I Want To Stand FOR Something

You go to a restaurant with 10 friends, when it’s time for dessert, 5 order ice cream and the other 5 order pineapple upside down cake.  You have sensitive teeth and ice cream causes pain, and you allergic to pineapple, so what do you order?  Of course you order the apple pie, I mean, really, is there even a second thought?  

Why do we put less thought process in who we exercise our right to vote for than we do in picking our dessert?

While we are not yet nearly done with the primary elections, the country seems to already moved on to the general elections with assumptions of who will be nominated.  From what I can tell, neither of those people are supported by the majority of their own party, much less by Americans in general.  In fact, many people really abhor them (for good reason, if you ask me) and don’t want either as President.  However, even more, they just don’t want the other one to win.

One of the candidates is running with a campaign with talking points about making American great again and getting our country back.  I’ll skip over, for now, the fact that our country still IS great and, um, it’s still here, under American control, but you know what is not so “great” about our country right now?  That our choices are so poor that the majority of people aren’t voting FOR someone, they are only voting AGAINST someone.  Is this the best we have to offer?  Have we as Americans become so jaded and determined to tear everyone down that we’ve scared off the good people from running?

Many people think this is the election that will make some big, mostly undefined, changes for good or for bad in our country and think this will be some kind of turning point.  Those same people, they are trying to convince you to vote for the candidate with the “R” so the “D” won’t win, or to vote for the one with the “D” so the “R” won’t win.  They don’t tell you why should vote FOR that candidate, only that you can’t let the other letter win.  We’re playing middle school playground mean girl politics.

If you really do stand behind one of the main party candidates, vote for them.  If you really want to make a change the landscape of our government, and not just exact revenge on the people you blame for your misery, quit ordering the ice cream or the pineapple upside down cake just because that is what everyone else is doing, or because that friend who talked behind your back ordered the opposite.  There are 3^rd party candidates.  Look into them.  You might find that one is everything you are looking for.  If people quit analyzing what the person sitting next to them is choosing, the apple pie just might be the most popular dessert on the menu.

We’re told that voting for a third party is a “wasted vote,” but if you ask me, voting for someone you can’t stand just so someone else doesn’t win is wasted freedom. 

Stop giving your freedom away.  I know I won’t.  That’s why they have wine, because a glass tastes even greater after you’ve done something you can feel good about.

Shades of Gray

Life isn’t black and white.  I think that’s why they made color TV, so we could see all the nuances.  If only we could train our brains to see the colors.

Politically, I’m a bit towards the conservative side, but I don’t always agree with the conservative view (as my conversations tonight could certainly attest to).  I consider myself Libertarian as that is the political philosophy that seems to most align with my beliefs, but even then I don’t always agree.  I look at issues, and decide for myself what I think of them individually.  I don’t care if there is an R, a D, or neither next to the name of the person proposing a bill or running for office.  I have MY beliefs, and I really don’t care what organization endorses them.

Tonight I was discussing the elections with friends, friends who for the most part share most of my beliefs.  On a few issues, however, we certainly are far apart.

One of those issues was immigration.  I do believe that we need to control who comes into our country, and stop illegal immigration.  I do understand that most people come here because they are looking for a better life.  I do think that if you chose to come here illegally, it is not right to have you stay here ahead of those that went through the legal processes, in fact it is insulting to those who came here legally.

But I also believe that there is space between the black and the white.  Every rule has an exception, and we need to be able to account for those.  We may cheer at the notion of building a wall and somehow miraculously rounding up thousands of people in a few days and sending them back to where they came, but we’re not actually thinking about reality.

What do you do with the child who came here as an infant with parents that came here illegally, and obtained illegal documents, who 40 years later has no idea they are an illegal citizen?  Yep, you can be like some people I talked with today and deny that scenario ever happens, but that doesn’t help the thousands of people that the situation likely actually applies to.  Yes, some people come here for “handouts” or because they are criminals, but most people, just like your ancestors, came here because they wanted a better life than they could have where they came from.  So that child who is now 40, with a family, friends, job, and productive member of society, who only knows what it is like to be an American and has no life  their native country, what do you do?  Do you just tell them, “Too bad, so sad, you will be out of here tomorrow,” or do you give them a chance and a window of time to gain citizenship?  Sure, there is bureaucracy involved in helping them stay, but there is in kicking them out too.

And don’t even get me started on how we supposedly need to keep out all Muslims because a handful of them might be bad.  Wasn’t freedom of religion one of the things this country was founded on?  Should we make sure to ban all people from countries that have any Muslim citizens, wouldn’t that make us stop immigration altogether?  Yes, I understand that there are terrorists, and some of them are Muslim.  Some of them, however, are the sons and daughters of lily white people who have lived here in the United States for 5 or 6 or some number of generations.  Yes, we should vet people who choose to come here, but banning entire nations of people also bans the people who are escaping persecution from the same people we are trying to protect ourselves from.  And maybe I shouldn’t mention that a certain charismatic, egomaniac leader already tried this with another religion.

Things aren’t always black and white.  Building walls is only an attempt to hide from our problems and pretend they don’t exist.

If you really want to make a difference in how your country is run, choose a leader who will let all American’s have a voice by allowing our government to work as it is designed, and not someone who will dictate by executive order to only represent either their party or just themselves.  And when you have an opportunity to vote locally, for local and state government and your representatives in the house and the senate, take an hour and Google, see what your candidates stand for, and vote for those who represent what you think.  If you want to see real change, the congressional level is key.

In the mean time, I’ll listen to people explaining why they are voting for a President because they don’t like Congress, or because there is a certain letter next to their name, or because they believe our Constitution is something to be ignored if it gets them what they want.

That’s why they have wine.  

I Just Don't Get It

I feel like we’ve gone backwards.

When I was a little girl, no one ever made sure I felt “pretty.”  Concerns about what I ate or what I weighed were for health purposes.  My hair was cut to a style to make it easy to take care of my baby fine hair with no one having to gently pull out the knots at the ends each morning that otherwise occurred from sleeping . No one worried about when I would finally get a boyfriend or when I would get married.  Clothes were purchased based on quality, comfort, and, for me, if they were purple.   The only makeup I was allowed to wear in high school was pressed powder and neutral eye shadow.

In other words, I was never taught that what I looked like was important.

Rather, I grew up learning to embrace my athleticism, my passion for reading, my ability to do complex algebra problems in my head.  I was taught that I deserved respect, and also to respect myself.  I learned to be choosy with my friends, to look for people with good character and integrity to keep in my circle.  I was raised to see everyone for what was on the inside, especially myself.  I was taught to love myself for all my strengths, and despite any flaws. I was never told I needed to prove to be equal to a man, I was shown I already was and to live as such.  

I knew that attention from a man was not what gave me worth, that one that wanted a relationship with me needed to deserve to have a relationship with me, and that “me” was not what I looked like,  how much skin I showed, or my breast size.  Me was my perfectionism, my ever present sarcasm, my love of cooking, my tightwad qualities, my need for alone time, my drive, my propensity for using words you may not know in everyday conversation, my love of art and Disney and animals and knowledge….

I was taught to be so much more than a sexual object.

Perhaps what you learn really does color your world, because today I’m supposed to be happy that a “curvy” woman is on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition, and I just don’t get it.  I am supposed to feel empowered over the fact that it is now acceptable to objectify more body types, and even more ecstatic that women are now proud to be objectified.  I am supposed to be joyful that this is just the beginning and maybe one day a 48 year old woman like me can get naked and pose on all fours for a national magazine cover so men will think of me when they are with their significant other, because that is now what gives you worth as a woman.

Call me when everyone else feels good about themselves with their hair in a messy ponytail, their feet in their favorite Crocs, in jeans and a sweatshirt that keeps them from being cold when everyone else thinks it’s hot, sitting next to their family who loves them for their witty insults and their ability to do the income taxes, not caring if some stranger finds their body type to be “hot.”  To me that is what empowerment is, being respected for your soul.

In the mean time, that’s why they have wine. 

We're Running Out of Time

My son, Aiden, has played baseball since he was 6.  He is now 14.  Officially, fall season ended in November, and Spring starts next week.  In reality, there has been no break, with practices 3-4 times a week, and they even played a practice game on Thursday.

Yesterday morning, one of my rare days to sleep in, I was awoken by a text telling me he was supposed to have been at practice 9 minutes earlier.  Yep, I know, and I had left a voice message for the coach the day before letting him know that Aiden wouldn’t be at practice, which apparently wasn’t checked.  You see, Aiden would be at his dad’s house for the weekend, and they had plans, and tickets, to go to a college softball game.

Right now there are some sports parents aghast that I find that to be a reasonable excuse to miss practice.  And honestly, for 8 years, he probably only missed practice less than a handful of times, only for being sick or because there was a school event he needed to attend, even when he was playing on two teams one season, because I had that attitude too.

This year, however, in the midst of him getting taller than me, needing shoes 4 sizes bigger than the year before, and figuring out what high school he would attend next year, it hit me.  We’re running out of time.  Running out of time where he is going to still want to do things with his family instead of friends.  Running out of time before he leaves for college.  Running out of time to enrich his life with things other than baseball.  Running out of time to just spend time together.

There are so many vacations we have wanted to take and haven’t because of baseball – because there wasn’t time due to the All Star season, because there wasn’t money or spare vacation days from work because he played in Cooperstown, because sometimes we don’t know the game schedule till the day before the game.  There are so many weekends with his father, who he is only with every other weekend, that were spent completely at baseball tournaments, rarely having the chance to do the other things fathers and sons like to bond over.

There are times when, though it is his passion, he gets burnt out and hates baseball.  I used to make him tough it out.  This year, we’ve missed practices and even a game to go to Disney World for a few days and refresh.

While for some families, baseball may be their whole world and they like it that way, for ours it is not. For my son it is his passion, he wants to take it as far as he can, but he still wants to be a regular kid.  I suspect there are other kids who feel the same way, and are afraid to tell their parents.

Don’t miss out on opportunities to share the rest of the world with your child.  Life, childhood, time goes by really, really fast and we can’t get any of it back or do any of it over.

Soon our kids will be all grown up.  That’s why they have wine.

Some Things Never Change. Sometimes They Have To.

Some things never change.  Sometimes they have to.

I just stood there filled with anxiety, heart racing, face turned, eyes squinted, spoon pushed against the seam, just like I did the first time 40 years ago.  Yes, I was opening a can of crescent rolls.  To make probably the same thing I made that day, crescent roll wrapped hot dogs, the gourmet food of the 1970’s.  And of course I jumped when the can popped, the same way I have a hundred times.

Today, however, instead of a package of mystery meat hot dogs that cost less than $1, these were $5 organic turkey dogs.  Turkey dogs because those are the hot dogs my 14 year old likes, and if you give him other than that, he makes that same face you make when you take a sip of milk when you were expecting a Coke when he takes his first bite, because it is not what he was anticipating. 

Some things stay the same, some things don’t.

Three years ago, I found a school for my son where he truly fit in and could prosper.  Three years of middle school filled with great friends, little peer pressure, and where he went from failing a grade to being a straight “A” student.  Three years of no crying over homework, no drama with classmates, no negative calls or emails from teachers or the principal, no meetings about 504 plan accommodations.  Three years of a happy kid.  Three years that flew by in their pleasantness.

Three years later, however, that kid who was ecstatic at orientation that there was another boy shorter than him is now taller than me.  He buys his own expensive sneakers.  He eats more than anyone else in the house.  The last of his toys are in a couple boxes next to me, to be posted to sell on EBay. He wore cologne to school today.

This week I have to fill out paperwork indicating if he is returning to his school next year.  I am almost finished with the application for the school we intend to send him to instead.

He’ll be starting high school.

Sometimes things have to change.  While he could remain at his current school for high school, it is not college prep oriented and there is not a sports program.  Some things don’t change, he still has his neurological issues and learning disabilities.  Finding the balance between the two is scary, maybe even more for me than for him.

The school we found to be the best fit is in a different city.  On days I don’t have meetings, I’ll likely be working from the public library to save myself some gas and driving.  While he has a scholarship from the state for children with disabilities, the tuition is twice his scholarship amount, thus the boxes of stuff we are selling on EBay and the changes that have to be made to our budget.  While we know what to expect at his current school, next year is a mystery.  He doesn’t know any of the other students, any of the teachers, what his day will be like.

It’s a change, however, we need to make.  That’s why they have wine.  I’ll just have to remember not to expect it to be in my glass when I have milk instead.

The Arrogance of Perfection

A recent (like 20 minutes ago) conversation has me thinking…we like to claim we are accepting of all people, but who do we really accept at face value?

I have a child that is diagnosed, after EKG’s, interviews, questionnaires filled out by myself and teachers, and a physical, with ADHD-Inattentive Type by a pediatric neurologist.  He is also diagnosed with Dyspraxia and Sensory Processing issues.

The armchair doctors, however, have doubts about any of these issues, for any child.

I will not tell you that my child has always been the image of perfection.  He has not.  For goodness sakes, when he was 3, there was nothing you could do to convince me he was not the child of Satan, especially the day he put every towel we owned in the toilet when he was 3 because I told him it was bathtime, and I ended up telling my husband to go in the bathroom and clean him because I was done, and I actually left the house, walking the neighborhood bawling my eyes out.

And that was an easy day.

I, every year, at our annual doctors appointment (my preemie NEVER gets sick, thank GOD!) would tell the doctor I thought there might be issues.  Every year I was told he was “just a boy.”  Till the year he was THIS CLOSE to failing 5^th grade, and I went for a special appointment.  To have an actual diagnosis, by a reputable doctor, of ADHD, you have to be having particular issues in at least 2 areas of life.  Though he always had them at home, and actually had them at school for several years, they became much more apparent in the 5^th grade.  That, and that we actually had a teacher who realized he was not stupid but had issues (and yes, I’m sorry, well not sorry, if this offends anyone, but many teachers just assume you have idiot parents and are doomed to be a dumb student, at least the ones my son had), and helped me to get  the paperwork done.

We had occupational therapy and neurological evaluations.  And then we had the thing that helped my son get what he needed at school – a diagnosis.

You get mixed feelings.  Feelings that, wow, my child has something wrong..  And then the opposite feelings that, wow, now we can actually convince people he is not dumb, not lazy, not the victim of a parent that doesn’t want to discipline him.

And then you feel the anger at those who tell you that your child doesn’t have a real illness.

Skipping ahead of much heartache and struggling, I eventually discovered a private school that was exclusively for children with learning disabilities. They were willing to accept my child, though he was failing 6^th grade.  They accepted a McKay scholarship, which my son was eligible for because I had eventually convinced the school to give him a 504 plan (though they wouldn’t give an IEP which is probably what he really needed, but apparently I don’t know the politics to getting one.) Iapplied for one, I got it, and it’s been smooth sailing.  The kid who actually failed 6^th grade and repeated it his first year at his new school has had ONE B in the last 2 plus years, is in the most advanced classes, and tested at 12^th grade level on his standardized test.

I am telling you all of this to lead to this point…no one makes fun of him.

No one.  And he makes fun of no one.  This is a school where everyone has an issue, everyone.  They are far in range. But all of the kids accept the others.  Even in middle and high school classes.  I’ve volunteered at or attended several special events, and I can tell you this is not what you would see in your average middle or high school.

These kids all know they go to that school for a reason, and so do their classmates.  I think that is what makes them so humble and accepting, and WONDERFUL.  They realize they are not perfect, and they realize that they are still great kids despite that.

If only the rest of us could.

None of us our “better” than others, though many find themselves to be superior.  We all fall short.  Every single one of us.  None of us are perfect.  None of us have the capability to be.

God bless those kids at my son’s school who get that. They are the ones who should be our examples

.

It's hard to convince people of that, I've had enough conversations with people to prove that. That’s why they have wine.

I Am Grateful

As I woke up this morning, earlier than I would have liked, to start preparing Thanksgiving dinner, I realized just how blessed I really am.

I am grateful that my oven now actually heats to the temperature it says it does.

I am grateful for a company called Dinner Done exists to help me out, not only with Thanksgiving side dishes, but with full dinners during those times when our life is too hectic and I only have a small amount of time to get things done.  I may still have to cook it, but all the ingredients are right there, and they are fresh, natural, and healthy.

I am grateful for the acne pads I use every morning on my face, because pimples inside of wrinkles are not pretty.

I am grateful that although I have gained weight, I can afford new clothes to fit me.

I am grateful that we were out of sugar and I didn’t realize it, because that means that we don’t depend on it daily in our diet.

I am thankful that Winn Dixie was open today so I could buy some more sugar, because my teenager just would not consider it to be Thanksgiving without his homemade cranberry sauce.  It also meant I got in some steps towards the Fitbit challenge that my friend, Christine, started for Thanksgiving day!

I am grateful for Christine, for trying to keep us on track, because Lord knows I would otherwise just try to eat as much as possible and be lazy.

I am grateful for the big smile I will see on my teen’s face when he realizes I bought him sparkling grape juice, and that will probably occur 10 minutes after I post this blog.

I am grateful that there was no school this week, and didn’t have to spend 2 plus hours a day in the car.

I am grateful that I have a car that I absolutely love, a lime green Mustang, to spend those two hours a day in when I need to.

I am grateful that though school is a bit of a drive away, that it exists and essentially “saved” my son both academically and socially.

I am grateful that God gave me a wonderful family, wonderful friends, and an amazing son and husband, and that they all have someone to share their Thanksgiving with.

And, of course, I’m grateful for wine.  And all this other stuff is why they have it!

Life doesn’t have to be extravagant to be great.  We all have a list that can go on much longer than this, with just the simple things.  Happy Thanksgiving to all!