Newest writing book!

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Zoe update

Good news is the dog is like Lazarus - pretty much rose from the dead and has come back to us.

Bad news is this WHOLE event could have been avoided if the vet had told us, just ONCE, to give her some honey after she has a seizure.

Karo syrup would work, too.

Evidently the brain has a sugar level (those who are hypoglycemic understand how this works) and when dogs have seizures, the sugar level in the brain decreases a bit, and it can take time to rise.

The problem occurs in that if the sugar levels don't get back up, that can trigger ANOTHER seizure, which AGAIN lowers the brain sugar levels, which can cause ANOTHER seizure . . . see where I am going with this? Our poor doggy was in an endless loop, and I guess my continually asking the vet "What can I do for her?" wasn't enough.

The vet told Craig the dog would make a full recovery (and he said this in front of my 13 yr old son - really does the man have even half a brain?) and that we should give her some karo syrup to help maintain her sugar levels. Really - file this under "things you could have told me YESTERDAY."

That is was really ticks me off the most - that my dog suffered and has some minor brain issues (she is now a "special" dog) because my vet could not be bothered to tell me, anytime in the 8 months she's had this problem, to give her sugar. My dog suffered for two days and almost died in a diabetic coma in the backyard because my vet couldn't be bothered to tell us three words: give her sugar.

So we are now looking for a new vet, one who maybe has more than half a brain and cares about the animals, not the payment he will receive when we bring a half dead dog into his office.

But, Zoe is doing well and did make a fine recovery, though she is "rediscovering" her world. Good news is she remembers some of her basic commands and that she adores balls and frisbees. And if she forgot who we are, at least she seems to have fallen back in love with us.

Going into that long goodnight

Zoe is our bright and adorable collie/Australian shepherd mix dog. We took her off the hands of our next-door neighbor in Michigan when they lacked the requisite brain cells to have their dog fixed - thus resulting in 8 (yes - 8!) puppies! Of course they tried to pawn those puppies off on everyone, and my kids (aged 2, 6, and 9) went ballistic. Of COURSE they wanted a puppy - who doesn't puppies are cute; that is God's way of insuring you continue to care for them until they are grown.

I told the children, if there one of the chocolate brown girl puppies still available, we will get her. Otherwise it was no deal. So OF COURSE the lady had a chocolate brown girl (little did I know she would grow into a beautiful blonde!) so we got her. When Zoe came into the house, she was the tiniest little thing - Kaya would put her in her stroller and wheel the puppy around the kitchen.

We cage trained her and behaviorally trained her, since I don't have much patience at all. And what a reward she was - she caught on and was so obedient! One morning, when she was now all grown up) she was in her cage and could see out the back window at the deer in our back yard. She knew she wasn't allowed to bark in the house, so she kept making this low "wuuf" sound instead of a bark. It cracked me up that she was trying to "whisper bark."

Her favorite thing in all the world, outside of my son that is, would have to be the frisbee. She could actually catch them in mid-air! Just like the trained dogs at the fair or at Sea World! The kids thought it was the best trick ever. And if she got off her leash and didn't want to come back, all we had to do was show her the frisbee and she would come a runnin'!

When we had to move to California, she was the pet that was still young enough to go. She was only three at the time, and we got her a dog seatbelt for the car. She sat in the back with Aden, on her pillow on the seat, and was the most well behaved dog of all time. She didn't climb around; she didn't bark (naturally); she just sat patiently next to her Boy, as though she knew this was an important moment and she was taking it all in.

She became much more spoiled when we moved to CA, as we lived in a little apartment with no real patio, so she became much more of an indoor dog. While she did miss the snow (she loved catching snowballs in her mouth!), she enjoyed the life of leisure inside the apartment even more! We put her dogbed in Aden's room, and she was in Heaven, sleeping under his loft bed every night. We did not live the best life in this apartment, and for a year and a half, Zoe was Aden's only real friend.

After we almost killed her with some bad flea treatment, and got her funny hives under control, we moved to our current house, where, for the first time ever, Zoe had a back yard with a fence. This meant no more leashes; she could run free to her heart's content in that back yard, and there was not one place she left untouched. Even though it was mostly dirt, she loved her freedom. The kids would spend lots of time with her in the back, throwing balls and frisbees, and she was happy.

Then we got the pools, and if it is possible for a dog to be ecstatic, it was she.

Much like the snowballs of Michigan, Zoe loved having WATER thrown at her - again she would try to catch it in her mouth! So when we got the pool and would splash around, she would run around the pool, jumping and barking, playing with the splashing kids and catch as much water as she could until she gave out and crashed in the shade.

Then that same summer, she started having seizures. Not little ones, big ones. Ones that left a bloody, urine and vomit mess in the bathroom. We got her some meds, started keeping her more outside and in the garage and the meds managed her seizures a bit. When they came back, we got her more meds, but they slowed her down. When we forgot to refill the script for 2 weeks, and realized she didn't have a seizure that whole time, we took her off them for a bit, and our energetic Zoe was back. She was chasing balls and frisbees again, playing with the kids, and Aden started taking her for walks in around the neighborhood.

Then this week she had about three seizures in two days, so we knew it would be another trip to the vet and more meds. Then on Thursday morning, she had such a large one, or enough of them, that her brain started breaking down. She didn't recognize us (still so friendly and docile and loving though - the brain damage didn't change the core personality, her soul possibly?) and Craig put her in the back yard. She wasn't walking well, and she couldn't seem to see well either. It was funny to watch her walk around and try to climb on things, but in such a sad way.

Over the course of Thursday, she had at least one more seizure, and now the Zoe's knowledge of us was gone; we were just some nice people in the house who fed her, when she could find the food bowl. We tried to get her into the garage last night, but she wouldn't come in the house and I wasn't about to force her. Plus, though it would be cold at night, she was probably safer in the backyard than the garage with all the bikes and tools and such. Aden and I got her a warm blanket and showed her where is was a few times, and spent some time trying to play with her a bit, and pet her. She was stumbling around badly at this point, and Aden knew; he knew that this was the end and cried and cried and I cried with him.

Today we woke up and she is pretty much gone - I was surprised she made it through the night. We have an appt. with the vet this afternoon, but I don't think she will make it. We will have to call him this morning and set up a different type of visit. Zoe's seizures are almost constant; she can't walk much at all, and I'm so glad Craig is staying home - I wasn't sure how I was going to get the dog into the van to even get her to the vet. She is laying down a lot, is a daze, with drool from her most recent seizure hanging from her mouth, and she is not there. Our dog is gone; her body has just not caught up with her yet.

So today Craig and Aden (if he wants to go) will take her to the vet for her last visit. They may have to carry her, and I have a blanket ready to go. It's one that a friend, who has a special fondness for dogs, gave us years ago. I thought it fitting to give it to Zoe as we say our final goodbyes to a dog I didn't really want, but ended up nuzzling her way into all our hearts. I pray for strength for both myself, but more for my son, who is losing one of his closes friends.

I believe there is a special Heaven for dogs, where there will be plenty of meat scraps from the table, lots of balls and frisbees, and God's loving hands rubbing her belly whenever she wants.

End O' the Year Missive:

I will be the first to admit that the latter part of the first decade of the third millenium left many people wondering just when they got dumped off the Merry-go-round. Unemployment, foreclosures, bankruptcy, became household watchwords of despair. Several people have even gone to far as to say this decade was worth less, feign to say "how can it get worse" and are either hoping for better in the next year, or at least want to forget this one.

That is where the idea of "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" really comes into effect. Forget this past decade, or this past year? Yes, we need to do what we can to create a better year overall for ourselves, our communities, our country, but if at the very least we don't learn from our mistakes, how can we grow from them?

But more than that, I beg to differ that the decade of 2000-2009 was one to forget. While there were moments of "less than ideal," every day brings its own challenges; "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof" (book of Matthew) has been my mantra for several years - focus on today, and let today take care of itself first. In this light, I embrace the challenges we've had, and I look forward to more to come in the new year. Why focus on the negative, when all this is ephemeral; we are so limited on time, let's focus on all the good of the past ten years.

Why? Why would I welcome something that could be so detrimental? Because in mine eyes, the past ten years are ones I want to remember until the moment I leave this earth. And if the next ten are half as wonderful, I will one of the most fortunate people on earth. For this was the decade that saw the birth of my daughters; the ability for us to purchase three houses (not all at once, of course); moving back to California; the making of life long friends; the establishment of great careers; the wholeness of our family; the growth of my children into strong and beautiful young people; vacations; celebrations of birthdays, holidays, and accomplishments galore. These are the moments that will forever burned into my mind, and when the challenges arise, it is memories like these that will carry the day.

Yes, we've had hardship this decade too, loss of a father, sickness and hospitalization, death of a pet, financial insecurity, job loss . . . but these things happen all the time. But to want to forget those - then how can we grow and learn from those events? Every decade, every year, every day is filled with challenges - the Chinese have a saying, "May you live in interesting times," which is a threat; it means may you have much upheaval in your life. And who doesn't? But what we do and what we focus on during that upheaval is what makes life "good" or "bad," not the events inherently.

For those of you for whom the past decade has been one you just want to forget, you have my sincerest sympathies; however, I beg you not to forget that decade. Don't decry it as the worst decade ever. Think instead of the joys of that decade, no matter how minor they are.

From my perspective, sitting in my warm house, listening to the sounds of my children playing, waiting for the glory and joy that is Christmas, I don't feel the last ten years have been a loss, a decade to forget. On the contrary, these ten years are engraved on my mind for all time, and I hope that others also find the joy in the past ten years. Yes, we want to make the next ten better in many respects, but in my life, I don't know if I could handle that much joy.

Drum Roll Please . . .

http://igethalf.blogspot.com/

Reassessment

I had an epiphany yesterday, and not necessarily the good kind. However, the resulting actions I take ARE a good thing.

So we returned from the park yesterday, and between the cool air and cold wind, we were freezing. My son tore his knee up at the park pretty badly, so we decided to skip Tae Kwon Do that night and just go to youth group later. That gave us an extra few hours at home to hang out. With that in mind, plus, since we were icy from being outside, I decided some hot chocolate was in order.

Then, it hit me that we had tortillas in the house, and wouldn't a great snack be tortillas toasted in the oven with butter, cinnamon, and sugar? I though it would be - so I made some for the kids and I. Once everything is ready to serve, we all sat together at the table and enjoyed our very new snack. The kids had never had the "homemade churros" before; in reality, I had never made them before. I was totally winging it!

As we finished and cleared the plates, my son comments on how fun that was. He says, "You don't do stuff like this very often." That actually stopped me in my tracks. I froze. "What do you mean, buddy? I make stuff all the time." "Yeah," he replied, "you make basic stuff, not stuff like this usually." At first I was taken aback - I do make "different" stuff; it is just usually fruit based and he does not care for fruity desserts and snacks.

But then I let my ears hear what he was really saying - we don't do stuff like stop in the middle of the afternoon, make a new snack, and just enjoy each other for a while. And he is right, and that is totally my fault.

When I started homeschooling, I did it because I adore being with my kids and get a kick out of teaching them. For many years we did school, but life was just as important. However, once we moved out to California, started working with a charter, had all the extra curricular activities and the like, suddenly we were all schoolwork, running around, and activities. Even on our days home, it was all school, chores, get it done. Then, by the later afternoon, we are all beat and I am ready for a nap! This was not how I wanted my school to work.

I had assessed this earlier when I realized the co-op at the church was just not working for us, so I had to stop that. Teaching those classes from my house a bit later in the afternoon works better for my schedule. But then I am still doing a co-op with friends, and we still have our extra curriculars that the kids love -they are having fun! So what to do?

It hit me when the teacher we work with for the charter commented on how much work we completed one month, even when the kids were sick! And she is right - academically, I demand a lot from the kids, and they rise to those expectations beautifully. But why is my focus so heavily on those academics when I, we, want more than that? Since we have to meet with the teacher one Monday a month, which means we lose that day for "school" for the most part, I decided to commandeer that day overall.

After our morning sports class, my kids are mine - it will be our day as a family. No school, just games, movies, baking, crafts, adventures in new places, visits with friends, that is our day to be a family again. I want to feel that contentment with my children that we used to have - and I think my taking back just one day, we can do it. We like the school schedule, the activites, the busyness, but we miss the perks of slower days. Monday is going to become that day. What a great way to start the week.

Get Writing, and Get My New Book!

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Happy Writing!

I sit here listening . . .

listening to the type type typing of fingers
on a warm keyboard
as cool breezes tickle my elbows and toes.

I sit here listening
listening to outside sounds
insects, dogs, and the passing cars
that are for once not drag racing, yet.

I sit here listening
listening to that quiet
that only comes once all the children
are asleep in their beds.

The house sighs with me.
I sit here listening
listening to the house sigh
of delicate sounds
of evening air
of children's breaths

I sit here listening.

(Michelle Dalrymple, 2009)

On My Team!

Even though I often want to believe I can do everything myself, I know I can't. Sometimes the most important thing I can have is a team in my corner, working for me.

Usually, that team is pretty much my hubby. It might be my sister, mom, or kids, but often it is Craig and I against the world. However, when something comes up that is beyond our mortal ken, like this past week with our littlest, we need more team members. And I found them.

After the most agonizing week with a primary care physician who won't see us unless we use his urgent care (not even for a follow up from the ER?! Are you kidding me?!), I called a doctor who came as a referral from another urgent care facility. I called his office on Thursday morning after poor Soph's ear looked like it exploded. He answered the phone - so at that point I had spoken to our soon to be new doctor more than our current doctor! After listening to our trials of the week, his first words were: "Can you get her here tomorrow at 8:15?" Of course, I could! By now, this doctor had DONE more than my doctor did for the whole 3 months we were is patients! My biggest concern: our insurance does not flip to him as our primary care provider until August 1. We are one week out from that.

His response: "We will either get you squished in, or we will waive the fee. Just get her here." I am totally willing to pay whatever I need to for my daughter, but already I felt relieved that here was someone else, someone who doesn't even know us, showing more concern for her than most other medical personnel in the past week. I was ecstatic. New team member number one.

We get her there right on time; he explains to his staff what we need to do with the insurance, and his receptionist gets on the line with our insurance. I knew she would get them to cover the bill, because as I went into the exam room with Soph, this is what I heard her say: "I understand that, but we have a little girl who just had a seizure, needs to see a primary care physician, and needs medical care now. Do you want her to have another seizure because she can't get in to see the doctor?" New team member number two.

The nurse who first saw us before the doctor came in was more than courteous and told me that we could not have picked a better doctor - she actually followed him from the urgent care office to this new office just to work for him. New team member number three.

The doctor and his office took great care of Sophie, fixed our insurance to cover the bill, and want her back in the office this week for another follow up. And while it took some trauma to get here, it was a result of our other horrible doctor that led us to Dr. Nguyen. I guess there is a silver lining to every bad situation. I love our new team!

The past revisited

The one thing a mother should never wear is a shirt with her daughter's blood on it. But that is exactly what I wore to the ER last night after a very strange misadventure.

Sophie was supposed to be in bed, but in a moment of bad judgment, decided to pick up one of the cats. She mishandled the cat so badly that the cat scratched her to get away. That is when I heard the screams.

I go running into the bathroom and Sophie's hand is COATED in blood -- thick and welling. I grab a rag from the closet and press it to her hand to staunch the blood. AT the same time I call to Craig for help - just how bad did the cat get her? Pretty badly -- it seems the cat somehow dug deep enough to hit a vein, hence all the blood.

Craig gets on the phone to the nurses' hotline as I inspect the damage to the hand. Not too bad maybe; the blood has already started to clot, but I can see there is a collection of blood under her skin. So I tell Sophie it doesn't look to bad when she tilts her head up to look at the ceiling. I ask her what she is looking at when her eyes roll back into her head.

I know what this is. I know it because this is what I do -- my baby is having a seizure. She starts to fall but I am still holding her wounded hand, so I half-catch her and guide her to the floor, where she begins to twitch and spasm. I am yelling for Craig to call 911, and I am frantic. I know this misery of a condition like this, and I don't want my daughter to suffer through it.

Craig has the nurse transfer him to 911 and I stop yelling at him, but now I am crying because I am in such a panic. Sophie stops twitching and refocuses her eyes. I can see her confusion, and she asks me, "Why am I not in bed mommy? Wasn't I in my bed?" (my first wake up mantra was "there is no place like home" - perhaps the brain defaults to a place of comfort?). I gather her into my arms, and now she is crying because I am crying, and I am failing to get a hold of myself. I keep telling her, "You're OK, baby! You're OK!" and she keeps repeating, "Why am I not in my bed, mommy?" like we are in a bad movie loop.

Craig hangs up the phone and the emergency team is on the way. He picks her up and we go downstairs. I call a friend to come watch the other two, as this is going to be a late night. The paramedics recommend Sophie go to the hospital, since we have a history of seizure in the family. In the ambulance, Sophie talks and talks and talks non-stop. He takes her temp, and she has a fever. She is very pale.

The ER is not quite the stuff of nightmares, but in a community that grew faster than the hospital, we are close to that. There are four paramedic beds waiting for a real bed, and people are in beds in open areas, in every hall. How are there not enough rooms for everyone? The Dr's first visit occurs while we are waiting in this hall. He checks her over and looks at her stats. It is her fever that gives him a clue to her condition - he thinks the seizure was brought on by a quickly spiking fever, but since she is just a bit out of the age range for that condition, ran interference on the cats, and has the family history, he gets her into a bed, and we begin an evening of tests.

Over the course of 5 hours, Sophie is the lucky recipient of several tests. First they do a chest CT. When we get back, they draw some blood and hook up an IV - she evidently needs fluids. When she says she needs to pee, the nurse hands me a cup. What a fun job for me. Afterwards, it takes Sophie a bit of time to fall asleep, as she is "nervous." At one point she jerks awake quickly and calls out, "Mommy! Mommy where are you?" She is a bit confused but remembers quickly where she is and eventually goes back to sleep. Craig and I doze on uncomfortable chairs, then I awake when I hear a noise right by the door. A large, jovial man has arrived with a wheelchair to take Sophie to have a head CT scan. The machine resembles a giant donut, and the man does a good job of being careful and caring for Sophie. Other than the paramedic in the back of the bus, this man has exhibited the most concern for my baby.

He tells me it will take about an hour for the films, and the dr should see us shortly after that. Once we are back in the bed, one more person arrives; Sophie's final test is an EKG, which is quick and easy. We turn off the light and fall back asleep.

I awake with a jerk as my hand and legs are numb from my sleeping position. Sophie has rolled to her side, and she is shivering a bit since her open backed hospital gown is not covered by the thin blanket. I am wrapped in a sheet because I am dressed for the 110 degree weather from earlier, not this hopsital the temperature of an industrial freezer. I cuddle with Sophie for a bit -- it is now after 3:30. A nurse comes in to look at the scratches on Sophies hand and clean them. She does a good job of getting much of the dried blood off Sophie's hand, and then uses a disinfecting wash to take care of the wounds. Another nurse comes in with the Doctor, and we get the final breakdown.

They don't know what caused the siezure (they never really do, do they?) but they think it was Febrile in nature (due to the spiking fever) but they are not 100% certain. As a result, they recommend taking her to a pediatric neurologist (wow, does history repeat itself!) which will most likely mean either another trip to Rady's children's Hospital in San Diego, but maybe we will get lucky and find a reference for the more local Loma Linda. They also prescribe hard core antibiotics for her hand ( I also hope it helps her ear which they say is not infected, but why else should it hurt so bad?). We receive our final paperwork and thank all the nurses and doctors who did their best and took care of my baby. We left just after 4 am.

We arrived home just around 4:30 am, thanked my friend, and Craig walked her to her car. I got Sophie some cereal and a glass of milk while she lamented her inability to use her right hand - the one of the cat scratches -- as they have it pretty heavily bandaged. She takes a few bites and wants to go to bed. I finish my cereal and tuck her in. She is already asleep.

I need to wash that shirt.

On Personal Responsibility

My son is 12 - he will be 13 in December, and I am so proud of him.

He just tested for his black belt in Tae Kwon Do, an accomplishment that has been 5 years in the making. Whether or not he passed, though, is not my moment of pride. My moment of pride involves the events leading up to that moment.

We homeschool, and one of the most important things I am trying to impart to my children is their ability to not only teach themselves, but to also have the personal accountability to do the work well (or better) and on time. For 12 yr old boys, this often extends to the realm of sports and video games, and not much else!

For the past month, my son has been working hard. In this month alone he: 1)completed the Weather Merit Badge for Boy Scouts; 2)completed all his requirements (only has meetings left) for his Second Class rank in scouts; 3) worked as an assistant instructor at his TKD studio for 5-6 hours, on top of his 4) 5-6 hours a week of TKD training. He has essentially worked more this month than *I* have, and that is a lot for a 12 yr old.

But it is more than the accomplishments. Not once did I have to say, "Hey, get to work on your Merit Badge!" or "It's time to practice TKD!" He took that initiative all on his own. When I told him he should start working on his merit badge, he showed me that he was already working on it, and had been for the past hour. He finished his presentation for it a month early as well. While I was upstairs with the girls, he asked if he could "YouTube" his forms to make sure he is practicing them correctly - and he did this for at least an hour a day, ON TOP of his 10-12 hours of class each week.

It is the fact that he stepped up, on his own; that he took the initiative to do the work; that he had the presence of mind to say to himself, "This needs to get done, so I better do it now," is something most ADULTS fail to do.

If nothing else in this world, my son has learned to step up and get the job done.
And that, my friend, is success.

I am becoming a hard core blogger

Instead of working on my books. Bad me! But I look at my blogs as material and notes I can draw from when I do write. I plan on doing a lot of that at the pool while in Vegas. Here is my schedule for Vegas:

Wake up, take pill, go work out for 30 mins, then come back and check email and the like for another 30 min (pill needs an hour to kick in).

Eat my breakfast. This is one area where, if I am having fruit and a granola bar and a glass of milk (my usual) I do not go halfsies. I need those 200-300 calories to start my day and prevent snacking later in the morning. I do only eat half the banana though - I learned recently that half a banana is one serving, so I guess I DO eat my "half" in that respect!

Finish any online work on the laptop. Then change into my (drumroll please) Bikini, grab the laptop, and head to the pool. With some sunscreen and a cool drink, I will begin writing. When the fire of writing burns out, I will then jump in the pool and swim, thus cooling off, and read until I dry off, then start again. I hope to get a huge chunk of writing done over the week!

Around lunch, find something quick and easy that I can cut in half, then go upstairs, shower, and get myself ready to find my hubby at his event. Hang with him and some friends until dinner, the party all night long (or until my bedtime, which is usually about midnight or so)!

Then start all over. I am excited about this writing opportunity - I have never really looked at a vacation as a writing opportunity before, but time to get started!

Vegas, oh ye mecca of partying and writing, here I come!

For more info about "I get half"

My hubby encouraged me to write about this experience. I am going to blog about it HERE to begin recording my little weight loss adventure. That way I have "notes" if I ever decide to write a book about it!

"I get half" Cult Following

Evidently, the "I get half" diet has been pretty successful. Not just for me, but for others as well!

It started with my homeschool group - I see them on a regular basis, and they were the first ones to really notice I was dropping weight. When I first told them all what I was doing, I was a bit embarrassed. I mean, really, there is nothing medical or proven about what I was doing. It just seemed like common sense to me that the easiest way to cut back on ALL my caloric intake was to cut it ALL in half. Then I just added in some of my own rules: fewer sweets, snacks had to be either fruit, cereal, or a cereal/granola bar (half, of course), and more exercise. I even picked up some ankle weights to wear around the house for the added caloric burn.

After some "half a gallon of ice cream" jokes, most of the women commented that it made sense and it was easy. No counting calories, keeping track of food, watch fat grams. The easiest way to cut calories is just to honestly CUT them - in half.

I first noticed it in my back - for some reason I was blessed with back fat. UGH. But that started dropping right away, and as a result, most people could see it dropping from my shoulders as well; I have a very defined collar bone now, and some strong tendons/muscles in my neck. Then my pants started falling off and the moms thought that was hilarious. My hubby has been talking about the weight loss for a week or more now, as it really sees it in my face.

So what is the point of all this? That it is funny how some things get started. My homeschool moms love the fact I am losing weight without a "diet" - just common sense. Their reply was pretty much "That is brilliant" and as word has spread, that is the response I get. My baby sitter loved the idea, and now many of the homeschool moms are doing the same thing (with their own little preference changes). I have had a few other people ask me what I was doing to lose the weight, and they all have the same response too: "brilliant!"

But now the word is really starting to spread - my hubby (who has a huge, extended network of people he knows) has been telling people about it when they complain abou their weight. He tells them, "You know, my wife starting losing weight with her "I get half" diet. . ." and gets pretty much the same reaction: "Brilliant!"

The end result is this little experiment I wanted to try to see if it would help me lose some weight has now lit a fire with others as well. I never expected to be a cult icon - but my diet seems to be one! And hey, if it works . . . why not?

Happy Losing everyone! Let's celebrate with half a glass of champagne and half a serving of cake! :)

I get half!

So, on the cusp of going to Vegas for a work/vacation get a way late in June, I have been trying to get my body ready for a new dress and, at my hubby's request, a bikini. A BIKINI. UGH. I haven't worn one since way before the birth of my third child, over 7 years ago.


My sisters both work out a lot and have great bodies. One sister works for 24-hour fitness, and the other just came in 2nd place in a fitness competition. I didn't not inherit the work-out gene. I am a reader and a writer, not runner or biker. So with a bit of their help and advice, I decided it was time to conquer the treadmill and my diet and get my body Vegas-ready. The spirit is willing; the flesh, weak.


First I really had to commit to the treadmill. I now record most of my TV shows and watch them on the treadmill. I usually can get 20-30 mins a day on the treadmill, plus I use weights and do arm exercises while I walk. Then, once arms are done, I crank up the speed a few notches and jog for a bit, then walk for the remainder of my time. I try to do this 5 times a week. Sometimes I get more, sometime less, but I'm pretty steady.

The most difficult part is the "healthy eating" part. I am not a dieter - I love my chocolate and snacks way too much. I've tried to diet before, and just can't stick to it. I like my junk food too much, and veggies not so much.


I am not into calorie counting - between kids, the house, homeschooling, work, and life in general, I needed something so easy a 2 yr old could do it, and it needed to be cheap. That is when I decided to do the easiest thing I could think of -- cut all the calories in half. That means cutting all the food in half (plus I cut out snacks - I can only have a 1/2 serving of shredded wheat if I'm hungry). If I cut the food in half, I cut the calories in half, simple as that.

So, for the past 4 weeks, I have been going halvsies on everything. The good news is I can still eat much junk and dinner with the kids. And while do get some hunger pangs, they aren't too bad. And, for the past 2 weeks, it has been difficult to eat larger portions or heavier food when I do try.

My stomach is getting used to less, not more, and for the past week, my collar bones have been sticking out -- I am starting to look bony! I used to wear size 16, which now fall off my hips. The size 14s are starting to feel small, and I just put on a size 12, which fit easily, today because I need a new dress for Vegas - and I bought it! Once more size and I will be where I was before I got pregnant with my son; two more and I will be the size I was in high school!

I wasn't huge, but I wasn't happy with my muffin, my back fat, of being the fat sister. I am on my way to losing all three. Who ever said that losing was a bad thing?

The Trials of Laryngitis!

I am a talker. I love to gossip, talk on the phone; I even lecture once a week as a college prof - for nearly 4 hours! So you can imagine how, lacking a voice, my style is truly crimped.

Every few years or so, I manage to catch a cold, but instead of the standard head cold, it settles into my chest and throat, rendering my voice box useless. While many (not the least my hubby) breath a sigh of relief and this brief reprieve, it does really pose significant difficulties for me. Class on Thursday will be interesting if I don't have my voice back by then. And working with the kids on their school work? So much for read alouds for the next few days. Plus, today I am meeting a old friend whom I hardly ever see - I guess it will be a mostly one sided conversation! UGH.

The good news it usually only lasts for a 3-4 days, so I should be back to my chatterbox self by Thursday or Friday. The down side: making myself heard over my gaggle of kids when they get to playing, fighting, yelling, gaming, etc.

It is going to be a quiet week at our house!

Who in the Hell does he think he is?

My doctor, I mean.

Envision a typical doctor visit for an initial consult. You are not sick; nothing is wrong; you are just getting the doctor familiar with you. A typical, easy visit, if scheduled at 9 am, will include a 20 minute wait or so, the 20 minute visit, pay, and you are out the door in an hour.

Now for my doctor:
I have a tight schedule today - doctor in the morning, someone coming by right after noon, and I have to be out the door to each by 4 pm. Very tight. My appt was set for 10 am, and I got there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork or whatever. My esteemed doctor kept us waiting for an hour and 30 minutes, no apologies, nothing. That was the time BEFORE I ever saw his face. We went through my son first, them began with me.

When we were almost done with my consult, my phone went off (LOUD ringing). I went over to it to check if it was the person stopping over (since it was almost noon and I thought I would be home by this time!) and shut it off and he left the room. When he came back he was infuriated that I didn't turn off my phone, and how it cuts into his time (after I just sat there for an hour and a half? Are you KIDDING ME? I am NOT on YOUR schedule buddy!).

Well, THAT flipped my bitch switch, but I took the higher road. I just shrugged and said "Sorry," when I really wanted to let him know what I thought of MY long wait compared to the 15 seconds it took to get my phone. At this point, I was absolutely frazzled. I hate how some people think their time is so much more important, and there are several doctors in our area that would love a reasonably healthy family of 5. My time is just as valuable, if not, more valuable becuase it is MY time, and MY KIDS' time -- and nothing is more valuable than that, especially not some jerk of a doctor I just met.

Then we resumed the consult and finished, and by then he was acting VERY nice and smiling at me - completely different from his character prior to the phone call of death. Then, as he was getting ready to leave the room, he shook my hand, then just kept touching my hand and kept shaking it again -- a bit up close like. What the hell? Was that an apology for being an ass? If so, it was an uncomfortable one!

After almost 2 1/2 hours at the doctor, I am beat. I am willing to see if the relationship gets better. Otherwise, I think I may have to expand the search for a doctor. Let's hope this was just a misstep - I really don't want to search for a new doctor!

But I will. Don't be a jerk to me, especially if I am paying you for a service, even if you are an esteemed doctor. In this economy, I can and will take my business elsewhere.

Adoptions are fun!

After the sad passing of our Shadow, we mourned for about a day or two when my youngest asked if we can get a new kitty. My loving hubby had already given me the thumbs up on doing this ASAP, so we were ready to go. Imagine my surprise when we couldn't find a kitten to save our souls.

We can't easily adopt from the pound as their "no declawing" rule grossly contradicts my "declaw immediately" law. Nothing on craigslist; nothing in pet stores; nothing from friends. Just when life seemed bleak, a beacon of kitten light appeared by way of a homeschooling friend. She had a neighbor with 2 girl kittens who were headed for the pound if they weren't adopted soon.

She brought them to our park day, and we inspected the kittens, trying to see which we liked more. My son was out-voted, so his choice was put back in her cat carrier while we put our newest member of the family in our little crate.

Then the problem arose - the reject managed to conjure the saddest, most pathetic look and mews known to man. And my soft-hearted son was distressed - he knew the kitten we didn't pick was destined for an unglorious fate. He didn't pester, but he did ask if there was anyway we could take the second one, too.

I admit the kittens were stinkin' cute - how people can NOT adopt kittens is beyond my mortal ken. But that means more work, more $$ for the declaw and spay, more everything. I told him I was not up for it, and I didn't think Daddy would want two cats in the house. Aden asked if he could text daddy and ask him. If dad was OK with it, would I be?

I looked into his earnest face and said, "Sure." I knew my hubby did not want two cats, so we were OK - then Dad's text came through and read "call me" - so I did. He said, "Why not? It will only add to the chaos of the house." I nearly died! He agreed? The kids would be ecstatic!

And they were - we scooped that other kitten out of the carrier, put her in a holey box, and took her home. Stormy managed to dodge the bullet and join her sister Valentine at our house. Two cuddly kittens you've never met - the only way they sleep is entwined with one another.

I told the kids, when Shadow passed, that God had a plan. There was a reason God took Shadow to be with him - maybe there was another cat out there who needed us more. I was wrong. There were two.

The worst week ever.

That pretty much sums it up. How bad, exactly? Let my make a bulleted list for you, from pretty bad to REALLY bad:

1. My daughter forgot to wear an overnight last night, so I had to change pee-sheets at 2 in the morning.

2. One of my classes this semester seems to be heavily LACKING in the brains department. Can we use just an iota of common sense, please?

3. All three kids, and my hubby, have been sick - I have been eating oranges, grapefruit, Zicam, and Airborne like crazy, and Lysol-ing EVERYTHING to ward off all possible germs.

and the worst:
4. My 7 month old kitty died today . . . due to complications while getting spayed and vaccinated.

And piggy-backing on that:
5. How am I going to tell my kids? Especially my 8 year old who told me a few months ago that her biggest fear was to wake up and find the cat bleeding? Or my son who calls the kitten "his" kitten? Or my little 6 year old who has no idea that pets can die?

Oh my God . . . are you kidding me?

The vet called just a few minutes ago, and you know it is going to be bad when the conversation starts like this: "Hello, Michelle. This is Dr. ----- from the Animal hospital. The reason I'm calling is we had some complications . . . ."

I knew. I knew at that moment. The receptionist calls with good news, the Dr. only with the bad.

Shadow was the tiniest gray kitten - feisty as hell. And she hated you and hissed at you until you grabbed one of her "chase me" toys, then she would let you pet her. She cuddled with me all day yesterday, and every morning she would follow me into the bathroom, purring loud enough to vibrate the walls, as if to say, "I am SO glad you finally woke up!" She loved to chase Sophie's feet, play with the dog, and she could jump almost three feet straight up with a back flip to try and chase one of her cat toys.

I love this cat. Even the vet was crying on the phone, and I am crying now just thinking that I don't get her back on Saturday. Instead, we have to talk to the kids and see if we want to pick up the ashes. Don't mention this to the kids yet if you email or talk to them - they don't know yet. We have to have "the talk" tomorrow morning.

The vet said it was a very rare occurrence, especially in a cat this young, energetic, and healthy. It is almost unheard of.

The last thing we said to the kitten as we left was, "Goodbye Shadow! We love you!"

Goodbye, Shadow. We love you.

OOPS! I Did It Again!

Writing, that is!




It has been too long since I sat at the computer for me. I teach college English courses online, set up homeschooling lesson plans with my Word program, and surf the internet, reading my email and homeschool blogs, but it has been almost 2 years since I have submitted anything for publication.Well, over the course of my internet wandering, and reading my own recommendations to other writers, I grew tired. I was tired of everyone else writing, but not me. I am a good writer (Heck, I think I'm a great writer!), but you are not REALLY a writer if you don't write. And I haven't been writing. Nothing except intermittent ramblings on blogs, anyhow.

Enough is Enough! I told myself. I sat down after dinner, let the kids game their brains out on the Wii, and put fingers to keyboard. I wrote an interesting piece on a handwriting impediment for Practical Homeschooling Magazine (I've been published there a few time before - great homeschool resource IMO). Whether or not it will be published is still in the air - it is not my typical fare and it is lengthier than my normal submissions. BUT! It was a submission none-the-less. My first in 2 years.

Once again, I can call myself a writer. Now where is my stinkin' Nobel Prize already?

Blessings of Christmas

For those of you who know our family, you may remember that the last few years have been a bit rough. Needless to say, Christmas, as a result suffered greatly.

Then last year, to add insult to injury we moved cross-country and lived in a rather small apartment, which meant a small tree and limited decorations (what decor I could find that we had packed, anyway!).

To me, this was just miserable. I adore holidays - any cause to celebrate should be thusly celebrated, and Christmas tops the list. I love the lights, the cheer, the food, family and friends, and now that I have children, the wonder that is Christmas. To believe in miracles, in faith, that a fat man in a red suit really will bring presents (oh the presents!) if one is good enough is pure magic. And lacking that, Christmas joy can be hard to come by. It has been hard to come by for the past few years.

This year, however, I tell everyone that we have been blessed. A great new house in a great new neighborhood, secure (for now at least) employment, happier kids, new friends, a second car - it is like a dream. And that is what the blessing has felt like so far -a dream.


For the past few weeks, however, my dream life has become reality. My hubby commented that I have been really, really happy lately (I guess I can be a real downer sometimes), and my son said if that was so, why I have been crying so much. And it is true, I cry at the drop of a hat lately, but I know why. You know the saying "I'm so happy, I could cry"? Well, I am, and I do.

I look at the happiness on the faces of my kids, how they speak to each other nicely, the joy they get from the advent calendar and the holiday movies; I see my hubby take pictures of us Christmas caroling and taking us to see the Christmas lights; I feel the joy of the holidays in my home and I know, I know deep in my heart and soul, that I am truly and undeniably blessed. I pray these blessings carry over into the new year.

I pray that you all may know the blessings I feel this moment.

It was 12 years ago today . . .

My son turns 12 today.

He is now old enough to babysit. I remember him as a little boy who, when left partially to his own defenses one morning while daddy slept, tried to dress himself. He took clothes out of his dirty laundry and put them on over his pajamas, including 3 pairs of dirty underwear.

My son turns 12 today. He is now in middle school. I remember when he was almost three and just learning his ABCs. He woke me at 5 am one morning, his ABC book clutched in one hand, three crayons clutched in the other. In his most excited voice he chanted, "ABC book, Mommy! ABCs!"

My son turns 12 today. He will receive his red/white belt in Tae Kwon Do this evening. I remember the first time he ever took a sports class. He was two years old and had a mixed sports class for 2-3 year olds taught by Coach Bob. He learned to try to shoot baskets, run laps, and run the bases of a baseball diamond, laughing at every turn.

My son turns 12 today. In four years he will be able to drive a car. I remember the little boy who was addicted to his Matchbox race cars. Every day he would line them up in the living room, congested lines of traffic across the carpet, complete with the "VROOM" sound for full effect.

My son turns 12 today. His favorite movies are the likes of X-Men and Spiderman. I remember when he first saw "Toy Story" by Disney. He got his Woody doll for Christmas that year from my sister and that doll never left his side. By the time he retired it, Woody's hair was mostly worn away, four fingers on his left had were broken off, and the push button that mimicked the pull string was gone.

My son turns 12 today. He is working on earning his merit badge for swimming. I remember the summer we scrimped and saved for a summer membership to the local pool. It was a zero depth pool complete with a small frog slide for the kiddies, and he would spend hours going up and down that little water slide, splashing the mornings away.

My son turns 12 today. Now he sleeps up in a loft bed in a room all his own. But I remember when he used to crawl into bed with us. He would either sleep at the foot of the bed like a puppy, or curl up with me, his blankie in hand. I still remember the silky feel of his hair against my cheek and his soft baby smell of shampoo and baby lotion.

My son turns 12 today, and while I am so excited to see him grow into a wonderful young man, I am grateful for the memories of the past 12 years. He may no longer be a baby, but I can still be with my baby boy whenever I need to, if only in my mind. I thank God for those 12 years, and I pray that I may be gifted with another 12 years, then another, then too many to count. I pray that the memories never end.

My son turns 12 today, and I love him more today than the day he was born, and I never thought such a thing was possible.

Happy Birthday, my baby boy.

Do you feel Wicked?

I am still recovering. I have always enjoyed theater, especially musicals, but with three kids and a limited budget, I do not have the opportunity to attend as often as I would like. So when my husband said, "Screw the budget!" we decided to spend $400 and get tickets for the whole family. Pretty good seats, too - lower orchestra, left side. Nice.

Now I must say that I have been changed for the better. The storyline was well conceived, the characters well developed (as a literary type, I really liked the author's ideas of the how and why of certain characters we meet in The Wizard of Oz), the music intoxicating, the singing beyond this world. I knew I would like it; I didn't expect to fall in love with it. It truly deserves all the credit it receives.

However, we didn't really attend because I wanted to see it. We went because last year at this time it was in San Diego at the same time we were, and the girls (age 6 and 8) went ballistic over it. We didn't have the money to even consider going, so the girls received a Wicked cd for Christmas and we called it good. But that wasn't good enough for them. My youngest sang along with that disc all day, and my older daughter made up a dance to "Defying Gravity" (her favorite song). In fact, it was that scene from the TV commercials that first attracted her interest. They LOVED Wicked, and they had not even seen it.

Fast forward one year later, and we learned that Wicked is in its final run at the Pantages Theater in LA. It will be gone next month. So, busting the budget, we go, fight traffic for almost 3 hours to go 60 miles, and arrive in Hollywood, home of the Pantages Theater.

To begin, Sophie was enthralled with Hollywood (she has decided she wants to move there when she is older and become a singing teacher). The girls were dressed to the nines and soaking in the whole theater atmostphere as we arrived. We took our seats and the show started shortly after.

While I went and enjoyed it thoroughly, my reaction was not necessarily the best part of the evening. Two minutes into the musical, she had a relevation, "This is like the Wizard of Oz, isn't it, mommy?" Evidently she had started reading the original book, and finally realized who the "Witches of Oz" were. From that point on she was drawn in. Sophie sat by daddy, so I couldn't see or interact with her well, but Kaya sat by me, and I have never seen ANYONE so entranced in my life. She honestly did not sit in her seat, but perched on the edge the whole time, her hand on the seat in front of her, her face lit with an absolute glow of wonder.

Then came the end of the first act, and she moved forward more (if she could have stood, I think she would have), and the look on her face as Elpheba rose up singing is indescribable. All I can say is that the look on her face made me cry more than the actual musical. Then the lights cut and everyone was clapping and she was no longer sitting, but kind of standing/crouching and when the lights came on she looked at me as though she had just seen an angel from Heaven. When she saw people leaving she asked if we could move closer up if those people don't come back, and I had to laugh back my tears.

Yes, the show is great, but seeing my daughter love it more than I was worth more than the $400 (plus gas, dinner, parking, etc), worth more than anything I could have paid. We don't get to see that type of wonder and excitement in children very often. It is a gift that is more rare and valuable than gold or diamonds, this discovery and wonder in a child, and I got to see it this week. For that, I am truly thankful.

A Happy Halloween

Yes, it was a Happy Halloween for us this year - the kids got to attend parties (one of which we threw and it was awesome!), a fall festival, and go trick -or-treating. They raked in the candy (off which mom and dad get to mooch , yum!) and had bales of fun (pun intended!). But this holiday was more important for a different reason: it is the first "official" holiday in our new home.

As many of you may know, just over a year and a half ago, my hubby experience an unintended job change, which left us having to move to California, but still have a house in the midwest. Between rent and that mortgage, our hopes for a house in CA fell by the wayside, and we were stuck in a less-than-spectacular apartment complex in a not-so-great part of town. Sadness ensued.

However, much to our joy, the housing market totally crashed at about the same time we found a renter for the house in the midwest. While may others lament the crash of the housing market, we danced all the way to the bank, got a great loan at a great rate, and bought a foreclosed house at half price. Time for the Happy Dance!

The house in the midwest was still HOME. But, after three months in the new house, some hardcore cleaning, and getting the kids back in scouts and the like, this new house started to feel more homey. Not quite home yet, but getting there.

It is now Halloween night, and the kids are dressed to the hilt. Seeing them run around the house, plastic trick-or-treat pumpkins in hand, surrounded by the incandescent glow of candles and orange Halloween lights, something happened. With all the excitement and the tradition behind it all, suddenly this strange house became HOME.

Whether you celebrate a particular holiday or not, holidays have something special attached to them: a sense of tradition older than yourself. And when we bring those traditions home to roost, share them with our children, and enjoy the trappings of that brief holiday time, our outsides reflect the joy and celebration of our insides. This house now has memories - ones that I will keep, that my children will keep, and one day, God willing, my grandchildren will keep as well.

Tonight, for the first time in almost 2 years, we are finally home.

I've Had a BAD DAY!

This has been one of those days when it would have just been better to go back to bed. Can I get a do over?

First, the dentist: My dentist's office has a knack for writing the WRONG DAY on my reminder card. In September I missed my appt. becuase they wrote Sept 5 on my card, but they had Sept 3 in their system, and since we had just moved, I didn't get a call. No biggie. I rescheduled for the same day that my kids go in - Oct 21, a Tuesday. I checked it several times to be sure, confirmed it with her over a month ago, and wrote it in giant letters on my calendar while still on the phone, just to be sure.

Today I get the confirmation phone call for my dental appointment at 10 am on Wednesday. Wait a minute! Wednesday, the 22nd? No, I tell her, it is for tomorrow, the 21st. That is what you wrote on my reminder card. I have it RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF ME. The 21st. I can't make it on Wednesday, the 22nd, because we have another commitment that cannot be rescheduled. Bummer, because I really wanted to go to the dentist, you know?

So that set the tone of the day. Later that afternoon, we have to drive to Tae Kwon Do. My car was running fine, because we just refilled the coolant yesterday. We have to drive across town to drop off some paperwork, and when we get out, the kids notice the car is smoking (and not in the good way). What the hell?

So I look under the hood, don't see anything amiss, close it, drop off the paperwork, and we head home.

Half way home we need to pull over as my heat indicator gauge is almost on red. Now I am one step below freakin out, as it is dark. I know I have a coolant leak, but we just filled it yesterday! There is no way it can be empty already!

We let the car cool a bit, then get back in. About a mile from home, the gauge is again almost in the red. I pull over to a well lit parking lot near Sun City Bikes (go there if you ever need a bike!!!) and take another look. My loving son gets out to look, and as I show him the coolant parts, we go through our options. My cell is dead, I have no cash, and we don't get paid til Friday. I don't even have the money to use a pay phone, if I could even find one in this day and age. That is when I notice something amiss with my radiator cap (or whatever that metal cap is called). It is not sealed.

Evidently, when we checked the coolant levels this weekend, we put the cap on but did not screw it down all the way. Thus, while I cruised around town this evening, I was spewing coolant all under the hood. Now I have no coolant, an overheated engine, and no way to call my hubby for help. Can we say ready to cry?

However, sometimes God sends Angels. The owner of Sun City Bikes (buy a bike from him!!!) is closing for the night and sees we are in distress. In addition to knowing about bikes, he evidently knows quite a bit about cars as well. He strikes up friendly conversation, gets a bunch of water, takes care of the overheated engine for me, gives me advice to run the heater to get the hot out of the engine, makes sure the engine isn't damaged, and makes sure I am close enough to home so if anything happens I am not stuck with 3 kids on a dark road at night. NICEST FREAKIN GUY EVER (Go to Sun City Bikes!!). Needless to say, as I drove home the heat gauge on the car slowly moved to the left, indicating we were no longer a hot car. We pulled into the driveway, said a little prayer, turned off the car, and thankfully walked into the house. Nervous breakdown averted!

When we went to Church this week, we had to scrimp around for offering and the kids always have to use some of their own money for offering. One of the kids asked what the offering was for, and I explained it is a way of saying thank you to God and they Church for all they do for us, and that what ever we give comes back to you thousandfold. As I stood there with my overheated car and not even a quarter for a phone call, I looked up at the sky and joked with my son, "So much for that thousandfold, eh God?" But God got the best of me - after our Sun City Bikes Angel left and we were on our way home, my son, who I am beginning to believe is much smarter than I, says, "I guess God did pay you back, huh mom?"

We don't get to choose the form that thousandfold takes. At that moment in that parking lot, I didn't need a quarter or a nice cell phone. I just needed someone with all things, water. I needed a thousandfold of water, and that is what God sent.

It was worth every penny.

Then Just Quit Already!

I was trolling through some of my fave websites this morning - most are either education or homeschool related, but some are just fun, like facebook. However, one of the education websites I read provided some information that truly shocked me.

Let me preface this by a bit of history. My son was in full time day care for all of 9 months, and it was the longest 9 months of my life. It was also one of the costliest. We paid $150/week for full time care ten years ago. That would come to, on average, $600 a month, $750 for a 5 week month. OUCH. It was also one of the reasons we wanted to get me into a stay-at-home mom position, or at least, part-time working position. And once my hubby landed a job that paid as much as I made, and I found a part-time teaching position for a local college, we were able to do it.

Basically, we figured that I could make almost $800 a month LESS than what I was making full time, since we would no longer have day care costs. Since my take home pay was only $1600 a month, that was TOO easy. I taught 2 classes each semester and made more than that. We were set; I quit my full time job and we never looked back.

Let me also put out here that I am an advocate of the stay at home parent. If you manage to work part time and only have the kids with a sitter for a few hours a week, that is a different situation altogether. There is still one parent that is the primary caretaker. I firmly believe that if you have kids, YOU should raise them. Not some stranger that you found in the phone book. Not some distant relative who is "helping you out" to the tune of $200/week or more. YOU. YOU. YOU. That is your kid. Take care of him/her already!

I actually feel badly for those moms (and their kids) who say they can't (or just won't) stay home with the kidlets. They don't know what they are missing.

Fast forward to this Sunday morning, and my reading of Ed Report at eagleforum.org. They published an interesting article about the high costs of day care, specifically this line which almost knocked me out of my chair: "the average family with two children in Google day care would go, under the new plan, from paying $33,000 a year to paying over $57,000" (2008). WHO IN THE HELL WOULD PAY $33,000 A YEAR (let alone $57,000) TO SEND THEIR KIDS TO DAY CARE?!
Are you kidding me? Are you FREAKIN' kidding me?!

My take home when I worked full time was less than $28,000 a year. When the hubby started making the "big bucks," he made $32,000 a year. Essentially, if we had to send the kids to day care today, it would be cheaper for one us NOT to work instead! And if these are the costs of day care, then why in the name of all things Holy, does the second parent work? Unless that parent makes more than $40,000, they are PAYING to work. This does not include any other costs like lunches, clothes, car upkeep, gas, etc. That is the straight up babysitter fee.

Even if that same second parent made $50,000/year, then after taxes they are really only making about $6000/year after day care costs. 40 hours a day, 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year, for a measly $6000. Sell Avon instead. Have a bake sale. Either of these would net the same amount and you would be at home with your kids! No boss, no worrying about getting a sick day off, no missing the school play or that soccer game. No 95% of your pay going to a babysitter.

I guess I never really looked at the numbers. For those families who don't have the second parent, obviously this isn't an option. For those who have grandma watch the babies for super cheap or free, obviously this doesn't apply to you. But for those of you in two parent households, unless you make, and let's be realistic here, $70,000 or more, EACH, then one of you should quit. You will be richer in the long run.

Noble Intentions

Hours. I have them. I do. But most nights end like this one, and I wonder if I will ever have time of mine own.

The hubby and I typically stay up late - 12 am or so - him gaming, me catching up on work. Even if I don't have a class in session, I am catching up on our homeschool work, or on something for scouts, or cleaning the kitchen (one day I WILL invent a self cleaning kitchen, and I will then be the wealthiest and most beloved of women).

And what does this all come down to? I don't write. Not like I used to, not like I would like to. I have so many book ideas, article ideas, notes scattered around the house like so many autumn leaves blowing in the wind. What have I done with any of them lately? Nothing. Nothing but make said stacks larger as I take more notes, add more to the piles of info, come up with yet another article/book I want to write.

I am even jealous of a good friend who blogs nearly every other day - that is like a dream! I admire her for that commitment. For all the time I spend on this machine that has supplanted most of my life, I still cannot find adequate time to blog. It is all my fault, truly. And more to the fact, I use the "who's reading it anyway" excuse -- a horrible excuse. I should write for the joy of it, but by the end of the day, my fingers just want to fall off, as I have done little more than write or type all day and all night.

But realization comes like a splash of cold water, as my oldest has MAN hair on his legs and my oldest two need to use deodorant daily (nothing worse than prepubescent BO). The reality is that my time, this time with my kids is slowly, but too fast for me, coming to an end. I sat with my husband, lamenting this. In 9 years, I am done. The homeschooling is essentially complete, and with it, all those time-consuming trappings of childhood.

What do I do then? How will I fill those lonely hours that I used to grasp at so desperately, when I didn't have enough time to finish all I had to do? I am sad, so sad that I am starting to see the end of this great project granted to me by the grace of God. But I am also starting to see something else.

As I sat on the couch with my husband and discussed with him my fear of those lonely hours ahead, I knew what I was going to do to fill that time.

I shall write.

My Exciting Career News

For the most part, I consider myself a stay-at-home mom. We homeschool; I do most of the housework, and essentially no longer work outside of the home.


However, I am still a college professor and I teach online classes for National University. My employment with NU has been one of the best teaching positions I've had. Not only do I get to teach via this newer medium, I enjoy it. I receive great support from my dean and they employ me regularly -- which is always a plus. And this month, NU gave me the opportunity to stretch my professional career -- I got to develop full course curriculum for their new online Tech Writing course! YAY!


What does this mean to people who live in the "real world"? This is like having the a new office project land in your lap - and this project will be implemented for many people within that office. To develop curriculum, the prof needs to consider learning objectives, texts, outside references, lectures, interactive activities, reading assignments, writing assignments, quizzes/tests, and even discussion forums for students to have "in class" discussions.



I had most of the materials and ideas already, as I have taught Tech writing online several times in the past. The only difference is the text and base materials were pre-selected for me, as were the learning objects, page writing requirements, and such; but the rest was under my purview. This time, everything was up to me, and this class will set the online standard for any future online tech writing options (which I hope I will also write). Plus, not only will my students follow the course structure, but so will all students who take the class, whether I teach it or not.



And that is the added bonus - for the first few classes at least, I will be the one to teach it! More guaranteed teaching assignments!



I love being a college professor and I love online teaching. I love that NU has given me the opportunity to expand my career as a professor.








I often feel that I have it all - the ability to be a mom to my kids, and the uber-career of an online professor that lets me be that mom to my kids.





May you all one day feel that you too have it all.