work at Thomas Built Bus. Though never formally educated, he worked his way through various departments of the company, retiring as the Plant Engineer after 48 years of service. His tenure at Thomas Built Bus included a stint as the plant manager at their Woodstock, Ontario, Canada location.
When he was 21 years old. Chip and his friends met up with some girls from way over in Thomasville. He took one look at one of those girls, Reba Jean Thomas, and announced she would be coming with him. On Easter Sunday of 1942, the two held hands while they drove to Chesterfield, SC to marry. Sixty-seven years later, they were still holding hands, Reba tending to his every need until his passing.
Chip and Reba were blessed with a son, Van Aulbert in 1943 and a daughter, Sue Aulbert Snipes, 11 years later. They have been members of Oak Hill Friends Meeting for over 55 years. During those years, Chip served as a youth fellowship leader and usher.
There was never a time when laughter was not a part of Chip's life. He was the consummate prankster and joke teller in the family. He would go to great lengths to bring humor to those around him, including taping himself performing and singing for the family when no one else was at home. No one will ever forget his beloved hit song, "Pine Tree."
He was a kid at heart, evidenced by the fact that the neighborhood kids would knock on his door when he was 65 to come sledding with them. He was known to clear the neighborhood lot for the children to play basketball and spend hours in the ocean with his grandchildren.
He had two hole-in-ones on Jamestown Golf Course where he was a long-time member of the Men's Golf Association. That was also the location where he released a multitude of squirrels that he fanatically caught due to their nesting and chewing on his house.
He loved the beach, the outdoors and had the world's largest sweet tooth. He was a traveler, a fisherman, a car aficionado, an inventor and builder, a self-made man who worked hard, but enjoyed life. He was the first one you called when you needed help because there was never a doubt he would be there. He left a place in everyone's heart who knew him. He often thanked his family for his wonderful life not realizing how much a part he played in that for them.
Chip is survived by the love of his life and wife of 67 years, Reba Jean Thomas Aulbert, son Van Aulbert and wife Terry, daughter Sue Aulbert Snipes and husband Danny, granddaughter Kelsey Aulbert Dumoulin and husband Jay, step-granddaughter Sarah Pruitt Byrd and husband Jon, grandson-in-law Todd Wolffis, great-grandchildren Colby and Graylyn Wolffis and Ethan, Sadie and Lily Dumoulin. He was preceded in death by his parents, Frank & Sudie Aulbert, brothers F.A. and Clarence, sister, Iris Riley and granddaughter, Ansley Aulbert Wolffis.
Harold "Chip" Ashford Aulbert of Jamestown, passed away on August 2, 2009 at Hospice Place of High Point after an 11-year journey with Alzheimer's.
Chip was born on November 30, 1921 in High Point, NC to Frank and Sudie Aulbert.
Chip attended High Point High School. When Chip was in the 10th grade, he began to work at Thomas Built Bus. Though never formally educated, he worked his way through various departments of the company, retiring as the Plant Engineer after 48 years of service. His tenure at Thomas Built Bus included a stint as the plant manager at their Woodstock, Ontario, Canada location.
When he was 21 years old. Chip and his friends met up with some girls from way over in Thomasville. He took one look at one of those girls, Reba Jean Thomas, and announced she would be coming with him. On Easter Sunday of 1942, the two held hands while they drove to Chesterfield, SC to marry. Sixty-seven years later, they were still holding hands, Reba tending to his every need until his passing.
Chip and Reba were blessed with a son, Van Aulbert in 1943 and a daughter, Sue Aulbert Snipes, 11 years later. They have been members of Oak Hill Friends Meeting for over 55 years. During those years, Chip served as a youth fellowship leader and usher.
There was never a time when laughter was not a part of Chip's life. He was the consummate prankster and joke teller in the family. He would go to great lengths to bring humor to those around him, including taping himself performing and singing for the family when no one else was at home. No one will ever forget his beloved hit song, "Pine Tree."
He was a kid at heart, evidenced by the fact that the neighborhood kids would knock on his door when he was 65 to come sledding with them. He was known to clear the neighborhood lot for the children to play basketball and spend hours in the ocean with his grandchildren.
He had two hole-in-ones on Jamestown Golf Course where he was a long-time member of the Men's Golf Association. That was also the location where he released a multitude of squirrels that he fanatically caught due to their nesting and chewing on his house.
He loved the beach, the outdoors and had the world's largest sweet tooth. He was a traveler, a fisherman, a car aficionado, an inventor and builder, a self-made man who worked hard, but enjoyed life. He was the first one you called when you needed help because there was never a doubt he would be there. He left a place in everyone's heart who knew him. He often thanked his family for his wonderful life not realizing how much a part he played in that for them.
Chip is survived by the love of his life and wife of 67 years, Reba Jean Thomas Aulbert, son Van Aulbert and wife Terry, daughter Sue Aulbert Snipes and husband Danny, granddaughter Kelsey Aulbert Dumoulin and husband Jay, step-granddaughter Sarah Pruitt Byrd and husband Jon, grandson-in-law Todd Wolffis, great-grandchildren Colby and Graylyn Wolffis and Ethan, Sadie and Lily Dumoulin. He was preceded in death by his parents, Frank & Sudie Aulbert, brothers F.A. and Clarence, sister, Iris Riley and granddaughter, Ansley Aulbert Wolffis.
Monday, August 03, 2009
My frustration
What is my frustration? A life that is not giving me time to write. I am losing ideas, concepts, a way to work through emotions, the ability to document my life. Hang in there. School begins in two weeks.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Random conversations with my children:
Ethan and I were snuggling in one of the office chairs and I noticed a picture of Jay sitting on one of the bookshelves. It was a photo taken about the same age as Ethan is now and I asked Ethan to get it for me. I thought it would be interesting to hold it up to Ethan to compare. As Ethan picked up the photo, he commented about it. "Wow, looks like a kid who farts a lot." Cracked me up.
Lily announced to me at our afternoon tea at a local hotel, "Mommy, I want to be a boy dog."
Me: Why?
Lily: So that I can marry Dixie and have babies.
Me: Ok. (at least she understands some very basic, albeit slightly off, concepts.
We were at the pool last week where Ethan ate a corn dog. He laid the tray and remaining stick on the ground and continued to talk to me. After a while he got up to get back into the pool. I said, "Ethan," and pointed the tray and stick still sitting on the ground, indicating he needed to dispose of it in the trash. His quick and witty response, "Oh, I know, you want to lick the stick, right?"
Sadie went with me to visit my grandfather at the Hospice home. She was very brave and strong in what was a difficult visit. After while, it was time for the nurses to clean him up and rotate him in the bed. We decided to step out and let them do their job. We ventured into the kid's area where there were some toys and coloring supplies. Sadie decided she would like to color and asked me to join her. She said, "I am a little tired of being a grown-up. I think I just want to color for a bit."
One day last week, Sadie found three turtles around our house. She came to announce her discovery and I decided to check them out. I noticed from a distance that their shells seemed awfully shiny. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they had clear scotch tape covering their shells. Of course, the natural question was, "Why, Sadie, why?" Her response, "I need to repair some of the cracks and protect them." I don't know what that will do to the turtles, but she did do a nice job of covering the shells and trimming the tape around the edges.
Ethan and I were snuggling in one of the office chairs and I noticed a picture of Jay sitting on one of the bookshelves. It was a photo taken about the same age as Ethan is now and I asked Ethan to get it for me. I thought it would be interesting to hold it up to Ethan to compare. As Ethan picked up the photo, he commented about it. "Wow, looks like a kid who farts a lot." Cracked me up.
Lily announced to me at our afternoon tea at a local hotel, "Mommy, I want to be a boy dog."
Me: Why?
Lily: So that I can marry Dixie and have babies.
Me: Ok. (at least she understands some very basic, albeit slightly off, concepts.
We were at the pool last week where Ethan ate a corn dog. He laid the tray and remaining stick on the ground and continued to talk to me. After a while he got up to get back into the pool. I said, "Ethan," and pointed the tray and stick still sitting on the ground, indicating he needed to dispose of it in the trash. His quick and witty response, "Oh, I know, you want to lick the stick, right?"
Sadie went with me to visit my grandfather at the Hospice home. She was very brave and strong in what was a difficult visit. After while, it was time for the nurses to clean him up and rotate him in the bed. We decided to step out and let them do their job. We ventured into the kid's area where there were some toys and coloring supplies. Sadie decided she would like to color and asked me to join her. She said, "I am a little tired of being a grown-up. I think I just want to color for a bit."
One day last week, Sadie found three turtles around our house. She came to announce her discovery and I decided to check them out. I noticed from a distance that their shells seemed awfully shiny. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they had clear scotch tape covering their shells. Of course, the natural question was, "Why, Sadie, why?" Her response, "I need to repair some of the cracks and protect them." I don't know what that will do to the turtles, but she did do a nice job of covering the shells and trimming the tape around the edges.
Monday, July 13, 2009
The Numbers Game, part 2
Roller coaster weight. That has been my life. Maybe the numbers don't fluctuate as much as my anxiety over them. I can map out my entire life by numbers on a scale. Every major event, every major day, I can tell you exactly what I weighed. I could probably list to you every comment ever made to me regarding my weight. Well, certainly I could do that with the negative ones.
I thought this was a normal pattern for all women until I spoke honestly with a friend. She said I might have a problem, because no, she really had no idea what she weighed at various points in her life. Therefore, my newly discovered number obsession has been swirling around in my brain lately. What is my fixation on these number? Why have I allowed them to linger and taint the most important memories I have? The battle of the scale.
Sure, I could lie and say it was really a matter of my health. I desired to be "healthy." Nope. I can blame it on society and its ridiculous images of emaciation and perfection. Sure, that played a part. But if I am going to be completely honest, I allowed it to dictate my perception of self. It is how I chose to filter what the world said, what my peers said and most importantly what that blasted scale said. I allowed that bathroom appliance to dictate to me whether I felt good about who was. I allowed a set of numbers to determine whether my memories are positive or negative at any point in time. I allowed the numbers to control me.
I believe that if you bring strongholds into the light, they just don't have the strength they had before. I want to let go of the need to "step up on the scale" every morning. And, so, for exposing myself to the world...here is my life's weight map, and all of its absurd, skewed, mentally warped perceptions:
Age.weight
9.75 Sales lady at the old Tobias clothing store told me that if I didn't watch what I ate, I would have to start shopping in the "pretty plus" department. I was in 5th grade. She should have been fired.
14.110 High school football game. A guy physically picked me up and stated oh, you must be 110 pounds. He was correct, but I was NOT going to admit to what I considered to be a heavy weight. I lied and said, no, and looked shocked.
17.118 High school graduation, beginning of college. Very insecure and described myself as "chunky." Never walked around in a bathing suit, covering myself the minute I stood up from a chair.
19.128 Sophomore year of college. A dorm mate told my friends she was "worried about my health." Went of ridiculous crash diets including the rice diet and the cabbage diet. None were successful. Roommate was bulimic with some serious image issues and I was constantly exposed to her fears and choices.
21.123 College graduation. Heading out to the Netherlands to work. Wishing I had dieted and lost some weight.
22.132 Returned from the Netherlands and although very in shape from all that biking, realized that I was heavier than when I left. A comment made to me after I returned revolved around the "fullness" of my face. It was devastating to me.
26.140 Wedding. Absolutely hated myself for not dieting, not losing weight and being my "best" for my wedding. At the same time decided that enough was enough. I would just have to enjoy this day.
27.146 Weight at first pregnancy appointment with my doctor who informed me that I was already borderline for my weight and I would need to be a little careful about what I ate. I gained 40 pounds during this pregnancy.
29. 198 At birth of second child. Serious weight gain. Painful days prior to delivery as a body that is 5'2" tall is not meant to carry nearly 200 pounds. Yes, 200 pounds.
31.120 Determined to get it off, LA Weightloss brought me back to my high school weight. I ran a 5k. Instead of anxiety and stress about being heavy, I was panicky about gaining the weight back. I discovered that I was pregnant with my third child. I was depressed as I saw all my hard work go down the drain. But, I didn't gain as much during this pregnancy and with Ansley's cancer diagnosis, it was easier to lose the baby weight.
35.113 Ansley's death. Very thin. Many people thought I had "lost too much weight." It was the only thing I could control in the months prior to her death. I just didn't eat often. It was the only thing I felt good about. Over the next three months, I packed on 10 pounds of solid chocolate binging weight.
37.120 Today. Where I am. Always in the back of my mind is the fear that I will begin to gain weight uncontrollably. When the rest of my life is spinning out of control, this is the one area I grasp to control. It seems I am always thinking...I am always happiest when I am just 3 pounds lighter.
There is a lifetime of number addiction here. Mostly it is spurred on by that square, glass digital scale on my bathroom floor. And like an addict, I will need to purge my surroundings of its existence and its temptations. Goodbye daily number check. Goodbye.
I thought this was a normal pattern for all women until I spoke honestly with a friend. She said I might have a problem, because no, she really had no idea what she weighed at various points in her life. Therefore, my newly discovered number obsession has been swirling around in my brain lately. What is my fixation on these number? Why have I allowed them to linger and taint the most important memories I have? The battle of the scale.
Sure, I could lie and say it was really a matter of my health. I desired to be "healthy." Nope. I can blame it on society and its ridiculous images of emaciation and perfection. Sure, that played a part. But if I am going to be completely honest, I allowed it to dictate my perception of self. It is how I chose to filter what the world said, what my peers said and most importantly what that blasted scale said. I allowed that bathroom appliance to dictate to me whether I felt good about who was. I allowed a set of numbers to determine whether my memories are positive or negative at any point in time. I allowed the numbers to control me.
I believe that if you bring strongholds into the light, they just don't have the strength they had before. I want to let go of the need to "step up on the scale" every morning. And, so, for exposing myself to the world...here is my life's weight map, and all of its absurd, skewed, mentally warped perceptions:
Age.weight
9.75 Sales lady at the old Tobias clothing store told me that if I didn't watch what I ate, I would have to start shopping in the "pretty plus" department. I was in 5th grade. She should have been fired.
14.110 High school football game. A guy physically picked me up and stated oh, you must be 110 pounds. He was correct, but I was NOT going to admit to what I considered to be a heavy weight. I lied and said, no, and looked shocked.
17.118 High school graduation, beginning of college. Very insecure and described myself as "chunky." Never walked around in a bathing suit, covering myself the minute I stood up from a chair.
19.128 Sophomore year of college. A dorm mate told my friends she was "worried about my health." Went of ridiculous crash diets including the rice diet and the cabbage diet. None were successful. Roommate was bulimic with some serious image issues and I was constantly exposed to her fears and choices.
21.123 College graduation. Heading out to the Netherlands to work. Wishing I had dieted and lost some weight.
22.132 Returned from the Netherlands and although very in shape from all that biking, realized that I was heavier than when I left. A comment made to me after I returned revolved around the "fullness" of my face. It was devastating to me.
26.140 Wedding. Absolutely hated myself for not dieting, not losing weight and being my "best" for my wedding. At the same time decided that enough was enough. I would just have to enjoy this day.
27.146 Weight at first pregnancy appointment with my doctor who informed me that I was already borderline for my weight and I would need to be a little careful about what I ate. I gained 40 pounds during this pregnancy.
29. 198 At birth of second child. Serious weight gain. Painful days prior to delivery as a body that is 5'2" tall is not meant to carry nearly 200 pounds. Yes, 200 pounds.
31.120 Determined to get it off, LA Weightloss brought me back to my high school weight. I ran a 5k. Instead of anxiety and stress about being heavy, I was panicky about gaining the weight back. I discovered that I was pregnant with my third child. I was depressed as I saw all my hard work go down the drain. But, I didn't gain as much during this pregnancy and with Ansley's cancer diagnosis, it was easier to lose the baby weight.
35.113 Ansley's death. Very thin. Many people thought I had "lost too much weight." It was the only thing I could control in the months prior to her death. I just didn't eat often. It was the only thing I felt good about. Over the next three months, I packed on 10 pounds of solid chocolate binging weight.
37.120 Today. Where I am. Always in the back of my mind is the fear that I will begin to gain weight uncontrollably. When the rest of my life is spinning out of control, this is the one area I grasp to control. It seems I am always thinking...I am always happiest when I am just 3 pounds lighter.
There is a lifetime of number addiction here. Mostly it is spurred on by that square, glass digital scale on my bathroom floor. And like an addict, I will need to purge my surroundings of its existence and its temptations. Goodbye daily number check. Goodbye.
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