Our Family Oath

Our conversation went like this the other day.

Imagine if the Boy Scouts decided one day that they wouldn't let boys be a Boy Scout if they had blue eyes. Ryan yelled at me first "No way. They would never do that. I have blue eyes." Imagine if they said only brown eyed boys could join. "They couldn't." I then asked, "What about if African-American boys couldn't join?" "They couldn't do that," they yelled.

I then exhaled and began a very difficult conversation. We would not be allowing our boys to rejoin the Boy Scouts. I explained the latest ruling by the Boy Scouts. Weeks earlier, the Boy Scouts announced that "While the B.S.A. does not proactively inquire about the sexual orientation of employees, volunteers, or members, we do not grant membership to individuals who are open or avowed homosexuals or who engage in behavior that would become a distraction to the mission of the B.S.A.”

When I read those words in the newspaper, it hit me straight in the gut. My boys just finished up a week at a fantastic Boy Scout summer camp. They were really getting into earning badges and making friends. When I read the announcement, I had to make a choice.

Before I talked to my boys, I kept thinking that it just wasn't right. I can't allow my children to think that it is OK to exclude others. And it isn't OK for me to be apart of this organization as a family.  It goes against everything I believe. My heart goes out to any gay boy that is close to earning the Eagle Scout badge. And to the great leaders that may be gay, I am sorry that the organization that you have dedicated your life of service has now decided that you are unworthy.

The Supreme Court ruled in 2000 that the Boy Scouts of America have the right to restrict their membership. I understand their rights. But I found it interesting that the Girl Scouts have vowed to allow gay membership. Big Brothers Big Sisters also allow gay members. I know the organization has the right to make their own rules. But, as a parent, I make mine.

And to my children, I don't know if you are gay or not. I just want you to know that your mom was trying to teach you a lesson that day in the van. You may not remember why exactly you can't be a Boy Scout. You will know what we value and that we stick up for others. The Boy Scout Oath states that you are to "help others at all times."  We are taking a stand and being vocal for those that are being excluded from this organization.  It is our family oath.

Feeding the Hungry

When you have a family birthday party, what do you serve? Is it pizza every time? Do you shake it up and make lasagna sometimes? Order subs? I am honestly making myself crazy about it. I know I should do better than pizza but I just can't. I am still a cook in training. I love trying new recipes and cooking when I have the energy but the thought of cleaning the whole house and cooking is making me break out in hives. With three kids home, a massive trip to the grocery store just seems impossible the last week of summer vacation. There is not enough power and energy left in my body to do it. We just had a party three weeks ago for Elle and I served pizza. Ugh.

Before I give in and order the pizza, lets take a look at my family requirements. I apologize to my family. I hardly ever call you out. But I just have to do it.

**Ryan, the pickiest eater ever.  Ever. Doesn't even eat hamburgers. Enough said. It's his birthday. Wants pizza.

**My sister is a bacontarian. She is vegetarian but eats bacon. 

**Kyle prefers all carbs especially pasta with butter.

**My father doesn't like most marina sauces and not wild about pasta. 

**My mother in law doesn't like tomatoes and most veggies. 

**Our grill is broken. 

Now that I see it in print, it doesn't look too hard to find something everyone will eat. If I could somehow drink three Red Bulls, I am sure I could do it.

But you know what I am going to do. I am going to text my husband and order Pizzazz salads, calzones just to surprise the relatives and order Ryan's favorite pizza from Marco's. I am going to pretend that it isn't that I can't do it, I am just having my party "catered."

I am off to clean the house and break up some fights between the boys. I haven't even started my list of appetizers to serve. I seem to always serve the same ones. That means there is a small grocery trip with the kids in my future. Maybe I better include some vodka with that Red Bull.

To the braggers

If you were coming here to have a little break, I apologize. I had to get this out. I promise to not be "that" friend who goes on and on about everything she has to do. This is a one time deal. I promise. 

I love Facebook (FB) but sometimes, I want to reach into the screen and strangle some people. I am a peaceful person but a wild response comes out of me when I hear a FB friend brag that they have finished their "Back to School" shopping. They are worse than the "I am enjoying every moment with my kids this summer" people that respond to my "barely hanging on" Facebook update. I am not even making a list at this point. I am just pulling the lists off the fridge stage. I feel about a month behind. I am still trying to check off trips to the zoo and science center. There's no time for shopping. We still need more pool time! We haven't gotten our money's worth of memberships. Where did the summer go? We start early so I am down to the last days. One week to be exact.

And to make this crazy August crazier, in the next week, we have two birthdays and a family wedding. Kyle is the ring barer. So include a rehearsal dinner, soccer practice and school orientation into this crazy week. So instead of falling asleep at night, I lay there trying to think of something other that pizza to serve at the family birthday party, figure out what day I am going supply shopping for school and make lists over and over in my head. And who knows when I will clean this house?

So to the braggers on Facebook, I know I am only seeing your highlight reel. I can barely breathe over here in my blessed little life. I feel like I am in a race to the finish to the first day of school. I am running and running and looking forward to exhaling when I see that bus pull away.

Delegation

I have never been a big delegator. When I worked, I had a tough time passing off assignments to others and felt more comfortable doing it myself. I find myself doing the same thing at home. Yes, you can say it. I am a control freak.

I didn't realize it was so bad until one of my close relatives who shall not be named, started to tease me a little. I brought McDonalds home and my kids sat and waited for me to dish it all out to them. I had to grab the plates, ketchup and drinks. They sat very patiently and waited. And he started laughing hard. He couldn't believe that they didn't help me. I never realized that they should. I guess.

As the days seem to grow longer and longer the closer we get to the start of school, I realized that I can't keep this up. I am not doing my kids any favors by doing everything for them. I always tease my oldest, Ryan, that I can't go to college with him in eight years. He has to start doing things on his own. He acts helpless.  Elle who is three is sometimes more helpful that my 10 and 8 year-old boys. But if you've watched Oprah you know that you show people how to treat you. I know I have taught or not taught my kids by being their waitress, cook and maid.

My mom worked a lot as a kid. We were pretty independent around the house. I didn't grow up with a mom that did everything for me. She didn't do much other than work and take care of herself. I remember washing my clothes at age 9 or so. I washed the whole household's clothes within a few years. And we handled all of the house cleaning by the time I was in middle school. So I grew up doing it all.

So things must change here. I moved all of my food around yesterday so that they can get their own food without any help. I moved bowls where they can reach them and they are getting their own breakfasts, snacks and sometimes their lunch.

With three kids, I can't do it all. I know this isn't much but it is a start. I know I am a bad delegator. I am also lazy about handing out assignments and being an enforcer. And don't get me started on chores. That's a whole other problem. I am just going to get them started in the right direction. College in eight years with Ryan? Only if I get to pick the school!

Today's Goodbye

I had to say goodbye again to my mom today. I asked my dad to pack up her wigs to donate to the Gathering Place's new wig salon. I love the idea that women going through cancer can pick out any wig that they want at no cost in a comfortable, cozy salon. When my mom passed, she left about six or so wigs and we had no idea what to do with them.

When I read about it in the Cleveland Plain Dealer in an article by Regina Brett, I immediately called my dad and asked if we could donate them.

So my dad brought them over in old plastic shopping bags. I thought I would put one on before the kids walked through the door and scare them but in the end, I was the one a little too spooked. I opened the bags and so much of it reminded me of my mom. Some wigs were good ones and some were a little too stylish for my conservative mother. But each one had the same color and similar style. I was overwhelmed with grief again looking at my mother's hair.

I made myself package them up knowing that six beautiful, strong women are going to be walking around the Cleveland area soon in my mom's hair. I know she would love it. I wrote a letter to Gathering Place (a very strange letter to write!) and let them know that I love this idea. I couldn't be happier to give them away.

But as tears poured out of my eyes and I started to tape the box, I stopped. I picked up my favorite wig and smelled it just in case. I was relieved that it just smelled like my dad's house, not my mom's perfume. And still a little sad that it didn't.

TMI

This post is going to be TMI. Totally. So if you are a dude, stop reading now. Please. I beg you.

OK Ladies. This is a public service announcement.

As many of you know, I celebrated my 40th this past November.

With it came a very strong visits from Aunt Flo.

I have a hypothyroidism so I just assumed that I have been feeling crummy (like when you are pregnant and so tired you feel like you cannot go on) because my levels were off.  So, I visited my wonderful endocrinologist for my yearly exam and she said that my TSH test for hypothyroidism was in the correct range.

I told her bad I have been feeling. I am so tired I can barely do anything. I am not motivated. I am out of energy and just as tired in the morning as I am at night.  And she knew exactly what it must be. She ordered another blood test and tested my iron and B vitamin levels.

My iron was extremely low due to my "heavy old lady periods" as I like to call them.

As soon as I found out, I ran to Target to buy iron, Vitamin C (to help with absorption) and a big bottle of my usual multivitamin that I ran out of months ago.

So if you are near 40 and you are starting to get the heavy old lady periods, get a blood test. It could either be thyroid as it was for me 8 years ago or even as simple as low iron. I am telling you, you can't imagine how tired I am simply due to low iron.

And there is your public service announcement for the day. I am going to bed.

Talking about it

On Monday February 27, a 17 year old boy walked into Chardon High School's cafeteria and fired shots at his fellow students. We live about a half an hour from Chardon. It is a great community, ideal for raising a family. We have relatives that attend the school district. Our prayers are with the community of Chardon. This first section was written BEFORE I had the talk.

"What should I tell my children?" a friend wrote on Facebook. Someone had the guts to say "Don't tell them." Really? You would rather your children hear on the bus that someone took a gun to a local high school and shot at other children? You want you children to be alone with their thoughts on a school bus when they hear this? I struggled to even comprehend how someone would think this was a good answer.

Many friends chimed in with suggestions and ideas. There were many thumbs ups. One commenter was an elderly woman. As I looked at her in the picture, I thought about how times were so different. Our conversations as parents have to be so different because our children are growing up in such a violent world. My children will be off of the bus in an hour. I made some brownies and we'll have a talk.

I sat and thought how to properly word my response. I prayed. I then took a few deep breaths and wrote the beginning of this post.The kids came running in and had no idea what happened.

"Have you heard anything at school today about something big that has happened?" My first question came out confused and in a weird order. I wanted to see what they knew. They had no idea. Kyle suggested that the big news was that Friday is Dr. Seuss day and they were to wear green and bring their favorite Dr. Seuss book.

I quickly got us back on track and talked about the boy with the gun. We talked about the drills they have at school and that they work. We talked about bullies and how some children don't know how to handle their bad feelings. We talked about telling someone if you hear or see threats. We talked about their safety and that their schools are safe.

And they ran off. I sat there on the couch and they were gone. They were off to play their next game. I was worried for nothing. It was a harder conversation for me to have them for them to hear. But, isn't that the beauty of childhood? They are protected from really understanding until they are mentally capable to really grasp it. I am relieved that they don't care as much as I thought they would. High school and Chardon are so far away to them. And that's OK. I had the talk. I pray there won't be more.