Just say . . . what is it?

My doctor and I go back and forth about this all the time. She keeps trying to preserve my ability to have "more children" and I keep telling her that I had my tubes tied because I am done with just the one.


Her: "But what if you get married and decide to have another?"
Me: "He will just have to understand that we'd have to adopt. If he doesn't get that, then I don't need him."
Her: "You might change your mind if your health issues get resolved."
Me: "I only have energy for the one, I am good."
Her: "Still we like to preserve that option because women are having children well into their forties now."
Me: (In my mind - "why?") "I promise you. I had my tubes tied to prevent that as an option."


We have had a similar argument over menopause symptoms.


The real concern is over bone loss. If she would get to know me well enough she would know this is the thread to pick. Early menopause comes with a variety of issues. Women in my family have been hitting it around 32 or so and usually have their factories permanently removed well before the traditional age. I mentioned all of this but the Doc is still on a mission to be minimally effective of my system. Which, considering the possibilities, I am grateful for.


This time she looked at my file and asked a few questions we both know either are or should have been written in the notes . . . the PCOS, the "blood clot or possible stroke" . . . she sighed.


I was headed home from my mom's house and felt a familiar pang. Usually when this hits, I wait about 15 minutes, then try to pass gas and all is right again with the world. Not this time. I figured if it wasn't gas then I was probably constipated. I stopped at every town I could and used the facilities thinking, this one will be it . . .


No. And the pain would get a little worse. By the time I got home two hours after I should have, I was in so much pain I was walking funny. I would lie on the couch for a while, then sit on the toilet, couch, toilet - the only change was more pain. So I called my friend. I told her I was in pain and I needed to walk, would she come with me. Basically, if I was going to pass out, I would need someone who could call 911 and knew what meds I was on.


We ended up at WalMart buying laxative and walking laps around the store to see if we could get things moving. Nothing. So I told her it felt like my uterus was so heavy it was trying to flop out on the floor. It was almost as bad as recovering from C-section with slightly less back pain and slightly more nausea.


After lap 4, I knew this was not going to resolve. My biggest concern was that it would be an appendix or a gall bladder or something else that might rupture in the air between Detroit and Burlington, VT. That's all I needed, a small town news story about a large airliner flight that was grounded due to a ruptured appendix. I would never be able to live it down.


We headed to the emergency room. On a Sunday. In Utah.


I described my symptoms to the intake nurse, explained that I hoped it was just really bad gas but couldn't take chances.


Y'all. They gave me a private room.


Pee in a cup. I wish you hadn't peed in a cup, can you still pee a little more? Here's a bed pan. On a scale of 1-10 how would you rate your pain? Here's an IV, did you bring a friend to drive you home? Great! Here's some wonderful painkillers in your IV. Let's draw blood! We need to do an X-ray. (*leaves room - returns 2 hours later) Looks like I forgot to order the X-ray so lets do a CT scan instead.


This stuff is going to make you feel warmness from your head to your toes.


There is some fluid in there, we are going to give you so many antibiotics it's not funny, and then give you some more to take home with you. Make sure you follow up with your Ob/Gyn ASAP. Tell them "this" and they will likely get you in right away.


Let's do a pelvic exam. Let's do an ultrasound. Let's do the other kind of ultrasound. (*technician takes about 30 pictures which seems way more than usual). The technician says she doesn't even know how to describe it because she has never seen anything like it.


Let's take more blood and do another ultrasound in 5 weeks. 


More blood tests please! One more blood test! *crickets.


It wasn't the draconian "if I take your ovaries and put you into early menopause, there will be no controlling the symptoms - and that will make you miserable" look she had on her face. It was the way she didn't explain anything that bothered me. When they take blood they should tell you what they are looking for. Instead she just said, "that all came back normal but it doesn't mean anything." She said my white blood cells are elevated, I told her that has been the case every time I go to the doctor for a year or more now. Everyone always plays that off. The appropriate response should be, "really? tell me what else you have been seen for this year." Back pain mostly that I wondered if it might have something to do with my liver since the meds I am on cause liver damage. Since I wear really tall shoes, it was just a precaution really.


If I learned anything from the endocrinologist it is to look up what the blood tests are usually looking for so at the very least get the name of the test before you go to the blood lab. BMP, CMP, CBC and other terms used that can give you some idea of what they think might be wrong even if they aren't saying it out loud.


I have some idea what she is looking for. Cautious watching and waiting is prudent right now. I have a training to go to and hopefully if they have to take my ovary, it won't be until after I get to go to Italy . . . for work. #lifegoals

Scott is a brilliant man

Two things completely unrelated to each other. First, the next time I make caramel corn I am going to sift it for rogue kernels. Ouch! Second, I wasn't trying to save the earth from th evils of big oil or the green house effect of corbon monoxide in the atmosphere, I bought the rotary lawn mower because I needed to mow at night.
Code enforcement was only called once and it was more for the jungle in my back yard than the woody weed grass in my front yard. I hated mowing because it meant something else necessary wasn't going to get done on lawn day. If I did the other things I would always get in after 8 p.m. - a.k.a. the city's noise curfew. Plus, Oklahoma in the summer hits humid 90 by 6 a.m. It is miserable to mow a lawn behind a frickin gas powered lawn mower. Plus the mess it left behind was another chore all on its own.
So, once I saved enough for the rotary . . . I . . . sorta . . . I left my lawn mower outside the fence near the alley way.  God bless the theif who freed me from my chains, and I am not talkin' Jesus on this one. It only took about 24 hours for my gas powered lawn mower to grow feet and disappear. I hope who ever took it started a lawn business and didn't pawn it for drugs. I prayed over it in that manner as soon as I noticed it missing.
I went to WalMart (clearly when I still believed in their business model) and bought a Scott's.
The biggest draw for me was the no motor thing. Tell me I can't mow after 8 p.m. Hmphf. Watch me!
I put the baby in her crib, turned the monitor on high and started my usual path. Then I stopped in my usual path. A 1/4 inch or larger stick branch or other debris is rotary kriptonite. Picked them all up (than you oak tree, for that special treat - sheds worse than a dog), then continued on . . . my . . . pa . . . pa . . . (rocks are kryptonite, too) path.
And you will hear a similar story from nearly every review of a rotary mower. I guess I only really expect to be able to cut at night so what happened over the next few weeks made me a true believer. Anyone who know me, knows I was strapped for cash like crazy then. There was no magic, no sorcery! (I will espect a check in the mail for this solid endorsement right here). I saw it start in the low corner first. Each time I cut, I saw a bigger and bigger patch of Kentucky Bluegrass spread over the front portion of my lawn. I was so proud of my grass. If I hadn't got a new job and moved to another town, I am sure I could have made my whole yard an oasis among the halfway house and prison release drug echange on my street on Sundays. I swear it wasn't that way when I moved in.
after I moved back to Utah, it sat for a while in Mom's garage becore I lent it to an Airman for a summer. Somewhere in the move both carriage bolts that secure the handle got lost, I am going to say panhandle-ish?
Since she gave it back it has been sitting in the weather looking sad and rusty. I was a little scared of the cost to repair it so I didn't even look up the part. Joke was on me. They sell the bolt and the washer to secure it, in the applicable size, for 22 cents per assembly. She had done a remarkable job securing the hadle with a bundle of nylon rope that probably cost more than a whole bucket of the bolts. And it has sat getting beaten up by the weather for two years now. I found the 1/4 in x 2 in carriage bolt and nut and they fit. Now I need to WD-40 the blade to see if I can clean it first. Then rustoleum.
I worried that the rust would have dulled the blade so I called a lawn mowe repair guy who said no matter where you take it, no on does it them selves, they all send it to the same shop in Salt Lake City and that guy charges $120 to do it. I said, "excuse me?" He sai yes, it costs more to have him"sharpen" it than it does to just go buy a new one.
This is where my conservationist starts talking to my rationalist and I googled how to sharpen it. It doesn't require grinding, it doesn't require an artisan like skilled labor. It requires a goop that has the sharpening abrasive in it and a handle to turn the blade. All I am saying is, if I get good at this, I might have found my quirky niche side job that can bring in $75 a mower. : )

Thought I couldn't . . .

I looked around me. I wondered if establishing roots meant giving up freedom. I guess it seems like I am all over the place lately. I called my dad and asked if he would help me put a down payment on a house. I had applied for several jobs, most of which were out of town. Then I found a home I couldn't ignore.

I talked to realestate and financial people just to see what could be done. The bank, as they are known to do, preapproved me for more than I thought was prudent. It was scary.

Then I found my house. I told the agent he was the one. I didn't want to wait to make an offer. It was a good thing I didn't. It is a good property I can live in and rent out at the same time. I took a chance. Pray that things work out the way they are supposed to.

Something new

Over the weekend I got a wild hair . . . so I colored it

I guess you could call it growing up or something. I have always opened my eyes in the morning knowing that I was blond. Ever since I was little, very - very blond. After the last eight years, I barely recognize myself when I look in the mirror. So I took to not looking. At least, not for very long.

I have felt twelve years old since I turned 12 years old. This weekend, after much debate with my me-ness, I finally decided to dye my hair. My mom immediately wanted to know why I chose red. To be honest I have wanted it to be this color for a long time. I remember my mom's hair when I was in 3rd grade. It was just about this color and I loved it. But I would always run across stylists that wanted my hair to be a color they thought was right for me. Or others who ruined my color because they were focused on other people and not on the special needs of my crazy hair.

I found one who took one look at my hair and said, "oh, yeah, we can do that."

When all was said and done, this is what happened. I knew I would look ok with it this color because, genetically speaking, it was born in me. Ever since I gave birth to my daughter, something weird happened to my blond-blond hair. It became this mousy blond color that I didn't like at all.

Finally, now that all goals are complete that have taken my time and attention, I decided to do what was in my mind to do. What I didn't expect was not recognizing myself anymore.

Part of me feels like I missed more than 20 years of my life and I woke up Sunday morning as a grown-up. The most significant thing though has been people reacting to new me. I ran it by my family and they are ok with it. I ran it by my friends and one said it was like I should have always had hair this color. I am sure once everyone sees it, the newness will wear off and I will have to come to terms with the 20 years. So please be patient with me as I learn to adult.

Joy comes with the morning . . .

This whole week has been surreal. I have been watching wonderful things happen all around me. People who have been waiting to have a baby have finally been blessed with the happy news of a viable pregnancy. A friend who is close enough to call sister who was mistreated in her career finally received news of her promotion. A friend trying to slog her way through the rigors of divorce got a job offer that puts her on a path to fiscal recovery. Another friend is seeing the rewards of a lifetime of good work ethic.


I am happy for all of these people. After witnessing their reward for long suffering, I am encouraged.


For me, there is tinge of sadness. I don't know what is left to hope for. You know how I talked about that lesson that I have been trying to teach Xyla, well, I guess it is time for me to pay attention and practice what I preach. These people have blessed me with the opportunity to help them celebrate their long fought victories so I am going to count that joy. For my ride, I am going to sit back and see where life is going to take me. 

Time is short . . .

This weekend my daughter turned to me and said, "you know how I told you you are the best mom ever? It is because of stuff like this!"


Earlier I had asked her if she wanted to go for a drive on Sunday afternoon. She was all for it. As we set out on the drive we started to head toward my surprise for her. Normally, she can't stand waiting on a surprise. I always ask her if she trusts me. She used to say, "no." But I wouldn't tell her.


We turned into the small theme park we have here near our house and she was so excited she could barely contain herself. We walked over to the passport office. She didn't know what that meant since she'd never been before. We walked through the entrance and showed them her passport. I told her, this card makes it so we can come here any time we want to this season. *Cue best mom ever statement.


There is a bitter sweetness in this though. She is always concerned that someday we will not be together anymore. I get the impression she thinks that time is short. I hate to say it but I sometimes feel that way too. I feel like something is in our destiny.


So I am trying to teach her all the skills she will need to take care of herself. One of the most important things I taught her this weekend was that sometimes you go where life takes you and you'll be rewarded. It isn't always important to know exactly where you are going. This has been the hardest lesson for me to learn. I have always had a contingency plan for my plans.


The other thing that has been hard for me to get is that I don't laugh as much as I should. Twice in the last few weeks, she has been amazed at me laughing as though she'd never seen it before. And that kind of breaks my heart. Mostly because I know it means I have been so focused on planning to plan that I have forgotten the point of the lesson up there. So my New Years Resolution, starting today, is to laugh more because . . . time is short.

Best Friends

I was sitting at my desk. I just responded to an email and pretty much wrapped up the last item on my to do list for the day. It was just before lunch so I took a detour into Facebook and found that my best friend was at Lagoon and nearly in tears because she was lonely.

I called my boss and asked for the afternoon off. I am sure he wants me to take my annual leave more than four hours at a time but it is what I have. He didn't ask questions simply said yes.

I went home and changed my shoes. Going to spend the afternoon at a theme park is the one instance where even the cutest heels are not going to cut it. I called her and told her I was on my way.

After riding a rollercoaster that didn't have a camera to capture the moment you realize it doesn't just drop down, it tips you almost all the way over, eating fried lunch and hoping in the photo booth to take a crazy set of pictures, we decided to ride the gondola.

Utah is a weird place where everyone is super nice everywhere but on the road. So the school kids who invaded the park that day would wave and say a polite hello. One passing gondola had two girls in it. One girl looked at my friend and I and said, "you two look like best friends." We told her we are. She said that she and the girl in her gondola were also best friends. Since there wasn't much time for chatting my friend told them to keep it up as along as possible.

It probably sounded like a weird thing to say, but if they knew what we know it wouldn't sound that way. Especially because of the unconventional way this all started.

I was 16 and my parents informed me that we were moving to Idaho. I thought I was going to graduate where I was at but instead I had to do what is hard for kids to do, move and start all over again. I prayed and told God that if he wanted me to be ok with this he would have to send me a best friend. I had friends I wa s close to but by the time I moved there in 3rd grade, the best friend ties were already made.

I felt like the answer I got was "Ok, but it won't be easy." I didn't understand it at the time. Now I know that to initiate a best friendship with someone at age 16, something had to be truly broken. And we both were. She had a series of disappointing friendships to say the least which made her less than receptive to trusting anyone.

We've gone through hell in 20 years, at times losing touch sometimes with reality sometimes with eachother. I don't think it sank in that she was stuck with me for life until she was on strict bedrest when she was pregnant. That is when I think she gave in.

Her son is now a teenager and when she chaperoned him and his friends, they took off and left her by herself. The other parents buddied up and she felt very alone sitting on a bench by herself. She posted this fact on facebook.

Now. This is a delicate thing. See, in 1997 my English class (AP for those wondering) was taking a field trip to Salt Lake to see The Scarlet Letter. It turned out there were extra seats on the bus, extra students would just need a lunch and permission from their parents.

I invited her to come. She hated English class with a passion usually reserved for people who cut in line without acknowledging they just made your wait even longer. She also hated getting up early and the bus left at 6 a.m. She never said whether she was going. But when we got to the playhouse, I found out she'd made it on the second bus, didn't have time to pack lunch and was just able to get her mom to agree.

She was there because she knew I didn't want to be alone.

Fast forward. I knew she didn't want to be alone. So even though I am not the kind of person who ditches work to go to an amusement park, I did it anyway Having her as my best friend for 19 years hasn't always been easy. There were times I made it hard and times when she made it hard. But it has always been worth it.

God gave her to me and I never want to waste auch a precious gift. I know that one day I will get the news that she is gone. I have been preparing myself for that news since we were 18. And that is why I giver her everything I have to give. I know my time with her is limited so I have to make the most of it

What's toast got to do with it?

In venturing out into the world of dating, one guy put an interesting concept out there. He went on and on about how we have become a disposable world where nothing is as it seems and people don't value anything any more.

Then he gave a specific example of when your toaster breaks, you throw it out and buy a new one instead of getting it fixed.

So here is the story about my toaster.

When we moved to Idaho my mom's toaster gave out and mom said we'd get a new one after the move. We were toastless for a couple of years. When my mom's boss asked what he should get me for my graduation present, I told him I wanted a toaster. Because I missed toast.

The reasons I have nothing but love and respect for this man start with the fact that he's blind and teaches other people to deal with their blindness to his generous support of me by lending his car to me in high school. Let that sink in . . . Blind guy . . . Lent me his car. Moving on.

He is one of the few men who get it. If you don't know what a woman wants . . . ask, if she tells you, belive her. When I opened the present he brought, I was ecstactic. He thought it was weird but my happiness confirmed it.

With graduations coming soon I just want to emphasize that through six moves and four states, my toaster and I are still together! So here is the metaphor - if you take care of something it will last forever.

While the guy was impressed by the fact that I have had the toaster that long, it turned out that he sounded older than he let on. I am not sure he has ever been to Italy and after telling me he was "the one" for me and to stop looking for anyone else - he called in a raincheck half an hour before our first date and hasn't called back since.

I guess I just have to get someone to believe I want a quality toaster.

I . . . have no idea!

When I was pregnant with Xyla, I wasn’t nervous about pregnancy, I wasn’t nervous about being a single mom. I was nervous about how the baby gets from one place to the other. It was the most grueling experience of my life recovering from a c-section. I am telling you, if you can survive that – you can survive anything.

I am facing dating again and I have to admit, it isn’t the dating that makes me nervous. It isn’t the idea that I could one day get married. I am nervous about how I am supposed to get from one to the other.

You can read a thousand articles titled “How to get a man to marry you” and you will either see the same advice in 3, 5, 7 and 10 ways varieties or you will see things that will only apply to a very select population of men. I . . . have tried nearly every way. (See how I am leaving room for there to be that one key piece that I don’t ever get because I don’t go to the 31^st page of results or further?)

Someone looked at me and said, “You are hot, you are educated, you are nice . . . how are you still single?” Eventually, he’s going to figure out that reason and will likely keep it to himself to spare my feelings and I will never get to know. Same way I have lost out on loving and knowing a variety of nice guys.

I just had a date cancel on me last night. He hadn’t even met me yet and he just knew I was going to be the one. Wisking me off to Vegas. Taking a year off with me to travel around the world . . . we’d go to the opera, listen to Enya with a bottle of wine in the woods, and fall madly and deeply in love. I’d better not call and cancel on him because he was my “one”.

When I told him I would have to check with my babysitter to make sure I wasn’t interfering with her plans to be able to give him a time to meet for the date . . . hmmmm. Sure as life, I got a text that said, “I just got off work, I am super tired and I am going to need a rain check.”  Pretty sure I won't hear from him again.

Sorry. My “one” wouldn’t do that. And then it occurred to me.

They don’t ask. None of them have ever asked. They decide I want or need something they can’t be or provide and they run away. They don’t ever let me speak for myself about what it is I want or need. So I guess, in my mind, the ideal man is the one who lets me participate in the relationship. Seems simple enough . . .

Almost overnight . . .

Children grow in leaps and bounds - everybody knows this. It is the long stretch to summer and it seems like some kids (read-mine) is already in the summer groove. She has been forgetting her homework lately. I did something for the first time I have never had to do. I had to punish her.


There is correction, which isn't punishment it is a nudge in the right direction when things start to go wrong. But this wasn't that. This was me telling her I needed her to focus even harder right now while she is supposed to still be learning important things at school.


The first time she forgot I told her to please remember it tomorrow. Sure mom. The second time she forgot I told her she can't play with her friends if she forgets her homework. Sure mom. She had to listen to me tell her friends she couldn't play because she forgot her homework a few times that week. I know they probably aren't old enough to get the concept yet but they all go to school with her and were supposed to influence her to remember. Nope.


So with the forgetting of Monday last week came the mother of all punishments. I told her no friends and no tv or electronics. Immediately she says, "that's not fair."


I know people think it is weird that I have these conversations with my kid but I don't care. She gets it. I told her it was exactly what fairness is. I told her that school is her one big responsibility. She was asked to focus and make sure her homework came home and got done. She said she would and she didn't hold up her end of the deal. I explained that playing with friends and electronics time is a privilege that she earns by being responsible. She has not done what she agreed to do, therefore, it is perfectly fair that she doesn't enjoy the privilege that follows the task.


Hopefully that was sufficiently painful enough for her to fully get it. She brought it home yesterday so we shall see. I explained that this is one of those life skills she will need to take care of herself one day and I am trying to teach it to her.


She is scared to death to be away from me. Every time she thinks about the fact that we won't always live in the same house breaks her down in tears. She declares she will never move out. (That may get awkward one day.) She thought about the fact that she couldn't cook, she couldn't shower herself, basically that she didn't know enough to be on her own. I told her we have a lot of time to learn things but if she sees something I do that she wants to learn how to do, to let me know and I will help her learn that thing.


She wanted to learn to cook. Not only did I teach her some things, I took her to a kids cooking class, which she loved. She is at a point now where she can make French Toast by herself. She is almost able to send a letter all by herself. She tied her own shoes for the first time completely by herself today. She has been working on that for a while. I told her there are a ton of ways to do just about everything so if she doesn't like the way I teach her, there might be some other adults or even older kids who can teach her what worked for them. (For the record-she doesn't care for the way I tie shoes.)


It doesn't feel like that long ago that I was trying to keep her from pulling furniture over as she free-climbed the bookcase. Now she rolls her eyes at me whenever I point out why it is no only important to be a good reader but fun to be a good reader and isn't she glad she learned to read? (*and yes, I even taught her the eye roll that follows that and told her to never do that to her boss.)


I am teaching her whatever I can about humor. About how to be very careful with joking around and what to look for as signs to stop. She was shocked that she made me laugh very hard the other night. She said, "that is the first time I made you laugh like that." She has been trying to make me laugh for a very long time. I told her once that what is funny to kids, isn't always funny to adults - and that is ok.


She learned the opposite too. When Gerry the fish died, she was devastated. That was the first "family member" close to her who died and she didn't understand why I wasn't more upset.


I explained that I get that this is hard because she loved Gerry very much, but to me - Gerry was a fish. A kind of  fish that is as notorious for suffering quick death as it is for living for-freaking-ever. That on the scale of fish dying to bad stuff- I had seen so many worse things that his passing didn't hit me as hard. I would miss him and always think of his incredible resiliency in being our pet but it wasn't the saddest thing I had seen.


I told her that she would see that with her friends at times too. That something can happen and it will affect some people and not others and that we need to be gracious with their feelings as they learn how to heal. She still gets sad about Gerry but she won't let me get rid of the tank or get a new fish. I am ok with that, she is learning to heal.


She is growing up fast, what feels like overnight but I am certain that when the time comes to leave home she will have all the skills she needs to figure out life on her own.

Failure

It is barely even 30 minutes into my work day and this word is heavy on my mind. One thing Xyla’s dad always said made him crazy about me is that it seemed like I never failed. Everything I wanted I achieved by what seemed like just saying it out loud. That is probably the most hurtful thing he ever said to me. He lived there. He saw every thing I did to work to make things happen and it is hurtful that he wanted to chalk it up to - oh, well, you are just lucky is all. I argue that if he was only going to listen to every third thing I said then he would certainly miss one important fact.

I fail constantly.

I failed to read to my daughter last night. Doesn’t matter the excuses I could put in there. The reality is I failed to do so long enough that she doesn’t expect it anymore.

I failed to quit coffee again today. I might fail that one again tomorrow.

I know that may seem trivial that what I consider failures aren’t “big” in any way to anyone else but they are big to me. It is why I work so hard to achieve the big stuff and consequently why it never seems to "fail". It is why I am diligent about them. I can’t remember to pick up my dry cleaning when I am supposed to but I can fill out that resume that may help me move to a job where I fit better. I have done that a thousand times. Failed to get 999 of those jobs too.

The reason it hits me so hard today. . . I failed Xyla one more time. I was in a promising relationship. No one was angry. No one did anything wrong. It just wasn’t the right time. He couldn’t see a way forward so he chose to end it. It was the humane thing to do and I wish more men showed this integrity.

I failed to make a significant enough connection. I am not quite sure what to do with that. I just know that I have to do this the way I do everything else. Start over from the beginning armed with new skills and information and try this damn thing again. I appreciate all positive thoughts you can spare today, I have to find a new way to sail my ship.

On this day . . .

The Oklahoma City Bombing was the event that shaped my life. I saw it only in clips and music montages on the national news. I always watched NBC at that time. I remember seeing one montage that simultaneously froze me in my tracks and moved me to tears. I realized how powerful music and images and words were all at the same time. The idea that the media tell you what to think about and what you should think about it is not a small measure of responsibility. Today, people accuse the media of strong biases and I wonder what those people would do if they only knew about the reality of the world, if they would still think the way they do? I left my house that day wondering how something like this happens?

Since then I have been supremely privileged to be given the responsibility to tell the story of the people. I was interviewing at KWTV News 9 in Oklahoma when I saw this memorial for the first time. There were hundreds of people there but everyone was silent. I don't know what I thought. The impact of the weight that hate carries hit me full force.

The last time we went to Oklahoma, Xyla and I visited the memorial with her dad. He has lived there his whole life, he likely felt the ground rumble the day it happened but he had never been there before. After we went through the museum, Xyla said, "It is very sad in there, mommy. Let's not go in there again." In my heart I wanted to tell her it is very sad everywhere. Instead I set out trying to teach her how to make a difference by valuing others. She has made me so proud.

She told my friend yesterday, "I was born in Oklahoma."

She was. The day I brought her home, there was an outbreak of tornadoes and one that looked like it was going to hit my house. I have never been so scared. It didn't but I have since had friends who have lost everything to the wind. That state taught me how precious life is, it taught me how random what happens to you can really be and that state taught me how to survive anything.

I wish people could know what we as journalists see. I worked beside people who were covered in dust from the building going live as rescuers were moving large slabs to locate survivors, I have interviewed survivors. I helped broadcast every memorial ceremony that happened while I worked in television. I talked to Baylee Almon's parents who asked that people stop showing the picture, the one with firefighter. (Which is why I won't post it here.)

There have been a lot of terrible things happen since this day so many years ago. The memory of a lot of them fade. They are becoming so common place the shock of it is gone. But the thing I will never forget is that we, as a society, created the people who do this. We create them everyday by how we treat each other. And we, as parents, have the power to change our future for the better. That is our tremendous responsibility.





Giving up on wishing

She laid her beautiful head of curly chocolate hair on her pillow. As I take in the idea that I can no longer call her my small child I notice an eyelash has fallen onto her cheecks and is resting next to her light happy freckles. 

I reach for it and balance it gently on my fore finger for her to make a wish on. She looked at it and suddenly her cheerful retelling of what the lunch lady does if she catches you taking two items from the purple food group turned sombre. She looked at it for a moment and shook her head no.

I gave her my look that she knows means to ask what's up. She said she doesn't think she wants to wish anymore since none of her wishes ever come true. I asked her what she wishes for. She said she always wishes for the same thing, a happy family. 

I am heart broken.

It is the one thing money can't buy. 

So I told her that we are a family and we have to make ourselves happy. Then we will have a happy family. It might only be two people but it counts. 

The cultural value of the birthday party

I guess I have been a parent long enough it just doesn't occur to me what non-parents might not know. I am not going to mention this friend's name because I appreciate her honesty in asking the questions. Today, we are attending a child's birthday party. Here are some of the rules for those who have been invited:
1. They intend to feed you/r kid unless stated otherwise.
     a. Most birthdays are planned around the lunch or dinner hour for that reason. If the party is a 2 pm it is fair to ask if the kids will need to be fed prior to attendance. Likewise if it is a pool party.
     b. If your kid needs special food, either bring your back up or when you rsvp let the host parent know there as special needs. Also, if this is you, rsvp early before they shop for the party.

2. At a location event, the party package is paid for for the kids invited, if you have other kids who weren't invited but are coming anyway, it is courteous to be prepared to pay for the extra kids food and entertainment. Unless ther's a clown.

3. $20 or less is a good round number for gifts. Remember that the kids you invite, you should be prepared to go to that number of birthday parties. It is expected that you will put out an equal amount on their kid's gift as they put into yours. You don't want craptastic but you shouldn't buy a trampoline either. Try to think about the economic impact on their family if you buy something big and they know that if they don't reciprocate they run the risk of seeming cheap. If you buy something big, expect they might be "out of town" the week of your kid's party. The exception here is if you have it like that, your kids friends probably do too. But know there is a culturally acceptable number at that tax bracket too.

4. Always know whether the parents are expected to stay. And this is the question that was asked. "Is this what parents do?" And the answer is yes. If you stay, you get to veg out a little, if you get to leave you have free childcare for 2-4 hours that you will never get elsewhere. If you've gone 7 years
knowing even your bathroom moments can be invaded, it gives you that little break to keep going.

Really though, kids need to have friends outside of school. They need to be able to go to the parties they are invited to. It helps build their social confidence. Someone liked them enough to invite them, going is the reciprocal follow-through. In an ideal world for me, the parties wouldn't include the gifts. Kids don't understand the significance at such a young age and I feel they would get more out of just spending time with other kids.

Next year I might hire some chairs from the message school and hold a parent's time out break shop at the same time as the birthday party. The parents deserve it. You are welcome.

Twelve and a half minutes

He had called and was ready to be picked up for the night. He asked how long it would be until I got there. It was cold and he didn't want to wait outside. I told him 12 1/2 minutes. He thought that was oddly specific. Obviously, he didn't believe me because he wasn't waiting outside when I arrived 12 1/2 minutes from the time he hung up. I had complained to him before that if I was giving him a ride home that he needed to be outside when I came to get him. That is the only part he ever heard. Me giving him a command and probably why he ignored it. The problem was that after the club he Dj'd at "kicked everyone out" at closing time, they locked the doors.


They only ever locked the doors. The people were all still in there and the music was still blaring so no one could hear me knocking on the door. Every time I tried to call, he couldn't hear his phone ring, that's if he could remember where he left it. I stood out side in the cold waiting for more than half an hour for him to be ready to go. What I had actually said to him was that I couldn't get to him if he wasn't outside waiting for me and that I didn't really care to stand in the cold either.


Long before we had this discussion, I had timed how long it took to get from my front door to the club to pick him up. He thought it was because I was obsessed with trying to catch him in a lie but it was because I worked in television I had this need to know how long it would take to get from one place to another so I could tell my assignment desk whether I would be able to meet their needs for a given story. Bricktown had it's own seedy reasons for me needing to know how long it takes to get there.


It wasn't just Bricktown that I knew, it took 7 1/2 minutes to get from the Broadway Extension overpass near 39th street to the office as long as traffic wasn't backed up. In rush hour that was 15 minutes by freeway or 13 by back road as soon as I could get to the road by the gas station.


In television, photojournalists live and die on stolen minutes and decisive action. If you were lucky your reporter knew how to tune in the microwave signal. If you weren't you were doing that while you were furiously editing with your other hand and talking to the producer about where you were in the show. Talk about multi-tasker. And dangerous too, one breaking news day one of our veteran photojournalists almost drove off with the mast still up in the air.  That day was courtesy of the college football player who was caught using his "key" to fill up with gas at a gas station near his school which was allegedly one of the un-paid-for perks of recruitment to that school.


When I started working for the state I was told to slow down. As if I was going to run out of things to do if I worked too fast. When I went to work for the Feds, I was told to slow down even more. I couldn't believe it. I tried, I really did. Slow is not a pace I am comfortable working.


It is likely why I did so well balancing school, single-mom and full-time work. I am used to a pace that induces a cortisol response. I am also used to puzzle solving. Gathering information, timing, knowing strengths and weaknesses and forming and enacting a plan of action to deliver the product on-time. I don't thrive in an environment where there are loose deadlines. I am also not comfortable with working in situations where people think they won't be hurt by bending rules.


I have participated in the downfall of people who thought they would never be caught and others who were roasted as scape goats for institutional folly. I like what one multibillionaire said to his share holders, the company had to behave with integrity they would like to see reported on by a knowledgeable but unfriendly reporter.


The reason I bring this up is because I have been reading "The 48 Laws of Power" by Robert Greene. It talks about the multitude of ways people can assume power using one or a combination of tactics. It makes me cringe just reading it. The thing I keep telling myself is that people actually think this way. The scheme and farce and con their way into serving themselves. The way Greene writes makes it seem as if the game is the most important thing, the fact that overzealously playing the game could lead to a beheading is merely an inconvenience.


I will use a journalism condition here. It is a lot like the lookie-loos at a traffic accident I don't know why I keep looking at it but damned if I didn't just slow down to look closer. Although, it is a helpful reference as I am watching politics leading to the election. I have a play book to watch the game with and it satisfies my journalistic instincts to determine which part will be played by whom.


Let the games begin.