I also told her about the argument that I had with my son's father. I could tell she had been through this sort of situation many times over. One parent is pro-meds and the other is not and somehow the parent not in favor of meds generally wins the argument. I also shared with her that my family was not very supportive of treatment as well. Her temperment changed and she seemed very short. I wasn't sure if it was me or the situation. I felt ashamed and embarrassed by her reaction and burst into tears. All that pent up stress just came flowing out. I was expecting sympathy when really I looked like another "Puppet Mom" letting the man make the decisions.

I told her just as I said I would in my last post. "I don't know what to do and my judgement is clouded by everyone else's opinions even though I know they don't have a clue what the hell they are talking about." I admitted to feeling confused and worried that I would make the wrong decision and everyone would be ready to hold it against me when and if things ever go wrong. 

In a nutshell, she gave me the same argument I give everyone else. If you had diabetes would you treat it? Luekemia? Broken arm? I told her that no one disputes the importance of treating such illnesses, but ADHD is some sort of conspiracy illness only kids with lazy moms get. She said ADHD gets bad press and there is a stigma attached to it's treatment. She was preaching to the choir! But, I guess I needed to hear her say it. To validate it for me. I don't know, it worked, but not completely. I agreed to change his current medication Clonidine to Tenex* and added a small dose of Prozac for OCD, but no "stimulants". She asked if anyone would be upset by the addition of Prozac. I said I thought it was a fair compromise.

She said, "Here's what I would do. When he starts acting up in school and the school calls YOU, you just direct them to his father. Let him deal with it and we'll see if that doesn't change his tune."

*I told the doctor than Clonidine still makes him sleepy every now and again and I was afraid if he continues to use it during the day while at school he would sleep through class. She suggested Tenex because it is just like Clonidine, but longer lasting and less sedating. I wonder why no one suggested it in the first place.

Some are easy to remember, such as always walk and never run around a pool. Some rules need probing, such as it's not okay to grab someone in the water if you need help.

I'm an instructor that doesn't like to take any skill for granted, and I've be thinking a lot lately about the importance of proper water entry and exit -- these pool safety rules can be easily missed. They often need a lot of reminding.

For example, always walk down the pool stairs. I've seen kids take a running leap over them. I've also seen parents lift and drop a resisting child onto the stairs -- and the first thing I make the child do is get out and get back in, properly.

I'm also surprised at the high number of kids who cannot climb out of the pool from the side. When kids resist or complain about this task, I give them a 360-view of the pool, explaining how the pool has four sides that go all the way around and only a small amount of stairs. It's a need-to-do activity for kids of all ages. Proper water entry and exit is important.

Feet first jumps belong in the shallow end, but it isn't exactly safe for children who can standing in chest-deep water to climb out and jump into that shallow area. The impact could cause an injury. I have kids measure themselves, and if their entire head and some shoulders are out of the water, I tell them to find a place where they aren't and to jump from there.

It goes without saying you should never jump or dive head first into the shallow end. Clarify using both 'dive' and 'jump.' No two kids are ever alike in their thinking. Cover your bases.

Always jump straight out, and after you've looked for any passing summers on both sides. Those new and somewhat fearful to jumping will try to turn and hold the edge as they fall. Not a good idea.

Most of all, if a non-swimming child of any age is jumping to a parent, the parent needs to 'cue' the child by saying 1~2~3! Do not allow your child to just jump whenever.

You can spend an entire lesson just covering proper water entry and exit safety rules. It's also something parents and can quiz kids on as well.

~~ Danni

"I'll be right back, Mom."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to get this party started."

Hope you get your party started, too. Have a great weekend!

Sleep deprivation is an epidemic with teens.  It can lead to problems in school work, job performance, driving, and relational problems with friends and parents.  It will also lead to anxiety and depression if not treated.  I know a lot of people believe they can get by, or do fine on just a few hours sleep.  Research shows different.  Teens need at least eight hours of sleep a night and some more to operate at peak performance levels in all areas of life.

Make sleep a priority.  Some tips that might help include:

• Go to bed earlier and get up earlier.  Some experts say that sleep before midnight is a higher quality level of sleep. 
• Make your sleep times as consistent as possible.  Get up and go to bed about the same time.  Your brain develops a personal clock and works better that way.  When you throw in a late nighter or an all nighter it takes more than one sleep cycle to make it up.
• Do things in the evening to start chillin out.  Work out in the morning and not the evenings.
• Exercise and better physical health helps you sleep better.  Being overweight is a cause for snoring and other discomforts that effect your sleep.
• Don't eat dinner later than 6:00 or 7:00pm if you can help it.
• Stay away from caffeine in the evening.  Coffee and the energy drinks that are popular are loaded with it.  If you are having trouble sleeping try taking caffeine out of your diet and see how you do.

These are just some tips.  You might google sleep to find some more help or you may need to see a doctor.

Having a hard time with life.  Make sure your getting enough sleep.

Now, sleeping too much, that is another problem.

The pool has not been well maintained this summer.  I just haven't had the time, energy or motivation to be at it every day like I've needed to.  I also haven't had the money since what little extra discretionary spending I've had has been dissolved quickly with car repairs.  I've had to stretch the chlorine and other chemicals to the point that they are beyond out before replenishing.  And, I haven't been consistent with, well, anything regarding pool maintenance.  I guess it is because I'm not just a little ticked off that my kids are perfectly content to let me work myself to death everyday even though I never get in and enjoy it with them.  "And why's that?" you might ask. "Because someone still has to do laundry, clean the garage, fix the meals, shop for groceries, see to it that cars are maintained and lawns watered, and that the kids are completing the few tasks each day that they are assigned."  Thank goodness one of those tasks is dishes, because I often think, one more thing these days, would just do me in.  Of course, I know intellectually it really wouldn't because I'm a survivor, but on a feeling level, that's just sometimes where I land momentarily.)

The lucky potion would have helped me today.  It would have advised me to phrase my announcement about going outside to work differently and it would have helped me change my own attitude about the whole process.  You see, I wasn't in the best of spirits to begin with myself.  I was feeling a bit unhappy (a whole blog to itself, I suppose, and a juicy one at that maybe), somewhat agitated and I think my children picked up on this and became agitated themselves.  The Luck Potion would have reminded me to approach the entire project as a fun thing to do together instead of the mess I was quickly making of it for all of us by being tense and edgy. 

The way the Lucky Potion works, at least as outlined in J.K. Rowling's sixth book, "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" is that it takes only two teaspoons but it does wear off after 24 hours. It makes you lucky, though, and anything you accomplish goes well for you.  Hmmm, what a thought.  If we had a lucky potion, what day would we use it for and what would we attempt to accomplish in that time?  No fair, making more.  It takes six months to brew the stuff.  Even so, the idea captured my imagination today as I finished the sixth book in the Harry Potter series.  (Note to readers:  One of my goals this summer was to read the entire series.  I started at the beginning of July and have read six of the seven books.  When I was out of town earlier this week, I picked up a hardbound copy of "The Deathly Hallows" for half price at a wonderful used book store only half a block from the Hilton that I stayed in.  No, I didn't stay on my own nickel.  It was a conference I was attending to prepare me to teach struggling 4th grade readers in the hopes that I, and I alone, can prevent them from being struggling 5th grade readers.  LOL!  Anyway, I will begin the 7th in the series today and I estimate I will finish by Monday evening at the latest.)  Back to pondering the Lucky Potion question:  What/when would you decide to use the Lucky Potion if you had just enough to last 24 hours and why? 

I think I'm just going to leave it at that and see what people suggest, if anything.  I'll include my own ponderings in a separate post.  I'd love to hear what others would do with the Lucky Potion if they could.

On the July 16 edition of his nationally syndicated radio show, Michael Savage claimed that autism is "[a] fraud, a racket." Savage went on to say, "I'll tell you what autism is. In 99 percent of the cases, it's a brat who hasn't been told to cut the act out. That's what autism is. What do you mean they scream and they're silent? They don't have a father around to tell them, 'Don't act like a moron. You'll get nowhere in life. Stop acting like a putz. Straighten up. Act like a man. Don't sit there crying and screaming, idiot.' " Savage concluded, "[I]f I behaved like a fool, my father called me a fool. And he said to me, 'Don't behave like a fool.' The worst thing he said -- 'Don't behave like a fool. Don't be anybody's dummy. Don't sound like an idiot. Don't act like a girl. Don't cry.' That's what I was raised with. That's what you should raise your children with. Stop with the sensitivity training. You're turning your son into a girl, and you're turning your nation into a nation of losers and beaten men. That's why we have the politicians we have."

He also called out minority families on faking asthma so their kids would get extra help in school and they'd get extra welfare.  It seems to me the reason people are getting so angry about these comments is because the truth is a very touchy subject.

Most people with mental disabilities have nothing wrong with them.  They are simply looking for an excuse to act up and act different than the norm of society.  While many physical handicaps are simply people trying to get better parking spaces.  If you saw them in the privacy of their own home, you'd be amazed at how well they can get around.

It is about time we stop coddling these people.  If they're looking for attention, we're simply making the matter worse.  If their goal is a better parking space or priority airplane seating any accomodations we make are simply going to encourage more people to fake it.  This is America--let's pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps.

Jan has placed two books in front of her on the table. One is Lyle, Lyle Crocodile (Houghton Mifflin, 1962), a handsome, award-winning hardcover book that she has checked out of the library. The other is Awesome Good Clean Jokes for Kids (Harvest House, 1992), a cheap mass-market paperback that she has just picked up at CVS.

She is trying to decide which book to review and is leaning toward Lyle, because she didn’t get it off a rack that also had books about iffy herbal remedies and end-of-the-world prophecies.

An 11-year-old girl named Olivia (not her real name) starts to walk by. She does not know Jan but stops instantly when she sees Awesome Good Clean Jokes for Kids.

OLIVIA: I love that book! There’s a really good joke on page 103. It’s in the “knock, knock” section.
JAN: Would you show it to me? (She opens the book to page 103.)
OlIVIA: There it is at the bottom of the page.
JAN: “Knock, knock. / Who’s there? / Noah. / Noah who? / Noah good place we can go for dinner?”
OLIVIA: That’s my favorite. I like another one on that page, too. The one about the turnip.
JAN: “Knock, knock. / Who’s there? / Turnip. / Turnip who? / Turnip the heat, it’s cold in here!”
OLIVIA: I like that one because I really like turnips.
JAN: Do you think other 11-year-olds would like this book? Or do you think it would be better for another age?
OLIVIA: I think some 11-year-olds would like it. But I think it’s best for about 6-year-olds. My brother is six, and it’s his favorite book. We had a copy of it already, but my mother had to go to CVS and buy him his personal copy.
JAN: Why do you think your brother likes it so much?
OLIVIA: He like all those silly things like Captain Underpants.

Bob Phillips's Awesome Good Clean Jokes for Kids (Harvest House, 207 pp., $4.99, paperback) also has riddles, daffy definitions, and many other kinds of jokes for ages 6 and up. It is available at drug- and other stores, including online and retail booksellers.

© 2008 Janice Harayda. All rights reserved.
www.janiceharayda.com and www.twitter.com/janiceharayda

Summer, you great dispenser of bored little children, your time is up!

 I would like to know who invented August, "the what do we do now?" month

the month that makes fed up mommies come to their knees screaming "I want my life back!" 

 Kids, your free days are numbered.  School will be in session eventually, and then...and then...the 9:30 bedtime is back! 

New friends will be made by them, and the "I'm boooooorrrreddd! " whine will stop. 

I'd rather deal with the "I don't wanna do my homework!!!" whine any day.

 Summer, you like to pick on the people who can't afford to go to Grammy and Grandpa's house and dump the unsuspecting little farts on the old people.

  Neither can we pawn them off on camp, or spend a zillion bucks putting them in cute cheerleader or karate outfits for 12 weeks.

 Aagggh... If I sound bitter I'm not it's just that...

Summer, you simply last way too long for those of us without money to love you... 

I think there should be two summer calenders: 

One for the coasts and the summer home people (the full 12 weeks) and one for the freakin' " Not a clean watering hole within' hours of driving"= states. (6 weeks).  

 Summer brings popscicle stains on the couch, blanket forts, wet towels hidden in closets, wet bathing suits put back in underwear drawers, eating dinner at 8 p.m. and children staying up until 2 a.m.

Summer brings heat, that children swear is melting them and they don't go out of the air conditioning, unless mommy promises them the pool all afternoon.

Listen up kids:  Your parents (some of us. hee hee)  are the last of the unspoiled generation. 

 Not only were we ORDERED outside in the summer heat, all day, we stayed outside, surviving only on popscicles and hose water. Sunblock was never an issue either, by the time August rolled around we were so dark, we looked like someone else's kids!

  When we went somewhere in the family car in the summer, there was no A/C.  we rolled down the windows fast but we still stuck to the VINYL seats like a grilled cheese being cooked on a skillet without enough butter!  

 Of course it's hot, you little crumbsnatchers,  it's SUMMER!    As your military mom and daddy would say:  Suck it up and drive on.

I was wrong. At lunch today, in the car, I fell apart. I had been holding it in since this morning when my son told me he wished he was dead. The Crohn's disease, the social isolation, the uncertainty of life has caused him to be anxious, depressed, and inclined to hurt himself.

This has happened more than once. And at 3 a.m. this morning, we were sitting on the bed crying together. Granted, he is sick. He says he has terrible insomnia and cannot sleep. I have been distracted by my own selfish dramas. Neither of us are doing well. But I decided right then, I had to do something. It was really hard to leave him and just go to work today.

He has tried two different antidepressants himself ... both with ill effects. I called the doctor and he advised that we take him to the hospital, which is what I was afraid of. They may admit him. And if that saves his life, he may hate me forever. But he'll be alive.

I feel like I am drowning in an emotinal whirlpool... and the last thing I was going to grab was a bottle of pills. But I've tried everything else. I've been crying every day for two weeks now. I have a lot of reasons to cry, but I can't solve anything that way.

I have no illusions that the pill I took is going to make me "happy"... or even help me for weeks. But I had to do something. I have to be able to think clearly, and look past my own sadness for a solution to this. I am not going to lose my son. No matter what I have to do. Even grown up. set an example, and follow my own doctor's instructions. I just hope it helps.

It's obvious to me I am not doing much better than he is. And I can't help him that way.

Angie, a child care teacher talks about the lack of standards in child care.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbm4qEC0rlk

Parents, are you looking for quality daycare or childcare?  Are you looking for someone who’s more than a babysitter?  Wondering what your states standards and regulations are?  Want your children to get a good early childhood education from a teacher who cares and is qualified?  Have you checked out your local Child Care Resource and Referral Agency (CCR&R) for quality childcare?

I hope by watching my videos I can offer some help and guidance for your childcare needs.

Stay tuned for more videos to come.

Angie

on the best thing about love:

on the most difficult conversation, talking to your kids about death:

One little tip from Randy: 

Keep a crayon in your pocket to remind yourself of being a child.

And a Quote:

"It's not about how to achieve your dreams, it's all about leading your life. If you lead your life in a right way, karma will take care of itself. And dreams will come to you."  — from The Last Lecture

For more on Randy Pausch and his legacy, go here. Randy Pausch died today, and he lived a life that inspired many. In my humble opinion, he was the type of man humanity should aspire to be more like.

I am now officially back from my holidays so it'll be back to regular blogging soon.  I don't really have much to say on current events as I got back from Dublin today and am still in a bit of a Gunness daze... but one thing I will say is how sick I am of hearing Mitch Winehouse talk about Amy all the bloody time. 

He seems like a nice enough bloke, but the tiniest little thing happens in Winehouse-World, and he's straight on the phone to a newspaper or radio station.  The girl needs to heal in peace, not have her father talking publicly about her jail-bird husband and drug habits.

Anyway, I saw the picture above (yeah they're posing with her waxwork figure- the real thing was probably shooting up in an alley somewhere), and just had to say it.  Mitch , go away and only come back out in the public eye when Amy's sorted herself out!

When I was about four years old, I took a tinker toy and plunged it through the seat of my grandparents leather recliner.  I wasn't intending to be bad, I just had a general curiosity in the whole experience.  I distinctly remember being more of an observer, rather than a participant; although some small voice was trying to tell me it was wrong.  My grandma was horrified, but I remember not being punished - and that haunts me.

When I was going through my divorce and recovering from the mess that had become my life, I would randomly drop by my grandma's house and have coffee with her.  I got off work in the mornings and I'd stop by her house around 10 am or so.  Neither of us were morning people and that time worked just fine.

"I remember she'd drink her coffee out of a big, green four-cup measuring cup"

I remember she'd drink her coffee out of a big, green four-cup measuring cup.  Sometimes she'd make me breakfast.  Comfort food, that was.  And we would talk.  I was amazed at how intelligent, gentile, and wise she was.  She was one of my best friends during a time when I was hanging out with not-so-wise people.  She never expected anything out of me; she just accepted me for who I was.

"I never realized the perspective of a parent"

Until this morning, I never realized the perspective a parent, or even a grandparent has.  I am so absolutely crazy about my darling daughter.  I've never loved anyone the way I love her.  It is jumping up and down, I'd do anything for her, radical love.  My parents had that kind of love for me, but they were always trying to shape me, mold me, change me - especially my Mom.  My grandmother just accepted me.

Today, as I write this, I am struck by the charge given me to mold and shape my daughter and then the reflection that what she needs most from me is acceptance.  There is a part of me that is fascinated by her growth, development, and fascination with the world around her.  There is another part of me that wants to put her in a jar and preserve this innocence and beauty forever.

On the day of my grandma's funeral, just moments after I presented a sketch of her life in front of 200 people, my great-aunt told me a secret about my grandmother.  The eagerness of which she revealed my grandmother's secret and illegal, back-alley abortion, when she was just 17 years old, tumbled out like unsatiated revenge.

"I don't know what purpose this 70 year-old revealed secret served"

I don't know what purpose this 70 year-old revealed secret served, but it didn't change the love and respect I had for this amazing woman in my life.  I had no secrets from her, and now, apparently, she had none from me either - even posthumously.  If anything, it put matters nto focus and raised my appreciation of the pain she walked with.

All my life, I've lived pretty much in the moment.  I've rejected the notion that I'm a sum of my parts, a sum of my past, and have prefered to look towards the vision of who I am becoming.  Most people that we meet don't see us that way.  They judge us for our reputation - either earned or myth.  My grandma never judged me for my past, instead, I was always the little boy who she loved without conditions.  Something she was never able to do with her five daughters.

As my darling daughter plays with the notes on our piano, I am struck by the mystery of maturation.  Would, if I could, keep her right where she is?  Would, if I could encourage her to new heights of imagination and achievement?  Would, if I could, be the best daddy I can be?

I'm called to be a Radical Dad.  I will do whatever it takes to give my kids the best foundation possible.  Life is hard and the pain and scars come without warning, so how can I best arm them with the skills necessary.  Not just to survive, but to thrive and live the abundant life.  I want my kids to laugh, to cry, to dance, and to mourn.  I want them to taste, and smell, and feel, and hear, and touch the world with fascination and curiousity.  I want them to be wise and hungry for knowledge and learning.  I want them to have empathy and humor.

What is a Radical Dad?  I am a Radical, unrepentant rebel of a Dad.  I will do whatever it takes to make sure my kids love themselves, love others, and love their Creator.  If that means pushing back against peer pressure, the culture, and broken systems, than I will.  If that means loving their mother more than I love myself, than I will.  If that means sucking up my ego, to let them become their own people, then I will.

I will be radically authentic, radically genuine, radically real, and radically transparent - all for the sake of my family.

Worldly success is fleeting, and I've already experienced it in many ways.  Seeing my kids live happy, productive, abundant lives - well, I can think of no better success and no better joy.

I know this happened a few days ago but I just heard about this last night from a friend.

She called me last night to ask me my opinion about the guy that was saying bad things about Autism.

I had no idea what she was talking about.

She warned and told me "When you hear what he had to say you are going to get so mad."

Mad was an understatement.

I was livid and disgusted!

I usually try to be understanding about other peoples' opinions.

But I have a hard time trying to accept peoples' comments when they act like they know exactly what they are talking about.

Especially when they have no clue!

So who is this ignorant person that got me so mad?

His name is Michael Savage. Hes a conservative talk show host.

According to him 99% of Autistic children are just brats.

Brats??!!!!

Obviously he has not spent a day with an autistic child.

The day you discover that your child has autism your life will never be the same.

I'm not going to sit here and write a whole blog about Autism because I am planning on writing a lot more about this topic but I will discuss a few things.

I am a single mother of an autistic child and it is very difficult to take care of a child with autism.

When my daughter has her tantrums they can last anywhere from a few minutes to up to several hours.

It's sad that people think that these children are intentionally getting upset to the point that they can't stop and can't control themselves.

While searching for schools for my daughter, I saw numerous children that would not make eye contact with their teachers or parents.

So I guess an ignorant person like Michael Salvage would think--

What a brat!! Look at that child ignoring his parents.

But they fail to understand that their parents do not think their children are brats.

These parents wish that their children had the mental capacity to actually be able to ignore them

But instead they have to realize that their child may never look at them directly in their face.

Their child might never give them a hug or say Mom or Dad I love you too.

I can only imagine how sad it must be for these parents.

I am fortunate that my daughter is affectionate. She knows and understands that I am her mother.

But she often gets confused about other family members. For example, she will stop and ask random females in the street are you my brother ?

Sometimes when she sees older people in the street walking she will say "Hello Grandma and Grandpa."

This would be cute and funny if she was 3-5 years old. But she's not. She is going to be 13 soon.

So I don't have to worry about typical teenage daughter issues like dating boys and wearing makeup.

But I do have to worry about things like :

Who is going to take care of her when I'm gone?

What's going to happen to her when she gets older?

How am I going to help her stop eating her hair and banging her head against the wall?

How can I help her understand what I'm trying to tell her?

Last but not least a question most parents of Autistic children ask

Why did this happen to us?

]]> http://imtina.wordpress.com/?p=383 Fri, 25 Jul 2008 20:28:00 +0000 imtina http://imtina.wordpress.com/?p=383 That Suzannah's room got the big re-do, Isabel told me that her room needed some spiffing up too. I rose to the challenge and started going through boxes and thinking about colors. I repositioned the crib and cleaned out the closet. Here is what we ended up doing.

1 yard oil cloth: $7.99
1 packet of doll house clothes pins: $1.99
Flower-Shaped placemats: $12.00
Redecorating with stuff I had around the house...PRICELESS!

This is the kiddie picnic table all done up with oil cloth which I love for kids' projects and under high chairs and picnics too. 

Got out all the doll dresses that I played with when I was a girl, some of which were my mom's doll dresses from the 1930's and 40's.  This is only fueling the ongoing vintage dress obsession. 

No, I didn't make this.  I got it about 6 months ago and it's from the Land of Nod catalog and I have coveted it ever since Suzannah was a toddler.  Yay for having two girls!  Izzy gets to lay in her crib and wake up to tiny doll dresses on her wall.  (Are you noticing a theme here????) 

The lighting on this is terrible, I understand.  But, if you can imagine buttery yellow flower-shaped placemats, then you can see what I've done with them.  I got out about a yard and a half of ribbon, glued on these flowers with fabric glue and about two hours later, I had an instant valance for a very plain window.  No sewing whatsoever.  I bought the placemats on deep discount not having any clue what I'd do with them.  I love it when things turn out to be a perfect thing for something you haven't even planned yet.  So now Isabel's room is very soft and warm and inviting.

Much is being said about a younger generation and their "social entrepreneurship." This group of high-energy, high output "Teach for America" types sees a problem and starts a non-profit. No doubt, the people social entrepreneurs serve will be better off for their efforts. Some of my best friends are social entrepreneur-types (or as a recent book described many of them, life entrepreneurs.)

Still, I'm sometimes exhausted at the thought that every challenge requires an all-out transformation of society. Some problems don't need a sustained systemic response, a full-time Ivy League trained founding executive director, and Bill and Melinda Gates funding.

Some problems demand that you do something and do it in the present tense. And with some sweat.

That's how friend Alice responded when her summer travels landed her on the shores of a highway-ending lake during Wisconsin's June floods. There she saw Jefferson County residents tackling the rising rivers and creeks and decided that she, with access to both USM hockey AND football players, would organize two rounds of assistance.

Armed with a cell phone, Alice coordinated a trip in mid-July with the hockey players and just yesterday with the football players.

And that's that. The Jefferson County sheriff and head of the county board (Thanks Sherry Schmeling!) might try to get some press in the local paper. But between that, and some follow up photos, we're done. No grant reporting. No press releases. No board meetings. Just a little less work for Jefferson County residents and, we hope, a sturdy dose of perspective for our kids.

For many years, I have led a Parents of Teens small group on Wednesday nights at our Church. In the current book we are using, the author shares a vulnerable moment from his parenting journey:  

“It happened unexpectedly, as it almost always does. She said very hesitantly that she needed to talk with me about something. She said it was about school; that she was in trouble. She was obviously very concerned about what she had to say to me. Even while she was making her introduction, my heart began to race. What had she done? How serious was it? How long had it been going on? What was I about to hear? I invited her to sit down with me and talk.

With her head bowed in an attempt to avoid eye contact, she handed me a crumpled piece of paper. “I got caught in English class giving this note to Samantha,” she said. “The teacher was very upset when he read it and made us go to Mrs. Long’s [the principal] office right away. Mrs. Long said that I had to show you the note tonight; then she wants to see you tomorrow. Then she will decide what she is going to do with us.”  I hadn’t yet read the note, but my mind again was racing as I held it wrinkled in my hand. This was my little baby. She had never been in trouble. She never behaved with a lack of respect for authority. I felt my idyllic world and my idealized view of my daughter being shattered.

I unwrinkled the paper and began to read its contents. It was brazenly offensive. It was disrespectful of authority. It used language that I could not believe would ever be in the mind of my sweet little girl, let alone written down to be passed to someone in a Christian school classroom! I felt myself flushed with a volatile combination of anger, grief, and embarrassment.

I was angry that she would dare to be so boldly rebellious and insensitive. We had faithfully schooled her in the truth. Was this the way she was going to thank us? How could she? At the same time I was grieved. A simple, sweet, uncomplicated world had suddenly died. It was over.  She was no longer the innocent little girl climbing up on Daddy’s lap begging to be told a story. She was no longer the playful little one squealing away as she tried to escape down the hallway from Daddy’s tickling hands. I wanted that world now.  I wanted the power to turn back the clock. I didn’t want to have to parent the person who wrote that note.  I wanted my little girl back.

There was, however, a third thing that I felt: embarrassment. I was well known in the Christian community. I was a pastor, seminary teacher, and counselor. I spoke at conferences about the Christian family and parenting. What would people think of me now? Some expert! Some example! I was filled with self-pity.  I wondered what the administration at the school thought when they got that note. I wondered what they thought about me.

I kept reading and re-reading the note as she sat there. I could not bring myself to believe that she had actually written it. I asked her again if she really had. I guess I was hoping that she would say that she hadn’t and that she was just covering for somebody else. But she had written it. The words had come from her mind and were written with her pen. She had written exactly what she wanted to say to her friend. There was no mistake here.

I wondered, too, if this was the “tip of the iceberg.” What other things was she “into” that we did not know about? What language did she use with friends that she would not think of using at home? Who was she hanging around with in school? How bad was her crowd? Where had she gone? What else had she done that we would soon hear about, that would further shatter the image of our girl we carried in our hearts? I felt conflicted. I wanted to know it all, yet I was afraid to ask for fear of what I might hear.

I don’t know how many minutes went by, but my thoughts were disturbed by her saying, “Dad, are you just going to sit there and stare at the note? Aren’t you going to say something?” I said with emotion, “Right now I don’t know what to say.” I followed by asking her if there was anything else she needed to tell me.

It is because of this kind of situation, (the unpredictability of the teen years and our own heart struggles in the face of them), that parents need a clear set of biblical goals that function as God-given guardrails to keep us on the road He wants us to travel. These situations can be greeted as moments of sovereignly given opportunity to shepherd the hearts God has exposed in our teenagers. Or they can become moments where a wedge of distance and anger is driven even more deeply between us and our teenage children.

Regulating Behavior

I am afraid that most parents of teenagers have the regulation of their teenagers’ behavior as their most basic goal.  They fear the big three vices of the teen years: drugs and alcohol, sex, and dropping out of school.  They want to do anything they can to keep these from happening. So they look for ways to control their teenagers’ behavior. They do whatever is necessary to maintain control of their choices and activities. They spend much of their time doing detective work. They are more like police than parents. They seek to motivate by guilt, by fear, or by manipulation. As parents we need to confess to the fear that causes us to try to do God’s job. 

It is a short-term victory at best to control the behavior of a teen whose heart is not submissive to God. Surely, the moment that he is out from under our system of control, he will begin to act in ways that are more consistent with the true thoughts and motives of his heart. …He will no longer do what is right, because the right that he did was forced on him by the external parental control. His heart had never changed.”

(From: Age of Opportunity: A Biblical Guide to Parenting Teens, Second Edition, by Paul David Tripp)

Audio Resource: “Rend Your Heart and Not Your Garments” Download Sermon (9.64 mb)

Scripture to consider:

Joel 2:13-15

 12 “Even now,” declares the LORD,
       “return to me with all your heart,
       with fasting and weeping and mourning.”

 13 Rend your heart
       and not your garments.
       Return to the LORD your God,
       for he is gracious and compassionate,
       slow to anger and abounding in love,
       and he relents from sending calamity.

 14 Who knows? He may turn and have pity
       and leave behind a blessing—
       grain offerings and drink offerings
       for the LORD your God.

Full Article (http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/asiapcf/07/24/odd.names/index.html)

"(CNN)-- A New Zealand judge has made a 9-year-old girl a ward of the court so that her name can be changed from Talula Does the Hula From Hawaii, the country's national news agency reported Thursday."

Other fun names in the story are as follows:

twins named Benson and Hedges

Number 16 Bus Shelter

Violence

and a man from the US Who recently changed his first name to "In God" and his last name to "We Trust"

I understand the desire to make your childs name unique,  you want them to stand out be original there are Hundreds of Thousands of "Mikes" or "Katies" out there, but come on people. This is irresponsible, its one thing for a creative play ground bully to come up with a creative new slogan to scar your children for life with. Its a whole other story when you serve it up on a silver platter

We've all seen that kid with the kool-aid mouth, and the redneck parents and thought "that poor kid doesn't even have a chance", but this is on a whole new level.

LeMonJello, Peek-a-boo, heck even Apple aren't bad when compared to "Number 16 bus Shelter" Seriously WTF?!

That kid just never had a chance

Post: "Whats the most unusual or unique name you've ever come across?"

"Natural One" by The Folk Implosion was part of the soundtrack for the movie "Kids".  Listening to the song on Youtube naturally reminded me of the movie, which I saw when it first came out in 1995.  The movie itself is disturbing.  I remember leaving the theatre feeling vaguely dirty, mostly because of some fairly graphic depictions of teenage sex, drug use and date rape.

Now I find the movie to be frightening.  Unlike say, Basketball Diaries which also came out in 1995, there is no silver lining to Kids.  The protagonist's native virtues or inner strengths do not rescue him from drug addiction and self destruction.  In fact there is no protagonist to Kids, just a group of teenagers destroying their lives as efficiently as posible.  As a parent that scares the shit out of me.

Despite that "Natural One" is a great song, even if the Youtube version robs it of some of its quality.

One of the best things about our camping trip this year was that our son can now really swim. That meant we weren't worrying, and more importantly he wasn't worrying, while we spent time at the lake. The life jacket, which had been a fixture of every camping trip for years, never even came out of the truck.

We spent every afternoon swimming, and he was fearless. Cannonballs, dives (ok, belly flops), back stroke, front crawl and everything in between. We swam out, we roughhoused, he played with other, older kids.

I was talking with some friends whose children are still younger and can't swim yet. And I realized what a difference his ability to swim made to this trip. It was wonderful, especially the joy and confidence on his face.

All those swim lessons were so worth it, buddy!

1.Uterine contractions that are increasing in intensity and duration. They should begin to come regularly every 10 minutes and they should start to be uncomfortable.

2. You loose your mucus plug. Look for a large and rather disgusting blob of mucus one day when you go to the bathroom.

3. Constant Backache can be a sign of Back Labor

4. Water Breaking. This is the best sign..can't miss it! If your water breaks or you think it has broken, call your doctor immediately. Usually doctors like you to deliver 24 hours after your water breaks.

5. If you have something important to do that day, or if there is a HUGE snow storm..chances are your baby will pick that day to be born..But Seriously, all jokes aside..rest assured knowing that no matter how your labor begins...you won't miss the ending and you will be there every step of the way.

On the off chance that I get him settled down and don't have to cook dinner, clean, run errands, pay bills, walk the dog, change the cat box, get some mysterious substance out of my hair, pacify the in laws, or have other pressing business to attend, I'm usually on the computer. This also happens on days like yesterday where Ian just wanted to cuddle in my lap all day. I like to spend embarresingly long amounts of time looking up random stuff. Yesterday it was bento boxes. Several hours of just looking for bento boxes, starting with ones for my sisters for school, then thinking Ian and I should have some for picnics now that I have my bike, followed by once again trying to find information on when asian children learn to use chopsticks and how they don't poke their eyes out like I know Ian would (still not success in my search). Today its my future christmas present. Unfortunatly I will most likely be getting the much cheaper version... but anything will make me happy! Even a french press! (which I might want anyways). I actually see a lot of people who want this sort of thing just to have it, then it sits and collects dust... it makes me cry. This is something i would use daily... a lot easier then running out for coffee, and tastier then my everyday drip (which I still drink happily!) Wouldn't that be a great way to get going in the morning, give myself an afternoon boost, and settle down in the evening? Also, I would -so- be one of those people who learns to make the foam designs in my cup of coffee... I bet I could figure out how to make a sunflower! Wouldn't that be fun! Anyways... I suppose that is enough of that for now... I havent been able to go out for coffee in a few days and I'm going to make myself cry.

Hmm... Now I'm thinking that today seems like a good day for a special mommy-Ian dinner. I don't have the car, but there is a little italian place I -love- that is in easy walking distance... maybe we will go if it doesn't rain. I like doing special things with my boy "just because". One of my earliest memories, I think was two or three, -maybe- four but I don't remember Casey being born yet... mommy took me to a special "fancy" just us dinner. I don't know if it really was a fancy place, or just nicer then fast food or Ryans, but I thought it was so nice! I remember being worried that they wouldn't serve milk, they did though. Mom had me ask, I think it made me feel like a big girl. Sorry, I know thats random... it's just funny the things that stick out to you.

Oh yeah! Rain! And that is why I always forget my plants. It kept raining so much, and they were getting overwatered, so I got to forget them for a while... now I have to try to remember them. Poor neglected plants... Who ever thought to try to give me anything to grow?!? Here I am thinking to myself how I need to water them... and it looks as though it will rain again. Go figure.

Now, she's not been feeling well all week.  Since she can't talk and therefore can't tell us exactly what's wrong, we're not sure what it is.  We're thinking she's caught what Daddy had at the end of last week (lots of trips to the bathroom and laying in bed).  I knew this, but she seemed to really want her bath first (I asked her several times, and every time I got a kiss as a response; as a general rule, a kiss usually means "yes").  I got the water ready and went back to the living room to get her.  She stood up, stretched, and kept her arms up.  Think a baby/toddler's non-verbal version of "uppies" - that's pretty much what she did.  So, laughing, I picked her up and carried her half-way down the hall to the bathroom before I had to put her down and make her walk.

I shouldn't have done that.  I should not have done that.

Tuesday morning I woke up in excruciating pain.  Which actually isn't such an unusual occurrence for me (I wake up with back pain every day; we really need a new bed), except that usually within 30 minutes to an hour, it usually goes away.  This?  Still hasn't gone away.  Just turning my head too far or too fast makes my back scream out in agony.

I'm pretty sure I pulled a muscle.  In the upper back, on my left hand side, between my shoulder blade and my spine.  Hubby keeps trying to crack my back - which usually works, for my every day "oh my god we need a new bed so badly" back pain - and I just end up screaming in agony.

Yet another reason why being the parent of a "special needs" child is NOT for wimps.  Y'all couldn't handle what we have to do.

Shit, half the time I don't know how *I* handle it.   Other than the fact that I've never known anything different in my life as a mother.  Number One Daughter is called that because she's my first - first child, period.  (Never did have a boy, although Hubby wanted one near desperately.)

Better go see if she wants out yet... and hope I don't pull my back again getting her out!