A Facebook Chat With My Son

As some of you know, my oldest son is away at college…now that he’s a sophomore, I don’t freak out any more when realizing he’s hundreds of miles away from me. That only happened during his freshman year. We stay in touch via Facebook, where we’ve always had a very open, honest relationship where we can pretty much talk about anything.

As an example, here is our conversation from the other night on Facebook:

Me: I saw your status the other day – you said you were sick. What’s wrong?

Son: I was sick.

Me: I realize that. I saw that. What were your symptoms?

Son:

Me: Hello? Are you there? What were your symptoms? Was it H1N1?

Son: I was in bed for two days.

Me: Why? Are you still sick? Was it Swine?

Son:

Me: Hello?

Me: Hello? Are you there??!!

Son:

Me:

I wasn't responding by this time because I was beating my head against the wall.

My son could be in the ICU unit for all I know. We communicate so well.

So, are your conversations with your college-aged kids along the same lines? Do you text? Talk on the phone? Facebook? Not talk at all? I'm just curious as to how other parents communicate. I obviously need assistance.

Peace.

Saints in Our Midst

Serious post today…yeah, I know – I don’t do serious very often, but it’s MY blog and I can be serious if I want to. If you can’t handle serious, just go away. For the day. But come back tomorrow, okay?

Anyway, (wow – look at all that rhyming there – pure coincidence, I’m tellin’ you…) Sunday was All Saints Day (another rhyme – I’m killin’ myself here) – and so, while at church Sunday morning, our pastor spoke about, well – saints. Duh. During the course of the sermon, he asked, “Who are the saints in our midst?” He had everyone in the congregation look around, and then write down the name of someone in the church who is an “exemplary Christian person.”

After the service, someone walked up to me and said, “I wrote you down.”

I immediately felt uncomfortable…like a fraud. My breathing quickened, my palms turned sweaty, and my heart rate sped up. Why is that, I wonder? Is it because we alone know our own worst secrets – our own worst faults – the things we struggle with most? How can I possibly be a saint?

I don’t feel saint-like…not at all. One of the things I struggle with is selfishness. As much as I try to remember that it’s not about me – well – sometimes I make it about me. My wants. My needs. My comfort. My discomfort.

This is true no matter where I am in the world. I can be on a disaster assignment with the American Red Cross – or in the jungles of Guatemala - and I can be thinking of how tired I am…or how hungry I am…or how I miss my nice, warm bed…or most of all – how I miss my family. I forget why I’m really there – and I turn my focus on me. Sometimes.

I struggle with impatience. With my own kids. With hubby. With cretin-like drivers on the road. With people who are lazy and unmotivated. I have to really practice patience.

My biggest struggle, though, is with forgiveness. If someone has wronged me – I can carry it to the grave. Most especially if they don’t ask for forgiveness. Do I know this is wrong? Of course I do…and yet – I carry on, nursing the hurt and the anger and the grudge.

And yet – Jesus said two things were most important, above all else. He said, “Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart. And love your neighbor as yourself.”

I can do that. In fact, I DO do that. My mission trips and volunteer work are my love in action, both for my neighbors, as well as Him. So, maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Maybe I’m doing all right, after all. Maybe this guy had every right to write my name down…?

Who are the saints in your midst? Have you told them what they mean to you? They may feel funny – or uncomfortable – but they’ll ultimately be blessed by it. Don’t wait until they’re gone and you eulogize them. Tell them now. Let them know. Let them be blessed.

Peace.

Two Left Feet

Yesterday morning, my 10-year old daughter was running a bit late for school. Which is totally unbelievable considering she gets up 2 hours before we have to leave. Yeah, I don’t get it, either. What the heck is she doing in those 2 hours? I have no idea – and frankly, I don’t want to know. I’ve learned that sometimes it’s just better to stay out of the kids’ business.

Anyway, it was time to go and she didn’t have on her shoes or socks. So – I tell her to grab them and just put them on in the car while we’re driving.

We’re cruising down the road, and from the back seat, she suddenly shrieks, “Oh NOOOOOOO!”

I’m all freaked out up front, imagining the worst is going on in the backseat… horrible visions of mayhem running through my mind. What could possibly be causing this wail of despair coming from my daughter’s mouth?

“What?!!! What happened?! What’s wrong?!” I ask.

“My socks are the SAME!” she says in agony.

Okay – color me confused, because I always thought that was the goal – two socks that are the same. What am I missing here? I’ll bite.

“What do you mean, your ‘socks are the same’?” I said. “Aren’t they supposed to be?”

She cries, “No – they’re both for the same FOOT!!!!”

Huh? Did you know that apparently sock makers are making socks for the right foot and socks for the left foot? No? Me, neither. The things we learn from our children.

As parents, we have taught our children that they have to live with the consequences of their decisions, and so my poor daughter had to suffer the humiliation and indignity of wearing two left-footed socks all day at school. (???????)

I’m sure she’s scarred for life.

Peace.

A Quickie at Lunch

I get to go to hubby’s office today and have lunch. Now, I know – that doesn’t sound all that exciting – but you have to know that this is the FIRST time in 11 years that he has actually invited me.

Hubby is normally a pretty romantic guy. On our first date, he was on my doorstep with a big bouquet of beautiful flowers. I grabbed a plastic Chiefs beer cup to use as a vase, thinking, “Okay – that was nice – but it’s the first date. No big deal. He’s just trying to impress me.”

On our second date, he showed up AGAIN with another big beautiful bouquet of flowers. I had to grab a plastic Royals cup to use as a vase, and I thought, “Okay – now he’s got my attention. And I better go to more sporting events soon and drink more beer or I’m going to run out of vases pretty quick.”

Through the years, he’s often brought me flowers for no reason, cards and gifts “just because”, and taken me on some pretty romantic trips. But he’s never – in all of that time – invited me down to his office for lunch. Never ever.

So imagine my surprise and delight when, a few days ago, he extended the invitation.

“Do you want to come to my office on Monday for lunch?” he said.

I looked at him, blinked, and said, “What did you just say?” I was sure I’d heard him wrong.

He repeated the invitation, and I eagerly accepted. Visions of a romantic picnic danced in my head, and I was already dreaming of the perfect, romantic outfit to wear – not to imagine all the wicked things we could do behind closed doors in his office.

He then said, “Great! They’re doing flu shots Monday for all the employees and their spouses – and I wanted to make sure you got yours."

Wow. It doesn’t get much more romantic than that. Now excuse me while I go get ready for my shot.

Peace.

The 4th Grade Halloween Party

I somehow got duped into volunteering at my daughter’s 4th-grade Halloween party at school on Friday. Silly me. You’d think after 6 older kids, I would have learned by now to run screaming to the hills when the PTA begins looking for volunteers.

I arrived at the school and joined the long line of other victims volunteers waiting to sign in and get the mandatory Visitor badge. The looks on our faces said it all – you would have thought we were marching into the gas chamber.

I eventually made my way to the classroom where I was joined by 2 other moms. We all looked at each other, took deep breaths, and said, “Well. Here we are.” We were thrilled – can’t you just hear the enthusiasm and excitement bursting through?

Speaking of enthusiasm and excitement – Head Room Mom showed up right about then – she had obviously been sneaking way-too-many orange-frosted cupcakes, because “hyper” doesn’t do her justice. And I know a sugar high when I see one.

Before we entered the war zone, Head Room Mom goes all drill sergeant-y, and quickly mapped out our party strategy. She’s come up with four stations – and we are to each take a station and defend it for all its worth against any and all attacks.

We entered the gates of hell – oops, I mean classroom, with our arms laden with supplies. The teacher quickly lined the demons children up and took them for a long bathroom break, allowing us to get things set up. It was suddenly so….quiet. Blissfully quiet.

“Can we just have the party now? Before the kids get back?” I said, hopefully.

Another mom vigorously nodded her head, throwing her weight in with me, when Head Room Mom shot us both down with a look. I know that look. It’s the same look I give my kiddies when they’ve said something totally ridiculous. Oh well. I tried.

We set up our respective stations and waited with bated breath for the little hellions to come back and join us. And unfortunately, they did.

I took photos – simply because you probably wouldn’t believe some of the activities unless I had proof. You would think I was simply being my usual sarcastic self and making this up. I promise – I didn’t. This is real.

…we had Mummy Wrapping Station – which gave me some great ideas on what to do with my own kids when they get too hyper…I wanted to send the kids home on the bus like this, but again – I got shot down by Head Room Mom. I think other moms would have appreciated it. I know I would have.

…there was Green Spaghetti Station…which struck me as interesting, because if the kid is blindfolded – then what difference did it make what color the spaghetti was? Oh well – just another of life’s mysteries to ponder….maybe Head Room Mom enjoyed soaking the spaghetti all night in green food coloring. Personally, I’d rather sleep.

…there was Art Station, where the kids colored Pilgrim and Indian bookmarks. (Okay – are we celebrating Halloween – or Thanksgiving? Oh well – no one asked me.) And as you can see from this picture of my daughter, the kids were thrilled with this activity. Just thrilled.

And the ultimate, sure-to-please-any-crowd party game? The “Put a Corn Cob between Your Legs Relay Race” where you then run over and ‘Dump’ it into a Basket”. There are no words for this one. Trust me. I found out just how talented 4th-grade boys are at making fart noises.

My, how time flies when you’re having fun. Before I knew it, it was time to clean up and pack up and head home. As we were walking to the car, my daughter says, “That was so cool – having you there at the party.”

And then I know, even after six older children, why I keep volunteering.

Peace.