If you can't make it better you can laugh at it. ~Erma Bombeck

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Showing posts with label Damama's Advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Damama's Advice. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Damama's Use it or Lose it Advice on: STRESS

My Facebook friend and former high school classmate, Cindy, shared this picture this morning and, as this particular saying usually does, it set me off a bit. I fully understand that it's supposed to be a positive, uplifting thought, but it truly is one of my least favorite quotes. I think it should be Too blessed to be TOO stressed. To me, the way it's written sets up people who do feel stressed to feel like faith failures. So, in my opinion, the normal version is a failure. Even Jesus felt stress in the Garden. He felt anger at the Temple. He also felt sadness, loss, fear, uncertainty and the whole gamut of normal emotions. Those emotions are necessary for humans to be well-rounded, whole beings. Without feeling, acknowledging, and dealing with them we can never truly feel the joy that being free of them brings. And we can never learn to fully rely on God's love and strength because if we don't falter we won't need him to hold us up.

OK, off the pulpit now.

Wishing you Peace, Blessings, Stress, and God's abundant, uplifting Love!

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Damama's Use It or Lose It Advice on: Things Inquiring Minds Want To Know - Part II: Helping Enablers

In a follow-up to her previous question, Brandi said...

Alright, now I have another question. This one comes from Jon as well as me. What do you do if that person who doesn't manage her money well is your mother-in-law and other people (outside the family) are bailing her out? She of course still comes to each of her children (5) and their spouses for help. We help do her laundry, but we no longer give her any money.

ANSWER: You have no control whatsoever over the choices other people make. The best you can do is to try to talk to them and enlist their help in helping your MIL. I'd set up a meeting with those you know are enabling her poor life choices to make sure you are all on the same page. I'm betting that the story they are getting from her involves something along the lines of "my kids have abandoned me after all I did to raise them and clothe them and put a roof over their heads..." waaaa waaa waaaaaaaa.

Be aware that you will most likely run into at least a few who have codependency issues. For them, helping your MIL is a form of self-medication that will not be easily relinquished. Depending on how well you know them and what your relationship is, you might suggest that they look into their own reasons for not wanting your MIL to get better. A great resource for them might be a book called Codependent No More which I've read and have given to several others. It is amazing what can happen in one's life when one starts recognizing the self-destructiveness of being an enabler. It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'give until it hurts'.

Now I have just one question for you: Why are you still doing her laundry? Does she not know how? Is she allergic to detergent? Fabric softener? Ironing boards? Ask yourself this: If she was my 20-something daughter would I still be doing her laundry for her? If the answer shocks you, you know what your next step needs to be: either you read the book and stop doing your MIL's laundry or you just stop doing your MIL's laundry. Natural consequences will eventually kick in and she WILL figure out how to get clean. Or not. Either way it has to be HER decision to either grow up or wither up. I'm betting that she'll choose growing up. (If it's a question of access to a place to do the laundry it would be alright for you to offer to let her come use your machines at your convenience. Just don't do it for her.)

Please note that ALL of this assumes that your MIL does not have serious physical handicap, mental health or intelligence issues that need to be addressed by an appropriate healthcare professional. If so, getting her help now will make your future life easier because her behavior will only continue to worsen without treatment.

All that being said, there is one thing that I know will not change in her life. You love that woman. You may not always like her behavior, but you love her or you wouldn't care. You'd just walk away and let somebody else figure it all out. Some day, when she's healthier, she will be grateful that you loved her enough to do what was best for her when she couldn't do it for herself.

Kudos, my friend. And best of luck on this very difficult journey.

Peace, Blessings, and Peace knowing that love alone is not always enough.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Damama's Use it or Lose it Advice on: Things Inquiring Minds Want to Know

In my last post I asked you guys to come up with some questions for me. As usual, you never let me down! So, without further ado:


Brandi asks...

How do you get a fifty-something person who has managed money poorly her whole life and always depended on others to bail her out to manage her money better?

ANSWER: Quit bailing her out. Period. She will whine, moan, complain, and possibly threaten ugliness. She will say she's starving. Or freezing. Or.... Have responses and alternate resources such as addresses of shelters, food pantries, and charity assistance programs ready. And stand firm.

Next, offer to help her set up a budget. If she refuses then let her go on her own but do not, under any circumstance, buy into her poor, poor, pitiful me routine. Give love, not money. Give encouragement, not money. Give her Dave Ramsey's phone number, BUT DO NOT GIVE HER MONEY.

She is a grown-up woman. It's time she suffered the grown-up consequences for her childish behavior.

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J.B. said...

Damama my question is what is the question? Life is good, I am blessed and sleepy. Sweet dreams all.

ANSWER: The question is do you thank God or some higher power every day for your good life and blessings? I bet you do, but if I'm wrong please go do so now. ;o)

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Daria said...

I [see] that you use Blogger, but where did you get your template? I love it!

ANSWER: Thank you! If you'll look in the upper left-hand corner of my blog you'll see a little bug there that says The Cutest Blog On The Block. Warning, though. Don't go there unless you have time to shop around a while. They have SO MANY cute blogs and so much neat stuff that you will get lost in there for a while. LOL! Good luck and come back and tell me what you find so I can come see your new look!

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Erin said...

I want to know what your favorite thing about being a mom is!

ANSWER: Wow! Hit me with a though one, why don'tcha! Seriously, that question has so many different answers. If you don't mind, this one deserves a blog post all on its own. Come back in a couple of days or watch Twitter for a notice that it's up.

... and thanks for making me really examine this thought.

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Tanya said...

I need to know why the 8 yr old girl is so rude, argumentative, lies through her teeth & back answers a million times each day? Is it too drive her mother totally crazy?

ANSWER: This is a two-parter...

Short form - YES, it is to drive you crazy so that when she grows up and leaves home you won't miss her so much. Just kidding. Sort of.

Long form - Those of us who grew up under horrific circumstances tend to get just a weeeeee bit control-freakish. Then, when we are blessed (and I do use that term cautiously) with strong-willed, independent, self-confident children who happen to be a great deal like us, we tend to go a little nuts. Not that the child is perfect by any means, but... Dang this thing of having to be the grownup ALL the time! ;O)

Try something for me -- an experiment in self control, if you will. For the next week back off a little. Give her viable choices (meaning include things that she might actually choose herself) and then honor her decision. (For example, you might not wear those colors together, but you aren't putting the stuff on your back!) Make sure she knows what the rules and expectations are. And what the consequences are. Give choices when appropriate. Give time guidelines, not time requirements for compliance. Try to take the emotion out of your dealings with her UNLESS they are POSITIVE emotions. Mete out punishment in a matter-of-fact manner. Redirect her when necessary the same way -- just as you might with a non-compliant patient. Allow natural consequences to take their course without you having to always be the bringer. (If she goes out dressed like that her friends will probably make fun of her causing her to rethink future wardrobe choices. Why scream at her to get change clothes? It only makes her want to do it less. Her friends' opinions, though... GOLDEN! Win-win for Mom!)

Most of all.. MOST MOST MOST OF ALL... Praise her. Praise her for getting up after you only having to call her twice instead of the usual X number of times. Praise her for closing the door behind her. Praise her for remembering to flush the toilet (something like "My friend complains that her daughter never flushes the toilet. I'm so glad you are so good at remembering!). OK, so that one's out there, but you get the idea. FIND OR MANUFACTURE REASONS TO PRAISE HER. She needs to know how good that feels. Once she gets some and knows she can get more she will crave it!

Next, jump over to my advice to another Frustrated Mama and try out some of the tips I gave her. And then, for a good laugh and some more ideas go check out the story about my very stubborn friend and her trashy kid. (Be sure to read all the comments, too. They're a hoot!) Mix and match until you find what works sanely for you. And then stick to it!

None of this is going to make her a perfect child. None of it is going to make you a perfect mother. But SOME of it will give you a little peace and make life a bit easier for all concerned.

Good luck and keep us posted on how it goes!


*************************************


OK, that's it for today's questions. And by the way, I'm going to post these over on my advice column at DeKalb Ramblings, too. I have a feeling that y'all aren't the only ones who have some of these questions. Might as well share. Only difference is that if you don't want me to I won't use your real name or blog link. Just let me know.


Peace, Blessings, and Good questions, y'all!

Monday, August 24, 2009

Damama's Use it or Lose it Advice on: Living with a Clutterbug

My latest question over at my advice column, Damama's Way in the ezine DeKalbRamblings.com, is something that hits way too close to home. It's definitely one of those "she who can't do, teaches" type of things. Amazingly (to me anyway) in typing the response to a reader's question I actually realized that I haven't been giving my husband nearly enough credit for all he puts up with. Here, in part, is what brought about this miraculous epiphany:

...

Dear Clutter Bug's Wife,

You and my hubby should really get together sometime and commiserate! I am
also a clutter-bug or as we say around here, a junker. (Hubby actually calls my
treasures, junk. Sadly, in lots of regards he's right. BUT IT'S MY JUNK,
dangit!!). Aw, honey. I'm sorry if I just ruined your image of me, but it's
true! It has taken me years to be able to start letting go of some things. Let
me share a little of what I've learned on my personal dejunking journey...

For most of us junkers our stuff falls in three categories:

  • Memories
  • Possibly Useful Sometime - Definitely useful 3 days after I get rid of
    it.
  • SOME DAY THIS WILL BE PRICELESS!

Let's break it down:

...

Now here is where you get to decide if you really want to be challenged to rethink your junkatude or not. If you're interested in the rest of the story, jump on over to DeKalb Ramblings and check out the letter from Clutter Bug's Wife. (Note: If you're reading this more than two weeks after the date of this post, the letter may have been moved to the Advice Archives.) Then, please, please come back here and let me know if you agree or disagree and why. After a lifetime of trying to learn how to be a no-junker I'm really interested in better ways of living a simpler life.

As always, Peace, Blessings, and Hurry back!

Monday, January 19, 2009

Sex Ed: Part II - What Parents Should Know

HOWDY!! Sorry it's taken so long to get back to this. Life on my particular roller coaster gets me down sometimes and, as I told Margie, sometimes it's better just to not spread the misery. Plus, when I'm all grumpy and frustrated, everything comes out negative and that is never what I want this place to be. Thought provoking, insightful, entertaining, funny, and lots of other things, but never intentionally and/or uncomfortably negative! Anywhom, on with the show...

The overwhelming question I get when counseling families and in the comments here is basically this: How do I keep my kid from ruining his/her life by having premarital sex?

I wish there were some easy answers to that question, but since there aren't, I'll tell you what I have seen work and what I've seen fail miserably.

The first thing parents have to realize is that when it comes to keeping teenagers from doing whatEVER they are going to do, GIVE UP STRESSING OVER IT. You cannot keep your kid from doing stupid if said kid decides that stupidity is more fun and rewarding than any resulting consequences. Our parents couldn't stop us. Their parents couldn't stop them. And so on, and so on, all the way back to Adam and Eve. Does this sound at all familiar:


God the Parent


After creating heaven and earth, God created Adam and Eve. And the first thing He said to them was:

"Don't."

"Don't what?" Adam asked.

"Don't eat the Forbidden Fruit." God replied.

"Forbidden fruit? We got Forbidden Fruit?

"Hey, Eve..we got Forbidden Fruit!"

"No way! Where?"

"Don't eat that fruit!" said God.

"Why?"

"Because I am your Creator and I said so!" said God, wondering why he hadn't stopped after making the elephants.



A few minutes later God saw the kids having an apple break and was angry.



"Didn't I tell you not to eat that fruit?" the 'First Parent' asked.

"Uh huh," Adam replied.

"Then why did you?"

"I dunno," Eve answered.

"She started it!" Adam said.

"Did not!"

"DID so!"

"DID NOT!"



Having had it with the two of them, God's punishment was that Adam and Eve should have children of their own...thus the pattern was set, and it has never changed.

~~~~~



I've often wondered if our Creator is still kicking himself for including that 'free will' clause when he was doing the R&D on molding man into existence. Even He has to be surprised at just how far that little piece of celestial legislation has allowed man to go. In light of how His whole human race thing developed, can we, as parents of brain-deficient teenagers expect to have any more control of our progeny? (Go watch that video; it is very enlightening. Go ahead - I'm not going anywhere until you get back.)

Welcome back. You should now feel much better about your relationship with your teenager since you know that part of his (or her) behavior is hard-unwired at this point in his development. See what I mean about not stressing over it so much? To me, stress is just failure in action. If we have succeeded in fixing a problem, we don't stress over it, do we? (Now I'm sitting here trying to figure out if I'm the kettle or the pot in this stress mess!) So how about if we take a look at some things that we CAN do to try and steer our kids down a safe(r) path in life.

There are the obvious things like setting a good example in your home and in your relationships with those outside your home. Kindness, consideration, patience, and consistency are all important. More important is letting your kids see you being human the right way. That means that if you screw up, you acknowledge it and apologize for it. AND FIX IT if at all possible. They have to know that you aren't going to come down on them for screwing up as long as they handle it correctly. They have to know that above all else, you love them and will fight to the death for their future success. And for those of you who are patting yourselves on the back for sticking up for your kid, right or wrong, STOP IT! That kind of thinking gets them into more trouble than holding them accountable for wrongs and rewarding only the things they do right.

How does that have anything to do with Sex Ed? Think about it: if Mary can't come tell you that she broke a dish or felt like hitting some smart-mouthed beyoch today, what makes you think that she's gonna tell you that she's thinking about sleeping with some knuckle-dragger?

Another thing that seems to work well is to take the mystery and misery (and a little of the excited anticipation) out of sexual issues by talking very plainly, clinically, and age-appropriately about them. Forbidden fruit is always more attractive than the mundane bowl of goodies within arms reach. If a question is asked, do your best to answer ONLY what was asked. Too much information will make the kid afraid to ask more questions. Too little will leave her wondering what you are hiding. They are smart that way. Dang it!

And for pity sake DO NOT overreact when Freddie comes home at age 5 and asks you why his wee wee (he should be calling it a penis at this age, by the way!) isn't as big as Billy's. Or why his best friend, Annie, doesn't have one at all. Know that kids have been playing doctor ever since Adam and Eve first examined each other after their apple snack. How you react to their first forays into that venue will determine how much you know about their travels in the future. For all the things the little darlings can't remember from moment to moment, they will remember that first reaction for the rest of their lives if you bumble it.

So, the bottom line to all of this is that sex ed doesn't begin when your child enters puberty. I starts when they enter the world. Making them feel safe, loved, secure, and valued is the best defense you can give them against having some insecure over-sexed ball of hormones make them feel safe, loved, secure, and valued if only for the one moment it takes to rush head first over a cliff that will leave their souls and bodies bruised and battered for the rest of their lives.

And if the worst does happen, take a deep breath, say a prayer, and hug your kid. He needs you now more than he will ever know until he has kids of his own and is trying to figure out how to keep them from going where he went. It's the circle of life, folks. We all survived it. So will they.

Peace, Blessings, and The RIGHT Kind of Love to all.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Damama's Use it or Lose it Advice on: Sex Ed

PARENTAL WARNING! THE ATTACHED FILMSTRIP WILL RAISE QUESTIONS YOU MAY NOT BE READY TO ANSWER WITH YOUR KIDS YET. DO NOT WATCH WITH THEM PRESENT.


Today the local talk radio people were all going on about the fact that apparently Texas is winning the race to have the most pregnant teens in the country. I didn't hear the whole story on whatever it was that sparked all the chatter, but I was quite amused and extremely appalled at some of the comments made by the parents who called in. The one that bothered me the most was a man who said his daughter knew that if she ever showed up pregnant he'd disown her. Literally. No joke. Makes me wonder what other all or nothing conditions he puts on his love. What a way for his children to live.

I was most greatly amused by the people who truly believe that simply having their kids' butts in the church pew every time the doors are open will keep them from engaging in premarital relations. Oh don't we all wish it was that easy!?! This reminded me of my very precocious devout days as a youth member of one particular local Baptist church...

Betsy*, Tom*, Bill*, and I met when we were all chosen to be members of one of the first Christian youth rock bands in Texas. You have to remember that in the 70s the idea of having drums and guitars in church was a pretty radical concept -- especially so in our small-town, staunch Southern Baptist church! Our progressive Youth Leader, however, was a visionary and talked Reverend NutJob into allowing him to give it a try in an effort to get more kids interested in coming to church. We were actually pretty good and soon began receiving invitations to perform at other churches in the area. We were even invited to perform at a church in Dallas which meant an overnight trip. And that was the beginning of the end of our musical careers.

As you can imagine, since we spent so much time together we inevitably formed very close bonds and eventually paired off: Betsy and Tom; Bill and me. (The rest of the band members were all really weird guys, several of whom actually went on to professional music careers!) The only problem was that Betsy was Rev NJ's only daughter. Rev NJ was very protective of his flock. He was OBSESSIVELY protective of Betsy who was forbidden to date until she was at least 18. Her 15-year-old hormones had other plans, though, so we spent a good deal of time figuing out ways to get around the no-dating rule. We would have been in good shape if it hadn't been for that dang Dallas trip. The trip on which Miss Betsy lost her virginity. And her freaking mind!

Before the Dallas trip Betsy and Tom had been able to keep their relationship under wraps. They sat together during services, but always with a respectable distance between them; only holding pinkies with their hands down on the hardwood pew safely out of Daddy's sight. Afterward, they were like two lovesick octopuses: all arms and suckers. You couldn't slide a piece of paper between them with a battering ram! Their new postures did not go unnoticed by the Rev. (or anybody else with half an eyeball in their head!)

Always willing to give his baby girl the benefit of the doubt, he accepted her assurances that they were only friends. He did, however, warn her that fornication is a sin that would cause her to burn in hell with evilist of evil-doers. The warnings fell on deaf ears, because poor Betsy, though she tried as hard as she could, any time Tom was within reach she couldn't help but latch on and melt all over him. As the strong spritual leader he was, her father began to find clever ways of working morality messages into every sermon.

... "And the Lord gave us the trees and the flowers. He gave us the beasts of the field, the birds of the skies, and the bees of the garden. And it was all beautiful until we ruined it with

FORRRRRNIIIICATION!"

Didn't matter what the topic was, that man could figure out how to segway into FORRRNIIIICATION. After a while we realized that his segways always coincided with Tom touching Betsy and a whole new game was born: How many times can we get Rev NJ to scream FORRRNIIIICATION during the sermon. If memory serves me right, the record was 8.

Within 3 months of the Dallas trip our little group was disbanded (ha! punny!). Betsy was sent to a "private boarding school" where it was rumored that her healthy baby boy was adopted by a wealthy family from somewhere up in North Texas. The whole experience turned me totally off of church. It would be years before I would agree to try it again.

From all of that I learned that first and foremost, as a parent you cannot stick your head in the sand about what your kids can and will do if they decide they want to. You cannot make arbitrary, unbendable rules and expect your child to just follow them without question. You have to be open to hearing things you might not want to know; doing things you might not want to do. But above all, you have to keep your sense of humor. We all survived our teenage years. Our kids will, too.


I ran across this Sex Education film strip. Too bad Reverend Nut Job's not still around. Think of all the great sermon fodder he'd have to use to warn us all about the evils of FORRRRRNIIIICATION!"





Sunday, September 7, 2008

NOBama for this Mama

After Bug’s, Lady N’s, and now Lady T’s comments, I began to wonder if I’d given the topic enough consideration before publishing that last post. I have, therefore, spent a good part of the day researching the exact crux of this unsavory topic. While the questions about why Obama orchestrated the demise of the Illinois bill may never be fully understood (especially in light of his using the chicken way out of taking a stand by voting "Present" instead of Yay or Nay), there is one thing that is crystal clear: Barack Hussein Obama supports, with all his heart and soul, the ‘‘Freedom of Choice Act’’. And according to his website, he will pass it into law as quickly as is humanly possible should he become president. And the Freedom of Choice Act allows for the post-delivery murder of infants.

While I personally could never choose abortion (a fact for which Bug should be eternally grateful), I have always defended a woman’s right to make that decision for herself. With one caveat: I don’t think the option should be available past the first trimester unless there are specific, extreme, extenuating circumstances. I have always based my decision on the fact that somewhere between the 13th and 16th weeks of gestation, the tiny being, whether you want to call it a fetus, a baby or a blob, begins to feel pain (Read the first paragraph under ANATOMICAL AND FUNCTIONAL REQUIREMENTS FOR PAIN PERCEPTION for a quick overview of this topic). As a mother, hell as a human being, the thought of causing any other living being pain is simply unacceptable. (We even mandate the humane (pain-free) killing of animals and death-row inmates by law!) And once you understand the stages of development of a fetus, I personally can’t understand how anybody could choose abortion. Especially after the 12th week.

Even with this personal opinion, I have never judged any woman who chose to have an abortion whether out of selfishness, desperation or ignorance of other possible options. I have counseled women, some my own “kids,” while they cried and agonized, trying to decide what to do. I’ve supported them through the days, weeks and months after the abortion as they worked through the process of grieving and the reevaluation of their lives. (Yes, even the ones who knew in their hearts that they’d made the right decision for their own lives went through some sort of grieving process whether it was for the lost child or their own lost innocence.)

I’ve walked with them through what I call the Wondering Times: I wonder what he/she would have looked like in that outfit. I wonder if he would love baseball as much as my dad does. I wonder if she would have wanted to play dress-up like my niece does. I wonder... I wonder... I wonder... and on it goes even for those who KNEW they’d ultimately made the right decision for their own lives. Not that they all would have made a different decision even now, but there is still (at least for everyone I’ve worked with) a bit of pain in living with the aftermath of that final decision.

That pain is often magnified 1000 fold upon the birth of their first full-term baby when the reality of that long-ago decision blasts them full force in the heart. The only thing more painful than being the person who has to watch her suffer through the guilt and grieving process all over again is being the woman who has to live through it. But none of this is why I’m revisiting this topic. I am back here again to talk about why Obama’s stand on the Freedom of Choice Act (FOCA) concretes my decision to NOT vote for him.


I have a MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR issue with the provision allowing a woman (as stated on page 8, lines 6, 7, and 8), “...(C) to terminate a pregnancy after viability where termination is necessary to protect the life or health of the woman...”

It's that word "viability" that sticks in my craw. By the document’s own definition on page 7, lines 10-15:
10 (3) VIABILITY.— The term ‘‘viability’’ means
11 that stage of pregnancy when, in the best medical
12 judgment of the attending physician based on the
13 particular medical facts of the case before the physic-
14 cian, there is a reasonable likelihood of the sustained
15 survival of the fetus outside of the woman.

Did you read that? “...there is a reasonable likelihood of the sustained survival of the fetus outside of the woman.” And this document is proposing that it should be killed even though it has a “reasonable likelihood of ... sustained survival....” And by the way, doesn’t a “fetus” become a “baby” once it’s outside the woman? Yet FOCA would allow for the post-delivery death of that baby if its life might cause some sort of problem to “the life or health of the woman...” This begs the question, WHAT HARM CAN IT DO THE WOMAN AFTER IT’S OUT OF HER that would be serious enough as to require the baby’s death??

It’s not MURDER, though, says FOCA – it’s “abortion” even though the baby was viable at the time it was removed from the uterus. Really? If it comes out alive and has a reasonable likelihood of survival, but is then allowed to lay there and die instead that's not murder?? Well then what does that say about the teenagers who give birth in bathrooms and put the baby in the trash can? What’s the difference? Is the scared, desperate teen’s act a crime simply because there was no doctor there to get paid for having induced labor so the child could be left to die? Why should these girls be raked over the coals in the press, be more traumatized and ostracized by the public outcry over their heinous choice and then sent to prison to PAY for their CRIMES, but the women who choose to pay a clinic or a hospital to kill the kid are allowed to go home and get on with the rest of their lives? Can anybody explain that to me??? WHAT. IS. THE. DIFFERENCE??? If one is OK, then they both should be. If one is not, then NEITHER SHOULD BE ACCEPTABLE!!

Second, I have a HUGE problem with the fact that they want to make this whole thing retroactive: (Starting on page 8 and continuing on page 9.
23 SEC. 6. RETROACTIVE EFFECT.
24 This Act applies to every Federal, State, and local
25 statute, ordinance, regulation, administrative order, deci-
1 sion, policy, practice, or other action enacted, adopted, or
2 implemented before (emphasis added), on, or after the date of enactment
3 of this Act.

Plus.. P.L.U.S. they want it to be enforceable by Civil action:
Page 8:
13 (c) CIVIL ACTION.—An individual aggrieved by a vio-
14 lation of this section may obtain appropriate relief (include
15 ing relief against a government) in a civil action.

Guess what, folks. If they make it retroactive and allow “relief...in a civil action” it could be interpreted to mean that any woman who feels that her civil rights according to this new document have EVER been violated can go back and sue the government. I know I'm excited about the idea of having MY tax dollars be paid out to every woman who ever made the choice to have an abortion even though it was against the law at the time. Hey, how about if we just go ahead and legalize ALL killings and then pay off the murderers who were "unlawfully imprisoned" by that bad law??? (Please note: In case you didn't notice it, the last two sentences were dripping with sarcasm when they came out of my head!)

Just one final note to all my kids: I applaud the fact that you are free thinkers and speak your mind. However, I also require that you all be polite and mindful that you (like your Damama) are not always right. As always, you are welcome to state your opinion as long as you don't go on any personal attack missions.

Ok - I'm done ranting. For tonight.
Peace, Blessings, Wisdom, Patience, and Love to all.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Damama's Use It or Lose It Advice on: Getting in the picture.

We went out to Cracker Barrel for dinner tonight. It is one of my favorite home-style cookin' joints. I love their chicken 'n dumplins (that's how we say it down South - those endin' Gs are for the prissy britches set!). Well, actually I only love the dumplins part. They are just like the ones Mom made -- another of the recipes lost after her death. Their red beans (ok - pinto beans if you just want to get all technical about it) are as close to Mom's as I've ever tasted, too. And, sorry, Mom, but their biscuits kick your biscuits' floury white little butts. All that food stuff is great, but the most fun part is the walk I take down memory lane as I wander through the gift shop. So many of the toys and candies take me waaaaay back. Back to the days when I thought my mommy would always be in the picture.

As in most families, Mom was the shutterbug: always behind the camera, rarely in front because she didn't like having her picture taken. As a result, I have loads of pictures of me, me and Dad, me and various boyfriends, me and pets. What I don't have is any pictures of me and my mom.

When I got old enough to grab the camera I started stealing candid shots of her whenever I could sneak up unobserved. But, again, those times were rare. When I the boys came along we would take turns taking pictures - again one of us was always behind the camera. When she was gone I went in search of photos to show the kids. What I didn't find broke my heart -- there were no pictures of me with mom.

How about you? When was the last time you got in FRONT of the camera? When was the last time you had a picture taken of just you and each of your children alone. Ever? What are the things you want them to remember about you? Do you sew? Crochet? Paint? Garden? Do you have any pictures of yourself doing those things? How about your parents? Do you have photos of you alone with each of them? Who are your friends? Do you have pictures of yourself with them? They will need to remember, too.

As moms, we want to give our children the very best of everything, but so often we unwittingly shortchange them on tangible memories of US. So here's your first challenge: Go buy a bunch of disposable cameras and give one to each of your kids. (Put their names on them to avoid confusion!) Then encourage them to take pictures of each other, you, the family. (You might want to specify no nasty or rude or embarrassing butt shots!) When you get them developed you'll get a great idea of what interests them. You might also get to see yourself through their eyes.

Your second challenge is to make a vow right now to hand that camera off to your husband every now and then. Having memories of you through his eyes is another great gift for your kids.

This Celine Dion song, so beautifully presented by nataliedg, tells the story in this mother's heart. I know it is a song that you sing, too. Please don't let your Coulds slip away into sad Should Haves before it's too late.

If I Could




Peace, Blessings, and SAY CHEESE!

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Intimidation is its name. Taming it is my game.

Isn't it strange how we can let our head get in the way of our heart? Maybe you don't have this problem. If not, YAY!! But ever since the bottom fell out of my world (again) on Mother's day, even though things are much better now I haven't been able to get my head out of the way! I've fallen into this depression thing and every time I try to put fingers to keys, my head screams, "WHY DO YOU EVEN TRY?? You obviously can't keep your own world straight, why do you think you can make a difference in anybody else's??" My fingers freeze and my head decides it would just be easier to go play a game than to agonize over something wise and witty to say here.

I read all the blogs that I love so much and the words are so alive, insightful, and delightful that I feel small and incompetent by comparison. My head says, "Now THAT'S someone who can contribute something to the greater good. And look at all those great comments. Who are you to add you own banal thoughts to theirs?" And so I read, and smile, and send up my prayers, and laugh, and cry, and encourage in silence - a lurker too intimidated to push my mind out of the way and allow my heart to speak.

Then yesterday I took my Girl to a counseling appointment. The psychologist said "Listen to your mother, she loves you and is very smart about this stuff. You guys never leave here without ME having learned something from HER." My mind screamed, "HUH?? Sure, lady." But my heart had already spoken, so my mind hadn't had a chance to shut it up.

Back in the lobby the receptionist asked my advice on how to handle a problem in her relationship with her boyfriend. "How did you and Hubby make it for 27+ years?" That's an easy question for me to answer and so I shared. And she said, "Wow, you should be writing an advice column." My mind screamed, "HUH? what tha..." but it couldn't finish it's thought because my heart had found its voice and was singing too loudly for my head to be heard.

One of the things my heart told the receptionist is that when it comes to fear and anxiety you have to NAME IT before you can TAME IT. If you can't put a name on what is bothering you, there is NO way you are ever going to be able to deal with it effectively. It is how our marriage has survived. It is how I have survived.

Suddenly, in that moment, my head realized that in order for me to get my blog back on I was going to have to NAME my problem here in the blogverse. So here I am, proclaiming my indimidation: My fear that sharing my never ending rollercoaster of a life with you will make you turn away because NOBODY has that many problems so you might think I'm making it up. Believe me, I wish I was.

OK - so now I've named it. Hmmm, it's not so big and scary here in print. I can't promise that I will post every day - I've never done that anyway. I can't promise that I will go back and comment on every post I've lurked on over the last month or so. But I can promise that I will be better at letting you know when I'm around from now on. I can promise that I will get back to piecing together some sort of literary intelligence out of the puzzle that is my world on my more normal couple-of-times-a-week schedule.

In the mean time - here's your takeaway from this project: 1. Whatever you fear can control you. 2. If it goes unnamed, it will grow, untamed.

Wishing you Peace, Blessings, and the strength to face your fears.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Damama's Use it or Lose it Advice on: Nail Salon Safety - No Joking Matter

As a follow-up to yesterday's funny post, I feel it's important to point out that having your nails done is a very dangerous activity. Even the best salons occasionally make mistakes that can have serious consequences for consumers.

If you are one of those who gets manicures and pedicures, with or without having acrylic nails applied, please take a moment to click the links below and watch the videos. ESPECIALLY if you, like me, tend to shop hop, it is important to know what to watch for before allowing anyone to do anything to your feet, hands, or eyebrows.

This first video talks about an illegal acrylic liquid that I'm betting has been used on me. I had no idea there was such a product in use! Birth defects? Kidney cysts?? AACK!!!


This second one is a lengthy, but interesting look at problems that even I've seen at some salons.


And last but definitely not least, a news story out of Beaumont, Texas about dirty salons and the potentially HORRIBLE results they can produce. A MUST WATCH!


Ok, after seeing all that, if you've decided that it's just not worth the risk anymore and want to kick the habit, here's the safe and easy (and relatively not unattractive) way to make the transition.

First: DO NOT REMOVE THE FAKE NAILS - LET THEM GROW OFF!
Yes, you have to endure a couple of months of needing refills. As they grow out, just keep filing the acrylic thinner and thinner, especially where it stops and your natural nail starts (the fill-in zone). As the nails get longer, trim and file them to a shape you like, beveling the thicker acrylic areas so that there's not a blunt edge.

Put a solid coat of a neutral colored polish over the whole nail to camouflage the transition. By the time the nail has grown long enough to cut the overlaid part completely off, you've got your own healthy, undamaged nails back.

That damaged look comes from exposing the part of the nail that the fakes were attached to. With this technique, the damaged part is never exposed. Yes, you have a little bump where the acrylic stops, but that's what the neutral colored polish is for. Unless you point it out, almost nobody is going to notice. And if someone does notice and makes a rude comment, just ask them for a donation to your nail fund! Then use the money to go buy some chocolate. No, that's not deceptive. Chocolate purchased for psychopharmacology purposes is a perfectly legit way to use such contributions!

All jokes aside, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE be a smart consumer. Ask questions, watch actions, and don't be afraid to WALK OUT THE DOOR if ANYTHING doesn't feel right.

Peace, Blessings and Pretty Pinkies to all!

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Damama's Use It or Lose It Advice: Family ties are built, not born.

"HE CHEATED!!!"
"No I didn't. You're just a poopy head sore loser."
"MOOOOOOM!!!!!! He called me a poopy head!!!"
"He called me a cheater!"
"You ARE a cheater!!"
"Well you ARE a poopy head!!"


Sound familiar? When my boys were little that was how nearly every game between them ended. Being young and dumb, I attributed it to normal kid behavior that I could do nothing more about than to put up the game and make them go do something else. Separately. As hard as I tried, I could never really get them to play nicely together. Now, looking back, I realize that there was one key ingredient missing from their playtime: Me.

Don't get me wrong, my kids weren't neglected in either the legal or the moral sense of the word. They were clothed, fed, educated, disciplined, hugged up, smooched on, and told every day of their lives how very much I loved and cherished them. I just never knew that I really need to play with them, too. And that makes me sad - for them and for myself.

I think I've mentioned before that I was adopted at the age of 10. Prior to that, I'd pretty much raised a younger brother on my own because my biological mother was an alcoholic prostitute who usually only came home when she had “work” to do, or she needed to sleep off a bender. Having become a mommy at the tender age of about 3, I missed out on those very important early developmental stages of my childhood. I didn't experience the joy of having a mother to play with, so when I had children of my own I had nothing on which to base that part of their raising.

Until they were around 10 or 11, I really didn't know how to relate to them. By the time I finally started figuring it out, they didn't want to play with me. I was MOM, for cryin’ out loud – not somebody to have fun with! It hurt me deeply when they'd come home laughing about all the great times they'd had at so-and-so's house; how that person's mother was so fun and cool. The first time one of them referred to a friend's mother as "mom" it broke my heart. I just didn't understand why my house wasn't a fun place to bring their friends to play. I didn’t realize until years later that I hadn't set myself up as someone who was fun to play with, so they found more enjoyment in others.

And the saddest part of the whole saga is that by me not playing with them, they never learned to play with each other. I didn’t know how to help them be close because, again, thanks to my own upbringing, I’d never been close to a sibling as a playmate. I was adopted as an only child, so I didn’t have any brothers and sisters to play with. I never learned that lesson that larger sibling groups are taught: get along, play nice, or else. And because I didn’t know, I couldn’t teach.

My guys were very different types of boys from the get-go. Bug was the brainy kid. Twig was the brawny one. Bug wanted to be inside reading, doing puzzles, or playing computer games. Twig loved anything outdoors and could jack a ball off a t-ball stand over a two-story house by the time he was 5. My thought process revolved around allowing them to be their own person. After all, you can’t MAKE people like each other, even if they are brothers. And since they had nothing in common, I thought it was best to just let them do their own thing.

That’s a great idea for building strong, independent, self-sufficient men, but a rotten idea for building strong, connected, close-knit families. No, you can’t MAKE people like each other. But how will they know whether they actually like each other if they don’t ever truly get to KNOW each other? And the only way to really get to know someone is to spend time with them. And for kids, a big part of that has to be parent-involved play time.

Looking at life from the far side of Hill Five-O has given me a whole different perspective on things. I wish I’d spent more time thinking about how to build relationships and less time worrying about how to build wealth. I understand more about the need to slow down and make memories as well as hurrying up to making dinner.

How about you? When was the last time you had fun with your children? About now you may be thinking that that means stopping everything else and focusing 100% of your attention on them. Well, sometimes it does. And those times are important. But those day-to-day fun ops are so much more important. Those times when you have them together and can turn some everyday moments into Wow, whattaday! memories. For each family those opportunities are different. You have to be creative and attentive if you are going to find them. It could be something as simple as letting them fold their breakfast napkins into hats or as elaborate as a Super Bowl party that includes you throwing all the normal rules out the window and just having fun.

One of the coolest examples of these kinds of fun-teaching, memory-building, bond-strengthening games I’ve ever seen is the Dessert Game that Allison over at A Mom Thing has devised. In her words, they have used this game to teach their kids... “To share and help each other out. To have fun no matter what...And to realize that oftentimes the gamble just isn't worth it.”

I have a feeling that Allison’s kids will be close in a way that mine never will. Please don’t be like me and reach this stage in life with regrets born of ignorance. Now that you know, you must act like you know. SO GO PLAY!

Peace, Blessings, and Strong Bonds to all.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Damama's Use It or Lose It Advice on: Hubby School 101

Hubby came home with these beautiful roses for me and I couldn't resist showing them off. He does this kind of thing on a semi-but-not-so-regular-that-it's-trite basis. Sometimes it's just some little thing he saw that he knew would make me smile. A few times it's been wild flowers he saw and thought of me. He discovered Wal-Mart's online music stuff recently and has made me a couple of CDs with songs that he knew that I'd love, but also with some thrown in that he said made him think of me every time he hears them.



This is the reason that I don't get all upset when we don't make a big deal out of anniversaries, birthdays, Valentines, and other traditional holidays. Unlike some women who only have those few days to look forward to being treated special, I am blessed to have married a man who treates me with love, respect, and kindness every day of my life. And then he goes and throws in just enough silliness to keep me laughing most of the time.


How did I get so lucky?? Well, partially it is because he's a man with a good heart. But I bet most of you married your husband at least partially because you loved his heart. The only thing that I have done differently than most of the women I know is that I have spent years nurturing and honoring any and all efforts he's made at being kind, loving and respectful. And I have never yelled, nagged, or complained about his mistakes.


Only once in 27 years have I returned a gift he bought me. It was a pair of diamond stud earrings he bought because he knew I liked small ones. He didn't realize that he'd purchased baby earrings and the posts were too small for my lobes. I exchanged them for the exact ones in grownup size. And he was right, I loved them.


I wore a man's bathrobe for 6 years because he bought it for me for Christmas. Silly? Not when you know that the reason he bought it was because the color matched my eyes and he thought I would look good in it and that it would keep me warmer than those flimsy robes that generally populate the women's racks. He actually put thought into it, and I honored that. And I loved him for it so much that I put my own silly opinions aside and wore it until it wore out. If I hadn't listened, really listened to his reasons for selecting it BEFORE I made some harsh comment about the fact that it was a man's robe, I'd never have heard him tell me that he loved the color of my eyes and thought the robe was perfect because of that match... and I would have forever killed a piece of his willingness to ever try again.


Over the years I've worn a few things that I didn't particularly like all that much. But instead of frowning or scoffing and making him feel bad about the purchase, I'd spend the next year or so showing him catalogs and playing the guess which one I'd like best game to teach him more about what my taste was (and to learn what his was, also) whether it was in watches, rings, clothes, or sleep wear. By the next time he decided I needed a new something, he'd pretty much have my preferences figured out. And if he was slightly off again, it didn't matter because I knew he was making the effort and THAT is what REALLY mattered.


These beautiful roses are a prime example. For years, he would bring me the traditional cut flower arrangements. And I'd put them in water and oooo and ahhhh over them (even the really gaudy ones in the early days), but when it came time to throw them out I'd always comment on how sad it made me lose them. That's when he started bringing me live plants knowing full well that I'd probably end up killing them anyway - I have a brown ... no make that a black thumb. But that's OK because they will still last longer than the cut kind. I don't recall ever saying, "please stop bringing me cut flowers and only bring me the kind that I can kill on my own." He heard it, though, because I hadn't taught him to shut his ears to everything I said in order to avoid hearing me nag and complain and belittle his efforts.


Each of us teaches the people in our lives how to treat us. If we accept abuse, we get abused. If we give respect, generally, we get respect in return. If we expect love and kindness, and show that by giving love and kindness, it will come back to us. Relationships are all about teaching and learning how to bring out the best in each participant.

What are you teaching your husband about the person you think he is? Have you taught him that you value and honor him, warts and all? Or have you taught him that he can't do anything right and is too stupid to allowed out of the house alone to shop for you? If you constantly find yourself disappointed with what he buys or does for you, maybe it's time to stop and figure out how to change your lesson plan.

Class dismissed.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Damama's Use It or Loose It Advice on: KIDS, CHORES & CONSEQUENCES

Lucille over at Who's Going to Tell You posted about wanting a garbage man to keep from having to take out the garbage. Again. Mass quantities of it because her Hubby did the smash-and-stack trash handling technique while she was sick with pneumonia. I TOTALLY agree that he should do a better job of helping out - not only while she's sick, but all the time. However, in my humble opinion, her problem is just a symptom of a larger issue that has bugged me for years: Kids, Chores, and Consequences.

As moms, we all to often do things ourselves because it is, well, just simpler. Less hassle. More efficient. We want things done a certain way, and the kids / hubby / a housekeeper / God Himself just couldn't do it as well as we can. Heaven forbid that someone might think that we are not perfect June Cleavers because the pillows on the couch aren't positioned a just so; there are newspapers on the floor by Hubby's chair; the kids beds aren't made; or the kitchen looks even remotely used.

For those who agonize over every speck of dust that drifts through the air in their spotless, pristine abode, life can become unbearable for everyone in the house. Mom is always on edge because NOBODY CLEANS ANYTHING (the way she thinks they should). The kids are miserable because Mom is always nagging. But then, on the other hand, they often ignore the nagging because they know if they hold out long enough, Mom will get fed up and just do it herself. Yes, there may be some meaningless consequence like losing TV or game privileges for a few days, but hey!, eventually she'll quit nagging and just do it herself in the first place because it's easier for her in the long run!

I have a friend who solved the problem by using a thing called natural consequences. She had 3 kids of an age that should be able to handle their share of household responsibilities, so she made up a duty chart. As often happens, trash duty became a major sticking point. So she got creative and instituted a new rule:

On trash day, if the responsible party hadn't emptied trash cans, then everyone else got to put said trash (in a bag, of course) in the shirker's room where it stayed until the shirker could take it out - whether it took until the next trash day or whenever. Catch: Kids were not allowed to leave their rooms to do anything fun, TV, games, sports, shopping.. NOTHING FUN if their rooms weren't clean. They couldn't just pile it on the curb either, because trash pickup only happened on Wednesdays and Saturdays. And they couldn't put it out on the normal holding area if the next trash day would be a sibling's trash duty day because then that sibling would be doing part of their job. So if the timing was wrong, they were stuck with it in their room for at least 2 days.

One of her sons decided to heck with it because, hey, he didn't have anything fun he wanted to do anytime soon. And he figured he could just sit in his room and read. Mom would eventually give in and give up on that stupid duty chart thing. After about a week it smelled so bad that she was tempted to give in, but instead she just put a fan outside his door FACING IN so that the stink kept being blown back inside! Bonus: The fan also discouraged the FLIES from leaving his room. It became a huge standoff situation.

About 3 weeks later, he finally decided to clear out his room. By then, his clothes and bedding all smelled like rotten trash. The only reason the rest of the house didn't smell was because of the fan plus Mom had spent a fortune on air fresheners and sprays, but she said it was worth it when she watched him finally drag the bags to the curb and then have to wash his stuff himself because she refused to enter his room with it smelling like that.

The other two learned a valuable lesson: Mom's not gonna give in so we might as well just do it! It wasn't always easy, but she'd succeeded in making believers out of them and they balked much less. Her kids are now in their early 30s. The two boys make great husbands because they don't think anything at all about just doing whatever needs to be done. It finally just became a habit.

Too often we let our kids get off easily because we don't want them to feel unloved or overpressured. More often it's because it's just easier to get it done and over with ourselves. But if God loves us enough to impose rules, responsibilities, and consequences shouldn't we love our kids enough to do the same?

Peace, Blessings, and Positive Natural Consequences to all.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Regret vs. Guilt – Caution: Rant Storm Ahead

I received several emails about my admission of having emotional problems – most supportive, some questioning, some borderline rude. One in particular, however, was a very, mmmm... pointed note from someone whose mother was mentally ill (“a wacked out bi###”) and, therefore, entirely to blame for this now 40+-year-old woman’s life of drug addiction and criminal activity. She said that she is now in recovery but will never forgive her mother for not being emotionally there for her when she was a teenager. If she can’t overcome her “illness” and become a “whole person” it will be all her mother’s fault.

She also stated that I should be ashamed for not taking responsibility for my children’s problems because they were most likely my fault just like her problems are her mother’s fault. She said that her mother’s traumatic childhood, abusive marriage, and ensuing emotional problems were not her kid’s problem and that she should have just sucked it up and done what was “right by us kids.” I admit, I don't know the whole story, but I'm betting it's long and involved one.

My first thought was to delete the email, dismissing it as the rantings of a woman who desperately needs to grow up and quit blaming the world for her own refusal to take responsibility for her life and her future. Then the thought crossed my mind that if she was brave (brazen?) enough to actually put it in writing, how many others are there who are thinking it but are too polite to speak the “truth” as they see it?

So, this post is a public service to all the other imperfect parents of kids who are using them as an excuse to screw up their lives.

First, I never said Hubby and I were to be idolized as perfect parents. I said that we did the best we could at the time with the tools we had. Before Cheryl, unfortunately, my tool belt was woefully empty. I’d done fine until they became pre-teens – little ones are pretty easy to manage with love and diligence alone. But once their pre-pubescent attitudes started working overtime, without knowing it, I was seriously in over my head. I didn’t understand how to discipline without anger. I didn’t understand how to set limits without smothering. I didn’t understand the importance of listening more than, or at least as much as, you talk. And worst of all, my emotional problems probably contributed to my son’s drug addiction. All of this I REGRET. However, I never intentionally set out to mess him up, so I don’t feel GUILTY.

I know it’s hard to understand the subtle difference. Let me try to help some:

The Free Dictionary defines them as follows:

re·gret
v.tr.
1. To feel sorry, disappointed, or distressed about.
2. To remember with a feeling of loss or sorrow; mourn.
n.
1. A sense of loss and longing for someone or something gone.
2. A feeling of disappointment or distress about something that one wishes could be different.

guilt n.
1. The fact of being responsible for the commission of an offense.
2. Law Culpability for a crime or lesser breach of regulations that carries a legal penalty.
3. a. Remorseful awareness of having done something wrong.
b. Self-reproach for supposed inadequacy or wrongdoing.
4. Guilty conduct; sin.


Some examples of regret vs. guilt are:

- Doctors who, today, can save countless lives that would have been routinely lost 10 years ago. They regret that the cures weren’t found sooner, but they do not feel guilt over not having had the tools back then.
- Firemen who respond to homes with burglar bars blocking quick access, preventing them from saving the residents trapped inside, feel regret that they could not save the people, but they are not guilty of having killed anyone.
- Parents who were not parented themselves, or have mental/emotional problems, or physical disabilities, or financial troubles, or, or, or… but who still love their children and try, to the very best of their ability, to keep them safe and provide for their physical needs; to teach them right from wrong; to instill in them a sense of self-worth and self-pride; to hold them accountable for their actions. Parents who expect their children to go to school and get reasonably good grades, and to abide by the laws of civility and the courts. Parents who stay involved and continue to try, and care, and be there when their children falter in any of these – even when the child is pushing them away with every ounce of their being. Parents who recognize their shortcomings and acknowledge them and apologize for them and try to improve them. These parents have every right to regret some of the things they did not do because they were either unable to do them or didn’t know they should have done it differently. These parents are not, however, guilty of any sin or deliberate omission or malicious misconduct toward their children. They were just doing the best they could with what they had to work with at the time!

Understand, I am not defending myself here. I have done nothing to be defended for. What I am doing is telling all the whiney babies out there who want to keep blaming your parents, teachers, preachers, doctors, friends, neighbors, siblings, etc., etc., etc., for your problems, to GROW THE HECK UP, FIND A COUNSELOR, LEARN SOME NEW SKILLS, AND TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR LIFE AND YOUR FUTURE.

And I am telling all the parents out there who are paralyzed by guilt and fear to CUT IT OUT, GET A GRIP, FIND A COUNSELOR AND GET HELP! You only have something to feel guilty about if you don’t continually try to find new tools to use in the building of your child’s future. As long as you keep trying, loving, teaching, and supporting the little miscreants, it’s THEIR fault if they choose not to take the gifts you offer.

OK – stepping off my soap box now. Thanks for listening and I will miss those of you who now refuse to ever visit here again…. But I’ll sleep really well tonight.

Peace, Blessings, and Sweet Dreams to you, too!

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