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.

The Morning After....

We all survived! I kept the commitment I made on my other blog about smaller portions. I only walked the dog once, however! I'll try to get that one in today.

BLACK FRIDAY - So, the 17 and 15 year old were trying to convince me that they should be allowed to camp out overnight with their posse at the mall. You betcha! Ed thinks that just because she played contact football with a bunch of boys at the age of 14, she can kick anybody's butt and she should be allowed to roam free. After heavy discussion (minus the tears and slamming doors) I stood my ground and said "no." Who camps out at the mall, anyway? If I were to camp out, I'd be at Best Buy, Target, Kohls, Walmart, etc., not the mall. There are too many entrances to count at the mall. There ARE NO LINES!

We agreed they would leave the house at 4:30am, drive to pick up the posse by 5:30am (because they won't be up yet, anyway!) and get to the mall by 6:00am. They are more than likely trolling (I mean strolling) the walkways, dreaming of clothes, shoes and boys. Ed wanted to find something new to wear to the rave (I mean party) that she is hosting tonight (I must be completely out of my mind!). Nevermind the fact that 99% of everyone else at the mall is shopping for gifts for others (well, okay, maybe 95%).

The scariest thing is...she has my debit card.

Hockey Mom Wannabe

So, a hockey mom wannabe, her hockey son wannabe, Jack, and his little sisters, Molly (hockey wannabe) and Alison (beautician wannabe) jumped into the car for a ride to the hockey store. Jack was going to learn to play roller hockey and needed some equipment. Before entering the store, the kids had to listen to the lecture about proper "shopping with mom" etiquette. The lecture was mostly for Jack and Molly. Alison always followed the rules and very rarely got into trouble. She had her thumb, blanket and stuffed kitty; life was good for Alison.

"You will NOT touch anything. You WILL walk behind me at all times. We are shopping for your BROTHER, and your brother alone," announced mom.

As they walked down the aisle with helmets and shin guards, mom began to pick out equipment for Jack to try on. Jack saw the skate display at the end of the aisle and ran over to check it out.

"Mom, look at these cool skates," he said with kid-in-a-candy-store enthusiasm.

Mom followed saying, "We already have skates, honey, and we are not buying new ones today."

Jack lowered his head and sadly replied, "okay...but these are really sweet skates!"

From a short distance behind mom, she heard the words, "Mommy, look at me!" Mom swung around to see Molly dressed in full hockey gear from helmet to skates.

"Oh, sweetie," mom said, trying to contain both her laughter and the urge to release the dragon fire building up inside. "Remember what mommy said? We are shopping for Jack today. There is nothing in here that you need right now. Please go and put away the equipment." Mom turned back around to Jack and they both began to snicker.

"Okay, mommy" said Molly smiling as she and Alison walked back down the aisle. "Don't you think these are pretty, Alison?" Molly asked. Alison had her thumb comfortably in her mouth, so she replied by moving her head up and down. Jack tried on a helmet. It fit perfectly. Mom then picked out some gloves and shin guards. Jack and mom began to make their way to the cash register when they heard a scuffle behind them.

"Mommy, look at me now!" squealed Molly. Mom turned around to see that Molly was still in full gear, but she now had a hockey stick in her hand!

"That’s it!" exclaimed mom in her most I’m really, really mad now voice. "You are to take every single piece of equipment off, put it away and go sit down by THAT wall over there," pointing to the wall close to the register.

"Okay mommy!" Molly said as she skated down the aisle. She was very pleased with herself as she put away the equipment she had been wearing. Alison took her thumb out of her mouth so she could help her sister. They put the items in any open places they could find. As Molly was attempting to return the hockey stick next to the other sticks...all in a row...all 50 of them, she tripped and fell on the end stick. Like dancers in a chorus line, one by one, all of the sticks came crashing down. “Uh-oh,” murmured Molly. Alison gave her blanket to Molly thinking she was really going to need it.

Mom then fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. The young salesman was an absolute angel. He quickly rang the sale, bagged the items and escorted the family to the door. They power-walked to the car, jumped in and clicked on their seatbelts. Mom turned around and said tenderly to the kids, “I love you” in a voice that only a mother could understand.

True story...names were changed to protect the innocent.

Tribute to Hero

HERO is my firstborn child. From day one, he was the most amazing creation we had ever witnessed and we knew we had been blessed with a most beautiful gift from God. His arrival was a little rocky, but he hung in there and proved himself a real trooper!

Our little Hero was a very busy guy. He was always on the go and always wanting to know everything about anything. He was "all boy!" This term can mean different things for different boys. Sometimes his busy-ness would get him into trouble. He would run everywhere...with no regard for anything in his way. We had to replace a few lamps, some dishes and some small pieces of furniture.

He would act impulsively, which made us always on our guard. Once, we were at a backyard party when he thought it would be cool to jump into the middle of a jacuzzi. He was two years old. There were adults all around, even in the jacuzzi. It happend so fast, that no one realized he was even in the water. I watched in horror as the whole event took place in slow motion. My cousin, who was standing next to the jacuzzi, saw him go in and immediately jumped in after him. She pulled him to the surface and lifted him over the side. It took me a few minutes to get my very pregnant body over to him. I just held him tight and thanked God for allowing me this second chance.


When his little brother, Rock, came along, he became the best big brother anyone could ever want. He showed Rock the ropes, trained him in the "busy" way, and played interpreter for Rock, who only spoke Klingon. (Rock had a little speech problem...an underdeveloped muscle in his tongue...which made his words come out sounding nothing remotely close to what he was trying to say.) But, Hero knew what was up and he made sure that we knew, too!

Hero has always been a happy guy, even when times weren't so happy for him. When his first case of poison oak hit, he suffered for a whole week before we had a handle on it. His smile and happy disposition never left him. Croup was another visitor, who came often, but Hero stood fast and fought back. He wasn't going to let anything keep him down! Of course, there were the bicycle and skate disasters, the T-ball wild pitches that found their way to his upper body, and the brutal soccer collisions. We dodged so many bullets with this kid!

He grew into a handsome teenager and found that sports offered him a good outlet for stress and taught him a great lesson about teamwork. In high school, he played football and ran track. He went to every dance that the school held. (I should have just bought him a tux, but he was still growing!) He started working at a local pizza parlor, the aroma of which he wore home each night. We nicknamed him "Cheeseboy" since we could smell him coming up the driveway after work.

He met the first love of his life through the youth group at church. When he left for college, she still had two more years of high school. They decided it would be best to stay friends, and leave the door open for other opportunities. This was so very difficult for Hero to do. My heart broke into pieces as he agonized over what he knew was inevitable. After six months or so, he was fine and back playing video games with other vidiots from around the country. He took a job at a local pizza parlor (sound familiar?) in the town where his college is located. He has now met the last love of his life. He still smells like cheese when he comes home!

He graduated from college this year with an interdisciplinary degree that includes Sociology, Anthropology and Political Science. He has learned to work with many different types of people...dead or alive...plumbers or politicians. I'm so very proud of this guy, I could scream!

My Hero is my pride and joy! I get goosebumps thinking of the adventures that await him as he paves his way to adulthood. I'm so grateful that I was picked to be his mom, and blessed to have shared so many unforgettable moments with him.

God bless you HERO!