Growning Pains

Growing Pains...every kid has them.  They start as the physical aches as their bones lengthen.  Then as they approach high school and the teenage years, they seem to get worse.   The pains go from physical to mostly emotional.  Maybe on a subconscious level, they are beginning to realize that they are getting further away from their childhood, and getting closer to the struggles of adulthood.  Or maybe it’s the fact that their brains are growing and learning at such a speed that they can’t wrap their minds around what is happening to them.  In either case, there will be a lot of tears, a lot of fears, and a whole lot of drama.

Thinking back on life, the teenage years are either your best memories or your worst flashbacks.  For most of us, I think there’s an equal portion of both.  You need both in order to grow as a person.  You have the memories to think back on, the trips, the school functions, concerts, musicals.   These make you happy, and make you wish, just for a moment, that you could go back in time and revisit those times.  Then there are the horrible flashbacks.   Having to endure gym class when you hate playing kickball.  The popular girls and their cliques, the cheerleaders and the jocks.  Those are the ones that make you shiver ever so slightly, and make you glad that you are an adult. 

All I can say to these kids is enjoy life, love your friends, and have faith in them.  There will be sadness and heartache, but life will continue on.  There will be first loves and first heartbreaks, but somehow, life will go on.  I promise, there will be bigger and better things.   There will be college memories, and your first real relationship.  There will be the first job and the first career position.  There will be weddings and babies.  But for the time being, don’t rush it.  Enjoy your teenage years, before the reality of life sneaks up behind you.  And with any luck, and several years, you’ll be watching your children experience the very same growing pains.

To Mary--you astound us everyday with your kindness and beauty, both inside and out.  We are amazed by your incredible talents and your unwavering trust.  In two days, you will leave middle school and begin the road to high school.  It will be a tough road, but we know if anyone can rock it, you can.  We love you so much and are so incredibly proud of you, it's difficult to put into words.  No matter what, stay true to yourself, and you will accomplish anything and everything you set out to do.  We are so very blessed to have you as our child.  We love you so much and we'll always be there for you, no matter how much the growing pains hurt.

Leave It Where It Lies

This house looks like a bomb went off inside a toy store and we’re living in the debris.  I’m still finding wrapping paper, whether it be stuck to the dog, or a little boy’s left sock.  Now the search and rescue operation of the New Year begins.  I will be searching for places to put the new things we all got for Christmas, and rescuing the floor from underneath the residue of plastic packaging and crumpled shirt boxes.  But as I try to make sense of the mayhem that has ensued, I discover that my family, particularly a little boy, has a tendency to leave toys in the oddest places.

1.       I found a little wind-up robot on the window sill in the kitchen.  Not sure if he was using it for a runway, or figured that the robot would like some sun.

2.       I found a pair of rainbow suspenders (yes, the kind an old man puts on a pair of pants) underneath the dining room table.  He got the suspenders in a kit for dressing up as a construction worker.  Maybe he was trying to fix something under the table, or he was trying to put the suspenders on the puppy.

3.       I found a blue plastic slinky (tangled, or course) in my bed under my pillow.  Maybe he figured he could hide it there? 

4.       There was another windup toy under the rocking chair in my bedroom.  This time it was a red ladybug. 

5.       I found a toy drill on the TV console downstairs in the family room.  Daddy was a little worried about that one, because it was dangerously close to the plasma TV.  We’re not sure whether he was attempting to fix the TV or the Blu-ray player, but it looks like he was unsuccessful.  Everything is still working properly.

6.       I found an M&M pack in the Christmas tree.

7.       I found one of his Chuck trucks in his hamper.  Maybe the truck needed a wash?

My daughter, the teenager, doesn’t have any toys to leave about.  However, I could probably go to the casino with the amount of cash that I find in odd places.  Pants pockets, on the stairs, in the washer, on the counter, on the dining room table, on the coffee table in the family room.  The list goes on and on.  She’s lucky I’m an honest mommy, or otherwise, I’d be independently wealthy.

My husband also has a tendency to leave things where they lay, particularly his tools.  When he’s working on a project, he’ll spend the majority of the time looking for his tools, asking me if I’ve seen such and such tool, blaming the kids for taking his tools and hiding them.  He has several tool boxes, but they are empty.  He also has a tendency to leave napkins and paper towels in weird places, like inside the freezer and in our closet.  But I have a strange feeling he does this on purpose, just to see how I will react.  If I were him, I wouldn’t want to provoke me, but he has an abnormal sense of humor.

But as I sit here thinking about the others, I have a sneaking suspicion that the worst repeat offender in our house is me.  I try to blame it on the “mother brain”, or I’ve got too many things to do, or I’ll try to blame the husband and the kids or even the dog.  But when you put baby wipes in the freezer or milk in the cabinet, can you really blame anyone or anything?  One time I called my husband and accused him of taking my keys to work with him when all along they were in the car ignition.  I had started the car because it was cold, and then proceeded to forget that I did it.  I was ready to rip the house apart looking for my keys, when all along they were in a place I meant them to be.  I’ve thrown money away before, and then had to dig through the garbage looking for it.  I’ve forgotten my purse at home numerous times, proceeding to drive without a license. 

So, in closing, I’m sure as I continue to attempt putting this house back together again, I will find more toys in questionable locations, more money left around, and maybe even that long lost missing aluminum duct tape that my husband has been looking for since July.  I just hope that I don’t find any chicken in the pantry…

Change is the Only Constant

My friend Jeff broached an interesting question today: “Let's talk about change; it happens every day. Some people welcome it, while others try to keep it from happening with every fiber of their being.  Therefore, the question today is, change, is it good or bad?”

Change.  Some people abhor this word.  To them maybe it means that they must leave their cozy comfort zone, finally leave behind their security blankets.   Maybe to some people it means unnecessary work.  I, however, believe in change.  As humans, we are a historically evolutionary, revolutionary, ever-changing society of beings.  Being able to adapt to our fluctuating environment is one of the reasons why Homo sapiens continue to dominate (sometimes not in good ways) the species of this earth. 

And yet, change is not just about evolution and adaptation, processes which happen over hundreds or thousands of years.  Change can be as small as using skim milk in your coffee instead of half and half.  Sure, at first you wonder how you will ever be able to drink that cup.  But then the change begins to grow on you, and you realize that you are saving loads of calories each day.  And then more changes come when you can fit into your skinny jeans again. On the other hand, change can be something large and important, like beginning a new career, or going back to work after being a stay-at-home mom for four years.  You are a little frightened about the change, and you question your abilities and your choices.  You fear how it will affect you, your children, and your family.  But you also wait in anticipation for the call.  Even though there is uncertainness, you are ready to take the plunge and see what happens.  It could be great, it could be bad, but how do you know if you don’t jump? 

Change propels civilization, and without it, societies would not exist.  They thrive on revolution and transformation.  Our country was built on these ideas, notions of freedom and independence, beliefs of unity and commonality, and the desperate need for individuality and sovereignty.  The forefathers (and mothers) of this country fought for change, and through their sacrifices and diligent determination, they achieved what they set out to do.  They persevered through ridicule, persecution, prosecution, imprisonment, and execution, for that one word…change.  It is a powerful, awe-inspiring word.  There are revolutions being fought all over the world at this very moment; some with weapons, some with words and protests, and some with silence, all in the name of change.

In the end, change always wins the battle, whether you accept the outcome or not.  If you can embrace change without fear, you’ve already won.  But as humans, we always question our status quo to ensure our prosperity.  It is okay to question with trepidation.  It prevents us from being reckless and irresponsible (hopefully), and guarantees our triumph over natural selection.

“There is nothing wrong with change, if it is in the right direction.” ---Winston Churchill

“Change is the essence of life.  Be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become.”--Unknown

Through My Son's Eyes

Christmas is that special time of year where we are able to live through our children.  We make the necessary preparations to welcome Santa into our house.  We make special cookies and notes for him, and we open the flue to the chimney so that he can slide down with ease.  We laugh out loud when little boys and girls turn on the inflatable snow globe and boogey down to the music.  For a couple of days a year, we are able to believe in the magic of Christmas, and hear the bells on Santa’s sleigh.  I know that some of today’s “new-age” parents don’t believe in telling kids the story of Santa Clause and his multinational corporation located at the North Pole.  Why?  Why can’t we just let kids be kids?  Today’s young generation is already being robbed of their imaginations through cell phones and video games.  Why take away the glorious story of Santa and his elfin unions who make toys for all the boys and girls of the world?  Do you really think it is going to do that much harm to your kids if you tell them this one lie?  Kids are growing up way to fast these days, and I want my children to hold onto their childhoods as long as possible.  There still will be plenty of time to grow up.

Unfortunately, kids do grow up so fast.  One of my children is thirteen and had given up on the idea of Santa Clause a few years back.  However, I think secretly she’s grateful for the fact that she’s the big sister, and that she still gets to pretend that Santa is real.  She participates in making the cookie plate and glass of milk for Santa.  She still makes out her Santa list and helps my son with his.  She enjoys the stories and seeing her little brother’s eyes widen with excitement on Christmas morning when he sees all of the presents under the tree.  The two of them anticipate with glee when the wee waking hours of the morning shine through their windows and they get to gang up on Mom and Dad, innocently sleeping after a full night of present prep.  Unbeknownst to them, however, Mommy and Daddy are usually feigning sleep because they are too excited also.  The excitement in our house is contagious, and it usually affects any living being a two acre radius, including the dog, who proceeds to break into the presents before anyone else has a chance.

Through my son’s eyes, we enjoy the Christmas season and all its splendor.  On Christmas Eve, we will welcome Santa into our house and oblige him to eat his fill of cookies and milk.  He will fill the stockings and pile the presents under the tree.  He will be careful not to wake a little boy who decides to camp out in his doorway so to catch a glimpse of Santa.  He will cover him gently and pat his head, instilling sweet dreams of toys and wrapping paper in his sleeping mind.  If we remember to listen carefully, we’ll be able to hear the bells on his sleigh as the reindeer leap into the cold night air to visit the next house who will hopefully welcome them as we have, with open hearts.

The Mother

The Mother

She awakens with the dawn, in the warmth of the sun.

Her children rouse and begin their routines, of hunting, gathering, nurturing, feeding.

She sways in the gentle breezes, She watches the shadows.

She covets the cubs and gathers the flocks.

She moves as the sun moves, watching and waiting.

Yet, sometimes She cries, cries for Her wounds.

She gives of Her body and Her soul, yet they take and never return.

She heals with the tides, and Her arms always open wide.

But as She’s abused, Her wrath grows ever stronger.

She calls the Winds and whispers to the Fires.

She tries to warn those who would injure Her soul.

Yet they continue their brutal and greedy actions.

She is boundless as the universe in Her love and Her loyalty, but every spirit has a threshold.

Someday She will reclaim her gifts, with all of the rage and fury within.

And She will be reborn once again.

Commercialization of Civilization

This year I feel like Charlie Brown in the Christmas special we all used to watch as those many moons ago.  Everything is commercialized.  Everything.  Even religion and church are commercialized; things that were once held sacred.  Their teachings are being exploited for profit.  If you don’t believe me, turn on the television on a Sunday morning, and while surfing past the hundreds of infomercials, you’ll see the countless number of holy rollers, claiming their sovereignty. 

But in addition to the obnoxiousness we have to endure on television, we encounter it everywhere.  Everyone has their hands out, even the billionaires, because a $120 million a year salary just isn’t enough.  Look at sports.  I like watching sports just as much as the next person.  I like football, baseball, and I’m a novice hockey fan.  But who the hell is worth $120 million just to play a sport? Now instead of Comiskey Field, it is called U.S. Cellular Field.  Jerseys and uniforms are plastered with logos and slogans of sports drinks and warehouse stores.  Do you think the old timers, like Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio, and Ted Williams cared about how much they earned in a contract, or worried about remembering to thank their sponsors when they won the MVP or Gold Gloves?  They were proud to be American heroes, during a time in our country when we were desperately seeking heroes.  Spectator sports are an enormous commercial outfit, which rakes in money hand over fist.  But for some reason, one league or another are constantly on strike or lockout because of contract negotiations. 

However, I’m not just going to single out the athletes.  This goes for all of the greedy slobs that make millions every year and still cry out for more.  There are the fat oil and automobile bigwigs who can’t get out of their own way.  Corrupt politicians with their back-alley deals, costing the consumers and the tax payers billions of dollars to satiate their gluttonous appetites.  And this just doesn’t happen in our own country, but all over the world.

How did I get onto this subject, you ask?  While I was in England, I visited the Holy Tor, and wanted to visit the Chalice Well.  The legend of the Chalice Well begins when Joseph of Arimathea, who after the crucifixion of Christ, took the cup from the last supper and collected the blood of Christ as he hung on the cross.  In his later years, Joseph travelled to Britannia to settle with the monks who sought sanctuary in the peaceful hills of Somerset.  He hid the chalice and the blood within a sacred well guarded by the Druid sisters.  Both Druid and Christian beheld Joseph as a brother and friend, and he died in their company many years later at the foot of the Holy Tor.  The Chalice well still remains, where today many people believe that its waters hold healing properties, blessed by the Mother and blessed by Jesus Christ.  Now, in order to visit this holy place, you must pay admission, or you will not be allowed access.  They claim that they use the money to maintain the property.  Yet, the well has been there for at least 2500 years.  It’s been fine all that time without a maintenance crew, but now suddenly it needs one.  Even though I ached to see it and to touch its waters, I refused to be a part of the commercialism of that holy place.  My own little personal protest, I guess. 

The Stones and the Hill

As most of you already know, I just got back from a short vacation in the United Kingdom.  I use the term “vacation” loosely, because I think we were busier during those five days than when we are at home.  But we are not the type of people who like to lounge in a hotel room, especially when there is so much to see. 

My voyage began at Providence’s T.F. Green Airport, a nice, small airport.  Without a hitch, I was off to Philadelphia International.  Even though we were delayed going out of Providence, we ended up landing in Philly three minutes ahead of schedule.  I made it to my connecting gate, got a bite to eat, and sat for a while until boarding time.  In that stretch, our plane was changed from an Airbus A330 to a 767.  I like the A330’s because they have the onboard entertainment built into the backs of every seat.  The 767 has nothing, therefore it was quite a boring flight.  I read for a little, and slept a little.  Finally we started our descent into Heathrow.  Over the next half hour, I was tortured by extreme pain in my right ear, followed by a rupture of my eardrum about ten minutes before we landed.  Great…now I’m finally in the UK and I can’t hear out of one of my ears.  We disembarked, and started the extremely long journey to UK Border Control.  After 20 minutes of brisk walking, (so about a mile), I came to the Border Control line, which took about another 20 minutes.  Finally I was officially allowed into the country, and made my way to my husband who was waiting for me at the entrance to the terminal.  By this time, I’m totally wired, even though I’ve been awake for about 20 hours.  We found the car and made our way out of Heathrow, and onto the M25 towards Salisbury and Glastonbury. 

About an hour later, we arrive just outside of Salisbury and see Stonehenge up ahead in the distance.  This is awesome, because I’ve only ever seen it in pictures and now I’m here in person!!  I really didn’t understand the immensity of the monoliths until seeing them in person.  It’s amazing to think how the original people who built this monument hauled these enormous stones from twenty miles away, and somehow erected them into the temple seen now.  I was a little disappointed that we were charged £8.00 per person, or about $13.00, to see this national monument, but I guess everything nowadays is commercialized.  The walkway around the monument actually ended in a gift shop, kind of like the rides at Disney World.  Oh well.

Now we move on to Glastonbury.  I’ve always wanted to climb the Tor at Glastonbury.  Maybe because I’m a child of the myths, or I just love the folklore of the place.  For most people, whether Druid or Christian, this is a pilgrimage.  For the Druid, the Tor marked one of the ancient shrines to the Mother Goddess, where She alighted to earth during the sacred celebrations.  To Christians, the Sacred Well (or Chalice Well) at the base of the Tor was where Joseph of Arimathea brought a vial of Christ’s blood after His crucifixion, and hid it within the walls of the well.  To either faith, or to a random visitor, the Tor is beautiful place.  The climb up is unforgiving, and it’s not for the weak-hearted.  It doesn’t look that bad from the base, but once you start climbing, you realize that you were sadly mistaken.  It took us about 25 minutes from the base to Saint Michael’s tower at the top, stopping to rest several times along the way.  Once at the top, you have a 360° view of the plains below, and you can see about 50 miles in all directions on a clear day (which we were lucky enough to have).  After walking around the top and trying to avoid the Goddess dancers (which, thank the heavens, were clothed), we decided to start the climb down, which is a little easier, but still hard on the knees.  The wind is amazing; it blows about 40 miles per hour on the walk up and the walk down, but its calm at the top.

By this time, it’s about four in the afternoon, and I’m starting to feel the jet lag.  We make our way back to the car and begin the drive back to Heathrow where our hotel is for the next two nights.  That particular trip is a little hazy for me, because I think I fell asleep for a while.  We had dinner at the hotel restaurant because I think both of us were too beat to find somewhere else.  Having been up for about 36 hours, I was ready for bed, I didn’t care where or how…I just needed sleep.  We stayed at the Jurys Inn at Heathrow, which is a really nice hotel, and not expensive at all.  I recommend it to anyone travelling to London.

So that, in a nutshell, is Day One and Day Two (which is kind of the same day, since I never went to sleep between the two).