I am not perfect. I don't pretend to be.
I make mistakes daily. Some are big, some are small.
I always learn from my mistakes. Some lessons are bigger than others. Some are more significant.
"It is never the mistakes you make, it is how you clean them up that matters." My mantra.
I say this at least once a day to myself, my kids, other people.
Last Thursday, I started my morning with an early morning appointment. Going to make a sale. Instead, my client asks me, "did your kids see the movie?"
No clue. "What movie?"
He then says, "did you not see the news story on the YOUR news?"
Broad Creek Middle School students were shown the video ," A Legal Rocky Mountain High". Described on the CNBC website as a story behind the legalization of marijuana for recreational use.
We cannot show THE HELP in school but we can show a video that refers to Colorado as the "greatest social experiment in the next century."
Oh my, he showed me the movie. I was speechless. A feat.
I sat there in his office, trying to focus and concentrate. I was working. I needed to make a sale. Instead, this is what was running through my head, " I need to call Franklin, why didn't my kids tell me, I need to go to the school, I need to talk to the Principal, I need to start town hall meetings again, what did my kids hear, oh my goodness, I need to make a sale."
I left. No sale. I guess the lesson here is, "watch your station's news before you go on the early morning sales call."
As I drove home, I worked myself into a frenzy. When I get passionate, excited, or just really worked up, I get cotton mouth. Oh, the irony. I called Franklin. I vomited words over the phone.
And then I called the middle school and asked for the Principal. I was told she was busy, (I bet she was) and I could leave a voice mail.
The beep went off and I could barely get my lips to go over my teeth. A Giant Sequoia could have been growing in my mouth it was so dry. I left a message.
But I couldn't wait for a response. I called the Carteret County School District office. Of course, I asked for the "man in charge" and I was told he was on his way to the middle school. Why do I think he didn't obey the speed limit?
So, I asked for a man dear to my heart. I never like to mention names on here but he is a class act and his last name is the opposite of "tops". He is the bomb.
He took my call. He immediately calmed me down. He is a class act.
I told him I had only one question, "what was the educational purpose of showing this movie?"
"None. There is no reason it should have been shown. You have every right as a parent to be as upset as your are...I am too." Did I mention he is a class act?
He told me to exercise my right and let me concerns be heard. As we were hanging up, the Principal beeped in.
To her credit, The Principal and Vice Principal were returning my call.
Again, one question. "What was the educational purpose of showing this movie?"
Unlike the previous call, she read a prepared statement. I do not have a problem with the prepared statement. I am positive I wasn't the only phone call that morning and I personally thought a prepared statement was a good idea.
The statement was something about marketing toward teens and making good choices.
Marketing? Did she really say MARKETING? Marketing?
My response went something like this, "thank you for your answer and the your courage. Did you know that I have a 35 year career in electronic marketing? I put a radio station on the air, named after my oldest son, BOB 93.3 geared toward teens, worked for the universal company COCA COLA and there is a very concrete plan when Taylor Swift is strumming that banjo with a Diet Coke beside her and now I work in broadcast television. If you wanted a presentation to show teens how they can be influenced by marketing, my friends at the radio station and my power chicks at the television station could put together a presentation that would be award winning."
And then I was silent because there was not one drop of moisture in my mouth.
I asked her if she had seen the movie and she told me that she "knew about the movie but had not watched it."
A for Honesty.
F for being foolish. You know about a movie entitled "A Legal Rocky Mountain High" but you don't watch the movie? Really?
She asked me what I thought could be done and I said I wanted the same 42 minutes with those kids to show them the real story about pot. But, I explained to her I would be transparent in my presentation. She could see it and edit it before and parents would be included. She said that a Resource Officer would be doing a presentation. I asked, "parents will be included, right?"
She did not say yes. I begged.
She told me that there wasn't a budget for a Resource Officer and I interrupted her and said, "cut the crap, this isn't about money, this is about making good decisions."
And then I said, "it isn't just about the movie. You have four formally trained and educated teachers who watched this movie and NONE of them said, "hey, do you think this is a good idea? or I don't know, think we need to ask permission about this one...or "there is a voice in my gut that says this is not the movie that really teaches good things to kids".
"And, if the website doesn't roll out correctly Mr. Obama and your name is on the website, it is your fault."
I asked why I get 6 all calls a week, 12 if they are fund raising and I never got a call, a flier, a permission slip, and notice on the website, NOTHING to let me know what my kids were going to be exposed to and never giving me the chance to opted out.
She apologized. Profusely.
I hung up after I begged her to include the parents.
I sat down and just felt distraught. The last three years were behind us but my body felt like it did in the beginning. I knew I wasn't being a drama queen. I was sick. I was mad. But, I couldn't spit. So mad I could spit and I couldn't spit which compounded the issue.
I received 18 phone calls, 14 text, 7 private Face book messages and one lovely phone call from a member of the school board.
He too is a class act.
I got my saliva back and my grove too.
This whole situation was a good thing. Kids were talking, asking questions, parents were talking, the mother network was in full force. We had been given a gift. A chance to really educate.
I sent an email to the classy school board member and the big guy in charge. I explained that while I was happy about the Resource Officer coming to speak, in the world of videos and Instagram, they had to catch the attention of the kids. We had to be in their world.
It was important to show pictures of house, nice houses, single wides, condos, mansions, apartments, addiction doesn't care about your address.
Pictures had to be shown of families, blended families, two parent households, single parent households, young parents, old parents, addiction does not care what your family looks like.
Two volunteers should be brought out of the crowd. It should be told to the kids that two of them in that gym would die an untimely death (before 28) because of drugs and alcohol. If you don't do them, it most likely will not be you.
Best friends needed to be come in front of the group. Some of those BFFs will break up because one does drugs and the other does not.
Kids need to understand they have the right to say no to drugs and alcohol at parties and they should not be made to feel uncomfortable. What do they do, what to they say? Talk about it.
They also need to know they are not snitching. Telling someone who can get the abuser help is being part of the solution. Knowing and not helping is being part of the problem.
And, there is HELP. Help is a great thing. Glasses are great things. Hearing Aids, crutches, wheel chairs, all good. So is help. Every kid should have been given a piece of paper. If you ever need help, know someone who needs help, have questions, whatever, write it down and give it to your homeroom teacher. We (the school) will guide you to help.
Imagine my surprise when my kids come from school yesterday and tell me that a Resource Officer did a "session" with them. My kids have seen more about addiction than most adults see in a lifetime. They could teach the class. Walker said it was a "sorry form of an apology because of the movie thing."
Addie asked me about prescription drugs. Prescription drugs. Hmmmm. In Carteret County, we lead the state of North Carolina in prescription drug deaths. Could it be because they are easily accessible in homes?
Maybe, just maybe if parents would have been there, they could have heard this and they would have been inspired to go home and flush some prescription drugs. We don't know because the parents were not invited, AGAIN.
I always thought that the school and the teachers were an extension of my family, that we all worked together, that we backed one another up and supported one another, that we were on the same team? How can I be on a team when I don't even know where and when the game is being played?
What about the kids who don't have anybody to talk to? What about the kid who has pill head parent? Who do they talk to?
And why all the secrecy? When you hide things and are not forth coming, is it me, or do you look guilty? Why not include the parents?
I cannot do the dance if I do not know the steps! Include me. Let me answer my daughter's questions.
But, the biggest fail of all came today. My kids informed me that the four PE teachers have been suspended. When the Vice Principal over heard the kids talking, she said the kids were gossiping. Really? Really?
You think these kids are mature enough to watch 39 minutes of the legalization of marijuana and baking brownies with pot and then listen to a speaker in a college classroom setting but you don't think they are mature enough to handle the truth?
Hey people, you showed them the movie! Even the kids knew it wasn't a smart move. QUIT HIDING. Start talking. Start being real and honest with these kids. How are they going to trust adults if you are not honest? And you people say you are formally trained? Are you kidding? And ONLY the PE teachers are held accountable? What?
Here is why the clean up failed!
The PE teachers are adults. They made a bad decision. They mad a bad decision as an adult. They did not go for help. They didn't purposely make a bad decision. It wasn't their intent to cause this situation...but it happens. Is anybody seeing the parallel?
Nobody gets up in the morning and says, "Hey you know what, today is the day I become a drug addict and start a downward spiral." It Happens.
Nobody means to get a little buzzed with their friends and then drive home after a party and hit a tree and kill their friend. But it happens.
When you take the booze from your friend's house and you all drink some and your friend gets alcohol poisoning, you don't know what to do and your friend's health is compromised. Did you plan it or was it the result of a bad decision?
If the PE teachers would have stood up there and come clean and showed them the parallel, those kids would have listened. If they would have told true stories about people they knew, those kids would have listened. If those PE teachers would have opened up dialogue, those kids would have spoken. If those PE teachers would have role played with one offering another pot and how to handle it, they would have listened.
It is about the kids and being in their worlds. Our administrators need to get in the right world. Get out of the offices and start sitting in the stands. Watch and listen. Listen to the kids. Get in their worlds. Have conversations...real conversations.
I just had to drink some water.
Over Christmas, three kids who went to that same middle school, made a bad decision. A very bad decision. One died and two are charged with his murder. There may be four kids in the entire school who don't know about this. Four okay maybe five. Why wouldn't we use this bad decision as an example?
Why are we so afraid to talk about addiction? Denial is the first sign that there is a problem.
Open up, let it out, get kids talking and for Goodness sake, listen to them when they speak. And, when you have a parent begging you to be a part of the solution, let them in! Who turns away support and help at a school?
This situation opened up my eyes and my heart again.
It takes a village, a town, a county, a country and a culture. Our kids are the future. We are the present. If we don't get honest and real and proactive, their future is going up in smoke. Pun intended.
I am not afraid to talk about addiction. I am also not afraid to act. I am in. I just need a glass of water on the podium.
the story of kids,chaos, mothering challenges and sometimes chocolate
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Life, It really does matter
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Life, It really does matter: In our sleepy beach town, decorated for Christmas with lighted sea shells and candy canes, the unthinkable happened. Word traveled quickly...
Life, It really does matter
In our sleepy beach town, decorated for Christmas with lighted sea shells and candy canes, the unthinkable happened.
Word traveled quickly that a young man from our tiny, sleepy beach town had been beaten, by his peers and left on a dock on a cold night.
Words and stories. More words and stories.
And then the final word. James did not survive.
A very young man, 26, would no longer being wearing Reefs and breathing salt air.
And again, more words and stories.
Four young men arrested and charged with taking the life of their peer.
And again, more words.
I have no idea what happened that night. I don't care. It doesn't change anything.
It doesn't matter how he died. It only matters that he did die.
It only matters that the sun will not shine down on his face again. Or his lips will not sport a smile.
It only matters that his twin brother will forever have a hole in his heart.
Or that his parents will begin the dreadful process of living without their son.
And the parents of the four boys also begin new lives...the life after the incident.
Together, people that might not even know one another, start new, intertwined, painful lives because of the loss of another.
I have heard the stories from moms about changing James' diapers, the smile always on his face, his years in boy scouts and his general sweet personality.
In a world of "friends" and "likes", when did we stop liking one another? When did we stop caring and stop loving? I have seen social media posts about "liking guinea pigs", liking snowy nights and free shipping. Why don't we start liking ONE another?
And why can't we stand up, without fear and say, "I don't like the way you treated that person, can you try to be kind? Can you speak with words instead of fists? Can you go to work and do your job without fearing the worst? Can you learn from the actions of others?
Why can't we value life?
And why can't we take the smile from James and let it be the symbol to move us forward with kindness? Why can't we start to comprehend how precious each life is and what each person has to offer. And why can't we speak with kindness?
I have thought of this family that I have never met for days. And the mom. I just cannot quit thinking of the mom or the twin. And the other mothers.The mothers of the four boys. None of them, I am certain, were horrible mothers. And that all of these mothers loved their sons. All of the lives are now changed, forever.
In this massive tragedy, the focus needs to be on something positive. Something that will move us toward HOPE and believing in the human spirit again. James, and his smile need to be that torch. One lady said, "he was just kind".
Let kindness lead the way. Like one another, not "like" another. Look into some one's eyes and see the good and positive in all people. When you don't know what to say, smile. Let the person you may or may not have known, guide you to kindness. Let James and his kind spirit lead you to kindness.
And may you know that life does matter. James mattered. And kindness matters. The golden rule.
Go forth in peace in kindness. Celebrate James.
Word traveled quickly that a young man from our tiny, sleepy beach town had been beaten, by his peers and left on a dock on a cold night.
Words and stories. More words and stories.
And then the final word. James did not survive.
A very young man, 26, would no longer being wearing Reefs and breathing salt air.
And again, more words and stories.
Four young men arrested and charged with taking the life of their peer.
And again, more words.
I have no idea what happened that night. I don't care. It doesn't change anything.
It doesn't matter how he died. It only matters that he did die.
It only matters that the sun will not shine down on his face again. Or his lips will not sport a smile.
It only matters that his twin brother will forever have a hole in his heart.
Or that his parents will begin the dreadful process of living without their son.
And the parents of the four boys also begin new lives...the life after the incident.
Together, people that might not even know one another, start new, intertwined, painful lives because of the loss of another.
I have heard the stories from moms about changing James' diapers, the smile always on his face, his years in boy scouts and his general sweet personality.
In a world of "friends" and "likes", when did we stop liking one another? When did we stop caring and stop loving? I have seen social media posts about "liking guinea pigs", liking snowy nights and free shipping. Why don't we start liking ONE another?
And why can't we stand up, without fear and say, "I don't like the way you treated that person, can you try to be kind? Can you speak with words instead of fists? Can you go to work and do your job without fearing the worst? Can you learn from the actions of others?
Why can't we value life?
And why can't we take the smile from James and let it be the symbol to move us forward with kindness? Why can't we start to comprehend how precious each life is and what each person has to offer. And why can't we speak with kindness?
I have thought of this family that I have never met for days. And the mom. I just cannot quit thinking of the mom or the twin. And the other mothers.The mothers of the four boys. None of them, I am certain, were horrible mothers. And that all of these mothers loved their sons. All of the lives are now changed, forever.
In this massive tragedy, the focus needs to be on something positive. Something that will move us toward HOPE and believing in the human spirit again. James, and his smile need to be that torch. One lady said, "he was just kind".
Let kindness lead the way. Like one another, not "like" another. Look into some one's eyes and see the good and positive in all people. When you don't know what to say, smile. Let the person you may or may not have known, guide you to kindness. Let James and his kind spirit lead you to kindness.
And may you know that life does matter. James mattered. And kindness matters. The golden rule.
Go forth in peace in kindness. Celebrate James.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The dreaded New Year's Resolution
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The dreaded New Year's Resolution: I like New Year's Resolutions. I like the prospect of trying to improve something, giving up something, learning something new and havi...
The dreaded New Year's Resolution
I like New Year's Resolutions. I like the prospect of trying to improve something, giving up something, learning something new and having an agenda for my life. I make resolutions every single year. And in true Type A characteristics, I write them down on a post it note where I can see them, and think about them and then cross them off. I live to cross something off a list.
I have pretty much had the same four resolutions for the past 45 years.
1. Lose weight.
2. Save money.
3. Be more patient.
4. Try to be the best I can be every day.
Because I have finally come to accept that my wallet will never be fat and my stomach will never be skinny, I am "changing up the list" this year.
Sometimes I have a rhyming theme..."do more in 2004", "be debt free in 1983"...the list goes on.
I have spent hours walking up and down the same beach route for the last couple months. Mostly what I do is think and walk, think and walk. Still obsessed with my mortal legacy, I have been obsessing and planning my resolutions for the past six weeks.
In 1988, my resolution was to quit biting my nails and the skin around them. You have no idea what kind of bloody stumps I had. I had a client look me in the eye, after a presentation and tell me that my hands made him sick. I was horrified. Horrified. It was time to stop snacking on my skin and my fingernails and end my membership with the Donner Party.
Besides that, I was getting married in May and I had no nails and it would more than likely take that amount of time to grow.
Anyway, the first week in January, I went to a nail salon. This is in 1988. There were not nail salons every fifty feet like we have now. It was called Bloomingnails on the Carlise Pike. I made my first appointment. I was going to go weekly for 20 weeks.
And I did. I haven't bit a nail since 1988. I still pick a hangnail every now and then (especially in sales meetings) but I have ended my nail and flesh eating habit.
But, since 1988, I have been asking myself, did I do it because I wanted to or needed to or did I stop because someone told me what I already knew? I knew my fingers were a mess. They were so sore and sore looking. They bled daily. One time my fingers were so sore my friend had to snap my ski boots for me. But I kept on. Until my client horrified me. Why didn't I do it sooner? I felt better when I quit. It wasn't that hard.
I was going for the "take a different way home once a week", try something new, eat less sugar, no negative thoughts, send more cards, and the list kept growing for 2015.
And then, there was the moment.
Adeline and I were watching a talk show. She was watching...I was listening and surfing Pintrest. Pintrest is my cocaine, and I am addicted.
The talk show asked the audience one simple question, What was the last book you read?
I lifted my head. Usually I could look over and see the book that I was in the middle of reading. Not anymore. I haven't read a book since I read all three 50 Shades of Grey in three days, three times in a row. And no, it wasn't about the sex. It was fun reading. Great character development on the beach, that is all. Great summer reading.
Three years ago.
I haven't read a book in three years. And I wanted to be a librarian.
And I was aware that I had not been reading.
What had I been doing with my time? Not chewing my nails. Pinning.
Pinning.
I have been searching for ideas for my daughter's wedding that I hope I am so old I need a walker to attend, nautical themed cupcakes, living room palettes (like i am ever letting go of yellow), fairy gardens in your herb garden or container gardens, recipes, a zillion recipes, enough recipes for every family on the planet for the next fifty years, Halloween decorations, Valentine's Decorations, birthday ideas, photo collages, what to do with left over buttons(I don't even have any), Annie Sloan painting projects, American Chalk Paint projects, how to clean paint brushes, baby shower ideas(not throwing one any time soon), wedding shower ideas (again, don't know anyone getting married), things to do with acorns, teenage girl bedroom ideas, teenage boy bedroom ideas, home office ideas, container gardens, Big Sur, California, Vermont, Switzerland, Vermont, skiing, Vermont, nurseries decorating ideas (not bearing a child again, ever), home remedies, how to make jelly and jam (something I want to learn) and pies. This is just one night in my life, in front of the television, do doubt watching Love it or List it, or Intervention.
I have put a muzzle on my own creativity and have become a "lazy brain." I have allowed others to think for me and I have not challenged myself.
And then of course, I was convinced that because I do not use my brain enough, I am going to get Alzheimer's. Of course, I had to research it to see if I have any of the symptoms.
My family will not starve. I have tons of recipe books...and tons of recipes that my mom and grandmother have written for me. I will go back to the basics.
So many things happened in 2014 that I had zero control over. So many things. Some turned out to be positives, others not so much. But, I had no control. I do have control over what I chose to do with my down time.
So there you have it, I, Stephanie Gladwell, of sound mind (for now) and spirit, in the year 2015, resolve to read more, "pin" less and stimulate my mind and get my creative juices flowing again. Notice, I didn't say "no pinning". I said "pin less" and read more.
I already have my first book for 2015. My husband found it for me. It was left in some one's car. I figure with a title like that...I cannot go wrong.
So, here are my resolutions...
1. Read more.
2. Pin less.
3. Stimulate my own creativity.
4. Run more.
5. Laugh as much as I can.
Happy New Year. What ever your resolutions are...I hope you go after them with vigor and have the best of years.
I have pretty much had the same four resolutions for the past 45 years.
1. Lose weight.
2. Save money.
3. Be more patient.
4. Try to be the best I can be every day.
Because I have finally come to accept that my wallet will never be fat and my stomach will never be skinny, I am "changing up the list" this year.
Sometimes I have a rhyming theme..."do more in 2004", "be debt free in 1983"...the list goes on.
I have spent hours walking up and down the same beach route for the last couple months. Mostly what I do is think and walk, think and walk. Still obsessed with my mortal legacy, I have been obsessing and planning my resolutions for the past six weeks.
In 1988, my resolution was to quit biting my nails and the skin around them. You have no idea what kind of bloody stumps I had. I had a client look me in the eye, after a presentation and tell me that my hands made him sick. I was horrified. Horrified. It was time to stop snacking on my skin and my fingernails and end my membership with the Donner Party.
Besides that, I was getting married in May and I had no nails and it would more than likely take that amount of time to grow.
Anyway, the first week in January, I went to a nail salon. This is in 1988. There were not nail salons every fifty feet like we have now. It was called Bloomingnails on the Carlise Pike. I made my first appointment. I was going to go weekly for 20 weeks.
And I did. I haven't bit a nail since 1988. I still pick a hangnail every now and then (especially in sales meetings) but I have ended my nail and flesh eating habit.
But, since 1988, I have been asking myself, did I do it because I wanted to or needed to or did I stop because someone told me what I already knew? I knew my fingers were a mess. They were so sore and sore looking. They bled daily. One time my fingers were so sore my friend had to snap my ski boots for me. But I kept on. Until my client horrified me. Why didn't I do it sooner? I felt better when I quit. It wasn't that hard.
I was going for the "take a different way home once a week", try something new, eat less sugar, no negative thoughts, send more cards, and the list kept growing for 2015.
And then, there was the moment.
Adeline and I were watching a talk show. She was watching...I was listening and surfing Pintrest. Pintrest is my cocaine, and I am addicted.
The talk show asked the audience one simple question, What was the last book you read?
I lifted my head. Usually I could look over and see the book that I was in the middle of reading. Not anymore. I haven't read a book since I read all three 50 Shades of Grey in three days, three times in a row. And no, it wasn't about the sex. It was fun reading. Great character development on the beach, that is all. Great summer reading.
Three years ago.
I haven't read a book in three years. And I wanted to be a librarian.
And I was aware that I had not been reading.
What had I been doing with my time? Not chewing my nails. Pinning.
Pinning.
I have been searching for ideas for my daughter's wedding that I hope I am so old I need a walker to attend, nautical themed cupcakes, living room palettes (like i am ever letting go of yellow), fairy gardens in your herb garden or container gardens, recipes, a zillion recipes, enough recipes for every family on the planet for the next fifty years, Halloween decorations, Valentine's Decorations, birthday ideas, photo collages, what to do with left over buttons(I don't even have any), Annie Sloan painting projects, American Chalk Paint projects, how to clean paint brushes, baby shower ideas(not throwing one any time soon), wedding shower ideas (again, don't know anyone getting married), things to do with acorns, teenage girl bedroom ideas, teenage boy bedroom ideas, home office ideas, container gardens, Big Sur, California, Vermont, Switzerland, Vermont, skiing, Vermont, nurseries decorating ideas (not bearing a child again, ever), home remedies, how to make jelly and jam (something I want to learn) and pies. This is just one night in my life, in front of the television, do doubt watching Love it or List it, or Intervention.
I have put a muzzle on my own creativity and have become a "lazy brain." I have allowed others to think for me and I have not challenged myself.
And then of course, I was convinced that because I do not use my brain enough, I am going to get Alzheimer's. Of course, I had to research it to see if I have any of the symptoms.
My family will not starve. I have tons of recipe books...and tons of recipes that my mom and grandmother have written for me. I will go back to the basics.
So many things happened in 2014 that I had zero control over. So many things. Some turned out to be positives, others not so much. But, I had no control. I do have control over what I chose to do with my down time.
So there you have it, I, Stephanie Gladwell, of sound mind (for now) and spirit, in the year 2015, resolve to read more, "pin" less and stimulate my mind and get my creative juices flowing again. Notice, I didn't say "no pinning". I said "pin less" and read more.I already have my first book for 2015. My husband found it for me. It was left in some one's car. I figure with a title like that...I cannot go wrong.
So, here are my resolutions...
1. Read more.
2. Pin less.
3. Stimulate my own creativity.
4. Run more.
5. Laugh as much as I can.
Happy New Year. What ever your resolutions are...I hope you go after them with vigor and have the best of years.
Monday, December 22, 2014
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My Charlie Brown Christmas
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My Charlie Brown Christmas: I am not sure what it was. Typically festive, organized and over the top Type A...I jump into every holiday, especially Christmas. Like my...
My Charlie Brown Christmas
I am not sure what it was. Typically festive, organized and over the top Type A...I jump into every holiday, especially Christmas. Like my mother, who has most of hers bought and wrapped by Halloween, I am not a procrastinator.
I stress over what wrapping paper goes on what child's gifts, all wrapped in code...no tags, a code. The gifts, cookies, the dreaded perfect Christmas card, the decorations, I take it all on with a Martha Stewart, Linda Bahneman, Pintrest spirit.
Except for this year.
I pulled the decorations out on the Thanksgiving weekend. But then, I stopped. I don't know what hit me, but I realized that I was simply going through the motions without any emotions. I was robotic in my approach. I stopped.
I mean totally stopped. I had HUGE expectations for this holiday. My "button" was home for the first time in four years. Was I doing this for him? Was I adding ridiculous pressure to everyone for the perfect holiday? My niece was going to be here too. She was in Europe last Christmas. In 50 years, since he was born, I have never been apart from my brother on Christmas.
So here it was, the beginning of the holiday season, and I have stopped.
We had taken two angels from the Angel Tree at church and I was determined that my kids were doing the shopping, not me. So, Walker leaves for Boy Scout camp and Addie says, "I got this Walker." I take Addie and her BFF to Toys R Us with high hopes of finding the perfect gift for a three year old boy. I left with sadness.
Inside Toys R Us on this Friday night were parents everywhere, Santa shopping with their young kids. Yes, you read correctly. Tired, sleepy, cranky young kids, like 6 months to five, with their parents, crying and screaming through the store. One mother said to her four year old son, "I know you are tired but I will be done soon. Hang on." Hang on? It is nine pm lady and that kid needs to be in bed and who the hell Santa shops with their kids? I just wanted to scream inside that store. It has been about four years since I had been in Toys R Us and I wanted to throw up.
The Barbie isle was filled with Zombie Barbie's. The Zombie Barbies were flying off the shelves and "Professional Barbie" was looking at me like, "Pick me, pick me." There is every kind of Barbie in the world now. I had a regular plain Barbie. She bent her legs, that was it. Skipper, same thing. I did get a talking "Stacy', the English cousin who talked. You pulled the string and she had six sentences all in the Kate Middleton accent. That was it. You turned them into who they were supposed to be. No Zip Lining Barbie at my house. If you wanted her to zip line, you went into my dad's tackle box, snipped some fishing line and tied it from column to column. Furniture, thimbles for chairs, the little white thing from the pizza box as tables and Uncle Ben's Wild Rice boxes for beds with scraps of material for bed linens from my Mamaw's sewing basket. Guess what, we didn't use an Ipad to figure all of this out.
I am totally convinced that maybe kids are smarter than I ever was, but not nearly as creative.
The section of the lovely wooden puzzles, was vacant. Not a mom or dad standing in the isle. I sat for hours with my kids, on the floor, putting the same wooden puzzles together, saying "duck", "cow" etc. Every Christmas, we build a jigsaw. As a family. One of my favorite things I own is a jigsaw puzzle I built with my mother in law and my mom. I even framed it. First time ever that I framed a jogsaw. Three women never built a jigsaw puzzle with so many obscenities. Nobody was buying puzzles.
The hot wheels isle, empty. The car rugs, stocked. The little plastic car carriers, nobody bought. No light brights, no easy bakes and no wooden kitchens.
Instead, plastic stuff, DVDs, zombies and ninjas filled the carts with parents and their kids.
I am turning into my mother. But seriously, who Christmas shops with their kids?
Franklin and I would get a sitter, go to dinner and then see how long it took us to spend an obscene amount of money and then stop for a night cap. It was awesome fun. Our favorite night to celebrate being a parent.
We settled for a plastic John Deere tractor that made noise. There were only about six little John Deere tractors in the whole store. Broke my heart. Only six little John Deere's on a side shelf. Like a misfit toy. John Deere is like a God in my family. Six little John Deeres.
We decided to swing by the mall. There were 94 people in the Bath and Body works store all buying lotions that make you smell like peppermint bark. Walked out. Went back in and bought 8 bottles of soap. Gag me. My daughter's teacher gift idea. Not mine.
When we got home and showed Franklin our night out, he asked, "how much fun was it?"
"None at all, OK it was fun, and the girls had fun but I am so sad." I told him about the night and the stores and the lack of Christmas music playing and the rush and the crap and ugh, what is going on? He laughed and said, "you are old. You sound like your mother."
I reminded him of our Santa shopping nights, and hours of puzzle building and cookie baking and wrapping codes and the elf on the shelf and reindeer food. I saw reindeer food for sale in the store...Seven dollars for some oatmeal and glitter. "Remember us making that Franklin and passing out it to their classmates and what a big deal it was for our kids to make it and pass it out and then spread it on Christmas eve and then sweep it up so they knew the reindeer ate it? It is for sale."
I took the girls the next day to make gingerbread houses. At one point, I strolled through the store, and there sitting all alone was Santa. I sat down and starting chatting with Santa. Nobody was coming to chat with him, nobody sitting on his lap...he was all alone. He told me that kids said the could talk to him on line and they didn't need to sit on his lap. That was it, I just couldn't take it anymore.
I stopped. I mailed my cards but that was it. I stopped. I could not get my heart to move forward.
What was Christmas all about? Where had my Christmas's gone?
Then, in a twist, my sister-in-law called to tell me they were not coming. First time in 50 years, I would be without my brother. Totally understood. People had started new jobs and didn't have Friday off. No vacation days earned or offered. I got it. Killed me but I got it. Being with my brother and his family, for years, was the source of my existence for the whole year. No mom and dad and now no brother and his wife and kids.
Then two nights later, Charlie Brown Christmas came on television. When I was a kid, there were three nights of the year you lived for, Wizard of Oz, Rudolph and Charlie Brown. Your mom would get you fed, get everyone bathed and in jammies and then in front of the television before the shows began. And, she made "real" hot chocolate with marshmallows and you were allowed to drink it out of the kitchen. Three times a year. The biggest nights of the year. I call the kids down out of their caves and told them that they were going to watch this show with me. You would have thought I was asking them to cut their fingers off in the town's square without medication.
I shared with them the story of when we were kids and they said, that is"because you lived in the olden days with three channels and no DVDs." Correct. And they don't know what they missed.
I continued my Charlie Brown phase and still couldn't get my act together. And I needed to...the day was approaching. Last day of school, teacher gifts, work, etc. But still, nothing.
And then it happened. I had to throw two of the kids in the car and head to the orthodontist. My gracious nephew is the orthodontist and while his practice is in North Raleigh, it hasn't been about the teeth; it has been about the family.
In the car, my two pre teens begin to tell me that they googled "the whole Santa thing." "There is even an You Tube video that tells parents how to explain the Santa thing to kids.They informed me that they watched the video. Addie went to Angie's list and it "clearly says there is not a Santa." I have NEVER been on Angie's list. Walker also said that the Elf on the Shelf was an idea invented by Hallmark because they were losing share. Could not even believe he said that and curious to know where he heard that one, (UNCLE TODD) and so I caved.
I told the truth. But I told them about a man in Germany, without a wife or kids who was lonely, who passed out candies into shoes. And the danish version where the candies and treats were placed in wooden shoes. And it became about Hope, Hope that the magic would happen again.
I told them about how I can remember going to bed on Christmas eve and how it was the longest night of the year. Lite Brites, Easy Bake ovens and Baby Pat a Burps. Later, it wasn't about the gifts, it was about moments. I can still remember the morning when my mom would announce that my aunt and my mamaw and my mom were going to do the cookie baking. Either at my aunt's house or our house. And you know what that meant...the round Tupperware Container would be in the fridge after school with apricot cookies. And, my mom would have tins upon tins with sugary treats stacked on the table. The leftover jimmies from the sugar cookies would be placed downstairs on the pantry shelves and we would be allowed to use the when we played house. Jimmies. That was what was for dinner.
I told them about the trips to Downtown Pittsburgh to stand and look at the the store windows and to pick your food off the Reindeer menu in Kaufman's. I always liked the Rudolph. I told them that my mom NEVER but a tag on a gift and the day I saw the "S" on the bottom corner of a package, I knew I hit pay dirt. I told them about going to my aunt Judy's on Christmas eve, the greatest day of the year and Christmas day at my mamaw's. I can still hear the basement stairs creaking at we all went downstairs to eat. I can still see my mamaw's stuffing in the same pan, and my grandfather's homemade ice cream. He ALWAYS let me get mine first because we were ice cream lovers. You were allowed to take one Santa gift there and we would share our gifts with our cousins. It was the bomb.
Christmas day, Christmas Eve Day, your Birthday, last day of school and any snow day in between were you best days of the year, in that order.
It was the bomb because we believed. It was the bomb because my mom and dad were also relentless that is was also a birthday. I loved the waxy candles that you lit in church with the paper bib around them while you sang Silent Night.
And I explained to them that as a parent, there are certain days that you feel like you have to "make perfect". Christmas, birthdays, just days that you step it up so you can give great memories too. Those memories I have is what keeps me going for you guys.
And we talked about HOPE. HOPE that you have good memories. Hope that you believe in the magic of Christmas for ever and the Hope that you keep God in your heart. And we talked about how they stood outside and spread reindeer food and went to bed and left cookies and were certain the next day that they heard the reindeer and the even said the saw Santa using their bathroom one year. And they too admitted that it wasn't about the gifts anymore. They wanted the memories. The grandparents and the Uncle Todd singing, "Chester's nuts roasting on an open fire...(everybody should have an Uncle Todd) and family.
But really, HOPE is what can keep you going. You HOPE your friend gets well, you HOPE your son beats an addiction, you HOPE your job goes well, you HOPE people quit stop being so angry. And I explained at the end of everyday, regardless of what kind of day you have, you will always have HOPE for a better day tomorrow. HOPE, it is all you have.
After a quick trip to the orthodontist, we went to visit cousin Jamie and her four children, all five and under and usually cousin Olivia too. Five kids, five and under. A madhouse and every trip provides us with a laugh. The kids shop for us at the Dollar Tree. Last year I got scissors. I look like a Scissor girl to them. Funny thing is, I use those scissors everyday.
Anyway, I was presented with my dollar tree gift. It was chosen because it was yellow, his favorite color and ironically mine too. And there it was. A dollar tree sign. With glitter. From a five year old. No online shopping, no Zombies, No gluten free, no free shipping with promo code, no bank broken, no Black Friday bargain, no glitz...Just HOPE.
Hope on a stick. Hope in your heart. Hope at the beginning of the day. Hope at the end of the day. Hope, that is all you need. Hope...it is what all of this season is really about.
Merry Christmas.
I stress over what wrapping paper goes on what child's gifts, all wrapped in code...no tags, a code. The gifts, cookies, the dreaded perfect Christmas card, the decorations, I take it all on with a Martha Stewart, Linda Bahneman, Pintrest spirit.
Except for this year.
I pulled the decorations out on the Thanksgiving weekend. But then, I stopped. I don't know what hit me, but I realized that I was simply going through the motions without any emotions. I was robotic in my approach. I stopped.
I mean totally stopped. I had HUGE expectations for this holiday. My "button" was home for the first time in four years. Was I doing this for him? Was I adding ridiculous pressure to everyone for the perfect holiday? My niece was going to be here too. She was in Europe last Christmas. In 50 years, since he was born, I have never been apart from my brother on Christmas.
So here it was, the beginning of the holiday season, and I have stopped.
We had taken two angels from the Angel Tree at church and I was determined that my kids were doing the shopping, not me. So, Walker leaves for Boy Scout camp and Addie says, "I got this Walker." I take Addie and her BFF to Toys R Us with high hopes of finding the perfect gift for a three year old boy. I left with sadness.
Inside Toys R Us on this Friday night were parents everywhere, Santa shopping with their young kids. Yes, you read correctly. Tired, sleepy, cranky young kids, like 6 months to five, with their parents, crying and screaming through the store. One mother said to her four year old son, "I know you are tired but I will be done soon. Hang on." Hang on? It is nine pm lady and that kid needs to be in bed and who the hell Santa shops with their kids? I just wanted to scream inside that store. It has been about four years since I had been in Toys R Us and I wanted to throw up.
The Barbie isle was filled with Zombie Barbie's. The Zombie Barbies were flying off the shelves and "Professional Barbie" was looking at me like, "Pick me, pick me." There is every kind of Barbie in the world now. I had a regular plain Barbie. She bent her legs, that was it. Skipper, same thing. I did get a talking "Stacy', the English cousin who talked. You pulled the string and she had six sentences all in the Kate Middleton accent. That was it. You turned them into who they were supposed to be. No Zip Lining Barbie at my house. If you wanted her to zip line, you went into my dad's tackle box, snipped some fishing line and tied it from column to column. Furniture, thimbles for chairs, the little white thing from the pizza box as tables and Uncle Ben's Wild Rice boxes for beds with scraps of material for bed linens from my Mamaw's sewing basket. Guess what, we didn't use an Ipad to figure all of this out.
I am totally convinced that maybe kids are smarter than I ever was, but not nearly as creative.
The section of the lovely wooden puzzles, was vacant. Not a mom or dad standing in the isle. I sat for hours with my kids, on the floor, putting the same wooden puzzles together, saying "duck", "cow" etc. Every Christmas, we build a jigsaw. As a family. One of my favorite things I own is a jigsaw puzzle I built with my mother in law and my mom. I even framed it. First time ever that I framed a jogsaw. Three women never built a jigsaw puzzle with so many obscenities. Nobody was buying puzzles.
The hot wheels isle, empty. The car rugs, stocked. The little plastic car carriers, nobody bought. No light brights, no easy bakes and no wooden kitchens.
Instead, plastic stuff, DVDs, zombies and ninjas filled the carts with parents and their kids.
I am turning into my mother. But seriously, who Christmas shops with their kids?
Franklin and I would get a sitter, go to dinner and then see how long it took us to spend an obscene amount of money and then stop for a night cap. It was awesome fun. Our favorite night to celebrate being a parent.
We settled for a plastic John Deere tractor that made noise. There were only about six little John Deere tractors in the whole store. Broke my heart. Only six little John Deere's on a side shelf. Like a misfit toy. John Deere is like a God in my family. Six little John Deeres.
We decided to swing by the mall. There were 94 people in the Bath and Body works store all buying lotions that make you smell like peppermint bark. Walked out. Went back in and bought 8 bottles of soap. Gag me. My daughter's teacher gift idea. Not mine.
When we got home and showed Franklin our night out, he asked, "how much fun was it?"
"None at all, OK it was fun, and the girls had fun but I am so sad." I told him about the night and the stores and the lack of Christmas music playing and the rush and the crap and ugh, what is going on? He laughed and said, "you are old. You sound like your mother."
I reminded him of our Santa shopping nights, and hours of puzzle building and cookie baking and wrapping codes and the elf on the shelf and reindeer food. I saw reindeer food for sale in the store...Seven dollars for some oatmeal and glitter. "Remember us making that Franklin and passing out it to their classmates and what a big deal it was for our kids to make it and pass it out and then spread it on Christmas eve and then sweep it up so they knew the reindeer ate it? It is for sale."
I took the girls the next day to make gingerbread houses. At one point, I strolled through the store, and there sitting all alone was Santa. I sat down and starting chatting with Santa. Nobody was coming to chat with him, nobody sitting on his lap...he was all alone. He told me that kids said the could talk to him on line and they didn't need to sit on his lap. That was it, I just couldn't take it anymore.
I stopped. I mailed my cards but that was it. I stopped. I could not get my heart to move forward.
What was Christmas all about? Where had my Christmas's gone?
Then, in a twist, my sister-in-law called to tell me they were not coming. First time in 50 years, I would be without my brother. Totally understood. People had started new jobs and didn't have Friday off. No vacation days earned or offered. I got it. Killed me but I got it. Being with my brother and his family, for years, was the source of my existence for the whole year. No mom and dad and now no brother and his wife and kids.
Then two nights later, Charlie Brown Christmas came on television. When I was a kid, there were three nights of the year you lived for, Wizard of Oz, Rudolph and Charlie Brown. Your mom would get you fed, get everyone bathed and in jammies and then in front of the television before the shows began. And, she made "real" hot chocolate with marshmallows and you were allowed to drink it out of the kitchen. Three times a year. The biggest nights of the year. I call the kids down out of their caves and told them that they were going to watch this show with me. You would have thought I was asking them to cut their fingers off in the town's square without medication.
I shared with them the story of when we were kids and they said, that is"because you lived in the olden days with three channels and no DVDs." Correct. And they don't know what they missed.
I continued my Charlie Brown phase and still couldn't get my act together. And I needed to...the day was approaching. Last day of school, teacher gifts, work, etc. But still, nothing.
And then it happened. I had to throw two of the kids in the car and head to the orthodontist. My gracious nephew is the orthodontist and while his practice is in North Raleigh, it hasn't been about the teeth; it has been about the family.
In the car, my two pre teens begin to tell me that they googled "the whole Santa thing." "There is even an You Tube video that tells parents how to explain the Santa thing to kids.They informed me that they watched the video. Addie went to Angie's list and it "clearly says there is not a Santa." I have NEVER been on Angie's list. Walker also said that the Elf on the Shelf was an idea invented by Hallmark because they were losing share. Could not even believe he said that and curious to know where he heard that one, (UNCLE TODD) and so I caved.
I told the truth. But I told them about a man in Germany, without a wife or kids who was lonely, who passed out candies into shoes. And the danish version where the candies and treats were placed in wooden shoes. And it became about Hope, Hope that the magic would happen again.
I told them about how I can remember going to bed on Christmas eve and how it was the longest night of the year. Lite Brites, Easy Bake ovens and Baby Pat a Burps. Later, it wasn't about the gifts, it was about moments. I can still remember the morning when my mom would announce that my aunt and my mamaw and my mom were going to do the cookie baking. Either at my aunt's house or our house. And you know what that meant...the round Tupperware Container would be in the fridge after school with apricot cookies. And, my mom would have tins upon tins with sugary treats stacked on the table. The leftover jimmies from the sugar cookies would be placed downstairs on the pantry shelves and we would be allowed to use the when we played house. Jimmies. That was what was for dinner.
I told them about the trips to Downtown Pittsburgh to stand and look at the the store windows and to pick your food off the Reindeer menu in Kaufman's. I always liked the Rudolph. I told them that my mom NEVER but a tag on a gift and the day I saw the "S" on the bottom corner of a package, I knew I hit pay dirt. I told them about going to my aunt Judy's on Christmas eve, the greatest day of the year and Christmas day at my mamaw's. I can still hear the basement stairs creaking at we all went downstairs to eat. I can still see my mamaw's stuffing in the same pan, and my grandfather's homemade ice cream. He ALWAYS let me get mine first because we were ice cream lovers. You were allowed to take one Santa gift there and we would share our gifts with our cousins. It was the bomb.
Christmas day, Christmas Eve Day, your Birthday, last day of school and any snow day in between were you best days of the year, in that order.
It was the bomb because we believed. It was the bomb because my mom and dad were also relentless that is was also a birthday. I loved the waxy candles that you lit in church with the paper bib around them while you sang Silent Night.
And I explained to them that as a parent, there are certain days that you feel like you have to "make perfect". Christmas, birthdays, just days that you step it up so you can give great memories too. Those memories I have is what keeps me going for you guys.
And we talked about HOPE. HOPE that you have good memories. Hope that you believe in the magic of Christmas for ever and the Hope that you keep God in your heart. And we talked about how they stood outside and spread reindeer food and went to bed and left cookies and were certain the next day that they heard the reindeer and the even said the saw Santa using their bathroom one year. And they too admitted that it wasn't about the gifts anymore. They wanted the memories. The grandparents and the Uncle Todd singing, "Chester's nuts roasting on an open fire...(everybody should have an Uncle Todd) and family.
But really, HOPE is what can keep you going. You HOPE your friend gets well, you HOPE your son beats an addiction, you HOPE your job goes well, you HOPE people quit stop being so angry. And I explained at the end of everyday, regardless of what kind of day you have, you will always have HOPE for a better day tomorrow. HOPE, it is all you have.
After a quick trip to the orthodontist, we went to visit cousin Jamie and her four children, all five and under and usually cousin Olivia too. Five kids, five and under. A madhouse and every trip provides us with a laugh. The kids shop for us at the Dollar Tree. Last year I got scissors. I look like a Scissor girl to them. Funny thing is, I use those scissors everyday.
Anyway, I was presented with my dollar tree gift. It was chosen because it was yellow, his favorite color and ironically mine too. And there it was. A dollar tree sign. With glitter. From a five year old. No online shopping, no Zombies, No gluten free, no free shipping with promo code, no bank broken, no Black Friday bargain, no glitz...Just HOPE.
Hope on a stick. Hope in your heart. Hope at the beginning of the day. Hope at the end of the day. Hope, that is all you need. Hope...it is what all of this season is really about.Merry Christmas.
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