The Christmas Santa died

“Daddy, tell me the truth, is Santa for real?” That was the question that our youngest posed Christmas Eve. She was the first of our 5 children that actually asked directly for the truth. Up to this point, I had done my best with the elf on the shelf routine, but was honestly running out of new places to put him every single day! Ernie as we had named him had become lazy and not moved at all a couple of times! We had taken them to see Santa every year for the adorable picture although we focused more on the birth of Jesus as the reason for the season. But kids at school start to talk in second and third grade saying that it’s really your parents.  What’s a kid to believe? We decided that we needed to come clean on Christmas morning. But how? When? While eating breakfast after opening gifts, Eric asked if she remembered asking him a question last night. She now had no recollection; maybe just receiving gifts from Santa had something to do with it. No matter, Eric plowed ahead giving the history of St. Nicholas combined with the spirit of giving and fun ending with the horrible truth that Santa is indeed not real. Regret was written all over her face for asking and our son I could tell was devastated. I knew that he was the hold out true believer when he was agonizing over and whittling down his list before his visit to Santa. Later that day, he finally broke down in tears saying that he was mad at his sister for ruining Christmas by asking that question. She compassionately told him to “get over it!” At least he wasn’t blaming us for lying to them all these years! Really though, I was happy to see the two of them looking to us for the real story instead of believing what they heard at school. I pray that they will remember that truth is good. Sometimes the truth hurts, but they can count on us to tell them the truth.

Happy Children before the knowledge of Santa was made known to them

Smokin in the Boy's Room

The Middle School years I'm convinced were conceived by a dark and evil being for the sole purpose of a slow and painful torture. This is accomplished by erasing whatever feelings of competence or even mastery a parent may have acquired in previous years of parenting. Having raised two daughters, by and large successfully, I thought my second go round would be easier. Why I would think feeling marginalized and decidedly uncool would be easier to swallow, I do not know. All I know is that overnight I went from being a perfectly acceptable parent to an idoit parent while their peers just as suddenly became all knowing and wise. Spend 5 minutes in the company of 6th graders. I dare you to find much wisdom. This communication dead zone also comes at the very instant when their bodies are maturing at a much faster rate than their brains. Not a good combination if you ask me.

Not one to be discouraged for long, I harkened back to my own Jr. High years. Now you know just how far back we're talking. I recall taking my own stroll down stupid lane and found myself in a compromising situation to say the least. the year was 1973, the year of the great songs like Smokin in the Boy's room, Knock Three times, and American Pie (what in the world was that song about?). My normally sensible 13 yr.old self had my head turned by Wesley, a blue jean jacket/white t-shirt wearing bad boy. I'm fairly certain that he also smoked cigarettes.

It all began on a class geology field trip to Austin, Tx. While I learned not one thing about fossils, I learned plenty about Wesley on the way home on the bus all the way home. This consisted of no more than hand holding and I can only imagine our conversation, but it began my secret life which would eventually find me trying to sneak unsuccessfully into my house through my bedroom window! I was caught and punished and funny I don't remember anything else about Wesley after that.

Thankfully God had bigger plans for my life and I din't follow Wesley into a life of smoking and crime although I do enjoy wearing jean jackets. God remained faithful despite my stupidity. In fact, His mercies are new every morning. This cheers me because I know He will equip me with every good thing to do His will, the Middle School years not excluded. In short, having a Middle Schooler will bring you to your knees which is precisely the point and where I need to be.

He Ain't Heavy

For the first time in many years, we traveled to Texas for Thanksgiving. I typically visit Texas during the summer in the sweltering heat and on my last visit decided to wait until the weather was kinder. Turns out this was an excellent year to wait as Texas experienced a ridiculous number of consecutive days of over 100 degrees. No thank you!

Visiting family is always a dicey proposition. It can be very good or it can be very bad. Family is the group of people who know you the very best and if you are fortunate love you in spite of this fact. I am truly blessed because I count myself as one that is loved. How they show their love is altogether another story, but I have chosen to believe that they love me and I them.

I particularly enjoyed spending time with my two brothers, especially the three of us together. There is something about sharing a childhood with someone that bonds you forever, similar to veterans who survive a war and live to tell about it without the death part. Not that our childhood was a war zone, but let's just say we had some interesting times. In childhood, you pretty much have to roll with whatever comes your way. That's why it's nice to have some traveling companions with you on the rollercoaster ride. Even though they sometimes throw up all over you, like the summer when Mark got me fired from my job and that was after I had gotten him his job there! It was the one and only time I was fired but the scars remain. Or like the time he took the car from where I parked it when I was at the movies and went on a joy ride when he didn't have his driver's license yet. Siblings witness and perhaps even contribute to the forming of our personalities or at least they uncover them, depending on whether you are in the nature or nurture camp.

I adore both of my brothers who are as different as they come. On my visit home, I spent time sipping wine, snacking on Brie and crackers, playing cards with John, soft music playing in the background. At Mark's house I found myself hanging out outside by the grill surrounded by dead animal head trophies and his monster truck,laughing hysterically as he recounted events of our childhood. I couldn't be prouder of the men they have grown up to be or love them any more. So glad to have them in my life. I wouldn't even trade them for a sister.

Unexpected

I am very busy. I have one husband, three school aged children living in my house, and two grown daughters and one son-in-law living outside my house. The last thing I need in my life is a dog. Dogs are messy. Dogs are smelly. Dogs pee and poop. They need to be fed, watered, bathed, medicated, etc. I do not need a dog. This was my refrain for at least two years. We already had a fish to fill our pet quota, several of them as a matter of fact. I flatly refused to consider any pet in the rodent family. My children, like all children, still really wanted a dog. Finally Mr. Jakstadt decided it was time to get the kids a dog. I could see that I was clearly out numbered. The time had come for me to surrender and agree to get a dog.

Kristen, an animal lover, proposed a dog/share. Eureka! I love the idea. I would only have to do the dog thing for part of the time. She found a couple of canine prospects that as luck would have it would be at a pet adoption site the very next weekend. She filled out the necessary forms on-line which honestly we barely passed. Small Dog Rescue was a pet adoption organization with serious qualifications for those wanting to adopt a small dog. Nonetheless, we passed.

On Saturday, we all loaded into the SUV merely to go check things out. The voice of reason aka TVOR's position was that the trip was an expedition because after all we had yet to get a fence, a requirement for the small dog rescue people. We happened to see one of the workers walking Roxy in the parking lot and it was love at first sight! She was on the thin side and very subdued to say the least. She had been dropped off with one of her puppies although she was very young, a teen mom. I was immediately drawn to her quiet temperment as well as her adorable face. The kids didn't terrify her which I took as a good sign. She was the one. I instinctively knew that she would not last long and right I was. As I was paying for her, an irrate woman came up and declared that she had wanted Roxy and had only gone home to give her toddler a nap. You snooze, you lose. We brought her home to a fenceless unprepared house. We did manage to drop a wad of cash at Petco for everything one would need for a "mixed breed" dog.

I have never been an animal lover yet I was strangely drawn to Roxy. I found myself in strange positions like on the floor with her! She began to follow me everywhere I went in the house. One time I remember working out on the bike and she was trying to figure out a way to get beside me in between rotations of my foot on the pedal. All she wanted was to be was with me. One of the best things about her was her silence! She rarely barks and is fond of relaxing and sleeping. I didn't have to toss balls for her to chase, play tug of war with her or even walk her. Although I discovered that she loves going on walks which I love as well. We are perfectly suited to each other. Oh the kids like her too, but I have claimed her as my own. She won Eric's heart too and he may have a slight edge because he feeds her beef jerky, but this theory has not been tested. She is no longer on the thin side!

As I was walking her one day, I realized that there was nothing that she could give me or do for me. In fact she is completely dependent on me for food, shelter, humane treatment, flea and tick prevention, etc. She costs me money, time, yet I love providing all this for her. I realized that it was a picture of God's love for me. I am nothing but trouble for Him. I sin every single day and I'm slow to learn His truths and apply them to my life. I can give him nothing. He is God after all and needs nothing yet what He wants is for me to want to be with him. He wants me to spend time with Him,talk to Him, love what He loves, know Him.

His kindness disarmed me and reminded me that He loves giving good gifts just because. He is the perfect Father. No one knows us or loves us like our Heavenly Father. Thanks seems terribly inadequate for everything He has given me, but thank Him I will as often as I can.

Mirror, Mirror

I recently celebrated my birthday. I do realize this is a good thing to celebrate, the gift of another year of life, etc. I love talking to both of my parents on that day as they give me tidbits of information about the day of my birth like I was the biggest baby in the nursery that day, 9 lbs! Is that a good thing? If I had to survive on my own in the wild I suppose I would last a little longer than the average baby. What is decidedly not a good thing is the whole aging process that usually comes along with the birthdays. Getting older is oh so exciting and fun until when one day it isn't really. Looking at my reflection in the mirror has become especially unpleasant. It is strange to imagine yourself looking younger than you actually look. The question is what to do.

I began to realize that people on television that I know I watched when I was in elementary school look younger than me! What is their secret? good diet and excercise? Super genetics? True, some don't actually look human, but some look really good. Being a woman of action, I decided to go straight to the source and find out. It just so happens that my daughter Kristen starting working in a plastic surgeon's office. She began to educate me on all the latest treatments,of which there are many, to restore one's youthful appearance. This sounded encouraging so off I went for my free consultation. Of course I was secretly hoping that the doctor would tell me it is far too soon to even think about doing anything. I absolutely would not benefit from anything they had to offer. This was not the case, not by a long shot. He took one look at my face and told me about some very natural injectables that would help temporarily and then followed with what I really needed was a cheek lift! He told me in detail what happens to one's face over time and it's not pretty. I began to feel like Eve in the Garden of Eden when she was being tempted by the serpent. What harm could one or two syringes of very natural gel injected into your face do? They also showed me beautiful photos of women who had had the cheek lift. What's wrong with wanting to be restored to a more youthful appearance? Thankfully I'm a big chicken and said I wanted to think about it. Notwithstanding the rare occasional blindness (yikes!) from the substance going into the wrong place that I found on google, I had to examine the spiritual ramifications of how far one goes to look good on the outside. I had to face the fact that I'm terribly vain and do not like aging, especially when many women around me are not aging along with me.

As a Christian woman, we are told that beauty comes from within, a gentle and quiet spirit to be exact, wow. Unfortunately, I have been unable to find an injectable for these qualities. I realized that aging gracefully means accepting the process of aging and doing this without complaining. Easier said than done I say. Lord willing, I will have the chance to try.

The Driving Range

I've determined that the game of golf is the great equalizer. You need only to spend an hour at the driving range to find humans of any age, socio-economic status,gender,or size, attempting to loft a tiny golf ball into the air. This looks much easier on TV mind you. It is a very difficult and unnatural movement. Somehow one bends at the waist, while holding the golf club, raise our arms and swing, like a pendulum I'm told, hoping to make contact at just the right spot on the tiny golf ball on the ground. Some people do this well and some do not.

Some of us are there in our own private misery as swing after horrible swing does not achieve the desired result to send the golf ball long and straight. We are all mostly silent. Our extrememly chatty son is even quiet! He already knows this is serious business. I've noticed there's not much smiling either. I am not sure if golf is not supposed to be fun or if one is not supposed to show their enjoyment. One finds all sorts of people at the driving range. There are dads trying to teach their sons who may or may not be interested in learning. There are some very good golfers who do hit amazing shots. They try hard to appear super cool, but I can tell they are quite pleased. There are kids and teens whose spines are made of rubber and can twist completely around with no effort at all. They mostly just swing away, not much stress on their young faces. And there are men who seem to be competing with someone in their mind, probably themselves.
Our son loves the pagentry of golf, cleaning the golf clubs, putting the tees in the ground, getting water from the cooler, tucking his shirt in, wearing cool golf shoes, etc.

I have found several things I love about golf. I'm sure because I have so little of it in my life, I personally love the code of silence. I love the outdoors except when it's allergy season. I love walking the greens. I love the golf clothes. I love the time with Eric. I love the golf cart. I love the occasional ping that I hear when I do hit the golf ball. So I'll continue to play this mysterious game. Who knows maybe I'll improve! Then I can look super cool.

Changety Change Change

After a wonderfully relaxing summer and I use that term in the loosest sense, I was all set to begin a new school year. I was looking forward to a few changes in our family. I would have a new middle schooler which would mean my younger three would no longer be in the same school or on the same schedule. I must say round two of Middle School Open House was not nearly as stress inducing as round one with our two older girls. I really wanted to reassure the worried parents who surrounded me that they too would survive. They truly looked more worried than the students I have seen and ours said just driving by the school made her feel a little sick! Regardless, this was the biggest change I could foresee for the fall.

The first change that came my way was a part-time job for me! A position had come available in the spring that didn't materialize which I took rather well. I left it in God's hands and decided that it wasn't the right time. I then got a call shortly before school started for a part-time contract position at the same place! The job description/hours couldn't be more perfect and my boss and supervisor are wonderful. I'm hoping that it will continue but whatever time they can employ me is fine. God always has the perfect plan. The look of astonishment on the kids' faces when I told them was priceless. My son told Eric, "Did you know Mom got a job?" I'm not sure if he thought he was getting me in trouble or what. Eric took it like the wonderful husband that he is, even though his life is a bit stressful right now to say the least. He is happy for me and supportive. That leads me to change number two..

Eric's mom fell. Throughout my life, I had heard various people use this term in serious tones and it quite frankly puzzled me. My first thought was, that's unfortunate, but they get up right and go on their merry way. Thankfully I did not pursue nursing or the health care and healing industry in any capacity, right! What I have since learned is that falling for an older person is not the same as falling for a younger person at all. This set in motion unbelievable health and drug complications,panic phone calls,doctor visits,tests scheduled and taken,food prepared,and general care of her and my father-in-law. We are currently on week 4 of the crisis, but I'm sure that this is the first wave of more to come as both of our parents age. How to navigate this new change is uncharted for both of us. Of course, this crisis came at precisely the time when school was starting, I was starting a new job and all of Eric's projects at work were simultaneously screaming for his attention.

Coincidental? I think not. What we have here is a pop quiz. Am I prepared to make meatloaf at 8:00 A.M. with a good attitude? Am I prepared to hold down the fort while Eric is working weekends to make up for the missed work time? Only God knows if I will pass or fail, especially for the long haul. I am reminded that everything we do for them, we do not only for them but for God. Our parents cared for us when we were totally dependent on them and were not very interesting company as infants or even toddlers. They raised us in homes where we learned to love God, which is the very best gift they could give us! It warms my heart to see the goodness of my husband as he cares for his parents. I realized that the time spent with them and for them is more important than my to do list,really. Ultimately people,especially hurting people are very important to God. I can trust that God knows all the work deadlines and projects and everything else happening at our house. He will take care of them in a way that only the God of the Universe can do. What a relief!