Baby's Lullaby

As she made her way into the large choir room to deliver a message to the teacher, her heart skipped a beat and a feeling of euphoria came over her. The young girls were singing "All The Pretty Little Horses." This is an old southern song, which, if I am correct, was sung to the babies of the plantation owners by their African American nannies. It goes something like this:

Hush a bye
Don't you cry
Go to sleepy little baby

When you wake
We'll have sweet cake
And all the pretty little horses

Blacks and Bays
Dapples and Greys
Six and twenty little horses

Blacks and Bays
Dapples and Greys
Six and twenty little horses

When she was in college, she took a voice class to help ease her fear of singing in front of an audience. You see, she wanted to be an actress...a real actress...who could act, sing and dance. She was comfortable with the acting and dancing, but had no experience singing. "All the Pretty Little Horses" was the song she learned in class, and sang for her final project. She didn't know why she picked that song; something in her gut told her to learn the song.

She stopped pursuing her acting career and decided to take a different path in her great journey of life. On that path, she and her husband of eight years decided to start a family. During the next eight years of her journey, she had four children. She sang this song to each of her babies during the first years of their lives. She would wrap her arms around them and hold them close. Each one of them knew that when mommy sang this song, they were the center of the universe and nothing else mattered but them. The song was especially soothing to her fourth child, who was so sensitive, she would have a meltdown if someone looked at her with raised eyebrows. The melody and words would calm the little girl and turn her tears into smiles.

On her way out of the choir room, one could see a single tear falling from her eye. But the corner of her smiling mouth stopped the tear, and for a moment, she felt the bliss of knowing how very lucky and blessed she was to have babies who loved hearing her sing this song...now she knew why her gut had told her to learn it.

Tribute to My "Rock"

Rock is the fictitious name I've given to #2 child. He plays in an alternative rock band (hence the name "Rock"). His big brother, Hero, successfully trained Rock in the busy way For example, he he couldn't sit, or do anything that didn't involve running or thrashing both arms all over as he ran. He managed a few scuffs along the way, and has the scars to show for them. I once had a pediatrician hold up his 100 page medical file and say "S'up with this?" After I fantasized about shoving my fist down his throat, I said sweetly, "I bring him to the doctor when he's sick or broken! He's just a little accident-prone and gets a few ear infections!"

Rock spoke Klingon when he was two years old. Only Hero could translate. After a while, I could understand through hand motions and using 50,000 suggestions as to what it was he wanted to say. We had his hearing tested, which resulted in good news, but when the doctor had him do a few tongue "gestures" he was unable to pass the test. The diagnosis was an under-developed tongue muscle that was completely normal after a year of speech therapy. Once he was speaking English, he wouldn't shut up!

He went to a preschool that had classes surrounding an open atrium. Once, while we were walking to his class, he was smacking the leaves of atrium plants along the way. He was walking directly behind me and forgot about the eyes in the back of my head. I said calmly, "Rock please stop smacking those plants." He replied in his ever-so-nanny-nanny voice, "Can't see me!" I laughed so hard I almost wet myself!

He's always loved sports and outdoor games. The preschool had little two-wheel bikes with wheels that were at least six inches wide. He mastered the two wheeler at school and then blew his dad away when he hopped on a "real" bicycle and took off. Dad was prepared to run up and down the street for a few hours until Rock felt confident enough to ride alone. Dad was beside himself with relief to have dodged this one!

Hero, Rock's big brother, crashed and burned on a bicycle when he was about five years old. He wouldn't get back on a bike to save his life. When the boys were a little older, Rock had to teach a skill to someone for a scout badge. He was able to get his big brother back on a bicycle and loved it! Whew! I was glad he was working on that badge! Have you ever tried to get a kid to take cough syrup once they've tasted the worst kind?

They both enjoyed playing soccer and baseball....until they were hit by wild pitches! I don't know what it is with getting hit by a fast moving ball, but neither one ever played it again. Rock tried gymnastics, volleyball and football. He fell in love with the latter two sports, and was very successful at them. He would bring on the "bad boy mean" when it was needed, but he normally was a bit more reserved. He has, however, more heart in his little finger than do many entire teams of athletes!

He has accomplished much in his young life, and he has done his momma proud! He's more than half-way through his college education and actually has an idea of what he'd like to be when he grows up. I didn't know what I wanted to be until I was 50, and I'm still changing my mind to this day!

So, here's to you Rock! Because you could sing the entire soundtrack of Disney's "Little Mermaid" when you were three; because you wouldn't let the doctors hurt your big brother when they tried to stitch up his eye; because you busted your butt to finish your Eagle project within 24 hours of turning 18; and because you never hesitate to say you love me in public, I am so incredibly proud of you and grateful that God gave you to me!

I love you.

Age of Aquarius

Remember this Fifth Dimension song? "When the moon is in the seventh house, and Jupiter aligns with Mars..." Everything is perfect! Have you ever had a day, a week, a year, or a job that was everything you needed to be completely satisfied? I'd like to tell you about a time in my life where I felt that I was aligned with something very special.

Prior to my thrilling job as a school secretary, I worked at a church pre-school as a Teacher's Aid. I had been coerced to apply for this job by a friend. It helped a little that my girls had been students at the school, so I was familiar with how it was run and I knew some of the teachers. I really love the kids at this age. They are still so very innocent and loving. Every new experience is an exciting adventure for them.

My day began by assisting the teachers prepare for the day. The other Aids and I would help set up paints and easels, fill up water pitchers, set out supplies for the day's activities and anything else that the teachers needed. Once the children began arriving, we would go through their tote bags to pull out notes, lunch bags or returned items from the prior class time. Throughout the morning, we would help with activities, art projects, snack time, potty breaks, outside time and clean up. Occasionally, I would substitute for one of the teachers. This really did wonders for my ego, because the little tykes always loved the teacher!

One of the the best things about this job, (in addition to the children) was the fact that I loved every single woman with whom I worked. I loved the director, the teachers and the other aids. We all seemed to blend well together. All of us were moms, so we had that in common. The fact that we were all Christian women was another common thread. I think that we all had a decent sense of humor, which on some days, was the only way we survived! After working for a few months, I became comfortable with my work and my relationship with my co-workers. Everyone was called "Miss" Susan, "Miss" Betty, etc. I would get a chuckle when I would hear, "Miss Liz, will you please wipe my butt?" coming from the bathroom!

In November, we drew names for a Secret Santa event. We would begin leaving gifts for our secret person once a week starting with December 1st. We would get together at a restaurant after the school finished classes for winter break. It would be at this luncheon that our Secret Santa would be revealed. It was always so much fun to sneak around with our little secret stuff and bring a smile to someones face. Of course, I would absolutely love receiving my surprises, too!

One year, to add a little something different, we all took names of a famous actress. There was Anna Nicole Smith, Amy Irving, Mae West, Susan Hayward, Melanie Griffith, Carol Lombard and I was Elizabeth Taylor. It was a lot of fun pretending to be a famous person, and it often kept us laughing throughout the day. To this day, we still email each other with our "Movie Star" names.

The boys and girls were always cracking us up with the funniest stories and their explanations for whatever was happening on any given day. We had a tablet in one of the classrooms where we would write down the funny sayings. At the end of the school year, the director would make a little booklet with these precious articulations, as well as, samples of their master artworks throughout the year. I still have these booklets.

This dream job lasted for two to three years. I will always remember the fun, laughter and comradery I experienced when the planets were guided by peace and love steered the stars.

Eleven Days and Counting....

I thought I'd update you with my progress of revolutionizing my health plan. I'm still chubs, but I've gone 11 days with no refined sugar or white flour (the biggest culprits in MY body). Thank you, no really, thank you...no applause needed. It's only been a week and a half! Six pounds gone...thank you God!

I no longer rearrange furniture, attempt to enter and/or clean the teenagers' rooms, walk the dog a gazillion times a day, or growl and snap at every little noise. There is a peaceful ambiance about the house these days! My husband has actually spoken a few words to me without fear of great balls of fire spewing from my mouth.

But work is where I will need to make some amends. Some of the 12-14 year olds can be forgetful at times. Their loving parents don't want them to get any red checks for not having the assignments, books, PE clothes, bookbags, lunches (yes...food! I can't imagine how anyone could forget to bring their nutritional sustenance to school! You know, the cakesters, cookies, chips, snickers bars, candy and cafeinne drinks - oh, stop...will somebody shoot me?) Last week I drop kicked a child's lunch over to the counter to be delivered later. I sent one parent packing, telling them to "get a life and stop babying your child!" (I still delivered the pair of glasses to the student.) I need to apologize to these parents, buy a lunch for little Johnny because his chocolate pudding leaked all over his entire lunchbag, and convince the principal why I should be able to keep my job!

Then it occurred to me that...duh...I did the same thing when my kids were this age. I thought it was my job as a mom, and I couldn't say no to a remorseful sobbing child calling from the classroom for the assignment that was sitting on the kitchen table. It did make it from the bedroom to the kitchen, so there was some attempt to bring it to school. It didn't matter that there was no identification of the writer on it and it had pictures of potato people with names like "crabby mom" or "booger-eating-moron brother" under them.

In all, I think I'm having a good three day week (two snow days), and look forward to being a family again...until I decide to give up coffee!

Born in the Wrong Decade

My sweet, little Edwina. She thinks she may have had a previous life during the 60's or 70's. All the logos, styles, colors and attitudes are coming around again...at least here in "middle earth." No, she doesn't sleep around or take drugs. I told her if she did, we would take away her license, her phone, her computer time, TV time, and she'd have to quit her job (which is very dear to her as it is her only form of income right now). She knows that one of the most severe consequences would be that she would cease to "have a life." So far, so good!

To give you some background, when she was 15, she struck up a conversation with a friend's dad who buys old VW cars, gets them running and looking spiffy, and then resells them. He was currently working on a '77 VW Bus that immensely peaked her interest. It was all she could talk about for six months.

"When I get my bus...and all my friends will be with me...and I'll have tie-dye curtains, and speakers everywhere!" she would chatter. We managed to keep a lid on things and put off any kind of "sign" that she was going to get the car. Her dad and I felt that, for her first car...you know...the one that she would learn to drive in....have fender benders in...write "welcome to my party" on, we wanted a little more protection around her, and something that was a bit more generic when it came to replacing parts, or finding paint that matched.

A year ago, we were talking with a very good friend who actually drove one of these buses back in the 60's, telling him the story and our feelings about the car. He looked us straight in the eye and said "Just buy the damn car!" So, we did...because our friend was very persuasive and I was afraid of him!



Here is a picture of her seeing the bus for the first time. I called her downstairs by yelling and acting mad about something. As soon as she hit the bottom of the stairs, I gave her a loving shove out the front door. She couldn't believe that her "dream car" was sitting in the driveway!

Since that day, there have been no accidents, only one incident of someone leaving their mark with a key...along the entire side...and only one ticket. I've heard that red cars are very attractive to our men in blue. She first received a warning for a non-moving type violation, but this particular man in blue kept an eye out for her (she's not hard to miss). When she had turned on to a main street with traffic, the rear of the bus was left slightly inside the intersection space. Well, he jumped on this one. He and a friend in blue were standing on the side of the street about 50 feet away and immediately motioned for her to pull over. The ticket read "obstruction of intersection."

She plead "not guilty" and was "bound" over for trial. On her own, this (now 16 year old) returned to the scene of the crime and took pictures from several different angles. She went into court, prepared to battle with the ticketing officer, and waited for her name to be called. She was led into a private room with a District Attorney. There was no sign of the officer. She showed the DA the pictures of the intersection, as well as, the diagram that she made depicting the exact location of her car and where the officer had been standing. The DA was impressed, and began asking her questions about the car...how long had she been driving it...how well does it run...does she get a lot of guys with it, etc. She smiled and then added that the car goes from 0 to 60 in 15 minutes! He laughed and she relaxed. She was told that if she did not get any more tickets for three months, this infraction would be dismissed.

She made it to Thanksgiving, which was the three month period, and to this day...that we know...she has not said "howdy" to any more men in blue!

It's a Miracle!

There are a lot of articles and books, written about miracles that happen every day. Many call it “karma.” (That sounds like such a 60’s term, but I think it is making a comeback!) Others just chalk it up as being a “God Thing.” It seems to me that as I get older, and grow in my spirituality, I see events in a different light than before. I believe that much of what happens to me is part of a larger master plan. Even though I don’t always make the best decisions, those decisions were supposed be made either as a step forward or as an unpleasant learning experience. Events that I look back on with regret are no longer thought of as mistakes.

We all know that sometimes, things happen with absolutely no logical explanation for them. They can be good for us, or, they can be bad for us…but good for someone else. Those of us who have been lucky enough to witness such events have been touched by what I believe is a power greater than anything we could ever comprehend...God. I have a friend who has witnessed a few such events that may be considered miracles. With her permission, I would like to share them with you.

When Lydia was in high school, she was involved in a car accident while crossing a street between two neighborhoods in her parents’ Impala (oh, so 60’s). She was broadsided on the driver’s side by a Corvette travelling way over the speed limit. Upon impact, the seat belt snapped open and she could feel her body being thrown to the passenger side of the car. Her hands, however, never left the steering wheel until the car came to a stop. Lydia ended up sitting on the passenger side of the front seat. She sat there dazed and motionless until a policeman appeared at the window. He asked her where the driver of the vehicle was. She told him that she was the driver. He gave her a funny look and then went to check on the other car.

The front end of the Vet was buckled and there was a crack in the windshield caused by the passenger. He had one heck of a headache. The driver was unhurt. The car Lydia was driving was totaled, but she did not have a scratch on her. If the seatbelt had not snapped open, Lydia would have sustained major injuries. She didn’t know why she held on to the steering wheel, but by doing so, it kept her from being thrown against (or even through) the passenger window. She thanked God for keeping her safe.

On another occasion, while Lydia was driving about 40 miles per hour down a two lane street, she looked away from the road for a second to pick up something from the car floor. When she looked up, she was about 50 feet behind a stopped school bus. There was not enough time to see if there was a lane next to her. She believed she was going to run into the bus so she slammed on the brakes to try to ease the impact. She felt the steering wheel turning to the right, but she was not making it happen! The car ended up on the shoulder next to the bus. Lydia knew that she had not turned the steering wheel, but there she was…unscathed. The bus and the car were untouched. Once again, she was spared from what could have been a very messy accident. She felt strongly that this was another case of divine intervention.

These experiences are very small events in a world of daily miracles. They happen to us, or someone we know, and then begin a chain of events that affect others. If you have had an experience that you believe to be a miracle, you may affect a life simply by sharing it. Your story is welcome here.

The Ring (no, not that ring)

“Are you sitting down?” her mother asked.

“Well, I am now!” replied Lisa, excited as a child on Christmas morning.

“It’s real, and it’s worth Four Thousand Dollars! The center stone is 1¾ carats surrounded by 18 diamond chips. Can you believe it?” asked her mom.

“Oh…my…goodness! No, I cannot believe it!” screamed Lisa. She fell back in the chair and gazed at the ceiling. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world right now!” she shouted. Several days earlier, Lisa had found a sparkly-kind-of-brooch-thing on the ground, and figured it was just junk jewelry. Never in a million years did she think this could be the real thing!

Whenever Lisa would walk anywhere outside, she always kept one eye on the ground in case there were rocks, holes, or something slippery. Years earlier, when she was on her honeymoon, she fell flat on her face while crossing the street. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but it was downtown San Francisco, and there were witnesses everywhere. She was walking a few feet behind her husband, Jack, and as she fell, she made a sound similar to that of a professional football player who had just received an unexpected helmet thrust to his mid-section.

Jack, being the concerned and loving husband that he was, continued walking as though nothing had happened. Lisa picked herself up, brushed the concrete bits from her face, and finished crossing the street. From that day on, Lisa was always aware of her surroundings, especially on the ground. So, when something sparkly caught her eye, she gave it her full attention so as not to trip on it. She scooped it up and put it in her pocket.

“I’ll ask mom if she thinks it’s worth anything,” she said to herself. Her mother’s neighbor was a jeweler who worked out of the house. If her mom didn’t know, she could ask her neighbor. Lisa dropped off the brooch the next weekend when she went to visit her parents. She forgot about it until her mother called her a week later.

Now, something that expensive made Lisa very uncomfortable. When she was three years old, Lisa was playing with her mother’s wedding ring (a family heirloom) in the front yard. She came into the house later without the ring and her mother asked her about it. Being only three, Lisa, had no idea where the ring was. Mom walked outside and began to scour the front yard. She found nothing, but did notice some workers cementing a fence between the houses.

“No, she couldn’t have dropped it over there…” her mother thought and then sighed in despair. The ring was gone, never to be seen again. Lisa had been reminded of this event many times as she was growing up. She felt horrible about it, but reminded herself that she was only three years old at the time and shouldn’t be held responsible for the loss.

On another occasion, Lisa had accidently thrown out the anniversary ring given to her by Jack. After the two of them climbed into the apartment dumpster and looked in every nook and cranny, between every piece of paper, and inside anything that could open and close, they sadly agreed that it was gone, never to be seen again.

Lisa thought that she might be able to finally redeem herself for her childhood mistake, by giving this gem to her mom. She secretly spoke to her dad about having something made using the stones. The next door neighbor, the jeweler, could make the piece. Dad and Lisa decided on a custom gold band ring, with the big stone in it. The jeweler shaped the top of the ring into a “V” and the stone was placed at the bottom of the “V”. It was a very unique design and Lisa hoped that her mom would like it. Her mom loved it! Lisa felt relieved that her mother liked the ring, and for the first time in her life, she felt that she had made up, in a sense, for the loss of the family ring so many years ago.

Today, the ring sits in a bank deposit box and is safe from anyone, three years to 63 years old, who could accidently throw it out, or drop it into a cement fence being built between houses.

This is a true story. The names have been changed to protect the stupid and the innocent.