The children were instructed to pick a theme for their time capsule, something important that would help the next generation to lead better lives.

"The children chose an AIDS theme," said Superintendent William Huntington. "They wanted to tell the next generation to be careful to avoid the disease, and to remember those who died from the illness."

Only two items were placed inside the time capsule before it was buried in the back of the school. The first was a bright-red ribbon with the single word "AIDS" on it. Controversially, the second item was a big box of assorted condoms.

"Some of the parents were angry when their children told them about the condoms," Huntington said. "But it's an integral part of the message to the next generation that says, 'Protect yourself from this disease.' And we believe that message will be appreciated by the children of the future."

Huntington said that no written note was left inside the time capsule, which should make the intended message much more powerful, because it will make future children think and talk about the time capsule's contents.

(Photo by Gary van der Merwe , Wikipedia)

Author's note: Special thanks to Skip Dekades of Future Update for his assistance in the creation of this story.

He won't eat breakfast because his stomach hurts.  Nerves, I'm sure.

*sad face*

He is so cute in his little uniform.  The size 4T shorts are HUGE on him.  Daddy got him dressed while I was dropping off Piper.  I came in & he asked for a belt.  He said, "If I have to run, my pants will fall down and the kids will laugh at me."  Thankfully, his wonderful Mommom bought him shorts with an adjustable waist.

He is so tiny for his age.  *sad face*  I hope he'll be ok...

CNN has an interesting article about child abuse in schools. Here is an extract:

More than 200,000 children were spanked or paddled in U.S. schools during the past school year, human rights groups reported Wednesday.

Every public school needs effective methods of discipline, but beating kids teaches violence, and it doesn't stop bad behavior," wrote Alice Farmer, the author of a joint report from Human Rights Watch and the American Civil Liberties Union. "Corporal punishment discourages learning, fails to deter future misbehavior and at times even provokes it."
Corporal punishment in schools remains legal in 21 U.S. states and is used frequently in 13: Missouri, Kentucky, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee and Florida, according to data received from the Office for Civil Rights at the U.S. Department of Education and cited in the report.

Copyright belongs to CNN and the full article can be read here

I've been up since sometime in the 4:00 hour.

I guess I'm excited.

Pictures to follow!

You have to check this place out! It's great! Kids can go in term time or in the holidays.

If only WE were kids again.... *sigh*

Here's a gallery.

I know. I haven't written to you in a long time. For that, I apologise. I've been very busy with school and all. However, I decided to come on today to tell you about something I learnt- from myself.

Today, after school, there was some events that took place which lead to my 'self discovery', events that I wish not repeat. There was this one conversation with a friend, however, that made me look deeper to who I was.

In front of many of my friends, I am dramatic. No. I am over dramatic and I over react. Trust me. You don't know the meaning of over dramatic until to meet me in person. I can take the smallest thing and make it a really big thing. I am very loud and I can be scary. I just never saw how scary I was until I had this talk with my friend. I have become so scary that there are secrets that even my closest friends don't trust me with. That hurts.

There are always excuses I made. " I am attention seeking". "I am really dramatic". '' I am just being me"."My past has caused me to be this way. I can't change it". In the eyes ( or this case ears) of all my friends, all they hear is "blah, blah, blah". I am going to give the real reason.

Me being over dramatic is my outer armour. Loud. Dramatic. Intimidating. Inside, well, there's just me. Basically, every time you read a post, you see me. Without the armour. Just so you know, everyone has an armour. Everyone knows that their armour is very brittle and can crumble to the ground time. They keep this armour up because they see everyone else has a seemingly strong armour and feel a need to protect themselves. They feel a need to be strong.

This armour is basically made of energy. I need to be loud and dramatic to be strong. You might need to push people around or gossip to feel strong. This energy that we use to make us strong is actually making us weaker in the eyes of the ones we care for the most. So what do we do?  Well, I am not going to change completely. I just have to channel my energy so that instead of it being a big brittle armour, it is a little less intimidating and may be my friends would trust me more than they do now.

May be you can channel your energy for something more constuctive.

With regards,
Cheyenne

I speak Swedish with my family - quite safe here in Israel, even though it happened a few times that I met people who understand Swedish.. and it went all weird and embarrassing and you start thinking What the heck did I talk about the last few minutes. I hope I didn't say anything bad.

When we don't want the kids to hear what we say.. when we want to plan things without their opinion - or just be able to talk without their comments about this and that - we speak English. Works fine! -this far. Though Efraim is curious and started asking a lot and is slowly slowly starting to learn a bit. He knows a lot more English than I did when I was ten and started studying English in school. That's one of the reasons we now started studying Spanish.. so we can switch to Spanish when the kids reach the level in English where they will actually understand what we're saying.

When we go to Sweden (which happened only once this far) we speak Hhebrew.. quite safe too. There are only a few situations where we really don't have any language that works.. and that's when the whole family is around.. with brothers and parents who understand both Hebrew and Swedish. And that's why we've got to add some more languages to our list!!

And I'm sure we'll be regulars. I'm buying more hand sanitizer now.

That is the explanation for the following post about an event that happened over a month ago.

ArtSpree! Whee!

Our first trip up to the Contemporary Museum, which is located on a stunning property - once a private residence - in Makiki Heights. ArtSpree is an annual event put on for children that allows them to engage with art through numerous activities and shows. I wasn't expecting much, but the combination of setting - the green hilly gardens out back of the gallery - with a sprawl of funky-fun activities (for which this big kid is just as much a sucker) was just about as good as it gets when it comes to free entertainment for the kids.

She was there in the seats, watching and cheering him on along with the rest of us. But she, like the rest of us moms, has always been there in the seats. And I'm sure he looked to her on the day of his very first race just like he looked to her when he won the big ones at the Olympics.

My three older children are in various sports activities. My oldest does Special Olympics. My two younger ones do gymnastics. They are soon to get into other activities that they enjoy. And I will be there. Always. Cheering them on. Encouraging them when they fall. Crying when they do well. And of course, crying when they fall. Debbie Phelps is not the only one with DP moments. That estrogen is a powerful hormone. :-)

So how can we mere mortals be like Olympian mom, Debbie Phelps? Should we run out and immediately sign our kids up for swimming or gymnastics or some other sport? Not at all. Don't do something just because it's popular. Find out what your child enjoys. It could be a sport, it could be art, math, singing - you catch my drift. Whatever floats their boat, encourage them. Enjoy it with them. If you can afford lessons or other extracurricular activities, help them get there. 

What if your kid doesn't like anything or has no obvious opinion? Pick something together and commit to trying it out for at least three months. In the first month, the activity will be hard and they will not be very good. They will want to quit. Don't let them! By the end of the second month, they will have gained some basic skills and will have had some success. By the end of the third month, they will be able to tell you, with some authority, whether or not they like the activity. I put my kids in karate and after a few months, they decided they didn't like karate. So I let them quit and try something else.

With gymnastics, my son had a really hard time in the beginning and he wanted to quit. But I told him he could quit after three months if he still wanted to but we committed to doing it for at least that amount of time. After three months, he was able to do things he couldn't do on the first day. Nine months later, he has progressed two levels and is really enjoying himself.

Our kids may never reach Olympic levels but that is not the point. The objective for them is to learn life lessons about teamwork, commitment, discipline, self-confidence and knowing that there is something in the world bigger than they are. 

Cheers to you Debbie Phelps! And cheers to you moms out there doing it and doing it well!

So I write about boogers. About bedtime rituals and birthdays. I blog our sleepless nights and our busy days. I share my rare flashes of parenting insight and the cute things kids say. Sex talks, sibling rivalry, pancakes, puke (did I mention puke?)—nothing is above or below my purview as a member of Team Procreation.

I am mommy. Hear me roar.

There was a time, when I was younger, that I feared becoming a mother. I was afraid of losing myself—of having my love of great literature usurped by a cultish devotion to Dr. Seuss, of trading in my stylish clothes for a uniform of baggy sweats with permanent spit-up stains, of not recognizing the girl in the mirror as the one who dreamed of travel and adventure and changing the world in some sweeping stroke of divine inspiration.

I’ve been a mother for a decade now, and I can honestly say that I haven’t been lost, as I feared, but found—transformed into the self I never knew I always wanted to be.

There have been changes, true.

I’ve learned that love truly does conquer all, including my fundamental aversion to handling other people’s body fluids.

I’ve rediscovered my inner child. Also, my inner chef, my inner therapist, and my inner drill sergeant.

I’ve uncovered fears that far eclipse the loss of my skinny jeans.

But in essentials, I’m very much the same as I ever was.

I still love great literature, but my definition of greatness has widened to include the likes of Seuss and Sendak, sandwiched cozily next to Bronte and Browning on our bookshelf.

I still enjoy a beautiful pair of shoes, or the perfect little black dress, but what I’m wearing isn’t nearly as important to me now as what I’m modeling for my children in my choices and actions. (And judging from pictures of the good old days, I wasn’t as stylish as I thought I was, anyway.)

I still love travel and adventure, but now every adventure is seen through the fresh eyes of childhood, wonder upon wonder, a mystery around every new corner.

Most of all, I still dream of changing the world, but I realize now that the change I envisioned will not sweep through on a grand gesture, but will creep tenderly in through the hearts that are growing beneath my care, hearts soaked daily in the waters of love, compassion, faith, and hope.

And the Divine inspiration? Well, I couldn’t do any of it without that.

So there it is.  I have a Mommy Blog, and I'm proud of it.  All hail the Mommy Blogger!  (Or at least don't throw anything...)

]]> http://lwann.wordpress.com/?p=336 Thu, 21 Aug 2008 07:08:03 +0000 lwann http://lwann.wordpress.com/?p=336 In my great-grandmother’s day, people lived side-by-side with death. It wasn’t unusual for children to die from diseases we consider to be fairly harmless today.

On our visit to Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky in the summer of 2006, David, the kids and I strolled through an older, slightly overgrown cemetery within the park. The wild, bright green grass contrasted with the weathered headstones. I read the names of the dead aloud to Ethan and Ava. Many were from an earlier time, although we did spot a marker for a soldier who had died in Iraq. One row of headstones struck me particularly hard. It was a row of children. Next to them lay the mother.

I wondered how she had survived the death of so many of her babies. Did she go insane? Did she dread each pregnancy? Or did she finally resign herself to the brutality of life? If only I’d known that my own sweaty boy, who was scampering through the field, would be with us for just two more years.

With each death, I imagine the mother tenderly washed and dressed the body of her child. As she did, she probably encouraged the child to enjoy the delights of heaven, and, I suspect, she soaked his small form with her tears and raged over why God wasn’t more merciful.

Having never dealt with the death of an immediate family member before, David and I did not know what to expect. All we knew is that you go to a funeral home and make arrangements.

We worked with a very caring undertaker at a family owned funeral home in Selma. Kevin was warm and friendly and visibly upset by our son’s death. He did everything he could to meet our wishes and prepare our son as we wanted. Knowing nothing about our son, he still managed to position Ethan’s hands the exact way he held them when he lay on his back. We are deeply grateful for the service Page’s Funeral Home provided.

However, my husband and I wished we could have prepared our son’s body. As a parent of a young child, you know your son or daughter more intimately than you know anyone else. You know every bump and mole. You’ve kissed every scrape and bruise. You’ve studied the curve of your child’s cheek when he’s asleep. You know the most ticklish spots and whether the glare is really a glare or just a lack of sleep. Because of this, we would have liked to lovingly bathe and dress him for the last time. Until I received a comment on my blog, I did not know this was an option. We could have chosen a home funeral.

In California, a business called Embracing Home Funerals (embracingfamilyhomefunerals.com) helps people prepare and preserve the bodies of their loved ones for home funerals.

This is an option that I think more parents like us would like to know is available.

Nasfim Haque is a film-maker at the BBC, conceiving program ideas and working as a producer/director. A Cambridge graduate, she joined the BBC in 2003, and her film projects have included "A Muslim in Wales: Qu’ran and Country" - she herself is Cardiff-born and of Bengali heritage.

In 2006 she won a BBC competition for first-time directors for her film "Don't panic, I'm Islamic", on attitudes towards Muslims in Britain. Nasfim notes that "as a Muslim myself, I feel Islam has recently been saddled with an image problem, quite unfairly in my opinion, so I wanted to twist this around to ask the real questions about religion in secular society."

Source
Part 2/4

Part 3/4

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AIM Magazine

Giving Islam a positive spin on television by Kalpana Mistry (March 27, 2006)

What would you do if you thought your religion had a terrible image problem in the media? Take the media route and try a re-branding exercise maybe?

Spin some positive PR possibly?

This is the route that writer Nasfim Haque will take in a hour-long documentary on next week in a comic attempt to become a PR woman for Islam.

Under the guise of her company Jihad Media, she sets off to show the religion in a positive light while trying to enlist the help of well known TV personalities.

She says: "As a Muslim myself, I feel Islam has recently been saddled with an image problem, quite unfairly in my opinion, so I wanted to twist this around to ask the real questions about religion in secular society."

'Don't Panic I'm Islamic' will see her ask publicist Max Clifford for advice; get Bernard Manning to make her Muslim Kurdish protйgй funny; try and persuade ITV to make Face for Islam a rival to X factor; get Trouble TV to fall for Mighty Mecca Morphing Muslims as a rival to The Simpsons; put together a National Muslims are Nice day and more.

Ms Haque says she wanted to test if the British public would buy Islam if it was sold to them in an attractive way and a subtle dig at lazy media stereotypes with a provocative message underneath it all.

"I wanted to know what lengths I needed to go to to get non-Muslims to see Islam in a good light and ask whether Islam does sit comfortably in Britain today," she says. "As a Muslim myself it is important that people see that Islam isn't an oppressive, obsolete or an unintelligent way of life, and that Muslims aren't always the problem."

She feels that the media has, since the July terrorist attacks last year, painted most simplistically Muslims as either victims or aggressors. She wanted to make a film where her faith Islam was viewed with wit and warmth "rather than pegged to terror attacks".

The 28 year old has been working at BBC Wales for the past three years, starting initially as a trainee. After hassling the commissioners with lots of ideas she got the project off the ground a year ago with some money and 60 minutes of air time on local TV. It then came to the attention of BBC Three.

So what advice would she give to other potential newcomers to the industry?

"When I started I remember being told by a wise old sage that ideas are currency in TV, so keep generating incongruous ideas but don’t think too hard about them. Also become a superhack and persist. I have been told I am 'nicely pushy' but I don’t think that’s a bad thing!"

Will the positive spin on Islam take off or will she discover that Islam and Britain don't really mix? She says it will be a fully 'fatwa-free zone'.

Nasfim Haque has written, directed and presented the documentary.

It's not a bucket list.  I'm way too young for that.  

 It's just some things I'd love to do that I've never done. 

  It's a given that most of these indeed could have been enjoyed at some point already, and not just because of the normal reasons one might think like oh, laziness or indifference, or say lack of time.

  I've had way more time than any one person should be allowed. 

There are two people in my life, well 3 if you count one as a couple, that I've had the wonderful experience of being friends with.

  Rich (and Gina)  and Viviane. 

 Rich for my 43rd birthday took me and the gurlz (platonically of course  Because Rich does NOT like tomatoes, which is an inside joke, sorry.)

to the most awesome park with rollercoaster, mini golf, squirt gun boats, rides, games and go carts. 

 I rode a roller coaster for the first time since age 12 or so.  We played like 5 year olds for a couple hours--IN THE RAIN>we had no "grown ups" to tell us to come in from the rain.

   Rich and Gina and I played tag in the dark, we looked at the moon through Rich's telescope. We played  in the street, way after dark *gasp* thank God for cul-de-sacs.  With reckless abandon, we laugh and eat in some kind of spontaneous slumber party (get your mind out of the gutter)

  With his son trevor we all go to the park (and Trevor is a very lucky kid to have a papa like Rich.)  We ride scooters like kids, blow bubbles, throw a ball around and eat way too much candy.

  I know.  I know, 

grown ups being kids.  By the way, we didn't taint it with alcohol or any other limiting factor.

No anal people could ever handle such an excursion!

Rich gave me back a little of my childhood, where someone who had given birth to me had once ripped it from me.  That's the thing.

 One day, we go to a house.  It's one of those models they put up to show you what someone can build you for a dream home.  We take pictures.  Lots of pictures.  We pose in there like IT'S OUR HOUSE.  Complete abandonment of "issues" with life, utter contentment, you should try it.

    Viviane.  The great energizer.  We went to the circus.  Again, like little kids. (why oh why do all Pisces children grow backwards in age?)  It was the first time, I had ever been to the circus in my life.

  She's so alive with every one who meets her. We go to the beach, in Florida, we have been together about 13 years as friends. As an Labor and Delivery nurse  She was there when I delivered  big "A" into this world.

  All 3 of them possibly without knowing, have led me on wonderful excursions all because they are adventuresome, vivacious, and what I consider normal people, as opposed to the couch squatters of America.

  Speaking of America.  I'm really ashamed. 

I have spent 43 years born a good ol' American girl and I haven't ever done some of these things.  You know, it's possibly a crime, being the land of the free and the home of the brave and all. 

 Sweetiegirlz is brave, ya'll.  I've done a lot of brave things.  But I feel the need to make a list, and it ain't no bucket list, no ma'am or sirs.

  It's a " _ u ck e t"  list!  (insert your own letter) ;-)

1)  I have never seen a major league game of any sport.  I like watching sports. 

2)  I have never been to see a play on broadway, or Vegas, or anywhere else professional plays are put on.

3)  I have never learned to surf.

4)  I have never kissed a man whom I was truly, madly, deeply in love with.

5)  I have never spent the night on the beach before the mighty ocean.

6)  I have never had a birthday party past the age of 7.

7)  I have never gotten a tattoo

8)  I have never seen a concert of any band who is nationally recognizable.(rock, pop, r and b or otherwise)

9)  I have never been to an ART museum.

10)  I have never sung a solo though I have been in many choirs.

Can you believe it? 

But the time has come. E2 is vastly improved now that we have cut her allergens out of my diet, and she is finally finally finally giving me some good nights' sleep -- at least three times a week now, I get as much as five or six (or occasionally seven!) hours in a row. But more than that is the fact that I am embarrassed that E1 is still drinking from a bottle. She is big for her age -- she was in clothes for four year olds when she was only two -- and people assume she's older than she is. So it looks really quite wrong to see her with a bottle stuck in her mouth. It's time.

Her bottle is more than a mere container to her, though -- it's a habit ...and a comfort. It's what she's been doing for as long as she can remember, and she is very very attached to it. The first time I offered her milk in a sippy cup several months ago, her reaction stunned me. She was beside herself -- wracked with sobs and actually panicking at this unexpected change. There was nothing I could do to console her -- and I tried everything in my repertoire -- except to back off and let her have her bottle again, which is what I eventually did. And all subsequent attempts got no further.

But yesterday, walking around the county fair, I was embarrassed. People were staring at my daughter -- people wearing clothes that gave damning testimony to their own sense of appropriateness were staring at my daughter ...and then shifting their contemptuous gazes to me. "Drink it! Drink it quick!" I hissed over the back of the pushchair, as I hunted for a less conspicuous area to duck into until the offending bottle could be hidden away again. We left the fair with my maternal pride dented and my resolve renewed.

She had her first-thing milk this morning in a bottle, as usual -- no sense in trying to start this off when she's sleepy to boot -- but I explained that her next milk would be in a cup, like Mummy's drinks are. "No cup," she said with calm determination. I explained it several more times as the morning when on, and her reply never changed, "No cup." I lifted my eyes to the heavens as my heart sank through the floor -- I did not want the fight.

What was I going to do to make this work? How was I going to get round her resistance? I could forsee only another fruitless battle of wills, when I suddenly had an idea. "Shoes on, girls!" I called out, and they looked up from their toys, perplexed. "I fancy a coffee," I explained, as I bundled them in the car and began madly clicking their seatbelts into place. As I backed out of the garage, I could see their faces in the rearview mirror, pictures of complete confusion at their mother's sudden burst of activity.

At the coffee shop, I asked for my decaf in a paper cup with a no-spill lid, and then settled us down at a table. "Mmmmm..." I said dramatically, as I took a sip through the tiny hole in the lid. "Mummy's coffee in a cup!" I reached into my bag. "A cup just like your milk!" I said with lashings of enthusiasm and a lot of nervous hope. She looked at the sippy cup I produced with a stony expression, and then at my cup, and then up at my face. Ah, she got it now -- Mummy'd been sussed, and E1 wasn't best pleased.

I felt the tide turning, so I quickly pulled out the second line of attack: a piece of her favourite fruit leather. She brightened immediately, and I tore off a small piece and handed it to her. "No!" she exclaimed with a look of horror. "Don't tear it! Let me have it!" What on earth was Mummy thinking, feeding her little pieces like that?

But I'm no fool. "Drink your milk first," I said, and watched her weigh up the options. Then she picked up the sippy cup and took a good drink. She put the cup down, held out her hand, and I deposited a small square of fruit. She protested again that she wanted the whole thing, but I stood firm and, before long, we settled into a nice rhythm: milk, fruit, milk fruit... I occasionally pointed out with glee that we were both drinking from cups and her enthusiasm grew.  Eventually she broke into a wide milky grin despite herself, dribbling a bit onto her dress. We were both enjoying this now, and she was downright excited by the time we got in the car to come home. "Mummy, we had coffee together!" I was just as pleased, and it showed as I praised her profusely: Yes, my dear, we certainly did!

When I woke her from her nap later in the afternoon, her first words were, "No cup. Milk in a bottle!" She protested at first when I told her it was in a cup, and then gave up, happier to do without it altogether than to drink it from a cup again. At dinner, I quietly put the sippy cup on the table and we both carefully ignored it all through the meal.

And then, after dinner, she picked it up and began drinking -- and carried on drinking (with the occasional prompting) until it was done. Just like that. I praised her more casually this time -- as if this was exactly what I'd expected all along -- but, inside, I was over the moon.

So now, three cups and one bottle are filled and in the fridge, ready for tomorrow. No doubt there will be more battles before this is finally over, but today was a good start -- a better start than I'd expected. And hey, if it takes me going to the coffee shop for a nice relaxed cuppa with my daughters every single day, that'll be just fine too.

And oh so ready for it, too.

One more here, just because I can.

JD: I'm going to tell Laura(our neighbor) that Curious George has a crap in his foot.
Me: A what?
JD: A crap
Me: A what?!
JD: A crap
Me: Oh, a cramp
JD: No, a crap. Oh, I mean a cramp in his foot.

Tim

In 5 days time we went to:

Friday-

Cottonwood mall (to get some stuffed animals from the Disney Store to add to her collection)

Chuck E Cheese- Where an adult can be a kid

Saturday-

the Rio Grand Zoo and Aquarium-Which would have been nice to see if we hadn't been so rushed, didn't get to enjoy it.

had a BBQ, and confused the little barn swallows on my front porch, they flew in my front door and we couldn't get them out of the house. I thought they were going to have heart attacks...poor birds.

Sunday-

made home made spaghetti sauce-that took up an entire day.

Monday-

went to Old Town-Where she had an old time photo made of her and her daddy and left me sitting outside...was ready to leave them there

The Sandia Tram-still mad about the old town thing... I was tempted to push her over the side of the mountain, but didn't...I just kept my distance and enjoyed the view.

A Casino- for lunch at a buffet and by this time I was too tired and sore to play slots

Bowling and Pizza

Tuesday-

David, Elaina, and Ron (her husband) went to Santa Fe, Camel Rock, and somewhere up in the mountains by Espanola. I would have gone, but my hip and back were in such knots (From the previous activities) that I could barely walk and she threw a fit when I told David I wanted to go with them, she cried and told David and Ron that she wanted her Daddy all to herself, which made me angry. I was happy when she left.

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

Last Friday we got a call from Elaina, they are coming for a visit in October, The 23-28. Ron's birthday is the 24th and their wedding anniversary is the same day. I figured we would go out somewhere nice and have a nice dinner to celebrate. She called me this morning and told me that she made a reservation for us to go to...are your ready for this...Chuck E. Cheese! I cannot believe that these people want to spend his birthday and their anniversary at a kids pizza place...he is 30 something. Then I was walking around Hobby Lobby this morning, looking at scrapbook paper when I came across a Chuck E. Cheese scrapbook kit...I could not believe my eyes. Then the little wheels started turning in my head, the bad ones...I should get that Chuck E. Cheese scrapbook kit and give it to them with a scrapbook for their anniversary\birthday...just to be a smarty pants.

I am sure the plans will get more interesting as the days get closer for my step daughter to arrive. I am praying it will be nothing like last time. Oh, and my birthday is October 27 and she will be here for it...I Wish gramma was here to celebrate with me this year.