A love letter to my air conditioning

If I were to compose a love letter to my air conditioning, it would sound something like the following…

Dear blessed chilly air,

I may not have shown you proper appreciation in the past. In fact, I may even have complained at moments when you were doing your best. For that, I am sincerely sorry. I will never take you for granted again.

I love you, chilly air. You make my life complete during the warm, sticky summer months.

Love,

Me

We lost our power last night, shortly after bedtime. Shockingly, the loud storm didn’t wake my kids up. Or at least it didn’t cause them to tell us they were awake. They woke up in the morning, looking refreshed and happy. When I asked them if they had heard the thunder, they looked up at me, smiled and said “yeah!” with excitement. When I inquired as to whether they had been afraid, my son looked up at me and shrugged nonchalantly. “No”, then he went back to playing. My daughter looked at me wide eyed and stated, with sincerity and confidence. “No, mommy. I wasn’t. It’s just a loud noise.”

Oh how I love knowing that they have been listening.

And the kids did a pretty good job, even though the house got pretty warm. We have a generator that allowed us to have one basement light and use of one kitchen appliance at a time, so it wasn’t even really survival. Our refrigerator and downstairs freezer had power so we didn’t lose food. Not bad. I have my husband to thank for that.

But we didn’t have AC and wow… it felt sticky. The kids didn’t even go upstairs for nap because it would have been useless. No way they would have been comfortable, and it wasn’t worth the fight.

Around bedtime, my husband lightly commented that he didn’t envy those that that lived through summer pre-air conditioning.

But did they really know the difference? I mean, really… did people know that dinner took too long to heat up before having a microwave was standard? Not really. Did they know that phone books were inefficient before the internet? Did people recognize the inconvenience of having to develop rolls of film and sift through the crappy ones before digital cameras? Uhm, no…  Do people know how much free time they really have before they have kids? Absolutely not.  

I wonder what my kids will ask me about when they are adults. Which inconveniences they will identify as they pity me?

Lisa and the terrible, horrible, no good very bad birthday

Today was my birthday. I turned 37. I fully intended to blog about my birthday, cite examples of why I feel so fortunate. Talk about hugging and kissing my kids, ooze about a lovely day with them in the summer sun. Show appreciation for my friends and family who sent me well wishes. You know…. Be sappy.

And don’t misunderstand. I did get many well wishes from friends and family. All of which were highly appreciated.

But then, today happened.

And I have to tell you… I had the day from hell. Starting at 7:30 am, my kids started in on me. They took turns being the “bad guy”. By that, I mean that they took turns being total monsters. They cried, whined, fussed, kicked and tantrumed all day. And while it was never both of them, it was ALWAYS one of them. He napped, but she didn’t. And wow, did she need that nap. When she came downstairs post not napping, she was in quite a mood. The tantrum she threw when I had to go up and wake him up for dinner was spectacular. And as it turns out, I shouldn’t have wasted my time and energy.

5 minutes into our drive for dinner out, my husband and I realized that we were inviting disaster. Our beloved daughter‘s intentions were not consistent with a successful dinner out. And I hate discipline in public. So not my thing. We turned around and drove home. Plan B went into place. The kids ate mac and cheese and we ordered Chinese after they went to bed. With a lot of wine. I would love to lie to you and tell you that I hid my resentment and annoyance. That I didn’t let my daughter see that her behavior was the reason we turned around and drove home, instead of going out to dinner. Oh, but I did. I still can’t decide if I feel guilty about it.

So, after the kids were in bed, I took a deep breath. Probably my first of the day. We ordered Chinese, opened a bottle of wine and sat out on our porch. By the time dinner was done being consumed, the bottle of wine was history and I was a more than a little tipsy. I had refilled my glass more efficiently than my husband. After all, I needed it more.

But I was fine. Breathing easy. Happy again. And this is why.

Because I still have a great relationship with my husband.

When my husband and I first met, fell in love, and got married, we were nuts about each other. We were “that couple”. Yeah, that couple that made people nauseous.  Having kids had its impact, and we started arguing more often, but not often enough that I worried about our relationship. We still managed to talk enough to keep the lines of communication open and maintain the image of impenetrable for the sake of discipline.

 And tonight, as I look back on my day, my birthday, I do feel true appreciation mixed with the unavoidable frustration.  I appreciate that my day ended with the companionship of my best friend.  My husband.

 And the kids will live another day.

Heaven?

I recently met up with a friend of mine for a play date. Her son is 5 and her daughter is almost 2. The kids had a wonderful time. My kiddos adored having a big kid to watch and imitate and he’s such a good boy that I had no concerns when imitate him they did. The entire time.  It was hilarious, actually. Watching two 3.5 year olds trying to do something a 5 year old is doing… very clumsily and with tremendous giggling. It’s enough to make you know that everything is ok in the world.

During the play date, sat in the middle of the sandbox, the 5 year old looked up and me and asked me, “Do your kids have a daddy?”

Let me fill in the background…

My friend’s friend lost her husband recently and this 5 year old knew about it. He knew that a child, approximately his age, had said goodbye to his daddy. And while he wasn’t showing any significant overt signs of distress (my friend’s son, that is), he was clearly processing it and trying to figure it all out. Hardly shocking, if you ask me.

Me: “Yes, They have a daddy.”

My friend (to her son):  “Honey, why are you asking?”

Kid: “Because I’ve never seen him. “

Ahhh… it’s all starting to make sense. The concrete thinking of a child. I explained that he had, in fact, met their daddy. It’s just that it was a long time ago and I would have been very surprised if he remembered. Basically, my friend and I tend to get together when the dads are at work, during the week.

But still, his face rested in that uncomfortable place. And for this kid, the uncomfortable place is not common. He’s a happy kid, relaxed, content. His face’s standard resting place is one of comfort, not discomfort. Clearly, his question had not been answered. So I asked him. “Do you want to see a picture of their daddy?”

His whole face lit up. Excellent. That was the missing piece of the conversation.  I took out my phone and showed him a picture. He glanced at it for maybe a second and then went back to playing.  Then a moment later…

“Mr. David is in heaven”. 

And here we are. At the center of the real issue.

“Yes honey. I know.” We looked at each other, smiled. Locked eyes.  And then we moved on.

And I made a decision at that very moment, despite not being a religious person. The first time my kids have to endure losing someone they love, I am going to teach them about Heaven. It might be hypocritical, especially given my lack of decisive belief in god. But, for me, that’s not the point.

When my kids lose someone they love, I don’t want them to feel lost or more confused than they need to be. I don’t want them to feel as if that person is lost. And really, how would a kid comprehend the atheist belief that a person just dies. Goes away. To nowhere. All done.  It wouldn’t make sense in their young, concrete little minds.

When my kids lose someone they love, I want them to picture that person encased in happiness. Maybe eating their favorite food or listening to their favorite music. Wearing their favorite shirt or hat. Enjoying a sunny day. You know.... Content. AT PEACE.

Wouldn’t it be nice if that were really the case? If the ones we have loved and lost are really just free of worries in their favorite place?

Perhaps they are…

Why I envy my son...

I am totally envious of my son. I’ll tell you why.

In our house, we have an expression. It emerged, sort of by accident. By this, I mean that I didn’t introduce the sentiment by accident, but I didn’t quite plan on it making camp in the form that it did.

I can be tough on discipline sometimes. If I ask my kids to stop a certain behavior and they don’t listen, I’m not hugely sympathetic or soft when the undesirable consequence happens. If I ask the kids to stop playing with their cups (oh, let’s say… 10 TIMES IN A MINUTE) and then the full cup of juice goes flying across the room, I don’t hold back in letting them know how I feel about it. That said, sometimes things just happen.  Elbows can bump a cup with the best of intentions, and I don’t want my kids afraid to make an honest mistake. I want them to be comfortable being human. After all, their parents are.

So, I started saying “it happens” at those moments when unfortunate human errors occur. Cups or plates that accidentally fall. Toys that accidentally break. Accidentally making a brother/sister cry during playtime. Both of my kids got it, but my son REALLY gets it.

A few weeks ago, I went in to his room in the morning and found a huge mess. His diaper hadn’t quite contained its contents overnight and there was a pretty nasty mess on the carpet and bed. When I quickly asked the kids to back up, so I could clean up, his eyes cast downward in shame. Oh crap… no. No way. I was not letting this go. No kid should feel shame for a leaky diaper.

I took my hand and lifted his chin up, making his eyes meet mine. I smiled and told him, “It’s ok, honey. It happens”. He paused, smiled slightly and asked me (in a concerned tone), “It happens?”  “Yes, honey” I said. “It happens. And I love you. Don’t worry. It happens.”

His smile broadened into an outright grin. “It happens!” he exclaimed triumphantly. He backed up and let me clean up, no longer feeling sad.

Yes! He got it!

And here’s why I envy my son. Because he embodies the spirit of “It happens”. It’s his mojo. His way of being. His sense of self is strong, secure. He doesn’t torment himself for every mistake. He just keeps on trucking. I wish I could do that half as well as he can. He’s awesome at it.

Maybe he’ll teach me.

The rules for being "orderly"!

I read an article the other day, about a mom getting arrested at her daughter’s graduation. The brief article did not go into detail, but the short version of what I could find is the following.

1-      Friends and family were asked (ok, TOLD) not to clap and cheer between names being read while graduates walked across the stage.

2-      They were informed they would be escorted out if they did not oblige.

3-      Mom did not agree (or wasn’t listening…) so she cheered. She was escorted out.

4-      Once outside, she was put into handcuffs and charged with disorderly conduct.

I don’t know what she cheered, or how loudly she cheered, or for how long. I also don’t know how she treated the authorities that escorted her out, if she really was “disorderly”, whatever that means. I guess we all have our own definitions of what orderly looks like. I know that what I considered orderly before children has changed dramatically. I also know that culturally, “orderly” can differ dramatically.

I read the comments after the article. Oh, the joys of online reading. Not only do you get the information presented to you, but you get exposed to everyone’s opinion on it. Sometimes this is a blessing, other times a curse. This time, it was insightful, if not a bit disturbing.

Some of the comments criticized the mom, telling her that a graduation is not about her. It’s about her kid and the other graduates. If she needs to keep her mouth shut for them (all of them) to get their moment of glory, she should do so without question.  Some comments even went so far as to recount their own tales of recent graduations, where they were unable to hear the name of their own beloved graduated, due to loud families in the audience.

Other comments criticized the school, claiming that a graduation is a moment of joy. Triumph. Banning proud families from cheering is a travesty. A decline of celebration in our society.

Some comments fell into the gray area between, noting that they didn’t entirely agree with the school’s policy. They did, however, believe that we model acceptable behavior for our children and we teach them how to respect authority by how we behave. If the school asks the audience to behave a certain way, we follow the rules out of respect.  Period.

Personally, I find myself sad. I’ll tell you why…

As a classroom teacher I frequently found myself implementing and creating rules that, in an ideal world, would have been irrelevant. Research shows that antsy kids benefit from chewing gum or eating, as the jaw movement keeps them more alert. I also believe that letting a person eat when they are hungry, as opposed to on a schedule, enhances a person’s ability to think clearly. It’s logical. But most schools don’t allow kids to eat at will in school because of the mess it causes. We can’t trust them to eat cleanly or clean up after themselves, so we ban the food and gum entirely. Those that would have handled it properly, tough luck.

The same goes for strict seating charts, book checks, and inflexible policies on daily classroom behavior. Just consider the zero tolerance policy in schools. How sad that a child who hits in self defense is considered equally guilty. And I understand why the schools have to implement such a policy, as getting the whole story can be so difficult. But it still saddens me. I’ll have a hard time being angry at one of my kids if they ever get disciplined for fighting back, even though I don’t believe violence to be primary solution.

As a teacher, I always struggled, watching my well behaved students get restricted by rules that were ridiculous for them. Punished by the behavior of their less well behaved peers. I wanted to tell them that THEY didn’t have to follow that rule. THEY would know how to behave properly without the enormous restrictions.  

As for that mom at the graduation…I would be interested in being a fly on the wall in that situation. See what REALLY happened. At least my perspective on it. And, although I may be an optimistic fool, I hope for the future and a better balance of rules. In life in general.  For me and my kids.

This is your brain on drugs...

NOTE: I wrote this blog back in September, but life took over. I am finally getting around to posting it now. Sorry for the time delay.  J

 So, it’s that time of the year again. The start of a semester. Those of you that read my post at the start of the previous semester know how much I love the startup meetings. And that’s not meant with a sarcastic tone, it’s sincere. While many educational institutions use that meeting to discuss copier codes and changes in paperwork regulations, we talk about the good stuff. The intellectual stuff. Brain functioning and its impact on learning, how to best address the diverse needs of our students… that kind of thing.  Good, juicy brain food.

This meeting was especially interesting to me, as I love to think about the brain. It fascinates me beyond words. The fact that we are able to do and understand so much is incredible. And the fact that our brain allows us to do it… even more fascinating.

So, the presenter puts up a PowerPoint slide with a picture of a brain. She pauses. She then states, “This is your brain”. And half the teachers in the meeting say “This is your brain on drugs”. I thought it, but didn’t say it out loud. Everyone cracked up, and I mean really laughed. Getting refocused wasn’t easy.

 And it got me thinking about the brain and what we know. And how we learn it. And why we think it’s funny or sad… or whatever emotion it may be at that moment.

When I traveled overseas, I functioned pretty well. Sure, my language skills were pretty below par when I arrived, but I worked hard and studied hard and I progressed quickly. I began my experience surviving and ended it functioning pretty well. But the hardest part, for me, was the loss of my sense of humor. I’m no comedian, but I can hold up my end of a funny conversation with the best of them. My timing for one liners isn’t bad when I’m focused, especially in situations where sarcasm is appropriate. But sense of humor in a foreign language is an entirely different ball game.

 I remember sitting on the plane when I returned from one of my trips, watching Frasier on the little screen in front of me with headphones. Under normal circumstances I find this show extremely funny, but on that day it was more than funny. It was a taste of home.  A lifeline. I hadn’t watched any American sitcoms in months and I found myself laughing so hard I was annoying the person next to me. I tried to stop, but all I could do was muffle the giggles and produce a snorting noise. My body vibrated violently against the force of attempting to control the laughter.  If I weren’t having so much fun, I would have been irritated.

Even my husband, who was raised in the UK, loses humor here in the US because he misses cultural references. (Less now than before, but if it’s an 80’s reference, he doesn’t stand a chance.) When I told him about the meeting and the brain comment, he just looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. His English is just great, but he wasn’t in the US in the Nancy Regan war on drugs era. He didn’t see the commercial. Even when I showed it to him… he found it interesting, even somewhat amusing. But the joke was lost. He barely cracked a smile. And he’s got a great sense of humor.

 Interestingly, even within families this rift exists. My parents and I don’t share a sense of humor on many levels and I attribute it mostly to being a generational issue. Sure, it could be personality differences, but it is certainly not limited to personality.

 Did you know terminally ill patients who are exposed to high levels of “funny” TV have a better prognosis and a better quality of life? I guess laughing is healthy. Go figure.

 Make sure you laugh today. It just might save your life. Or at least your day.

Why hormonal people are the best...

I love hormonal people. Really. I do. I’m not being sarcastic.

You want evidence? I voluntarily taught toddler and middle school girls in my past professional life. Oh yeah… middle school girls. Yup. I’m a glutton for hormonal punishment.

Did you know that the hormonal influxes of a toddler are the same (in relative size) as those for a teenager? I read that somewhere and I totally believe it.  One minute happy, the next in turmoil. A moment of perfection, then WHAM… total and utter devastation. And no, it’s not all women. I know plenty of women that are emotionally stable. I just don’t happen to be one of them. Wait, very few of my close friends are either. Hmmm… I wonder if that means something.

So, why do I love hormonal people? I’m so glad you asked.

1-      You never wonder where you stand with them. Really. This is huge. None of this “I’m fine” BS, followed by a passive aggressive consequence later, when you least expect it. Why wait when you could inform that person of your feelings right now? And while being the recipient of a hormonal person’s monologue may not be fun… at least you know what they think. It’s better than the alternative.

2-      Their emotion is a driving force unlike no other. Think about an untimed race. Do you hurry? No way... why would you rush? It’s not like there’s a reason. You’d take your time. But emotions are high stake and provide a fantastic incentive to a finish line, even if that finish line is only in your head.  Hormonal/emotional people are capable of achieving huge goals when they are driven by their desires. I’ve both seen it and experienced it.

3-      They make you feel more comfortable in your current, fabulous, flawed state. They are REAL. They flip out over events that don’t warrant the time and attention. They cry like hell at sappy movies. They make bad choices and have to apologize for them later. It’s much easier to be happy, just the way you are, when you are with them.

4-      They say the funniest things. And if they have sense of humor to appreciate it, you can tease them about it later. That’s so much fun… as long as you are willing to be teased back at some later point.

 Are you a fellow victim of the crazy hormones? You are? Great!!!!! Happy to know you!

Adieu extra pounds!

Recently, a friend and former colleague posted on her blog, announcing to the world that she had joined Weight Watchers. She poured her heart out, proclaiming that it wasn’t about looking sexy in the size 2 dress (although she wouldn’t complain if that happened in the processJ).  She talked about not feeling “right” in her own body, about clothing not fitting, and about not feeling healthy.

I was in shock.  Had I had the courage to write out my thoughts, I could have written that blog for her. Word for word. I sat immobilized for about 5 minutes and then I started looking online. I joined Weight watchers the next morning.

And I didn’t do it to look sexy in the size 2 dress. Really? When was I ever a size 2? In Middle school? I did it because I want to dance at my kids’ weddings. I want to chase them over rocks and play soccer with them, without losing my breath in 10 seconds. I want to fit into regular sized clothing. I want to live to 100 years old with my wonderful husband and meet our grandkids together. Maybe even dance at their weddings.

I also had to confess, out loud, that this is not just baby weight. Sure, giving birth to twins has an impact on your body, and it sure didn’t help. Sure, had I been a bikini model pre-kids; I might be switching to one piece for the remainder of my career. But I have always struggled with weight to some extent, and if I don’t come clean now there’s no chance of making it work.

I have lost 11 pounds in the last 4 weeks, and I still have a lot more to go… but I’m pretty psyched.  Let me tell you why.

1-      I can now fit into jeans that haven’t zippered in ages. It’s a great feeling. And they don’t even dig in when I sit down… which is fantastic.  Oh, and I have a chance of the jeans being the right length. Not too long because I have to buy the size that matches my waist. Cool, huh?

2-      I don’t sweat nearly as much as I used to. It’s funny what you take for granted until it’s gone, both positive and negative. I can’t wait to see how it will decrease even more as I lose more weight.

3-      I love that I can feel my body conscious behaviors disappearing, and that they may well be gone by the time my kids can copy them. It may sound terrible, but I think more of my daughter with this one. For some reason, we don’t think as much about boys and body issues.  My daughter copies me in so many ways, probably in more ways than I realize. Overweight people tend to smooth shirts over the tummy, cross their arms and check mirrors self consciously, just to name a few. I have no doubt that I am guilty of some such behaviors, and I do not want to pass them on to my daughter if I can help it. I want her to walk with her head high, whenever possible.

4-      I love that I am potentially extending my healthy life span with every pound I lose. That I am adding one more life event that I can potentially attend and one more activity that I will potentially be fit enough to complete with the younger generation. It feels great to think about it.

5-      I love that I am already less inclined to hide from a picture. Come on, those of you who struggle with weight know exactly what I’m talking about. “Oh no, that’s ok… I’ll take the picture”. Right. Like you have no ulterior motive. Guess what? I don’t believe you. Would you be more willing to jump into the photo if you liked how you looked in your outfit? I’ll bet you would.

6-      I love that my kids are living a healthier diet, giving their little bodies an even better start to life. Lots of veggies and lean meats. Less cake and ice cream. (Note, I did not say NO cake and ice cream. J) One must have yummies too…

I’ll keep you posted when there’s more to say. In the meantime, happy eating everyone!

My top ten rules for life in general

Ever since I was relatively young, I have loved Robert Fulghum. Those of you that know his name and my style won’t be surprised in the least. Those of you that don’t know him, well…

Robert Fulghum is a writer and his writing takes the form of multiple short vignettes. He spins stories of fascinating people, connecting them with the world at large in bizarre and unconventional ways. I love it.

One of my favorites discusses the game of “hide and seek”. He describes the game (which you already know, I’m sure) and then talks about that person who hides too well. So well, in fact, that nobody finds them and they are forced to give up their location when people stop looking. He correlates this behavior to those people who “hide” in life. Those who are diagnosed with terminal illnesses but don’t’ tell anyone until the very end. Those who suffer in silence. Those who don’t share their victories or woes.

My very favorite vignette, however, is his list of rules for life.  His most famous vignette claims that the most important rules in life were learned in kindergarten and are forgotten by most adults. He claims that if most adults followed these very basic rules, the world would be a much nicer place.

For example

-          Play fair

-          Clean up your own messes

-          Say you’re sorry when you hurt someone

-          (And my FAVORITE!) Always buy lemonade when a kid is selling it.

So… in the spirit of Robert Fulghum, I would like to present you with MY top ten rules for life.

1- “Always buy lemonade from a kid who’s selling it!”- My apologies, my dear Robert, but I stole this one because I love it so very much. I agree with you. A child selling lemonade is not just selling lemonade and frequently could not care less about how much money he/she makes. They are taking a risk, putting themselves out in the world. Asking their community to take a chance on them. When you buy their lemonade, you tell them YES. Your risk was worth your time. Take a bigger risk next time. Oh, and when the lemonade tastes like crap, don’t pour it out until you are out of sight.  

2- “Always apologize to kids in situations where you would ask them to apologize to you”. – I’m a klutz. As a result, I frequently bump into things and people. Including my kids. I always apologize to them, while looking them in the eye. I also have the memory of a goldfish. When I promise them something and forget, it’s the same deal. And then I deliver something even better, just to make a point. If they are taking notes, they will learn the value of keeping promises.

3- “The individual items of a young child’s outfit don’t have to match each other; they each need to match the child.”-  My daughter is now smack dab in the toddler years. And yes, she has many opinions. Right now, she loves her dresses and gets mad if I wear a skirt and don’t put her in one. And you should see the outfits she chooses. She’s the cutest clown I’ve ever seen by the time she’s done. But her skirt matches HER. So does her shirt. And so do her shoes. Most of the time, the socks match each other, but that’s no guarantee either. But you should see her smile! That is one proud little girl!

4 - “Don’t question mom when she has ‘that’ look on her face.” – Especially a stay at home mom. If she looks like she’s being rigid, assume she’s tried it other way before. And it failed. ‘nuff said.

5- “Learn what the people you love sound like when they’re not ok.”-  People whine and fuss all the time, people of all ages. Sometimes we need to tune them out and ignore them, for their own good, because we love them. Sometimes, however, their obnoxious behavior is a cry for help. Listen well enough to know which is which so that you don’t ignore the cries for help, whenever possible.

6- “Pick your battles wisely”- Not everything that pisses you off is worth fighting about, especially if you are a strong willed woman like me. If it won’t matter in a day, a week, a year… let it go. Is it really worth the time and energy? Aren’t there more important places that energy could be spent?

7-  “Hugs rule the world”- Sometimes I find myself fighting with my kids. Sometimes they deserved it. Sometimes they didn’t.  Recently, I had a really good head to head with one of my kids and he stomped into the other room. I took a deep breath and realized that I hadn’t picked my battles very well (see #6 above), so I went into the other room and hugged him. No words. Just a huge hug. He wrapped himself around me like a monkey, sighed contentedly, and all was right again. My daughter frequently gets herself all worked up. When words are no longer progressing us, I open my arms to her and ask “Is it time for a hug?”.  At least 80% of the time, she runs into my arms and the battle is over.

8- “Get dirty”- Yes, I mean you adults too. There is a reason why ice packs, baths/showers and washing machines were invented. Use them. Eat messy food, even if it gets on your shirt. Wash it later. Play in dirt and don’t whine about it. Seriously. What’s the worst thing that can happen?

9- “Don’t compare yourself to others so much.” – Whenever you think that somebody else has got it covered, think again. You don’t know what happens behind closed doors and you certainly are not in their head. Every time I meet someone who seems perfect, that illusion fades as I get to know them better. And don’t misunderstand, this is a GOOD thing. A GREAT thing. Imperfection is the best. Those hilarious pet peeves and bizarre niggles are what makes you special. So don’t compare yourself too much. You might be tempted to eradicate one of the fantastically endearing “flaws” that everyone loves so much about you.

              10- “Don’t take it for granted”-   By “it”, I mean everything. The good stuff… because you never know what’s going to happen next. Just ask the mom whose kid has an accident and is in the hospital, wondering if he’s going to be ok. She took her boring plans for the day for granted that morning. She would do anything to take it back.  

A real reality check

I’d like for you to bear with me, on this blog. I’m going to repeat some of the sappy sentiments that I have dealt with in previous blogs. But I have a good reason, and I do have a point. So please bear with me and read on.

 Today I feel very grateful for my whiny, difficult and healthy children. The 3’s have brought about a whole new set of challenges and my capacity to tolerate high pitched, incessant whining is not admirable. I snap more than I should. Sometimes I downright yell when I should be managing or employing parenting techniques that would have avoided the ugly situation altogether.

 But that’s not my point.

 My point is that I feel grateful for their healthy status and simply thinking about it is choking me up.

 Why, you ask?

 Because a fellow preschool mom of mine is currently sitting outside a pediatric ICU, her 5 year old son sedated inside. He fell out a 2^nd story window. Headfirst. Onto concrete. The next 48-72 hours are going to be potentially the longest of her life, as they determine what damage has been done.

 He may be ok. They have reason to be optimistic. But at this point, they don’t know and I can’t even allow myself to imagine how she feels because it might break me in two.

And not that matters, but she didn’t do anything wrong. She let her kids play upstairs alone. Haven’t we all done that? This terrible accident was just that, an accident.

 And suddenly I feel very petty, very silly, for my annoyance at my children’s whining. Because really, what’s the big deal? Right?

So tonight, I ask you for two favors.

1-      Please pray for my friend and her precious child. Even if you don’t usually pray.

2-      Hug your kids. Hug them tight. Try to be nicer to them when you and they are both tired.  I know that I plan to try.

… and to all, a good night.