April

They fell in love at 17.

But he had already made a commitment to enlist.

There time was short...but he had April.

He comes home safely.

They get married.

They don't have much,

but they have happy with just one another.

And then there's three...

She's pregnant.

Things don't look good,

And they say a lot of prayers.

With cries of joy and relief, she had April.

Standards

Holding kids to standards is so much easier said than done.

I mean, I want my children to be diligent workers,

knowing how to truly apply themselves and to do a job well;

however, this is not a one-time lesson.

My son is currently washing dishes.

He is twelve.

I think he's been doing dishes for about 5 years,

well, not without reprieve.

You'd think that after 5 years,

he'd have this down,

be an expert on how to do a quality job efficiently.

His sister, who is 10, has been close behind on the chores,

and frankly, she should be an expert by now as well.

Alas, this is not the case.

Every night, or at least most nights,

one of them washes the dinner dishes.

More often than not, I will walk by the washer,

only to discover

that there's food crusted on the plates in the dishwasher

or sauce dripping off the spatula.

Now, I understand that there are amazing appliances out there

equipped to magically clean the dirtiest dishes ever--

ours is NOT one of them.

And the kids know this.

They have been told time and time again

to rinse, to wipe, to scrub.

They have been instructed and shown on numerous occasions

the proper technique needed to sufficiently clean dishes.

So, why do they always insist

on trying to cut corners and doing a crappy job,

even when they know they will inevitably have to wash them again?!

I have cried, begged, screamed, rewarded, punished--

nothing seems to get the point across!

What will it take to convince my children to do the job right,

the first time?

It doesn't make any sense to me.

I mean, I know I don't like having to repeat a task.

Is it really too hard to understand

that completing a chore twice

takes WAY more time that just doing it well originally?

Let's just say that it is....

when will they finally figure this life lesson out?

How old do they have to be?

Will it come at different ages because one's a boy and one's a girl?

Will they grow into this one on their own,

or will I have to continue to nag and pester

each and every day until they're 18?

Here's another thing:

I did a lot of chores as a child, and I mean, a lot.

I know I didn't enjoy it, and I remember playing while I worked;

what I don't ever recall is doing a bad job.

I am not saying I was perfect.

I did, however, know how to do a good job,

and I did it.

I know I got in trouble for taking too long--

I missed attending my best friend's birthday party

because the bathroom wasn't done--

but having my mother endlessly reprimand me

for poorly performing any given task just does not ring a bell!

(Maybe I need to recheck this one with my mom,

but I seriously don't have any recollections of this type!)

I am afraid it's at this point that I always question my parenting.

I mean, I do my best,

and I think my husband and I have done some things really well.

Ah, but then there are other things,

where I don't feel very confident.

We as children were raised in very different ways

when it comes to this matter of housekeeping and cleanliness.

Perhaps I push too hard?

Perhaps my husband's influence,

which we agree to call "creative-chaotic,"

undermines the instruction enough to confuse them?

How do we resolve our polar opposite upbringings

and train our kids to be responsible,

but not obsessive-compulsive,

in their hygenic behavior?

Instruction. Balance. Discipline. Love. Kindness...

These are all characteristics that I think of when I think of parenting.

They are ongoing,

from birth to even past our children's flight from our nest.

More than a destination,

parenting is about the journey.

If my children never decide to clean dishes well on their first washing,

have I failed as a parent?

Perhaps some would say yes.

I'd like to think it's more about their character.

Of course, I do think the matter

is somewhat of a reflection of their character,

but I wouldn't go so far as to say that it sums it up.

I admit, I'd really like to see both.

But if it came down to a decision where I could choose only one,

I would definitely put up with my kids washing dishes twice

for the rest of their lives

if it meant that they had an upright character.

Our Frail Emotions

I can take rejection, no problem. It's not personal. I can handle it...

These are the things I keep telling myself anyway.

It's been a week since I submitted my first article to Plugged In. Bob has been eerily silent. Not even a "Thanks. I'll take a look." has been uttered. The longer I wait, the worse my mind conjures up a horrible response. At first, I was expecting a "We'll just need to make some changes." Then, it changed to a "We'll need to make some MAJOR changes, but I think we can use it." A few days later, it had morphed into "We just can't use this. It's no good." Today, I think it's officially gone from "Maybe we can't use anything you've written-EVER" to "You suck as a person. And yes, it's as personal as it sounds."

*sigh*

Submitting personal work of any sort--painting, writing, etc.--is always met with extreme emotions, either very good or very bad, simply because your creation reflects a part of you. Actually, it IS a piece of you, painfully and thoughtfully separated from your very heart, mind, and soul. To see it criticized, disdained, or destroyed is like watching your own child be rejected. Even when you are seasoned in this type of work and understand that changes will be made and not everyone will have the same opinion of your piece, it is still a challenge to separate yourself from that which originated from your own being.

Now, there is a difference between completing a project with set parameters and creating art simply for your own pleasure. A creation solely fashioned for oneself can be unique and highly specialized; there is no need to seek the approval of others. A specific assignment, on the other hand, be it for school, compensation, or another set goal, is more difficult, for you must make your own ideas line up with the criteria that has been previously presented. Sometimes these guidelines and restrictions can help to whittle down the scope of the project, but in the end, it still must pass the inspection of another, be it teacher, boss, etc.

I think the most disappointing scenario is when you are given an assignment, along with certain freedoms, only to have been misled in the expectations of what was desired. this happened to me more than once when I was in college, surprisingly enough. You would think that if there were ever an environment where creativity could blossom and free expression would be embraced, the university setting would be it. Alas, this was not the case.

I was in an Early American literature class, where we were expected to compose a certain number of papers along the course of the class timeline. We were never told that our perspective had to agree with that of our professor, but I soon discovered that that was exactly the case. My first paper, which was on Thoreau, was not overly praising of his work, as I do not particularly enjoy his compositions nor do I agree with his ideals. While I did feel that my work was executed quite well, I received a fairly low grade. If I remember correctly, this happened again. I realized then that my professor was simply looking for his students to agree with his point of view and embraced all that he held dear himself. To test my theory, I wrote my final paper, the subject being Walt Whitman, his favorite writer of all time, from a completely different perspective than my own. While it did not align with my other writings one bit, I raved on and on about how WONDERFUL Mr. Whitman was! I received an A!

To be honest, this happened more than once, and I am pretty sure that this knowledge served to dishearten me regarding higher education enough to deter me from completing my degree, if not dome single-handedly. My expectations of college were to be taught, yes, but also to expand my own mind and to stretch my own limitations. Can you imagine my complete disappointment at finding out that literally one instructor after another simply wanted to make of me a clone or miniature of themselves.

Expressing ourselves--being ourselves--with all of our original ideas and unique idiosyncrasies, is what makes each one of us special. While these cannot always be accepted by others with the same approval that we may have for them ourselves, there is something invaluable about the ability to freely create--even if it is not pleasing to anyone but yourself.

Movie Thoughts

I am currently Coraline with my older kids and husband. This is the first time we've had it here, although my daughter saw it at a friend's house. So far, it's been a little weird but not overly disturbing. The button eyes of the "other parents" are a little creepy, and all of the characters so far are a little scary when you first meet them.

So my thought is, Is this okay? Is it alright to watch dark or creepy movies with my kids? I mean, they are not horror flicks. They're certainly not slasher movies. In fact, they are designed as "kids' movies."

Or are they? Kids dressed up like skeletons, women who stuff dead dogs and read tea leaves, alternate parents with buttons for eyes? Is this really healthy entertainment, or are we just numbing our children, preparing them for scarier stuff in the future?

I have to admit, I'm a sucker for a suspenseful movie, where I can figure out the creepy plots and twists of the tale. I love mystery novels, too. Is that okay?

I mean, they're not morally wrong. They are not portraying sexually inappropriate content or full of foul language, blasphemy, or violence. There are even lessons presented, and you can learn many principles from all kinds of entertainment.

People have told all sorts of tales throughout time. There's haunted houses and ghost stories, plays of comedy and tragedy, and tales of lives who've loved and lost. We express ourselves through stories; we remember and we learn. Life is not a neat and easy cake walk; should our entertainment portray such a reality? Or is that an excuse or copout to not "rise above" and see the best in life?

My Whirlwind Weekend trip, Part 2

We enjoyed an evening of fellowship together as a family. It was really great to have all of my brothers and sisters together again. The evening wound down, and the "locals" all went home. My sister, my brother, my nephew, and I were all staying in my parents' living room. We talked and laughed like a bunch of 12 year old girls at a slumber party. (My nephew actually moved to another room because he couldn't sleep!) We were exhausted, but we were at peace.

Unfortunately, I did not sleep so well on the mattress on the hideaway bed, but that didn't change the fact that we had another action-packed day. After we were all cleaned up, we went out for a light breakfast before we met my oldest brother and drove into downtown Chicago. We mailed some packages to Ukraine for my parents, and then we drove over to the high rise apartment buildings where my oldest nephew resides in a flat on, I believe, the 44th floor. (Did I mention that the eight of us descended upon him by surprise? He thought it was just his mom and dad.) I think I have dealt with less security crossing the border into Canada. The view from his apartment is absolutely amazing, even with the immense fog that was covering the Windy City that day.

We decided to forgo the nostalgic trip to our favorite pizza parlor, as it is only about one block from the Chicago River which had, incidentally, been turned entirely green for the St. Patty's Day Parade. The tens of thousands of individuals, many of whom I am guessing were already drunk on green beer at 2 pm, flocked the streets and made it close to impossible to drive through the area. Instead, we headed the opposite direction and had a late lunch at Giordano's. (I must say, having Italian when the rest of the city is celebrating an Irish holiday did feel a little...wrong.)

After our meal, we headed back toward Wisconsin. We stopped in Antioch at a newly opened ice cream shoppe that displayed my brother's handiwork. Bret had custom designed and installed the beautiful granite countertops in record time. After sayings good-byes to my brother and his son, our vehicle made detour to Wheatland to drop me off at AnnaLisa's house. We had decided that I would spend the evening visiting over there, stay the night, and then go to church the next morning with her. I didn't arrive there until around 7, but we decided to go out for awhile anyway. We stopped at Walgreens and then went to a local bar and grill. We weren't in there 60 seconds before we were gagging on the smoke, though, so we opted to find another place to hang out. We caught up over some evening appetizers, but we didn't make it a late night; we were both exhausted from long hours the day before.

Alas, my night did not go well again. I thought I'd be tired enough to sleep. It seems that the intermittent groans of the sump from pump right beneath me were just enough to keep me awake, even with the white noise from the baby's noise maker. Actually, there were two sump pumps. (What can I say? They live in a flood plain.) Just as I'd drift off, the drone from the far corner of the house would stir me just enough to bring me back to consciousness. (If I remember right, I also spent some time texting my husband under the sheets because the light from my phone was waking Sadie.) I would start to doze again, and the deep buzzing vibrations from below me would startle me. My sleepy eyes would close once more, only to have the two basement monsters growl at me in sync. That was enough to bring my heart rate into the "Weight Loss" range.

I think it was 4 am by the time I decided to get up and take some Melatonin to help me fall asleep. Either way, morning seemed to come all too soon, especially since we'd lost an hour to Daylight Savings, but I rolled out of bed so that we wouldn't be late for church as AnnaLisa was scheduled to work at the greeting table that morning. Oh, the irony...

You see, I failed to mention that the night before, when we were out, Annalisa's van hadn't started right away. She was a little nervous because it had been acting up as of late; however, Scott had spent the day working on it, and it did start fairly quickly. did I also mention that it has something like 220,000 miles on it? Anyway...

The kids piled into the minivan, and we drove towards Kenosha. Unfortunately, when we tried to accelerate at the green light at the interstate, something sounded like it dropped out of the bottom of the van, and it failed to respond to the depressed gas pedal. Timing.

AnnaLisa called her husband, who sent his father to rescue us since he was still busy helping at church. Lennie arrived in his newly acquired Tahoe, and we headed to church. The unexpected delay had eaten up the time enough that we barely made it to church in time for the service to start. Does anyone else find it ironic that 3 other people scheduled to greet that morning called AnnaLisa to tell her they couldn't make it?!

Well, my sister Simone met us there, and the 2 of us proceeded to have a reunion as so many people from our old youth group now attend Great Lakes Church, pastored by David Nelson, AnnaLisa's brother-in-law. Before, during, and after the service, I felt like I was on a trip down memory lane. My brother-in-law, Gordon, plays guitar each week for the worship, so of course, I had to see him as well.

After church, Simone and I made a quick trip over to Texas Roadhouse. Our brother, Josh, with his wife, Serinna, and son, Jude had made a stop there for appetizers with Gordon and some other friends before we met my parents and headed to Illinois to take an elderly friend out for lunch. We met at the DelReals' house while my parents went to pick up Bernice, then we all met again at the restaurant. Lunch was nice, and Bernice, still quite lucid, was thrilled that we had all come to see her. We went back to her home and visited for awhile.

By the time we made it back to the condo that afternoon, I was exhausted and reeling from so much activity. I am happy to say that we spent a quiet evening there, and the rest of my trip went by uneventfully, at least in comparison to the first 48 hours. I was, and still am, glad I made the trip. My only question is, Will I EVER get to take a vacation that doesn't require more rest when I arrive home?!

When the Dilemma Hits Home

I love to read helpful articles that give great advice on what other parents have done in tough situations. It's comforting to know that they were able to find a solution to their problem and provide some nugget that I can safely tuck away for my own "rainy day," so to say. In a way, it's almost as if I have thought that I would never truly face those difficult circumstances. As I consider my current dilemma, I realize how wrong I was.

Let me bring you up to speed on the situation at hand. My 10 year old daughter has been invited to a sleepover. It's not just any sleepover, either. Her close friend who lives across the street parttime is hosting this event as part of her birthday celebration. At first glance, I know this seems pretty innocent, and we've certainly allowed her to attend sleepovers in the past. However, there are some concerns that I have for this particular get-together.

First of all, this party is being held at the girl's "other" home, with the mom and step-dad I have never met. The only knowledge I have of this family is that they won't allow their daughter to attend church with my daughter because they don't want her to learn about God. On top of that, they are planning to watch a movie that I don't feel is appropriate for my 10 year old daughter. I know, I know, the answer seems so clear-cut—don't let her go.

Why is it so easy to see a solution when you're looking in from the outside and yet so difficult when you're in the midst of it?

If only it were that easy. You see, while this young lady stays in our neck of the woods (at her dad's house), she's been able to spend time with our family. In fact, I am pretty sure that we're the only Christian influence she has had in her young life. I have just become concerned lately that she is influencing my daughter negatively more than my daughter is having a positive influence on her. While sleepovers are supposed to be good, clean fun, that is not always the case, and I don't want this single event to leave a stain on my daughter's memory, heart—life—that she cannot get rid of.

I know what needs to be done. Now, I need to determine how to best approach this situation. Will my daughter understand? If I show her scripture to back me up, will it prove my point or make her resent the Bible? Will she harbor bitterness towards me for this decision? What to do...

(6 hours later)

Isn't it amazing how gracefully life can be orchestrated sometimes? After pouring out my heart here—and praying yet again about this situation—God presented me with this window of opportunity in which to speak to my daughter openly about the sleepover.

We were both in good spirits, making chocolate chip cookies to share with her group at church tonight. I felt prompted to make my appeal. Before I could even get to my main point, however, she said to me, " I think I know what you're going to say." And she did. She knew that I did not want her to attend the sleepover, and even more amazingly, she understood exactly why I didn't feel comfortable having her there.

What an opportunity to talk about how our desires as a Christian should first be to please God in every area of our life. (We had just discussed this in service last Sunday.) With a maturity not always evident in my young tweener, she recognized that choosing to please God with her life is more important than finding pleasure in the moment or giving in to peer pressure by friends. Not only was I immensely proud of my daughter at that moment, but I was also reminded of the importance of putting God first in ALL things in my own life.

Would you believe that her girlfriend called literally minutes later? My daughter graciously told her friend that she wouldn't be able to make it, and the call was ended. Relief flooded my heart, not because it was finally over, but because of the lesson we both learned through this experience. I also recognized that, while I can learn a lot from reading others' stories, life lessons that I live out will teach me much more than anything I have ever read about in someone else's dilemma.

My Whirlwind Weekend Trip

Seeing as my parents were returning to Ukraine to resume their missions work and my dad's birthday fell just one week after their departure, my mom decided to plan a party to celebrate his 66th birthday, as well as give their family members an excuse to get together before they left. By the way, the shindig would be held in Wisconsin, where my parents have been residing. My first inclination was that I should also try to attend this event; however, with the costs of flying being what they are, I decided this would not be a prudent financial decision to make.

That was before a little birdie informed me that my brother was driving down from Minnesota to attend, and my sister was flying in from Arizona. Well, the pressure was on. Whether or not I thought it was prudent to spend hundreds of dollars on a last minute ticket to Milwaukee, I would need to do just that.

So, a week before the event, I purchased an airline ticket. Imagine my dismay when our water heater decided to breath its last just two days later! When it rains, it pours, right? (Did I mention our car insurance was due the same day?)

I put those financial issues behind me for the time being and set to surprise my father at his birthday party. Bob, the kids, and I woke up early Friday morning to get me to the Denver airport on time. Well, I had checked in to my flight the night before via computer and printed my boarding pass. After completing this process, I noticed that the Web site said that I simply needed to be at the gate 10 minutes before takeoff. I know, I know- I should have known better! In reality, the Web site said that they would close the doors to the plane 10 minutes before takeoff. My, the devil IS in the details!

Well, I arrived at the airport that morning and managed to make it through security with just a minor delay. I was quickly walking to my gate to board the plane. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at an empty gate! Like I said, I know that I should have been earlier. However, in my defense, the plane was not scheduled to leave for another 5 minutes, and it was gone!

I believe this is about when the nausea set in. It was now 7:40 in the morning, and my family was already driving back to the Springs. After some phone calls- who am I kidding? I used more minutes that morning than I have in the last 3 months combined!- I did manage to arrange a seat on their afternoon flight to Milwaukee. While this meant 7 hours at DIA, it also meant that i would still get to WI for the weekend. I settled in with my dried fruit and newest Ted Dekker book to wait.

You know, I often complain about not having time to myself to read. However, 7 hours is too long, WAY too long! I walked. I read. I munched on dried fruit...and I repeated the process...over and over. Oh, I also did spend an inordinate amount of time of my cell phone, talking and texting. I am sure the other travelers around me were impressed by my obvious social prowess!

The airline employees showed up at my new departure gate about, oh, two hours before the flight was scheduled to leave. *blush* I introduced myself *another blush* and petitioned for a standby seat. To my horror, they announced that the plane was all but full! Earlier I had been told that it was half-empty...or perhaps half-full? My heart was beating like a mouse on meth, and that sick feeling had returned. Um, it could have been the unusually large amount of yogurt-covered raisins I ate, but I really didn't think so at the time. One of the ladies- with a hideous headband with those stupid, sparkly shamrocks, I might add- seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in my anguish. Her co-worker, who had not sold her soul to the devil, it seems, was kind enough to reassure me that they had one or two seats open and that I was at the top of the standby list.

So, for the next hour, I sat in complete torment, heart racing, trying desperately to focus on my novel, to no avail. I did finally solace in heartfelt prayer, without which I think I would have either passed out from utter exhaustion or been led away in handcuffs for strangling the "Irish Lass" with her own headband. As the other passengers boarded, I ventured a little walk near the check-in desk, when the sadist was away. The pleasant one okayed me, and I practically ran the ramp to the airplane.

While the flight was pretty much uneventful, I had put a damper on the day's plans. AnnaLisa was supposed to have picked me up so we could spend a few hours together catching up. that didn't happen. Also, my sister had flown into Milwaukee before me. Instead of being able to head down to my parents right away, she chose to hang out at the airport and wait for me. I suppose, in the end, this worked out, because we made quite a scene with our fashionable-late entrance to my dad's party.

The only people to know that we were coming were my mom and my two sisters-in-law. Actually, that's not quite accurate. My third sister-in-law, in Minnesota, was also aware of the scheming and had helped me use over an hour of my cell phone minutes earlier that morning at the airport. Anyway, when Simone and I arrived at my parents' place, those who "knew" were outside waiting for us. We went inside, where you have to ascend a long stairwell to get to the condo living space, and my father was at the top of the stairs. He saw us before anyone else and started crying! By the time we both made it up the staircase, there was total mayhem in the apartment. My other siblings stood gawking in shock, my aunt was cackling in her classic, shrill way, and I am pretty sure there was lots of laughter! While it had taken quite a feat to arrive, this response was certainly worth the effort it had taken...and the weekend had just begun.