What I learned in October

Since we are entering into the seasons of sharing and giving and thankfulness and generosity, I'm going to take it upon myself to steal an idea I've been seeing on some of the blogs I enjoy reading.

See, by stealing their idea I am giving them an opportunity to be generous by sharing it with me. I'm thoughtful that way.

Basically, the idea is that you take a look back at the month you've just traveled through, pause to reflect and see what you've gained in the past thirty days, and then get ready to tackle the next month.

Would anyone like to take bets on how long I can sustain this new endeavor? It would really help if someone could remind me of this plan about 30 days from now. Any takers?

Anywhoooo... here goes...

What I learned in October:

1. Writing everyday is hard.

You may remember that I kicked off October four days late with a plan to write everyday of October. (After having already missed the first four.) If you haven't been checking in regularly, let me spare you the suspense: I did not write everyday of October. I did not even write everyday of October after the first four days that I missed. Counting today, I wrote six days in October. 

But I wrote zero days in September, so...winning!

2. Old friends are awesome.

I feel very fortunate to have quite a lot of friends who would qualify as old friends. Not because we are old, because we are in fact perpetually young, but because I have known them a long time. I have one friend I have known since birth, another since preschool, and another since Kindergarten. Again, I'm not saying we are old but that is starting to add up to a lot of years.

There was a time when college friends didn't necessarily count as old friends because college just wasn't all that long ago. Newsflash: college is officially now "a long time ago." But the funny thing about college friends is when you are in the moment it's hard to know which friends are going to last beyond graduation. And maybe you get so forward focused on everything you want to come next like living independently, a career, new places and experiences, perhaps marriage and a home, you aren't even sure how much those friends from that sliver in time will matter down the road? 

They will matter. And if almost 25 years later you can still gather together and sing silly sorority songs while also hashing out every important and not-so-important detail in your lives today, you will count yourself one of the luckiest people in the world. 

I can't explain what is happening here.
But it makes me smile.

3. Halloween memories are fun. Halloween itself, not so much.

If you know me IRL (that's internet speak for In Real Life, just another public service announcement from me to you), then you know Halloween is not my favorite holiday. There are lots of reasons for this including, but not limited to, the fact that I have been both a full time and substitute teacher and there is no horror that could ever be matched in even the most terrifying haunted house than what it is to work in an elementary school on Halloween. 

That being said, Halloween does make for some sweet memories (Memories-as in, the past. The past tense is really the critical component of any feelings of nostalgia and sweetness). 

Since we are currently still in the present tense, I am counting the minutes until this one is over.

4. There are different degrees of going AWAY to college.

Here's the thing, I'm not discounting in any possible way the momentous occasion of your child going off to college whether he/she stays close to home or goes miles, and miles, and miles away. It is all HUGE because regardless of how often you see your offspring, it is still a transition to the next step in life which is, hopefully, them living completely on their own and away from you. It's big no matter how you slice it.

Buuuuut...... Now that I have my firstborn living two states away rather than just over two hills and a quick jog to the right....yeah...that's different. 

I think the oddest part of the whole thing is how much you get used to it. You stop thinking about it and their absence becomes, well, normal. But then there are the moments that sneak up on you and you catch yourself whispering, "I wish Jack was here." 

Yeah...that.

5. When you work in ministry, Christmas starts in October.

If you've been following along, you know that I already succumbed to listening to some Christmas music (Not 24/7 or anything, people! Just as motivation for some gray, chilly dog walks. And maybe once or twice while cooking dinner....and cleaning the house....and folding laundry...). Frankly, in truth I don't really feel all that apologetic of this behavior, but in further defense of my early Christmas enthusiasm, I have to tell you that when you work in any sort of ministry/church-related field, Christmas begins in October. 

Do you know how many Sundays I have before I have to have all of my little kiddos, ages 2-13, ready to perform a Christmas pageant for the congregation?! SIX! And let's remember, this is not like school where a teacher has her kids five days a week. I have six Sundays to make sure everyone knows their lines, the songs, and where to move. I write the script each year which means that I need to be handing out scripts NEXT WEEK to give everyone time to memorize their lines.

You have no idea. There is not a chance I will be getting out of yoga pants this week until that script is done.

So, mock if you must, but if Christmas music gets the creative juices flowing then I am not going to fight it. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, that's it.

I wish  I had some great makeup tips or book recommendations or the secret to losing 10 pounds, but I need to save some brilliance for November. 

Hopefully next month will be chalk full of ready-to-use tips with all sorts of practical life application possibilities. 

I'll try.

Just as soon as I get that Christmas pageant script written.

Happy Halloween and bring on November!!

Betrayal

I can't remember if I have ever gushed about my sister here?

No? Well, it's about time then. 

My sister is hands-down one of my favorite people in the whole entire Universe (the world is not big enough, I had to go with Universe just in case there really is life on other planets). 

It's not because she is perfect. Being perfect is not a requirement for being one of my favorite people. Thank goodness, since if it were no one living in this house could make the list, including me. 

It's not because she is smart, even though she is. 

It's not because she is beautiful, even though she is. 

And it's not because she can do actual, for-real, military-style pull-ups and therefore could snap me like a twig....even though she can....and it scares me a little. 

The #1 reason she is one of my favorite people in the whole entire Universe is because there are scarce few other people who know me like she does and, remarkably, she loves me anyway. 

I know...that's sweet. But I'm about to put that love to the test. 

You see, if there is one thing my sister and I agree on 100% of the time besides the irrefutable truth that eating raw cookie dough is worth a small case of salmonella poisoning, it is our dedication to Lazy Parenting. 

Let me explain, Lazy Parenting is not the same as neglectful parenting or love-less parenting. Don't judge us too quickly. It simply means that if there is a path of least resistance available, we are going to take it. 

Get out of bed to make the kids a hearty breakfast on a Saturday morning, OR, stay in bed and let them scrounge around for granola bars and string cheese? That one is too easy...

Offer to take the kids for a bike ride and picnic in the park, OR, make a big show of conceding to let them ride their scooters up and down the hallway (like you've done something really generous and cool) while you heat up some hot dogs and read your book? Uh huh. This is where we start to separate the over-achievers from...people like my sister and I.  

But even more important than the careful investments of time and energy you make within your own home are the ones you make outside your home. This is where it can get really dicey. 

Lazy Parents are very careful not to over-commit, over-promise, over-extend and over-volunteer lest they should pull a muscle or have to give up their favorite TV show. They are the Kings and Queens of the Sign-Up Sheet Shuffle. You keep moving around that table, pen poised, carefully reading every volunteer request and checking your calendar for dates, all with the hope that by the time you circle that table for the 35th time all of the jobs will have been filled. Oh, really? Shoot. 

It's an art form. My sister and I keep saying we are going to write a book titled The Lazy Parent's Handbook but, well, I think you know why that hasn't happened.

And given all of that...given our conscientious dedication to this important life philosophy...given that we perpetually refer to that fake book which we are never going to write...do you know what a Charter Member of the Lazy Parents Forever Club absolutely, positively, under no uncertain terms DOES NOT DO? 

She does NOT agree to be the Team Parent for the High School Soccer Team!!!!!

I'm so ashamed (and exhausted already and the season doesn't start for over 4 weeks). 

So, you can see why this is going to be a true test of my sister's loyalty and devotion. I'll understand if she can't see past this horrible lapse in judgment. Who could blame her? It's obviously indicative of some tragic, hidden character flaw. I can't even look at myself in the mirror. Sisterly love can only be pushed so far. 

I will understand if our daily texts and phone calls and accidental Facetimes dwindle to nothing in the wake of Soccergate 2014. Betrayal is a bitter pill to swallow. 

But I'll miss her. 

Just as soon as I have time to miss her....which will be sometime in May...maybe June. 

Did I mention this is a two year commitment? 

She shakes her head slowly in silent humiliation. 

We were so happy then...
Sigh...

Remember the good stuff

Well, we made it.

One week ago today, our oldest child graduated from high school. Honestly, it's a milestone that I never doubted each of our children would achieve. I think we have always been prepared to do pretty much whatever was necessary to get our kids at least this far. And believe me, there were a few moments along the way when getting Jack to hang in there, go to school everyday, do his homework, and apply himself and reach his potential (as encouraged on more than one report card over the years) felt a little like dragging a squealing lamb to the slaughter.

But he made it.

WE made it.

And once the moment was here, it really did feel like a very big deal.

As I have reflected on that moment over the past week, it has occurred to me that maybe I should have gained some wisdom of my own over the past 12 years. Maybe there is something I can impart after having successfully guided (prodded/cajoled/dragged) one child through Kindergarten-12th grade.

Maybe. I'm not promising a lot.

Here goes...I'm not even going to put a number on my pearls of wisdom. Too much pressure. I'd like to give this a catchy title like, "Lori's Top 10 Hints and Tricks for Getting Your Child to Graduate" but I have serious doubts I can come up with 10 witty and wise tips for surviving your child's school years. I'm hoping I can come up with two.

Right now you might be asking why I didn't think of these in advance and then I would know exactly how much advice I actually possess to pass along? That's sweet of you to think I give these posts that much time and thought. Yeah, sorry, I don't work that way. I'm more of a stream of consciousness, let the words fly off the keyboard sort of writer. Which is all part of why I could never actually be a writer. Planning, forethought, editing, proper punctuation...not so much.

Here we go!

Lori's Unknown Number of Things I Learned Getting My Child Through School

1. Your Child Does Not Need to be an Academic Superstar to go to College. 

I'm putting this at number one because I have a lot of friends with kids entering into high school, or in the early years of high school and I know the whole college thing is looming. Here is the thing, there are a lot of schools out there. Unless your child has his/her heart set on Stanford, Pepperdine or even some of the more competitive state schools, there are a ton of options. We were freaking out going into the college application process having heard so much about how competitive it is now. We had a child with a mediocre GPA, minimal extracurriculars and marginal test scores (He knows all this and owns it. I'm not saying anything he wouldn't tell you himself). He was accepted to 4/6 schools and the two he wasn't accepted to we knew were a stretch. 

Seriously, try not to stress out if your child doesn't have a 3.5 and isn't editor of the yearbook while starring in the school play after coming home from football practice. There aren't enough valedictorians to go around so colleges are more than happy to take some average kids, too. I promise.

If you and your child want college to be an option- it probably is.

2. I Have Yet to See Diorama Construction on the List of Required College Courses

Over the course of your child's many years in school, you will have to suffer through many, many projects. These projects include, but are not limited to: dioramas, TRIoramas, coat hanger mobiles, three dimensional solar systems (and you are not allowed to go get the kit from Michael's), posters (literally, dozens and dozens of posters), various model clay creations, the Rube Goldberg project (I'm so sorry if this one comes home to you), and if you had the pleasure of having my son's 7th grade math teacher, a bizarre sewing project that is supposed to teach something about geometry but mostly ends up in having children with fingers so pinpricked and sore they have to eat like dogs because they can't hold utensils any longer. 

What you need to know is this: None of these projects really matter. If your child is still young enough that he/she doesn't even receive actual grades yet then multiply that statement by a thousand. 

Oh, I know. You can't just blow these things off and you don't want to send your child to school reporting to his teacher that, Mom says this project is silly and she said there was no way she was going to miss the Project Runway finale to find me a shoebox, puffy paint and glitter glue so that I could make something that's going to end up in the recycling. 

I get it. That ain't happening.

But I beg of you, keep it simple. Don't let these projects dissolve into tears and missed bedtimes. Whether or not your little one gets an "S" or an "S+" or an "O" or a "?" won't matter in the long run. Tell them to do their best, applaud their effort and make sure everyone gets to bed on time.

My son answered a lot of questions on his college applications but not one of them asked if he could whip out a killer diorama.

3. Take Lots of Pictures Because You Will Never Remember it All

I hesitate to throw this one out there because I know for some people, this is pressure. I'm the sort of person who likes to take pictures and likes to put together photo books, so I'm grateful for the treasure trove of memories we have in the form of photographs, scrapbooks and now digital photo books. If you aren't that sort of person, and you think you won't care someday if you don't have your child's years in school documented, then don't sweat it. This is totally your call.

But for me, I spent a lot of time looking back on photos of Jack leading up to his graduation and I was thankful for every single one. To see how our boy went from that chubby cheeked angel to the handsome young man he is now was more than a little sentimental.

Even if you only take pictures for the big events, or the first and last day of school, just do it. You'll be so glad someday.

4. Take the Best, Leave the Rest

One of the most beautiful things about the passing of time is it inevitably creates a memory filter. Details get fuzzy, people and places get hazy, and anything that isn't carefully documented with photographic evidence becomes victim to the whims of our long term memories.

I say embrace the filter.

My cousin and I, with whom we took several Disneyland trips when our kids were small, always like to look back on the photos and videos of those trips and say, "Look at that! What a perfect trip! The kids were always smiling. No one got sick. Not a single tantrum, whine or complaint. Best trip ever!!"

It's a big fat lie but we don't care.

The truth is, most of it was great. The kids did have a fabulous time. We do have wonderful memories of those shared trips and raising our kids together. 

So that's what we choose to remember.

The same goes for school, or holidays, or sporting events, or anything!

Embrace the filter. 

Remember the good stuff.

5. That's It

Well, I've sat here for a good five minutes wracking my brain trying to think of one more thing I learned from my son's school years and I got nothin'. I guess next time one of my kids complains after staring at the computer for three minutes that they cannot possibly think of one single thing to write for the essay that is due tomorrow, I'll be a teeny bit more sympathetic.

It's possible they get their lack of persistence from me.

But I'm not being graded on this and truth be told there is a stack of laundry that isn't going to fold itself, so...I quit.

Another of the many blessings that comes with growing up is I get to throw in the towel on this one and nobody is going to ground me or give me an "Incomplete". 

Seriously, being a kid can be hard. There are all these people telling you what to do all the time and expecting you to be good at every single subject under the sun (including diorama building) while also putting in volunteer hours, building a "resume" and being an all-around super great guy or gal about whom teachers will write glowing recommendations.

Whenever you can, make sure they have some fun. Make sure they know it isn't all so desperate or scary or life threatening. Make sure they see their future as something filled with hope and potential and worthy of big dreams.

We all know life isn't easy and that being an adult is filled with a lot of hard work. It's okay to tell them that. They need to know that, too.

But a hopeless person is a stagnant person. To be hopeless is to be stuck. Don't let them get stuck.

Feed them on faith and the belief in a plan that is bigger than them. Teach them they are part of a grand story and everyone has a part to play-no exceptions. They are here for a reason.

Let them experience the realities and consequences of life.

But never stop giving them hope.

And love.

Always love.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." ~Jeremiah 29:11

Daughters and Sons

Yesterday, as I was walking Rooney (cue obligatory cute dog photo):

I was listening to music and the song Daughters by John Mayer came on. The playlist I generally listen to when I'm walking the dog is long and varied so I hadn't heard this song come up in awhile.

There's something very sweet and plaintive about this song. This poor lovestruck guy who is apparently suffering the effects of being in love with a girl who had an absentee father and therefore has trust and commitment issues, is making a musical plea for fathers everywhere to love their daughters well.

I'm with you there, John. 

In addition to his advocating for all future grown-up girls who might one day date someone like him who'd rather not have a girlfriend with "issues",  John apparently would also like a time machine in which he could reverse the time-space continuum (probably something that resembles a DeLorean) and somehow convince his beloved's father to stop being such a schmuck.

It's really all very noble and romantic (and a teeny bit self-serving, but I'm willing to forgive him that).

Where John loses me is with this throwaway stanza in the middle of the song that pretty much says you can dump on your sons all you want, but you better be gosh darn sure to take care of those girls.

Boys, you can break. 

You'll find out how much they can take.

Boys will be strong

And boys soldier on

But boys would be gone without the warmth from

A woman's good, good heart

Never mind that there is again a bit of a self-serving message here. Basically, that he would like the benefit of a woman's good, good heart and never mind that he's a broken mess himself because he's a boy and he'll just pull up his boot straps and soldier on. But as a mother of two sons I can tell you (and I'd tell John, too, but he hasn't been taking my calls) that it's just so completely and utterly false.

I have two pretty soldier-like boys myself. They keep their tougher emotions close to the vest and eschew any big discussions of "feelings". Ask a teenage boy to "use their words" to describe what's going on with them and mine would come up with words like, nothing, fine, I don't care, and whatever. We have tried giving them a Thesaurus and Word-a-Day calendars as birthday gifts but it hasn't seemed to help (nor have those gifts been particularly popular-go figure?)

That said though, I don't imagine for a minute that they don't wrestle with tough emotions all the time. And if you learn to watch carefully, as a mom, you can always see the signs.

It's in the eyes. It's in the way they suddenly get snappish and grouchy over things that would normally never bother them. They can't focus and procrastination reaches even greater pinnacles than you ever thought possible. Their words start carrying an air of futility or ambivalence; things like, What does it matter?, I didn't really care anyway, It's stupid, or even better they will string them all together in one big long statement of angst, Who cares? It's all just stupid and doesn't matter and I didn't care anyway. That pretty much sums it up, huh?

All of the snarls, the closed bedroom doors, the half-done homework, it's all their masculine way of saying:

I'm disappointed.

I'm worried.

I'm scared.

I'm not sure of what to do next.

And while so far my boys have been able to bounce back from all of the setbacks they've faced, I don't think for a minute that they couldn't be broken, that they aren't vulnerable, that nothing life throws at them could ever take them down. Just because they're boys?

Boys fill our prisons.

Boys commit the overwhelming majority of the violent crimes in this country.

Boys commit the majority of the non-violent crimes in this country.

Applications for college is lower for boys than girls.

Girls outnumber boys in successful completion of college.

Sorry, John, we are going to have to agree to disagree on this one (and I might have a few bones to pick with you on some of your other songs. I'll let you know after I walk Rooney today and have a chance to mull over Say and Your Body is a Wonderland. I'm feeling like there is some subtext there that I'm not getting...)

How about we all agree, Fathers and Mothers, to be good to both our daughters and our sons? 

Let's try not to break anybody and find out how much they can take. Life will usually do enough of that all on its own.

I'm done over-analyzing the lyrics to pop songs for today. I can't promise what might spring up in my brain tomorrow though. I've got a lot of time to think when I'm walking my youthful, energetic, fluffy buddy. One of these days, I'll come up with the answers to all of the world's problems. 

I'll keep you posted.

I'm the Mommy

This past week has been a doozy.

Major school projects that require dismantling half the house have kept the entire family up way past our bedtime (Superdad's bedtime is 8:30pm, Annie's bedtime is 9pm, the boy's bedtime is 10pm or whenever they finally fall asleep, and mine is whenever all those other people are at last tucked in bed and snoozing).

Tim and Superdad got the thrill of flying down to San Francisco at the crack of dawn Wednesday morning to attend Game 1 of the World Series. It was worth all of the hassle and expense to pull together such a last minute trip, but it did create a flurry of activity and chaos right smack dab in the middle of the week.

The infamous Senior Thesis is still hanging over our heads like a not-at-all-cute version of Winnie the Pooh's little black rain cloud. For better or for worse, it will be turned in by this Friday morning at 8:10am but for now, it's still hovering.

Emails continue to pour in about November 15 college application deadlines. The dogs seem to be growing accustomed to the wailing and whining that erupts from me anytime one of these emails pops up in my inbox. There's a lot of heavy sighing, too.

Jack had the ACT test on Saturday morning, followed by a high school dance that night. I wonder which one was more fun?

And, of course, there were two soccer games (in the rain) this weekend and an attempt to not completely ruin our third child's childhood experience by finally going out and buying pumpkins for our porch. God help me, this probably means she is going to want to carve one of them sometime in the next 24 hours. Give me strength.

At any rate, as the evening wound down last night, I started fantasizing about climbing into bed, resting my head on my pillow and hoping upon hope that my brain would agree to shut down the swirling thoughts of deadlines and duties and allow me some much needed rest.

Turns out, last night was not the night my dream of a peaceful night's rest was going to come true.

At about 10pm, when I was starting to make my move to close up shop and make a run for the covers, I heard a tearful, plaintive cry from my youngest's bedroom. At that time of night, when a certain little one should have been asleep for over an hour, any cries for Mommy can't be good.

I went to her and found a shaky, weepy child obviously feeling sick and quite possibly about to throw up but fighting it with all her might. Like most of us, Annie is not a fan of throwing up. I assured her that she was in good company.

For the next two hours, I traveled with her back and forth from her bed to the bathroom as she went through waves of feeling better and then flooded with the uncomfortable queasy feelings again. We finally settled ourselves on the cold, hard tile of the bathroom floor. She rested her head on her pillow while she verbalized with stunning clarity everything she was feeling about her experience.

It was funny for me to listen to my "talker" and think about how even in illness my kids have their own unique dispositions and methods for coping. As a little boy, Jack was downright pleasant when momentarily flattened by the latest bug going around. An undemanding little patient, who would bear his suffering unceremoniously and without complaint. His disarming sweetness almost made the sight of him lying ill all the more difficult to witness.

Timothy, healthy as a horse and hardly sick a day in his life, is far more offended and resentful when illness finally takes him down. Our competitive, tenacious child views any malady as one more adversary to be defeated and maligned. He is certain that *someone* must be to blame for this setback and heaven help you if he decides you are among the suspect. Lucky for all of us, his sturdy constitution generally brings him back to good health quickly.

No surprise, Annie requires a great deal of love and attention when she feels poorly. Nothing soothes her more than the reassurance of knowing she has mom and dad's full sympathy and attention. But Annie also processes almost any experience verbally and the experience of feeling sick is no exception.

While kneeling near the toilet bowl, just in case, she proceeded to engage in her own self-help version of therapy, all in her small, pathetic, shaky, tired voice.

I just wish that I could know if I'm going to throw up or not, then I wouldn't be so worried. I just feel worried because I don't know what to expect. I don't like throwing up but I know that sometimes after you throw up you feel better. Right, Mommy? How many times have you thrown up, Mom? Do you ever feel worried and scared about it? Did you feel better afterward? Why does God have to let people be sick? I know it's because he made us to be human and so he lets human things happen to us... 

(heaven help me, the child actually hears me. I better increase my prayers for wisdom so I don't say anything too stupid),

...but I still wish he would stop people from being sick since he loves us so much.

(she's a budding theologian, my girl...)

Mommy, would you pray for me right now? Actually, just pray in your head, when you pray out loud it makes me feel like I'm going to throw up.

(good to know-I'll avoid praying out loud in public lest I cause people around me to start vomiting).

This went on for two hours as I attempted to stroke, soothe, calm, pray, quiet and sing her anxieties away. As it neared midnight and I could see fatigue starting to win out over whatever discomfort she was feeling, I let out a sigh myself and without thinking muttered, "Oh, Annie...I'm so tired."

She lifted her heavy head off of her pillow in alarm and asked frantically, "Are you going to go to bed and leave me by myself?"

Brushing her hair back from her face and shushing her quietly I quickly assured her that, no, I was not going anywhere. I would stay with her as long as she needed me, even if that meant all night.

Her weary head relaxed and settled again into her pillow and with her eyes heavy with exhaustion she mumbled, "Because you're my Mommy....right?"

I thought of the dozens of reasons I wouldn't leave her sick and alone lying on the bathroom floor, but none of them seemed as good a reason as that one right there. It's the reason we all soldier through disruptive school projects, rainy soccer games, messy pumpkin carvings, hundreds of school paper edits, college application essays, and late, long nights sitting on a very cold, very hard tile floor with nothing more than a penguin shaped Pillow Pet for comfort.

Because I'm their Mommy.

Here's to the Mommies. Hang in there this week. We are all in this together.

This and That

• We are all back home on the less-sunny, low 70's side of the state. I know people around here are wishing for more of a summer but I'm quite happy to return to milder temps having spent three weeks in the 90's. I know many people in other parts of the country would be grateful for these temps as well. Feels quite refreshing, really. 
• In preparing to leave our home on the Other Side of the Mountains, I found myself reverting back to my old ways. I have a strong desire to leave that house spic and span so that I can return not feeling as though I have to immediately jump into housekeeping mode. I did ask the boys to clean their bathroom, which Jack assured me he did. My spot-check assured me that he did not. At least not to my standards. And in my rush to get us on the road and out of town I did not grab that opportunity to bring him back downstairs and show him all of the ways the bathroom was not, in fact, clean. I just did it myself. Two steps forward, one step back.
• All was not a complete loss, however. In our race to get on the road, Jack was perhaps more anxious than anyone to see us meet our noon departure goal (which might explain the rush-job on the bathroom) as he has a social life waiting for him back home (no one else does). Still, he was patient and good-natured but did finally inquire whether or not I thought we would be leaving at noon as planned. I informed that we would be far more likely to leave at noon if someone could give the pup a much needed 20 minute walk. He jumped up, grabbed the leash, and headed out the door with our furry bundle of energy. Lesson #56: When a child is motivated, the right request will almost always be met with enthusiasm. 
• While driving across the state I passed the time by listening to the news on the sattelite radio. Given the grim events of the past 24+ hours you can imagine what the main story was. My kids were all plugged into headphones so I was able to listen freely without worrying about inappropriately frightening my sensitive, tender-hearted 7 year old. Jack would occasionally unplug but given that he is 17, I knew he could not only handle the news accounts but part of me wanted him to hear. I don't want him moving through his life in fear, but a 17 year old boy can usually use some extra doses of caution and suspiscion. I want him to be aware that bad things can happen and that in his age group he is somewhat statistically more likely to be caught in a dangerous situation. I kept glancing sideways at my man-child and thinking, Please be careful...Please be safe...No one is invincible...
• You know you are witnessing a horrifyingly awful piece of current events when you find yourself turning to your teenage son and saying, I know that chances are you will never ever be in a situation like this, but I just want to say that it sounds like the majority of the survivors were the ones who hit the ground, found cover, stayed calm and didn't call attention to themselves. For once he didn't scoff at my uninvited moment of motherly concern. He nodded seriously and just said, Yeah...you're right.
• At one point, Jack could see that I was visibly upset by some of the eye-witness accounts and asked why I kept listening? I told him that it was because for now, from many states away, that's all I can offer these innocent victims. I can hear their stories, listen to their names, and offer up prayers on their behalf. It seemed the least I could do.

When opportunity strikes and lessons in dogs

When I set out to create the Countdown list I never intended it to be an exhaustive list. How could it possibly? The number of life skills my children will require in order to successfully manage their first years out of the nest, and beyond, are too many to count. And, with the rapid-fire changes in technology and culture, who knows what other skills they will need to be proficient in within the next 10-20 years in order to be competitive and productive.  But in creating this list, and attempting to raise my own awareness as to how better to prepare my chickadees for life outside the nest, my hope was that as opportunities for growth presented themselves I would be better poised to take advantage of such "teachable moments" (I can only imagine how much teenagers must love that phrase. I'm an adult and even I kinda hate it.)

Such an off-the-list opportunity presented itself just yesterday, and I almost missed it. 

As I mentioned before, my family and I are currently divided by the full length of our fair state. Superdad and the boys are back in our primary residence, while Annie and I are enjoying extra summertime fun with cousins and extended family on the other side of the state in our secondary residence.  This means that the majority of my communications with my sons are occuring via text. You might think it would make more sense to just call them. It would not. Skilled phone conversationalists they are not, at least not with their mother. If I'm going to be fed a string of one-word responses, I'd rather see them on the screen of my phone.

Me: Hey Jack! What are you up to today? Are you being helpful to Dad?

Jack: Ya. just going to skate today. can you make me a haircut appt for tomorrow?

Me: Sure, I'll try to remember to do that. Have fun and be sure to check with Dad and see if there is anything he needs you to do before you leave.

Note of explanation: Jack is an avid skateboarder. Clarification seemed necessary so you wouldn't get a mental picture of him strapping on his walkman, tying up his roller skates and performing double axels along the boulevard in Venice Beach (which would be especially peculiar since we don't live anywhere near Venice Beach).

After this brief but deeply fulfilling text conversation I continued on with my day but occasionally my mind would jump to the thought, Oh, I need to make Jack a haircut! That is until I finally got my head on straight, remembered my recent epiphany and the purpose of this written chronicle, and had an entirely new not-so-shocking thought, Wait! Jack should make his own haircut appointment! This is exactly the sort of thing he needs to handle himself now! 

I know. I'm quick.

Me: Hey there- Making your own haircut appt is a great thing for you to handle on your own.  The number is xxx-xxxx. Just tell them you want to make a haircut appt with Holly. Go for it!

And he did. :)

Here on the other side of the state, I am continuing to learn more about the dog breeds of the world than I ever thought possible. Annie is our resident dog lover and expert. Recently, we purchased for her The Dog Breed Bible. This has given me ample opportunity to practice one of my goals from my own list, The Proverbs 31:28 Challenge: Listen with my full attention when my children speak. I am afraid to say that isn't always as easy as you'd think it should be...

Annie's very first words out of her mouth this morning were, (with the sleepy still in her eyes and her hair falling in her face)  Hey Mom, did you know that the Irish Wolfhound is actually a very good family dog even though they are so big? They aren't jumpy and they make excellent companions. Oh, and Mom? What kind of dog do you want to be today? I'm a German Shepherd puppy. You can't be a Cocker Spaniel because you were that yesterday. How about something from the Sporting Group?

Good morning, Annie...