Soldier Up, Mom

A few weeks ago an article went viral on my Facebook feed entitled “The Day My 10-Year-Old Discovered Hardcore Porn on his iPhone.”  As one Mom after another shared and commented about how frightening and horrible it was and wondered what do we do to prevent it, I commented on several of those shares (perhaps a little smugly and proudly) that WE had installed an excellent filtering program on all of our devices that even filters YouTube.  I most likely left the impression that WE have no worries in this house, that our kids can watch their iPods and kindles, even those annoying Minecraft how to videos on YouTube, and WE don’t have to worry about them seeing filth. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG.

I could have entitled this blog post “The Day My 7-Year-Old Discovered Porn on His iPod” but it might look like I’m trying to one-up that other Mom.  Which I’m not.  Because, trust me, this is one Mom competition I’d rather lose. 

So YES we have this supposedly great and awesome filter on all of our devices and we pay about $70 a year for it.   Look, I’ve been on my computer trying to shop for a swimsuit at Lands End and the filter blocked me.  Annoying, yes.  But assuring.  I remember thinking wow….if I can’t even get on here and see the tummy-sucking-miracle-fat-hiding-mawmaw-swimsuits, my boys will NEVER be able to discover Victoria or her Secret.   And I’ve been on YouTube trying to see how to quickly defrost CHICKEN breasts, and it blocked several videos AND ads that probably had nothing to do with fowl or a thawing method.  Again I remember thinking, good.  This is really good.  Nothing to worry about.

Then last night happened.

My youngest son was visibly shaken as he was getting ready for bed.  I knew something was wrong when I saw he was wearing his flannel pajamas with the mountain bears printed all over them on one of the hottest August nights this month.   He seemed almost disoriented and I asked him if was sick as he was trying to quickly crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head.   He then reached over to the bedside table, grabbed his little iPod, and tossed it to me saying he doesn’t deserve it anymore because he is bad.  “I’m bad, so bad….I saw bad things.”  My heart started racing and I felt like I had been punched in the gut.  Because I knew where this was going.  Very calmly and quietly I assured him he was not bad and there was nothing in the world he could ever tell me that would make me think he was bad.  “What did you see, sweetheart?” I asked.  After about ten minutes of me coaxing it out of him, with a wobbly still-tiny-smidge-of-baby-left voice he told me he was searching for a word he had heard and he spelled it for me.  T-t-i-s.  (I quickly unscrambled and knew what he meant).  He went on to tell me he searched for this on YouTube (the app is not even on his iPod….he must go through the “filter” app to access it!).   He told me he saw pictures and videos.

My stomach turned.  I ran through all the “How To” files I’d stored away in my mind.  You know those files….situations you’ve thought about as a Mom and how you’d handle…you file them away for another day.  Usually one you hope will never come.   Turns out I didn’t have a file for this.  Because I honestly thought we had done everything on the front end to keep it from happening. 

I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled him close and started talking to him from my broken heart.  I asked him if he knew what that word meant before he searched for it.  He said no.  I told him it is a very crude and ugly word for something that is not crude and ugly.  I told him what the proper word is and I asked him if he knew why God made them like that on women?  He said no.  I told him it was the miraculous and wonderful way that God made women able to feed their babies.  I told him how every woman who has those is made to feed a baby, and those women in those pictures and videos are either already someone’s Mommy or they will be one day.  And what God meant for a beautiful purpose is twisted and made into something very wrong and ugly by those pictures and videos. 

We continued to talk and then we prayed together and I left him to sleep as I walked back to my room for a sleepless night.  I cried for the ugly, messed up, twisted, and sick world out there that I can’t protect my children from.  I cried for what he had seen that I couldn’t un-see for him.  I cried because I had abdicated MY parenting duties to some stupid computer software that I thought would protect my children.  I cried because I can never get back that bit of innocence he lost way, way too early.  I cried as I went onto YouTube, put in that same search and saw just the thumbnails of what he had to have seen.  I just can’t bring myself to actually click on the videos.  I cried because, when I went in to check on him later, he was curled up with Big Bear in one arm and his little blue and white checked blanket in the other.  He’s still a baby. 

I’m mad now.  And I really hope my anger continues to burn because I need it to fuel my diligence.   I need my guard to be up and to stay up.  This is no longer a battle friends, it’s an all-out war.  It’s a war we’re fighting for the minds and futures of our children.  I know there are those who would say I’m being overly dramatic, that I can’t put my children in a bubble, blah blah blah.  I don’t care.  I will do whatever it takes to protect my children until their minds, bodies and emotions are better prepared to grasp, filter, and sort through the warped and ugly parts of our world that are pulling on them.  I will continue to pull back and hold on for dear life.   Don’t do as I did, friends.  Don’t trust some computer geek working for a software company to care a flip for or protect your kids.  Do as I am doing now.  Uninstall any and all browsers or video apps on your kids’ personal devices and set the restrictions where they can’t install apps anymore without asking you first.   Have one central computer in a public area of your home that they may use, with permission, and still with filter software installed.  But remember that’s not the first line of defense in this war.

You are.   

Things I'm Loving This Summer

I was starting to get sad that summer is coming to an end with school starting and all.  I was saying that I never remember as a kid going back to school in August.   It was always after Labor Day when we went back to school.  Summer break is supposed to be three full month of sleeping late, beach going, pool baths, and popsicle stained faces.  June, July, and August...that's summer!  So as I was so sad that we're supposed to be back in school mode and strict(er) schedules in another week or so (because even though we homeschool, we follow the local school calendar), we decided to book our beach vacation in August.  So it really made no sense to start school and then go on vacation.  And it makes no sense to come back from vacation and start school immediately.  What DOES make sense is to go on vacation, come back and recuperate, and then start school after Labor Day.  Just like the good old days.  Kicking it old school this year, y'all.

So in celebration of my continuing summer break, I wanted to share some of my favorite things right now.  Because all both of you might be amused and vaguely interested.   

EOS Lip Balm

Oh My Gosh!  I was in Dallas a few weeks ago and saw this multi pack of these little round lip balms while I was out shopping.  It came with a bonus water bottle which I really needed, and because we are lip balm addicts in this house (and lip balm snobs), I'm always searching for the perfect lip balm.  I can call off the dogs now because the search is over.  This is THE best.  Ever.  The flavors are amazing and it leaves your lips feeling great.  And it lasts a long time.  These are little round containers of yummy goodness, y'all.   Just don't carry it around in your pocket.  Looks weird.    And you're probably thinking I'm weird for being this hyped up over lip balm.  You might even think I'm selling the stuff or getting some commission or kickback.  But, alas, I'm not.  I'm just a fan.  With moisturized lips.  

A Work in Progress:  An Unfinished Woman's Guide to Grace (by Kristin Armstrong)

I read this book a few years ago and it was one of those books that you find at just the right time, with just the right message.  I have re-read it at least four times since then, and am now facilitating an online book club, reading through it and discussing it with friends from all over.  It's a wonderful, easy read that doesn't require a lot of time but inspires a lot of thought and soul searching.  And yes, it's Kristin Armstrong who was married to Lance.  And yes, she and I would be best friends if we just lived closer, I just know it.  I can't recommend this book enough.  I give it as gifts, and it's never further away than my nightstand when I need to be reminded what I'm really striving and reaching for every day, and it all comes down to letting every area of my life be marked and defined by grace.  And I'm not getting any commission from this either, but probably should, as many copies of these book that have been bought by me or because of my recommendation!

Rowing Machine

So yeah, it's quite a jump from lip balm to a book to a rowing machine.  But I LOVE this thing!  First of all, it comes apart into two pieces that can easily be stored out of sight, but easily put together when it's time to exercise...thereby reducing the urge to hang clothes on it like we did with the elliptical machine we used to have.  But I also love the fact that you can get a killer workout in jut 30 minutes, working your core, your arms, and your legs all at the same time.  I'm all about multi-tasking in the shortest amount of time possible.  It's also a great workout for runners, and it makes me feel less guilty when I don't make it outside in the thousand percent deep south humidity for a run.  But the best thing about it is that it's something the whole family can use.  In fact, the monitor has several "games" on it where you play by rowing faster or slower, which moves your little fish up or down in order to avoid being eaten.  So when my kids want to play video games, sometimes this is their only option.  Winning!   And again, not getting paid for this review.  Just wanted to share the fitness love.  

Jamberry Nail Wraps

So ok....a few months ago I noticed one of my good friends from law school was posting constantly about these things on her Facebook page.  Quite honestly I thought she had lost her mind.  All these crazy, patterned nail wraps...polka dots, paisley, floral, stripes....I thought, what in the world?  Who would wear something like that and why does she keep posting all this stuff?   I don't even paint my short, stubby nails and haven't in years.  Ain't nobody got time for that when you're chasing three kids around all day!  So I sure wasn't interested for me.  But I do have a fancy painted nails loving nine-year-old daughter who ruined one of my best towels a while back with bright pink nail polish.  UGH!!!  Made me s'mad!  

So I started taking notice of these wraps and thought it would make a great birthday present for the towel destroyer.  But since I couldn't decide on one pattern, I was going to buy several of them.  But then it occurred to me that maybe I could host a party for my friend and get some for free, or at least at a discount.  So I called her and she asked me if we had even tried them yet....I said no....and she offered to send me a sample.  Well, we got these cute little sample wraps in the mail, put them on a few of our fingers and I watched my daughter dance around the house saying this was the best thing EVER.   I even put the teal polka dots on my fingers and I have to admit, it was SO cute!  AND....it matched my favorite Tiffany cup which was just a bonus happy.   And in the span of about an hour I had gone from just ordering, to hosting a party, to selling them myself.  Because I thought wow, if there are more people like me whose daughter has ruined their good towels, they're going to think these are the greatest things ever too!

And yes, I actually DO make a commission off of these.  But I also love them and think you would too.  And I don't know what has surprised me more....the fact that I'm selling nail wraps, or the fact that I'm wearing polka dots on my fingers....and loving it!

Go here to learn more about Jamberry... and save your towels!!!  http://www.julieralph.jamberrynails.net

Camp Misery

So you know we just moved about two months ago and one of our first Sundays at our new church our daughter was invited to go to G.A. camp with them for a week.  I wasn't sure she would want to go.  She's never been away for that long and she didn't know anyone so I was sure she would say no when I asked.  But instead she jumped right on it.  When I went online to sign her up, I started thinking how incredibly awesome sad and lonely it would be at home if the boys were gone that week too.  I tried to register everyone but apparently the "G" in G.A.'s stands for girls.  They seem to be pretty serious about it too.

Anyway.  She's registered, money paid, spot reserved, no refunds, leaving tomorrow, no turning back at this point.  We were looking at the list of things to bring last night and we had this conversation:

Her:  What if I don't like it?

Me:  You will!

Her:  But what if I don't?

Me:  No chance.  You will!

Her: (Clearly not pleased with my response) BUT WHAT IF I DON'T?  Then what?

Me:  Well.  You'll just....you'll....well....I guess you'll start counting the days until you leave.

Her:  What if I want to leave right after I get there?

Me:  Well that would be bad because you'll have five days at that point to be miserable.  Try to wait and be miserable closer to the end of the week, like maybe sometime Thursday afternoon.  Then you'll have less than 24 hours.  Friday morning misery would be even better.

Her:  [blank stare]

I really don't know why they even try to talk to me.

Coffee Crisis

I've had the same coffee maker for 12 years now.  I splurged when I bought it way back when, and it has served me well all these years.  I had a system, a good system that brought me much peace....where I would prepare my coffee the night before and set the timer to come on.  Sometimes I would actually get excited at that point about going to sleep because I knew what would be waiting for me the next morning.  I went to bed seriously looking forward to waking up to my coffee brewing.  A lot like Christmas every day.   I clearly need some more excitement in my life but that's not what this is about.  It's about coffee.  And my current crisis.

See, about two months ago I noticed that there was a puddle of water around my coffee pot in the mornings.  Now, for someone like myself, this was a minor inconvenience that in no way changed my system.  I just put a dish towel down that I squeezed out the next morning.   But others in this house, who are more of the detail persuasion and with more meticulous leanings, just couldn't deal.  Could.  Not.  Deal.  So imagine my horror when I went to prepare my coffee one night only to find what looked like an autopsy being performed on my Cuisinart.  Its innards were scattered all over the kitchen.  No worries, I was told....looked like a part could be ordered.  But in the meantime, I was promised I'd have freshly ground and pressed coffee the next morning.  

Andy bought a hand grinder and coffee aerator a few weeks ago and was taking great pride each morning in preparing the perfect cup of coffee.   Which I thought was really super awesome!  So long as I still had my own whole pot which is my perfect cup.    His one perfect cup at a time was great as long as it was IN ADDITION TO.  Not in lieu of.  But after the dismemberment, I was seriously at his mercy.  For a few mornings it was fine.  Really it was.  He brought me my coffee in bed even.  And would bring me a second or third cup if I asked.  But then one morning he had to do something so much less important, like go to work or something, and I had to prepare my own coffee.  Y'all.  I had to HAND GRIND the beans.  And it takes like 4, 5, maybe 20 minutes.  Then you have to slowly and carefully PRESS IT OUT.  I normally don't have the energy to fluff my pillow enough to sit up and sip it, much less work up a sweat to get my brew.  And to make matters worse....it doesn't even make a full cup.  

I do realize this is a superficial, self-centered, first world problem but things are getting desperate.  I am also fearing where this is going because (a) my coffee pot is still in the morgue and (b) I think I heard him say something about roasting his own beans.  

ROASTING beans!  I just don't.... I think I don't even know what to say about that.

Update:  This morning I had barely opened my eyes when I remembered that my coffee maker had still not risen from the dead.  I managed to get hold of my phone and asked Siri to tell Andy to go make me some coffee.  So she sent him a text.  He was still asleep next to me.  I kept hitting send until he got up and returned with a perfect cup of coffee.

At this very moment he is trying to breathe life into my Cuisinart.

Update update:  Mr. Coffee just corrected me.  It's an Aeropress.  Not an aerator.  Not that the difference means anything to me but it's important to be correct and all.  

Me again

I started this blog in 2006 when I left my job at a law firm to stay home with two babies.  My first post was entitled "What they don't teach you in law school."  You can find it here.  I can't believe anyone ever read this blog again after that post.  But for some reason they did.  So I kept blogging, because it made me happy.  But then I stopped.  It's not that I ran out of stuff to say, I just think I started saying it on Facebook instead.  Facebook completed me.  Which is quite sad, really.

In the eight years since that first blog post I had another baby, went back to work, came back home, moved three times across the entire southeast, and learned a few more things they didn't teach me in law school. Like cooking, homeschooling, and photography.  So now I'm back, imparting my wisdom and knowledge to both of the readers I have left.

When I first started blogging, I had two babies.  Then the third.  I was drowning in all things baby, toddler, and preschool.  A friend who has three littles, the same age difference as mine, asked me not long ago how I survived.  I started to answer but the words caught in my throat and my eyes glazed over as I vaguely recall scenes like hiding in the bathroom with the door locked while I sat in the cold, hard bathtub to nurse the baby while the other two banged on the door and stuck their little fingers and hands as far under the door as they could reach.  Like a Lifetime movie trailer.  Hiding from terrorists....but instead of a knife I had a newborn.   Then there was the time Andy came home to find me curled up in the corner of the kitchen, rocking back and forth, chanting over and over I'm bigger and smarter...I'm bigger and smarter....I'm bigger....and smarter.  I'm fairly certain that's the day he hid the scissors and removed all my shoelaces

Kidding!  Mostly.   But I did survive.  And for some crazy reason I actually thought once I got everyone potty trained and sleeping in their own beds through the night it would be smoooooooth sailing.  Ha.   Here's what you don't realize as you move from one stage to the next....

it's all the same kind of different.

And each stage is wonderful, heartbreaking, frustrating, amusing, and hysterical all at the same time.

It's a crazy world.  Someone ought to sell tickets.

Sure, I'd buy one.  

(Raising Arizona)

Running the NYC Marathon (Not)

We are home now from a marathon trip to run the NYC marathon that didn't happen.  That's ok though, because there should have never been a question of whether it would happen.

I thought the day after the storm when I saw all the destruction on the news that there was no way they would still have the marathon.  No way.  Because we have lived on the Gulf Coast our whole lives and we know hurricanes.  It seemed like the wrong time and the wrong place to be running a marathon.

But when the mayor said it was a go we thought, ok....wow, maybe things aren't as bad there as they look on television.  Surely the mayor knows what's going on because if things were really bad, the marathon would be canceled.  Right?  So even though deep down we felt like it was wrong to be running a marathon in a place that had seen such destruction, we thought we should (and could) trust the mayor.  Because surely the mayor knows something we don't.

So we tried to put aside those feelings deep down that told us we shouldn't go and we went anyway.  We got into NYC early Friday and headed to the expo where Andy got his race number.  Running the New York City Marathon is one of those kind of things you put on your bucket list.  He had pencil in hand and was ready to cross that one off about 36 hours later.  But about an hour after we got back to the hotel, we got the news the marathon had been canceled.

Wow.

This was news we should have heard four days earlier.  From the people who should have known. And the thing is, they did know.  And we could debate for years why they did what they did.  Most people would say it is all about money.  Because the marathon brings in a lot of money to the city.  Tens of thousands of tourists in town for several days spending a lot of money.  A lot.  And most of those people (and their money) would have stayed home if the race had been canceled when it should have been.

But instead we all ended up in NYC on that Friday, one minute feeling elated about recognizing a goal you have dreamed about and trained for a long time, the next minute feeling duped.  Feeling tricked and cheated.  I thought even then, this shouldn't have been about money.  It should have been about principle.  Doing what is right.  Principle would have canceled that race.

This wasn't going to be the first time over the weekend I would consider the meaning of that word.

Once we realized we were (for lack of a better term) stuck in NYC for the weekend we decided we could do one of two things.  Either have fun, see shows, shop and eat at fabulous restaurants as we do every time we are there (which, by the way, everything and I mean everything was business as usual in Manhattan...you would never know a hurricane had hit) or we could let something good come out of the whole mess.

Now, one would think that an operation the size and magnitude of the NYC marathon with such impressive corporate sponsorship (ING namely), and given the fact that they were being crucified in the press for the decision to go ahead with the race, would have immediately rallied what could have been a massive relief effort.  With tons of supplies (food, warming blankets, generators and water, etc.) and buses already lined up to take runners to Staten Island....the marathon could have followed up the "canceled" announcement with a call to arms.  Because once we all got over our initial shock/disappointment/whatever, we were ready to do something.  We were getting no news, though, whatsoever from the NYC marathon (not even a cancellation notice...we heard on the news like everyone else).  We had no idea where to go, what to do, or how to get there.  And most of us were only going to be there for the weekend.

I spent most of Friday night and Saturday morning looking online for churches or relief organizations, emailing people, posting on FB....trying to find out what we could do.  I finally received news that a church on the lower east side needed help but we couldn't find them Saturday afternoon (after a two hour search in that neighborhood).  By Saturday night, however, most of the runners  had taken it upon themselves to organize a relief effort.  Some were going to Staten Island, some to Coney Island, and some to the Rockaways.  We were able to connect with a friend from Mobile who now lives in Brooklyn, and who had spent all day Saturday on Coney Island helping people.  She was going back on Sunday so we went with her.

So...remember how I mentioned earlier that the news on TV doesn't give you any clue to the reality of the situation?  Here's the reality.  There are many senior citizens who live in high rise buildings that have no power and, as a result, these poor people have no way to make it down stairs to get help.  They are stranded in their apartment with no way to even flush the toilet.  Our friend told us she and others were carrying buckets of water up those stairs so these people can flush their toilets.  The smell is horrendous.  People are freezing, they are running out of food and they don't have clean water to drink.  Many people are alone and are just waiting for someone to come see about them.  It's not the government that's doing this...it's people like our friend who are going out there every day, door to door, helping and loving on these people.

Coney Island, where we were on Sunday, looks like a third world country in the middle of a war zone.  There is no power, no clean water, sewage is running through the streets, and rotten food, trash and debris is piled up everywhere.  People....mothers with small children....the elderly... are just wandering around the streets, trying to figure out what to do.  Many people there don't even speak English so they have no way to understand where to go for help, if they can even get there.  Yes, FEMA is set up in a parking lot there with supplies.  Yes, the National Guard was there giving out supplies.  Yes, other volunteer organizations were there with clothes, food, blankets, clean water, etc.  But so many of these people have no idea where or how to go about getting this help....if they can even make it out of their apartment.

As we were trying to make our way out there to Coney Island (transportation is still difficult at best), we ended up on the wrong bus.  A man stumbled onto this bus, clearly in distress.  His shoes and pants were muddy (and please understand....this probably isn't mud....it's sewage...but we are calling it mud because it makes us feel better since we were walking in it too)....he looked like he hasn't slept in days, he was exhausted and at the end of himself....he told the bus driver he had no bus fare or metro card because his home had been destroyed....

and this bus driver was going to kick him off the bus.  Our friend had an extra metro card and paid for it, but told the bus driver she couldn't believe he was going to kick this man off.  The bus driver proceeded to lecture her about "principle"....telling us (over his microphone so we could hear loud and clear) that it was principle that wouldn't allow anyone to have a "free ride."

Seriously?

We saw the best and the worst of the human spirit while were there.  We met the owner of a small drugstore whose business had been destroyed (and he likely didn't have insurance to cover it, like most people in this area) but in broken English he asked us to tell everyone we could that whatever medicine they needed, he would get for them...for free.  Not only that, he would bring it to them, wherever they are.  Upstairs, wherever.  Please tell them, he said.

That is principle, my friends.  Principle means you put aside the rules for doing what is right.  Principle means you forego profit to do what is best.  Principle means you let a hurting man ride your bus when he doesn't have the $2.25 fare.  Principle means you forget about your own needs to tend to those whose needs are greater.

Principle means you would never consider having a marathon when so many in your city are dying, hurting and suffering.  Never.  Not for one second.

These people need help, friends.  They need hands and feet to help them and love on them....they need ways to stay warm, carry on life the best they can.... and they need hope.   Oh...and that man from the bus?  Our friend got his name, number and address yesterday.  She is headed back there today to see about him and get him some help.

Sometimes being in the wrong place at the wrong time is a good thing after all.

Seven

This girl had a birthday the other day.

After she left for school we started working on signing the card.

It takes a while when you are five.

I love that she keeps a journal.  

(even if she doesn't always finish what she starts and leaves me hanging)

Let me fill in the rest....

We do friend parties every other year and family parties on the off year.

(actually, we do family parties every year).

So when it's the year for a friend party you really get two.

This was our family party.

And we they made homemade pizza.

(they haven't figured out it's not a treat to have to cook on your own birthday).

 

And had cupcakes.  

(red velvet with raspberry cream cheese frosting...too bad you can't taste a picture).

The girl who doesn't like to be the center of attention, well, was.

After we ate and before she opened presents we went around the table

to tell her what we love about her.

(I wasn't real sure how it was going to work, especially with the one who is five).

Some things that were said....

"you are so sweet, to everyone,"

"you look for ways to be helpful,"

"your smile makes me happy and your laugh is the best,"

"you look for ways to create and I love how you can make something beautiful out of nothing,"

and then the same one (you know, the one who is five),

 who worked (hard) for nearly 45 minutes to write "I love you" on

his sister's card, looked at her and said

 "you love me....and I love that....

because you love me all the time."

He is right.  

And oh how we love this sweet girl.