Anything for our Kids.

I had said and have heard others say "I would do anything for my children."  And I have been thinking about this a lot lately.  Would I really do anything for my children?  Would I step in front of a bullet?...I hope so.  Would I wrestle a bear?...probably.  Would I punch another little kid in the face for bullying one of my precious bundles...without a doubt.

Is that everything?  No. Of course it isn't.  Would I really do ANYTHING for my children?  How about change who I am...

I don't really have to change anything at this point in my life.  I have a super duper husband whom I love.  I have great kids and a job that I enjoy.  I am almost 40 and my character development is ready to grab the t.v. remote, sit back with a bag of Doritos and take a sweet afternoon nap. 

Uh, whoops.  Hang on a second and lets put down the Doritos.  Am I willing, really truly willing, to step out of my comfort zone and do something great for my children? 

For example:

Am I willing to get up at 5am and go with them to the gym?  Am I willing to exercise along side of them, knowing that healthy habits mirrored by their parents are more likely to stick?  Am I willing to put down the crap food and pick up the broccoli, knowing that actions speak more loudly than words?  Would I do anything for my children?

Am I willing to put down my evening book or shut off the movie I am watching and encourage my family to come together for prayers and time for God.  I am ashamed but will admit that my boys nighttime prayers last night were said inbetween episodes of Avatar.  I actually said, "Lets say your prayers real quick before your show starts again."  Have mercy on my soul.

The answer is no, but I hope it turns to a yes.  I want to be a mother who would do anything for her children.

To Never Be Quiet

I am raising my children to be activists.  It didn't start out this way, for a long time I just wanted to find a way for our family to fit in somewhere.  Now I know, and am comfortable with, the fact that we just don't fit in.  We are a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural family with odd priorities and strange views of the world.  It used to bother me but why fight what you are really proud of?

Injustice is so clear to children.  They don't have a lot of external responsibilities or burdens, so their vision of the world is not muddled with bills and schedules and prejudices.  I trust my children when they see something is wrong that needs to be corrected. 

Next week my  quiet, unassuming daughter, Jessica, will be attending the PETA rally downtown and I will be driving her there.  She has been a vegan and animal rights activist for over a year now and I couldn't be more proud of who she is.  She withstands a lot of teasing in our home as we threaten to put pork in her salad, but we are all really impressed with all she has sacrificed.  We all know, don't we, that animals suffer horrible abuse just so we can get our $1.00 hamburger?  I may be too lazy and stupid to change my ways but I will support my daughter as she tries to change the world and drive her wherever she needs to go to do it. 

I am proud when Rachel refuses to take money from parents for tutoring their children.  She believes that all children should be able to read and parents shouldn't have to pay for it.  A couple times a week she sets time aside to tutor kids in our neighborhood and I am so thankful that she does.  She and Jessica both are looking forward to careers that bring justice and hope to those who have neither.

My boys are coming into their own, recognizing that which is unfair and oppressive.  They are developing empathy for those around them and a desire to help.  My son Jon, who is currently a brown belt in karate and can throw a pretty damaging punch, won't throw it.  After a year of bullying and some pretty stressful moments, he hangs on to the fact that hitting is wrong.  He forgives and prays and does his best not to hold grudges.  And although both my boys are still pretty young, I can't wait to see where their focus lands.

We will never be a silent family, and really, why would we want to be?  I am a very proud mother/ wife and very thankful to God for His work in them.

Wow! Do I Suck.

Not gonna lie, it has been a rough two weeks.  Physically and emotionally I have been stretched to my limits and, sad to say, I am still not a candidate for sainthood.  Apparently adding  just a wee bit more to my already full plate of activities and anxieties is enough to push me over the edge and send me on  a sinning spree.  

Ugh I hate this side of me.  The short tempered, demanding, snapping, cranky, gossiping, unforgiving, judgmental, un-compassionate side of me that, a few years ago, used to dominate my personality.  Now it usually only makes a brief appearance on really hot days in traffic. But the past two weeks I let the beast loose.  I hurt people that I love.  I hurt people that were already weak and hurting.  I was mean to my friends and to my family.  I embarrassed myself.  The wake of damage is wide and I am so sorry I can hardly stand it. 

I finally called it quits yesterday when I noticed my ever-patient spouse was losing it with me.  There are days, and this is one of them, when I am almost convinced that God's mercy is so close I can practically breathe it in. 

If you were one of the victims of my misery, words cannot express the regret and sorrow I feel that I made things more difficult for you and caused you pain.  I pray that you will forgive me. 

I won't tell.

I can't say what I need to say. In a somewhat pathetic attempt to avoid pride and selfish behavior, I just can't say everything that is going on.  The good and the great and my bad; they are all sitting here in my head and on my heart and I can't talk about them to anyone.

The frustrating thing is how badly I want to talk about it. But there is a chance that someone will credit me for these miracles and those are dangerous waters for me to be swimming in.  It is too easy to say, "yep, I am pretty great.".  Taking credit comes so naturally for me and before I know it I am going to be wandering around Israel for 40 years....no thanks.   So I can't say anything.  As much as I would like to. 

The other, even more, frustrating thing is how much I want people to hear what is going on in my life.  How incredible God is and how I am convinced, more than ever before, that He loves us all.  I am so grateful and I am not sure if I have ever been sincerely grateful for anything in my whole life.   It is a vulnerable state to be in...one of gratitude. But that is where I am tonight; sitting outside, watching the 4 most amazing children on the planet; in a state of gratitude and amazement for God, for His mercy and for His love.

Goodbye Tulsa Zoo

I can’t remember a summer in the past 16 years that our family has not gone to the Tulsa Zoo at least once.  Several years ago we began purchasing their family zoo pass and we were there in the sun, the rain and the snow.  I am very sad to say that these days are about over  The Tulsa Zoo has gone from a relaxing, enjoyable way to spend time with my family to one big downer of a day. 

                         

Unless you are ready to spend a couple hundred bucks or only have one child, be prepared to say “No” a whole, whole lot.  I used to have to say no only one time, as we walked by the gift shop.  Now I say no to:

The Gift Shop

The Second Gift Shop

The Rock and Mineral Dig

The Camel Rides

The Rock Climb

Whatever that frog game is next to the rock climb

A food cart every 200 feet or so

A multitude of penny and 3.00 coin machines

And just when you think you are safe, a final gift shop-cart near the parking lot.

Today I also got to say no to 3 buildings that were shut down. Nope can’t go see Nanuk or the Cave or the Florescent Lights Display.  The exchange center, their very favorite place, was closed too.

Somewhere between the WAY overpriced fun and food, the terrible smells, the displays that are always under construction and that bear who looks like he needs antidepressants, I realized that we are done.  I don’t like having to spend an entire day saying no, no, no to my kids. Tulsa is a great city.  We will find something else to do.

Buzzards to Blessings

Many years ago I watched my husband stand in the airport of a foreign country.  He and I with our 1 year old daughter were getting ready to fly home to the U.S. but we had to make a stop in Miami and spend the night in a hotel.

My husband stood there, surrounded by a group of people, and he opened his wallet and held it out.  The folks surrounding him pushed and picked, taking every last dollar until my husband held his wallet upside down and said "It's empty."

For a long time this memory made my stomach hurt.  The people seemed almost like buzzards, swooping down and grabbing what they could.   I remember watching in disgust as my husbands hard earned money went to people who seemed not to appreciate his gift. I was so worried about our trip home.  What if we had an emergency?  We needed that money!

This memory had changed for me as I changed my focus from the group  of people to the expression on my husbands face.  He was joyful, smiling and laughing from the very bottom of his belly at the honor he was being given to provide for others.  I love this memory now.  It shows, not just the generosity of my great husband, but the depth of his faith.  He never worried about our trip home.  His security is not linked to money, the way mine is.  It is a gift that only a life of poverty can give, true faith that God will provide for us.

Social Work Confessions-Do What I Say and I'll do whatever I Want.

At a parent-teacher conference last week for my first grader, I heard the dreaded "T" word.  I knew it was coming and I was not near as prepared as I thought I would be. I cried.

First of all, it was not a traditional parent-teacher conference.  It was a parent-big sister-teacher-tutor-principal conference. Five people sitting at a tiny table to discuss what is best for my son. 

My baby. The son I never expected to have; The baby who challenged everything I knew about parenting and my faith after he crash-landed on this planet.  The baby who I have pulled off the roof, who my daughter has pulled out of the deep end of the pool; the baby who locked himself in a dryer and inside of a cooler.  The child, who as a result of having absolutely no fear, has lost a toe-nail and almost lost his penis.  My son.  The one I have sat beside in the hospital over and over  while I listened to him scream in pain, cry in fear, praying the rosary, singing him to sleep, questioning every decision I ever made, wondering if I do the right things for him.  Of course I cried. Life has been so hard for him.

It is no secret and I never deny that I have no objectivity where he is concerned. I want to clothe him in bubble wrap and never let anyone near him.

And now the school wants him TESTED.  This should not be that big of a deal.  I am a social worker.  I refer people for services ALL THE TIME.  I have told countless parents to have their children tested for a variety of mental health and education issues.  I encourage them to consider therapy and medication when it is appropriate.   But the first person who comes near my kid with an assessment form or a pill may get a punch to the face.  And I wonder why this is. 

Do I not trust my profession?  Do I not really believe in the services that are out there to help and heal children and their families?  Do I think the rules apply to everyone but my family?  Where does my hesitation stem from, I wonder.  Maybe because I understand there are exceptions to all the rules.  That the DSM is not an exact science.  If you see my son on a good day, you would wonder what all the fuss is about.  If you see him on a bad day, you might wonder kind of parent am I.  I don't want him to become part of a system that I believe is broken.  I am scared of the labels that I, myself, place on other people's children.  I want to protect him from all of the "experts" who are in line, waiting to judge his abilities and his intentions.  I am so close to these systems that I only see the negative.  I have no idea how testing (gag, vomit) is going to help him in a private school classroom.  I can't even bring myself to make the first phone call.