A Mother's Mantra

Becoming a parent is not an obligation, but a personal choice, that comes with great responsibility, and rights that are justly deserved.  I have chosen to bring four new human beings into existence, and so:

I have a responsibility to the world, to make sure that the people I have brought into it are worth the space they take, and the resources they consume.  I have a responsibility to make sure that they are pleasant enough people, with whom the world doesn't mind sharing the space.  I need to instill in them, a sense of reciprocation, so that they are inspired to give back a little of what they take from the world, to keep it whole for those that come up behind them.  I owe the world my very best effort to create people who are:

-- good and sincere friends, who will never hesitate to lend a listening ear, offer a supportive shoulder, and accentuate the good times when they roll.
-- solid citizens who will respect their nation's history, live within their means, and the boundaries of the law, while understanding and enjoying their rights, and exercising their own responsibility to keep those rights in tact.
-- hard working employees, who understand the value of their education, or their sweat, and know it's worth, in trade for a dollar.
-- loyal and respectful spouses, who are trusting and worthy of the same, who will cherish their blessings and honor their commitments.

From the moment they take their first breath of life, I will do my very best to:

-- educate them at every turn, through words and experience, and lead them by example.
-- see to their health and well being; physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
-- provide them a safe, loving, and supportive home to act as a solid foundation, on which to build their own lives.
-- protect them from the dangers that I can, and support them through the disappointments and heartbreaks from which I cannot protect them.

Above all else, I will dedicate all that I have, without sacrificing all that I am.  They will learn to love and respect themselves, as well as the world, by watching me do for myself all that I do for them.

If I do all that I am able, as a human being, I have the right to be accepted, respected, and valued by others.  I have the right to be honored by society as a whole, regardless of whether or not I have a college degree, or a financially rewarding career.  And I have the right to rest, because a mother's work is never done.

Parenting The Unparentable

This post has been a long time coming, and I'm not just talking about my delay in writing it.  I also mean that our Punkin's latest incident has become the final straw.  They've been building and building, and now, finally, the camel's back is broken.

I'm sure no parent ever thinks that at some point in raising your child, there would come a time when a representative from a government agency would recommend to you, that you present your child to the Department of Juvenile Justice, and ask a judge to declare them "undisciplined" (which basically means "un-discipline-able").  And then to have that recommendation seconded by a representative of yet another state agency.  And then to have nearly everyone who knows you and your child, sadly agree.

I have hinted about the fact that our Punkin has been more than quite the challenge throughout the years.  The almost pathological lying.  Constant disobedience, and outright disrespect.  Sneaking out at night.  Violent tendencies toward her peers.  Cutting classes and failing grades.  Repetitive theft.  Setting fires.  Committing acts of self harm.  Since her second grade year... the endless parade of therapists and doctors.  A steady stream of medications.  An assortment of tests with no diagnoses.  School conferences, investigations, and a judge.    

Finally, it had come to this: almost two months ago, we found ourselves caught between a rock and that proverbial hard place.  On one side, we love our baby girl.  From the moment she was born, our heads filled with dreams and hopes for her future... and our future, with her.  On the other hand, loving her is now killing us.  Hubs and I are both now on medications to calm the anxiety and depression that these long years of worry, fear, frustration, and heartbreak.  Not to mention the crashing of our hopes for her, and the guilt and embarrassment she invokes.  Recently, after she once again attempted to have us investigated by child protective services,  I even began to see symptoms of emotional instability, that I learned to control years ago, trying to rear their ugly heads in my mind.  By the way, I say "attempted" because the agency declined to take the case.  You see, she's already had us investigated, and our home was found to be a safe and loving environment for all of our children.  I believe their file also indicates that Punkin uses the threat of CPS, as an act of vengeance against our authority when she's unhappy with the outcome of her own decisions.  She is an unruly child.

So, what do we do?  Take her a judge and wash our hands clean of it all?  The court will terminate our parental responsibility, and declare her a ward of the state, and she will then be sent to a foster or group home until she's eighteen.  The very thought of it takes me to the edge of those "symptoms" I mentioned earlier.  I confess, I toy with the idea.  I imagine the peace our household could experience.  A future, where I don't have to cringe when the phone rings, and Hubsy will never miss another day of work to deal with the aftermath of one of her impulsive moments.  Yes, I fantasize about it, but I just can't see it through.  Our family must stay together.  We're a team.  Family is an institution that is greater than the sum of it's parts.  We must be consistent, and reliable, even in times of torment.  Right?

So, maybe you're wondering what's been happening since this bomb went off nearly two months ago.  Well, Punkin has shaped up a bit.  Her plan to have us chastised by the state for our parenting has backfired, and the idea that the state has offered to take her off of our hands has scared her straight... I think.  She's been taking her schoolwork more seriously, and has improved some of her grades.  She's lowered her level of attitude to an acceptable degree.  Things are looking up.  So, after searching and finding no reasonable or affordable alternative placement for her, that is also therapeutic and temporary, as opposed to the Juvenile Justice Center... we've decided to just keep on keeping on.  Hubsy says "we've done it for all these years, what's two more?"  I was happy to hear him say that, but just between us, I'm still hoping for the apocalypse.

The Bittersweet of This First Day of School

Today is a very special day for our household.  Not only is it the first day of school, but it the very first day of Middle School for my youngest baby, The Princess.  She's such a small girl, having Turner Syndrome, that it's easy to see her as much younger than she is.  But I guess it's time for me to let go of her hand, and let her grow up.  Punkin, my teenager, has spent the whole summer continuing to grow and mature, gathering good friends, and preparing for the tenth grade.  (Now, she was technically held back in the 9th grade, but if she pulls it together and makes up certain credits, then she may be able to advance in the second semester).  I'm very proud and excited for both of them today!

Now, on to my top ten list of why I have been waiting for the first day of the 2012 school year.  From this day forward, or at least until next June...

(01)  When I clean an item... a bathtub, or the dining room table, it will stay clean for hours on end.

(02)  If I straighten an entire room, I can enjoy the stress free, organized neatness all throughout the day.

(03)  I will no longer be bothered by the constant buzzing of an argument, or the pitter patter of a spontaneous slap fight.

(04)  My children will be rising with the sun, sometimes even a whole half an hour before I do!

(05)  Those same children will be bathing on a regular basis, and once again, caring about their hairstyles and outfits.

(06)  I will be able to complete my household chores, and then sit down for an SVU marathon, without interruption!

(07)  I may actually save some money on the electric bill, not having so many lights on, and three computers running all day.

(08)  I may actually be able to keep up with my list of blogs... the ones that I read, and the ones that I write.

(09)  I can finally wrap up those unfinished projects, that I started back in the Spring... like the ancestral family photo wall, and the half painted upstairs hallway.

(10)  I can have shopping days all to myself!

Amazingly, as I finished up my list about why I'm glad that this is the first day of school, I learned that there was yet another school shooting in our nation.  For me, this is not just another shooting, but a much more personal one.... at my old high school in Baltimore.  Not only is it one of the very best schools in the state, but quite possibly, in the country.  It has always been a good and upstanding community, and no one could have ever imagined something like this happening.  I am shocked, and extremely saddened by the situation, and my thoughts are certainly with the students, parents, and faculty, as well as the single victim, and the shooter, and their respective families.         

The Texas Gal Writes About The Ringmaster

Ladies and Gentlemen, let me draw your attention to the blogwriter in the center ring!  She's a stay at home mom, raising two little rodeo clowns, deep in the heart of Texas.  She raises ornamental poultry, among various other domesticated creatures, including a country husband.  She's also the writer of the mom-blog "Mommy's Personal Space".  I've given her the key to the bigtop today, to show off her writing skills to my own readers, and... well, just to show her off!  She's my eldest baby!

________________________________ 

Taking The Show On The Road 





by Crystal Burton

(Mommy's Personal Space)



Running a household and raising children take so much time, effort, and creativity. The Family Ringmaster chose well with that title—at times “the circus” is the only way to describe it. It may be years on down the road, but one day the children will grow up and move out of the house and start families of their own.

It is at that time when the Ringmaster must bring down the tent. When the main attractions decide to part with the circus and become their own Ringmasters, putting on their own shows. The Punkin and The Princess will have their hands full with the maintenance and upkeep that comes with any circus, and they will have new found appreciations for their own Ringmaster mama. The Boy, while perhaps not standing in the limelight as Ringmaster, will surely be running the show with the lights and cameras and technical details to the circus he becomes a part of.

What will happen then with our beloved Ringmaster? The show must go on... and go on, it shall! Just imagine where she might end up if she were to take her then circus-of-two on the road...

If you follow your Ringmaster's other blogs, you know that she is very much interested in Genealogy. Her grandmother wrote many journals documenting her research of the family trees, tracing back to Charlemagne, early Caesars, Lord Baltimore, and many other amazing historical figures. This captivated the Ringmaster so much that she started a blog to document her own findings, not only of her family but also of her husband's. (The Genealogy Junky). Seeing all of these amazing familial links on a computer screen or in a book is fascinating as it is, but with the free time (and spare change) that grown children leaving home has to offer, this opens the possibility for the Ringmaster and her Hubsy to visit all of these historical sites, not just the more well-known battlefields but anywhere an ancestor lived or died.

Maybe they would start by traveling up and down the eastern seaboard, revisiting the historical sites that her grandmother took her to when she was younger. And not even limiting themselves to only her family history, they could go to New Haven, Connecticut and see where Hubsy's ancestors lived! Then they would travel out of the country, to the Philippines, to see where Ringmaster's great uncle John Hall Owings, Jr served in the Battle of Bataan in World War II. Perhaps they would even go to Genoa, in northern Italy, to see where her Hubsy's ancestors lived just before they came to America. (I will gladly go along with them on that one, since I too have ancestors, and possibly even living relatives, in Italy.)

The traveling doesn't even have to stop there. I remember a time, years ago, when your Ringmaster was also a novelist, working on a story set in the olden times of Celtic Anglo-Saxon England. The few pages I had read of her work-in-progress left me waiting impatiently for the next chapter, and sadly it never came. Some things just have to be put aside for a while, but with the chance to actually visit the lands her book describes, she may just be inspired to continue her writing. (Once again I would gladly go along on that trip to see such beautiful countryside. Not even Texas could compare to England, from the pictures I've seen.) Just imagine, though, reading a book and seeing the Ringmaster on the back cover!

This is only what I would imagine the Ringmaster might do. Perhaps she will discover a new hobby? We can only wait till the tent comes down to find out, and that is still many years in the future. If I'm lucky, maybe she'll travel to Texas and stay out here with me. I'm sure I could bribe her with a few cows, or farming plots...

Bed Hopping

I spent some time today satisfying a certain itch that seems to come along every six or seven years in a marriage.  I think we all know what I'm referring to here, don't we? 

I've spent years avoiding bedtime.  I've stayed up late, watching all the prime time programming I could stomach, until my eyes feel like meatballs, and I finally succumb to my husband's urges to retire. I slowly climb the staircase, looking at every step as if it were a mini Mt Everest, constantly turning back to see how far I've come, and trying to think of some excuse to retreat back down the mountain range.  "Oh, I think I left some laundry in the dryer", or "I want to check my Facebook one more time."

When I've exhausted all excuses, I slink beneath the comforter, knowing what's going to happen next, and dreading every long, drawn out moment of it.  It's always the same old thing.  I get into the typical position, and then switch into several others, just trying to achieve that elusive satisfaction.  Then comes the moaning, and more often than not, the pain.  

Well, I had finally had enough, and decided to give in to my self indulgent urges.  I went out, met some new people, and immediately began experimenting.  I did some bed hopping...  played a little mattress tag.  Let's just say I laid my head on more pillows in this one afternoon, than I have in the whole past decade!  I spent a little time on my back, but I much prefer to be on my side.  I guess that's what happens after having four kids, and putting on a few extra pounds. 

It was very enjoyable, trying out new things, and being reminded of what it's supposed to feel like.  The first one was nice.  The second one just wasn't "firm" enough.  The third, whoa, too hard!  My fourth time was amazing, with all the bells and whistles.  The experience had me feeling so relaxed I just wanted our time together to go on forever.  However, it was like test driving a Lamborghini; a fun ride, but way too high maintenance to own!

The fifth was also very nice, but Hubsy and I just couldn't get into sync with it.  Oh, did I mention that I dragged Hubsy along?  I had to, he's the man with the money, and this kind of thing doesn't come cheap.  Besides, he deserves this just as much as I do.

Anyway, the sixth time was the most invigorating twenty minutes I've had in a long time!  I rolled out of that bed, completely energized, and eager for a repeat performance.  So, Hubs paid the necessary charges, and we made arrangements to experience it again, in our own home! 

Before long, the exhaustion set in, and we headed for home, and hot pot of fresh coffee.  But come Monday, our new mattress set will be delivered!  Finally, after six years of sleeping on a true medieval torture device, we will rest in peace and comfort, and get some healthy, regenerative sleep.

What did you think I was talking about?!  Geeez!

A Calm Approach To Discipline For A Change

Boy, we really threw Punkin for a loop yesterday.  It was only fair, since she threw me first. 

I had just come home from grocery shopping, in the early afternoon, and I was in the middle of trying to cram it all into the pantry and fridge, when I got the phone call.  It was one of the coaches from the high school, asking to speak to the parent of my only high schooler.  Then he proceeded to tell me that he was filling in for the administrator, and that he had my daughter in his office. 

"The school resource officer had returned her to the campus..." he said, when I interrupted him with ..."Whaaaaat?!".  "Yes, Ma'am," he said, "She was picked up down by the shopping center, with a friend...".  He explained that she would be given one day of out of school suspension, effective the next day, and asked me if I wanted to speak with her.  "Oooooh, I sure do."  I replied.

Of course I reamed her out.  I reminded her that her father was going to blow a fuse.  Now, in that moment, I wished I hadn't said that, because I didn't want her to think that he was the only one she had to fear.  Although I have done it in the past, I don't like to lay it all on Dad with the old "Wait until your father gets home".  I need to be seen as a disciplinarian just as well.  So, I made up for my statement by telling her that I didn't even know which one of us was going to have to hold the other one back.

Luckily for her, by the time she arrived home at the end of the day, I had been laughing hysterically, to the point of pain and tears, at an email full of catastrophic auto-corrected cellphone texts, ("Damn You, Autocorrect!"), and I was in a pretty darn good mood.  Even though I was speaking sternly (or trying to), I was having a hard time wiping the smile from my face, and out of my voice.  So, as she made her way to her room, for the first phase of her punishment, she was slightly confused.

Leaving her to the mercy of her big brother, I left to pick Hubsy up from work.  As we had already discussed over the phone, we decided to linger at his office, and plan the rest of Punkin's consequence, over a cup of coffee.  (Vanilla caramel cream, one of best Keurig flavors).  We agreed that this was not a specific "Punkin problem", but a typical "teenager problem", and decided on a different approach.

Upon arriving home, Husby's called for Punkin to join us downstairs for a meeting.  "I believe you have something to tell me", he calmly stated.  Nearly trembling with fear, she opened with an apology, and an admission of what she had done, along with an acknowledgement of the obvious stupidity of her actions.  He then spoke to her about his disappointment, and reminded her of our expectations, as well as the behavior required by the school.  The expression on her face was one of pure shock.  She anticipated an angry reaction, and something very loud to occur.  It didn't, and she really didn't know what to do with that. Together, our response was, "You did what you did, and now we have to do what we have to do.  There's no sense in getting emotional about it." 

She then began to assume her consequences.  "I expect that my current computer punishment will be extended.", she said.  (She's been banned for two weeks due a recent attempted refusal to hand over the password to her chat program).  Hubsy simply stated "No".  Punkin was floored.  Her sudden gape made her look like she had just stepped into the Twilight Zone, and I don't mean the one with glittery romantic vampires.  She continued, "I expect that my after school curfew will be moved up."  I jumped in on that one with "Absolutely".  She nodded.  Then Hubsy and I rounded out the meeting with handing her one week of solitary confinement in her room, to be broken only by family meals, and chores."  She nodded again.

As she turned to head back upstairs, she stopped and turned back to us.  "I just want to say thank you, Dad, for not yelling at me.  I was expecting you to blow up, and I was really scared, and I really appreciate that you didn't".  Hmmm.

Before going to bed, after dinner, we got our typical goodnight hugs.  Mine came with, "I'm really sorry for what I did today, and I'm really glad that you're a parent who cares."  I was quite taken aback, and I answered, "Have I ever been a parent who didn't care?"... "No", she said, "But I've been seeing lately that a lot of my friend's parents don't punish them for the stuff that they do, when they really should."  And then she went to bed.

Mission Accomplished.

The Drama of a Teenage Wasteland

"Nothing we ever do for the rest of our lives could be as important as what we're going through right now in high school."  That statement (or something like it) was made on the TV show, Robot Chicken, when they did a segment spoofing Dawson's Creek.  And yes, I remember feeling that exact same way when I was in high school.  We were young, and we were alive (even when we wished we weren't).  We were delving into new experiences, new relationships, and very new emotions.  It was all so very dramatic.  Some of us (a-hem), who had grown up on the afternoon soaps, reveled in it.  Got down,  rolled around, and covered ourselves in the dirty thick of it all.  It took me about eight years, after graduation, to learn how to rise above it.  Yeah, I slipped and fell a few times.  I got a little drama on the bottom of my shoe, and carried it around with me for about a year or so.  But for the past twelve years I have worked very hard to keep drama out of my life.  There will be no drama in my house, so wipe your feet before entering!

My eldest daughter suffered her teenage dramas while living with her father (lucky him), and so I didn't get to witness first hand the Shakespearean tragedies in which she participated.  When she did come to live with me in her senior year, I removed her from bad situations, strengthened her focus and resolve, and kept her on the straight and narrow.  Maybe that's why, after graduation, she decided to move back to her father's until joining the Navy.

My son left his father's house for mine during the summer between his freshman and sophomore year.  But he's a loner, who didn't care much for social interaction, and so there wasn't much going on in that arena.  There still isn't.  Although he is refining his skills in creating a disturbance in his sibling circle, and then making a quick exit, leaving us to deal with the aftermath.

My youngest is a small, well behaved (for the most part) gal, who plays happily with her friends, and excels in school.  I don't expect much trouble from her.  

Which leaves me now, with a cyclonic dirt devil, spinning on the precipice of fifteen.  She attracts drama like a moth to a flame... like an iron sliver to a homemade electro-magnet in a seventh grade science lab... like the lonely specs of personified dirt, in those goofy Swiffer commercials, who happily fly up to meet the mop head.  Yeah, like that.  It used to be that she created her own situations, that in turn created insomnia, anxiety, depression, and ulcers in the rest of us.  As luck would have it, there's no need for her to do that now, as she is now a freshman in high school.  Ooh, high school, you soupy mudhole of pubescent hormones and underdeveloped grey matter.  Youth is so wasted on the young.

A few nights ago, the boy next door (who is also a teenager, and from what I gather, is some sort of a hottie) brought his girlfriend home from school with him.  Said girlfriend is having trouble at home, and after breaking up with said boyfriend, announced her intention of running away, and proceeded to head for the highway.  Literally the highway... it's about forty yards from our house, but then again, so is the off ramp that leads back to our neighborhood.  Thirty minutes on the front porch chatting with said girlfriend, before her exit, and another half hour chatting with said hottie next door, and the next thing I knew, my daughter was down and rolling around it the dirty thick of it.

Panic set in ... the chat lines were hot.  The phone was called into play.  Missing person's websites were scanned.  Requests for made for an all out search party.  Requests denied.  Tempers flared and tears erupted. 

"But she drank a half a bottle of Listerine!"

"So, her breath is very minty"

"She's gonna pass out on the side of the highway and be run over by a truck!"

"More likely, she'll barf on the side of the highway, and then head back here".

"You just don't understand!"

"I can write you a book on high school and dramatic teenage girls."

"But, she's my best friend!"

"You just met her today!"

"No, I met her last week, we became friends today!"

"Let's talk about this calmly and rationally."

"I don't want to talk to you, you're not listening to me!"

"Goodnight, then."

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!

Just when you think you've crawled and scratched your way out, they make it their life's mission to drag you back in.

(The neighbor hottie's ex-girlfriend turned out just fine, by the way.)

A Busy Christmas Eve Eve

First thought:  I need a new calendar.  2011 is coming to an end rather quickly.  I already have appointments set for the new year, but I have no next year's calendar on which to solidify them.  If I had a 2012 calendar, then I could rid my bulletin board of all the loose appointment cards that clutter it up.  And speaking of days of the week, The Boy has neglected to keep track of them since he began working.  Yesterday was trash day, and the truck passed us by, without a bin at my curb.  How in the world are we going to fit all the Christmas Day trash in the bin, on top of all of last week's daily refuse, while we wait for next Thursday's truck?!

Okay, enough complaining about the future and the past... let's move on to the present.  Today is Christmas Eve Eve, the busiest day of the year.  The carpet needed a good vacuum, so that it could be shampoo'ed.  I had to shampoo it because Kitty decided to use it as a litter box, because she was thrown off by the baking soda that I sprinkled in her real litter box.  (Whew! Who knew that run on sentences are just as tiring when typed as they are when spoken).  While shampooing, I noticed that my brush heads were not rotating.  So I proceeded to take the machine apart, with the intent to fix it.  However, all that really happened was that I stared at all the mechanisms that I know nothing about, before putting it all back together again.  So the machine will spit water, and suck it up, but will not scrub the fibers, which really irks the OCD side of me.  I'll give you one guess as to who will be shopping for a new carpet shampooer when the tax refund comes in next year.

Since Christmas Eve is the day we choose to enjoy our big holiday meal, today will be spent baking pies, breads, and cookies for dessert ... chopping and slicing carrots, celery, cheese and pickles for the snack tray ... and vacuuming, straightening, and deodorizing the house.  It's 12:30 pm... I'm on my second pot of coffee, and I haven't yet showered and dressed for the day.  I've had to re-vacuum the hallway, as my daughter stepped in the flour that I spilled on the floor, and left white footprints on the carpet.  I still have to season the turkey for roasting tomorrow, and cover the table with cloths and festive candles. While waiting for the oven timer to buzz, I'm blogging to you.  Busy busy busy. 

So what is the moral of this story, kids?  Appreciate your Mama, 'cause holidays don't just happen, they are created by the Wonderful Wizard of Ma's.  And don't you dare peek behind the curtain... all you'll find is a tired old woman, with bedhead, in pajamas and a pumpkin splattered apron, pulling all the strings!

Merry Christmas!          

Our Family's Christmas Traditions

Some things never change, and some things must.  It's up to us to figure out which things are which.  That's life, in a nutshell.  Holiday traditions are no exception to that rule.  Here is a top ten list of our family's holiday traditions, some that will never change, and some that are in the midst that very process this year.

1)  The Winter Holiday season does not begin until after the fall harvest celebration, otherwise known as Thanksgiving.  Regardless of the stores that tried to force it down our throats while we were still preparing our Halloween costumes.  As tempted as I may have been, which was somewhat tempted, I didn't even dig the Christmas boxes out of my closet until after the turkey platter was used, cleaned, and stored away.  However, my daughter had been hospitalized for two weeks before the Autumn Feast, and I had promised her that I would not put up the tree until she came home.  So this year's tradition was almost thwarted ... but we were blessed once again, as God brought her home to us on Thanksgiving Eve!

2)  The countdown begins.  Some of you have calenders, with little windows that you open each day to reveal a festive scene, as you count the days until Christmas eve.  Some have calenders with pockets that you fill with a treat to take each day until the BIG one.  We have candy ribbons.  My mom made one for my sister and I when we were very little, and each night we ate a piece of candy before bed to help us keep track of the days of December.  She crafted one for each of my children, to keep the tradition going.  I tried to go without the ribbons this year, I really did.  But on December 9th, I fell to the rebellion.  The ribbons are up.

3)  Santa Claus will NOT be coming down our chimney this year.  Not because I intend to light the logs in the fireplace.  And not because we're on the naughty list, although some of us may very well be.  But because the youngest of the young'ens has finally been made aware ... of what I won't say because I don't know who may be reading this, and I'm not one to spill someone else's secrets.  Let's just say that we've said our farewells to the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Slash (for you South Park fans).

4)  Holiday cookies... are coming out of a Pillsbury tube this year.  Last year I spent a whole day kneading and rolling dough, just so my girls could cut and decorate ONE tray of cookies before they declared boredom and abandoned me.  Hubsy, The Boy, and I were left to cut and decorate another three dozen sugar cookies on our own.  I am NOT doing that again.  Another tradition gone.

5)  The Christmas Ham.  Yummm.  Each year the whole house fills with the wafting scents of that roasting thigh of pig, the honey/brown sugar syrup in which it bathes, and the tender hint of the cloves that pin the sweet pineapple slices to the meat.  I can almost smell it now... which is weird because we're having turkey this year, dammit.  I waited and waited for the grocery store to stock their freezers with the hams that go on sale this time of year.  They never came.  Instead, those freezers just kept filling over and over again with turkeys, and at the lowest prices for the biggest birds I've ever seen.  So there's another tradition busted.  Dammit.

6)  Sort of a recent tradition that we enjoy is taking the Neighborhood Tour.  We head out just a few days before Christmas to oooh and aaah at all the twinkles and sparkles that light up the oaks and maple trees, the snowmen, stars, nativities, Santas, and such on display in front yards, and on various roofs.  I think my favorite thing to see is a Christmas tree lit up in the front window of a home, for the world to see.  Last year we began counting how many "trees in a window" we could spot.  Maybe this year we'll make a scavenger hunt out of it.

7)  Mrs Smith will not be invited for dessert this year.  One tradition I am happy to bust.  I have finally learned to make my very own pumpkin pie.  And I'm not talking about popping open a can of Libby's mashed pumpkin.  I'm telling you that I bought three huge pumpkins this past Halloween.  I cut them into chunks, I boiled them, I mashed them, and I stocked my freezer full of the pumpkin guck.  I have already baked four pumpkin pies, and three pumpkin breads since then, and I still have enough for two more pies, and three more breads.  C'mon Christmas.

8)  Homemade ornaments on display.  That is one tradition I simply cannot give up.  Whether it's the ones my twenty four year old made in Sunday School or Kindergarten, the ones my nineteen year old son made in Cub Scouts, or the ones my younger daughters have made almost every year in elementary school ... I have to have them out.  One year I felt so guilty about not including my children's ornaments on my blue and silver themed tree, that I bought a small three foot tree designated only for homemade treasures.

9)  Christmas Eve has always been a very special time for my family.  We've always had our big Christmas dinner that evening, and as we sit around the fire, we open the gifts that have been sent from our out of state relatives.  I also use this time to remind my children about the spiritual meaning behind it all.  As exciting as it is, to get that early taste of Christmas, it's also satisfying enough to help the kids get to sleep at a decent time.

10)  Christmas Day traditions?  I don't think it's a tradition as much as it's just something we always do.  There will be coffee, and Christmas music.  I'll put on the seasonal cable channel that shows us a crackling fire while playing carols in the background.  We'll pass around gifts, and watch delightfully as each person receives something they either desperately wanted, or desperately needed.  There will be horrible photographs of everyone with bedhead (and me without makeup).  Afterward, we'll snack on coffee cake and fresh baked pumpkin bread.  The rest of the day will be spent enjoying our gifts, and each other's company.  We'll make phone calls to Connecticut, Maryland, Florida, and Texas.  We'll pull out the Christmas Eve leftovers, and top it off with coffee (or cocoa) and pie.  At the end of the day, we'll all be exhausted, but who wants a day like that to end?   

Grandbabies Make For The Best Week Ever

My oldest daughter (otherwise known as my Texas Gal) and her husband, recently spent four and a half fabulous days with us, as she does every odd year, with even years belonging to her father. I thought, perhaps, the best way to sum up our visit, would be to "top ten" the highlights.  So here you have it (in no particular order)...

1)  Hubsy and I got to meet our new baby Grandson, Levi, for the very first time.  He's five months old, which is the very age our first grandson, David, was when we met him for the first time.  There is a world of difference between the two boys.  At five months, David immediately disliked anyone who couldn't offer him a tasty breast on demand (which was all the time), whereas Levi seems to love everyone, regardless of anatomy.  Levi gurgled and cooed and laughed, whereas David screamed ... and screamed some more.  Needless to say, this visit was far easier on the ears, than the last one.

2)   Approximately twenty five consecutive hours after they arrived, David, now two years old, warmed up very nicely to these two strangers, who called themselves Grandma and Grandpa.  When he opened his eyes on the morning of the second day, I waited for the cry.  But instead, he crawled right over his parents, who lay sleeping on the air mattress on the living room floor, and right into my arms.  That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.  Another one formed that evening, when David ran straight to his Grandpa, all smiles, as he walked in the door from work.  On another day, he ran to the driveway, excited to greet Grandpa at the car.

3)  Hubsy left work early one day, and the seven of us used those extra hours to bowl a few games at the local alley, not including Levi (who slept through much of the commotion), and David (who assisted some of us with our throws).  I lost my breath and bit my tongue whenever the little guy tried to pick up a ten pound ball, and carry it to the lane.  That's when we stepped in to assist him.  Because the whole family applauded whenever he rolled a ball, he clapped for us too!

4)  Since the boys are being raised on a poultry farm, surrounded by chickens, ducks, and geese (not to mention pheasant, turkey, peacock, and quail), I thought it would be fun to take them to the lake, to feed our local ducks.  I didn't realize that just before leaving the farm for vacation, David had been attacked by a rooster in a "fowl" mood, leaving him terrified of animals.  So David didn't chase the ducks, but the ducks chased whoever had the bag of bread, and David's Daddy chased my Punkin... right into the lake!

5)  David's new fear of the animal kingdom had him running and screaming every time our dog or cat came into the room.  Though, as long as he felt safe in someone's arms, he showed great interest, and would point and laugh.  For a few days, I had to keep the pets locked up in my bedroom, but by the end of their visit, it was the dog who was terrified of David!

6)  For evening entertainment, we broke out a new family game, Apples To Apples.   You should've seen us... seven people, ages 10 to 40-something, rolling on the floor in laughter so deep, it was actually painful.  Laughing at ourselves, at each other, and at Waco TX and Andy Warhol.  During one session, it took us a while to realize that David wasn't happily talking on his toy cellphone, but was actually having a conversation with his grandmother in Texas, on his daddy's very real cellphone!

7)  My twenty eight year old son in law, who is somewhere around ten at heart, is a real down home country cowboy.  A redneck.  An outdoorsman.  A survivalist.  If he can't hunt it, shoot it, skin it, build it, raise it, wreck it, or ride it ... then he just has to climb it.  He climbed to the top of the kiddie playhouse, the jungle gym, and even to the roof of the pavillion!  I think he had more fun on the playground than the little ones did. 

8)  Now that Levi is discovering that he has some control over his own tongue, I spent some wonderful moments on the floor, "la la la-ing".  Although he couldn't quite get it down, he sure did try, and my silly vocalizations made him smile and coo.


9)   David is learning to talk, but he really only makes one sound.  G-go.  It's his version of "gonna go".   He will surprise you with other words occasionally, like "daddy, doggie, please, hello, and go away".  But if you prompt him to repeat what he had said, all you're gonna get is G-go.

10)  As Punkin and Princess enjoy dancing with The Michael Jackson Experience on the Wii, we got David to bust a few moves as well.  My daughter tells me that he usually sways to music, but this time he was really jumpin', and he even "got low" ... real low ... rolling on the floor, low.

We hosted our visitors just one month after my mother hosted us, for our vacation.  Now I know why she gets so sad when we leave.  I cried for two days after watching my daughter and her men drive away.

Our Trip To Gettysburg

(A continuation of Last Blast)...

The Saturday morning sun watched us drive through some quaint country towns in upper Maryland and lower Pennsylvania.  The kind where everyone knows everyone, and on this community yard sale day, everyone owns something that once belonged to everyone else.  We counted the deer that stood by the side of the road, poised to jump into the traffic... (four).  I began to wonder if any other vegetable actually existed, because all anyone ever grows is corn!

We stopped in at some of the local tourist shops, and walked away with the typical souvenirs; a t-shirt, a shot glass, some toys soldiers, and a key chain.  We armed ourselves with refreshments and a map of the area, and headed out for an adventure.

I was fully prepared to do some ghost hunting, with my digital camera, and voice recorder.  However, I ended up just so awed by the beauty of the landscape, imagining the plight of the soldiers, on both sides, and listening as Daddy recounted the events of those three horrendous days of battle.  Besides, there were such crowds everywhere we went, that I didn't want to start talking to ghosts, and have people think I was some sort of a loon.  The girls and I did find a moment of solitude in the garden of unknown soldiers, where we conducted a brief EVP session, and said a prayer for the men "known only to God".

Punkin's Ironic T-Shirt

Between the six of us, we climbed every last boulder that jutted out of the earth, trying to imagine the Union soldiers hiding among the rocks at Little Round Top,  firing at the Rebels across the valley, who hid among the rocks at Devil's Den.  And vice-versa. Those rocks hold the memories of the history they've seen, and I needed to soak it all up before I prayed for them to forgive the horrors of man.

Princess Hiding From The Sun

When Daddy finally made it to the top of a very steep hill on Seminary Ridge, he huffed and puffed and announced "Whew, I made it!"... I replied "Okay, now go fight a battle.".  It puts things into perspective, doesn't it?  Another thing that helped us gain a little perspective was the sighting of a few throwbacks to the day, who kindly paused in mid-conversation with another visitor, to pose for my camera.  From our viewpoint on the hilltop, we could see a tour group, using modern Segways to navagate the paths below.  One of the soldiers quipped "Here come the Confederate Segways... It's the only way they can take the hill".  LOL.  At that point we began referring to everything as Confederate... like the Confederate McDonald's where we later stopped for a Rebel milkshake.

All in all, it was a most wonderful day.  A good hike on a clear and sunny day, a few tears shed over some history remembered, and a lot of laughs during some family bonding.  I walked away with an appreciation, in that the three most important men in my life have not had to experience such an ordeal... and a compassion for those who have.

Our Last Blast of Summer '11

Within the span of seven days, the kids have gone back to school, we've had an earthquake, and a hurricane.  I have lots to tell you about all of that, but I'd much rather take a few moments to re-live our last blast of the summer.

Keeping with tradition, we took our annual long weekend excursion to Baltimore, to visit with my family. It's a cookie cutter vacation, meaning it's typically the same every year, but believe me, we have no complaints what so ever. Mom's place is as clean and organized as the best hotel, and even comes complete with mini shampoos and extra toothbrushes. If I didn't know her better, I'd be wondering where she hides the staff. Here are ten the highlights:

1) We left straight from Hubsy's workplace, and took the six hour drive by night.  That way, when Hubsy opened his eyes on the very first day of his vacation, he would actually be on vacation.  It was well worth it.

2) This time, we added an extra little day trip to the itinerary:  a tour of the infamous Gettysburg Civil War battlefield, led by my father, the amateur historian, and Confederate at heart.  (This experience will be the focus of my next posting).

3) Mom's pool is a great place to catch up on some parent/child bonding, but I repeated the word "Polo" so often, that I got a little goofy with it.  "Marco" was henceforth followed by Aspen, Obsession, Brut, or English Leather.  The whole thing ended up being nothing more than a Freudian game of word association.  Peanut butter led to jelly, which led to grape... nuts... vasectomy.

4) A hostile takeover of the local Olive Garden, by twelve members of the paternal clan.  Daddy and Second Mom, Little Bro and his two little impkins, Little Sis and her new hubs, plus my fam of five.  A bottle of wine made it's rounds, and I had my annual vacation margarita.  Daddy teased the waitress as often as possible.  My favorite quip went something like "I don't like this wine, and I'm going to send it back, right after you pour it and I drink it, and you pour it again."  

5) After dinner, the troupe headed over to Little Bro's place, where we enjoyed the hilarity of the toddler's musings.  For instance, being invited into her princess castle, to be hit with  the soft spoken announcement of "I got poops".  We giggled for hours about how the usual offering that accompanies an invitation, would be coffee or wine.

6) One of the best parts are the night swims, when the air is chilled and the water is warm. Turning on the pool lights, and turning up the music makes it feel like a real party!

7) Catching up on the family gossip.  I never get involved in the dramas, but I do like to hear about them.  It's nice to be reminded of where I come from, and why I choose to live two states away!

8) Bailing a hundred gallons of water out of the pool, with every bucket and can we could find, to lower the level enough for Mom to re-glue some loose tiles on a near dry surface.  For two days, we obsessed about those tiles.  It was such an event, that as we left Baltimore, I called from the car to tease her about some possible loose tiles in the Harbor Tunnel!

9) The annual crab feast!  It's the only time I ever get to express the Chesapeake gal in me.  The kids love to eat 'em, but I always have to guide them through the process.  Hubsy thinks it's just disgusting, but enjoys watching me chew on shells, slurp on that spicy seasoned juice, and dig out the yummy innards of an ocean floor scavenger.

10) Playing with Bob the Owl.  He's the yard guard, keeping birds from gathering around the pool, and rodents from nesting in the shed.  I decided that Bob needed a vacation too, and so I invited him to join us in whatever we were doing at the time.

The time is short, but it's just enough to recharge and refresh our outlook, and after being surrounded with Mom's near perfect decor, I actually return home a little excited about cleaning my house.

Bob's Got The Right Idea!

Caught Red Handed, A Rare Occurrence

Well, it took us several months, but we finally got the confession that we've been waiting for.  We were just shy of performing one of the various techniques of old Salem.  You know, filling her pockets with rocks and throwing her into the lake.  If she sinks, she's innocent, but if she floats... then she really does have a secret Facebook page that she's been logging into, for the past three months, behind our backs, and against our wishes!  Turns out, we didn't have to go that far.  It seems that getting caught red handed on the neighbor's computer, in the middle of the night, during a sleepover, is a much better tactic.

We've held our suspicions for months, regardless of her denials, elaborate explanations, and taking outright offense at our accusations.  We've kept our eye on the page that was:

- Published under an assumed identity,

-whose status updates only seemed to change when Punkin was at the public library.

-Whose friend's list was like a roll call of our neighborhood.

-Whose profile picture was... you got it... Punkin.

If I haven't said it before, let me say now, she is very intelligent, but she's NOT that smart.

Our neighbor had given us the details of how Punkin had logged into Facebook, after the other girls at the sleepover had drifted off to sleep.  Knowing that we know what we know, she had little choice but to surrender her password, which we immediately changed.  We deleted all of her photos, and all of her information, and left her readers with one final status update for them to ponder:

"Dad Found Out".

Kicking Trashy People To The Curb

taking out the trash

Today is Thursday, my son's least favorite day of the week, because he is the king of the trash in our house.  It falls upon his shoulders to monitor the level of trash, and remove it when necessary.  It is his duty, on Thursday mornings, to wheel the big green plastic bin out to the curb.  It's a race against time, and the county truck.  Unfortunately, it's a race he comes dangerously close to losing week after week, because he can't seem to distinguish a Thursday from a Tuesday from a Saturday.  I would like to believe that summer vacation is the culprit.  Without a school schedule to follow, the days of the week do seem to resemble each other.  However, even back when he had to be up by six, because he had to be somewhere, he still had to be reminded to take out the trash.  

Now that the summer days are winding down, the supply lists are being written, the open houses and tours are being scheduled, the wardrobes are being scrutinized... it means little to him, because he's not going back.  He's done his time, twelve years of hard labor (thirteen actually), and two months ago, the committee decided to release him on his own recognizance.  No, he's not a parolee, he's a high school graduate.  His days of homework may be gone with the wind, but for as long as he lives in Mama's Boarding House, he'll be standing downwind of that big green plastic bin.

Oddly enough, another duty has presented itself, for me.  On this, very literal, trash day, I will be taking out a very different kind of trash.  I will be sitting my Punkin down, and sorting through her friend's list.  Not the cyber kind, because she has yet to be allowed on Facebook, (mostly because we suspect that she's being logging on anyway, secretly, and without permission).  No, today I am going to crumble up and throw away the assortment of spoiled people that have been stinking up her life throughout the summer.  They're standing in their stagnant lives collecting flies, and misdemeanors, for so long that I suppose their parents have developed a case of nasal fatigue.  (That's when you smell the same thing for so long that the brain no longer responds to it and shuts down the receptors).  Well, Hubsy and I have recently picked up their scent, and it's nauseating.  Punkin thinks they smell like adventure, freedom, and the excitement of drama.  What they really reek of is trouble.  Let me explain:

1)  Our house was recently egged by a seventeen year old boy, that Punkin crushes on.  He is intrigued by her  infatuation, even though he has a 16 year old girlfriend, with whom he is sexually active.

2)  One boy has recently returned to the group after a mysterious absence.  Turns out that he had been in Juvenile Detention for not only using, but selling, marijuana and crashing his parents car into their house!

3)  Another boy of 14, has an uncle, of 16, who hangs around his house, and talks openly about his continued drug use, even though he's on probation.  Rumor has it that his probation officer recently caught him in the act, and hauled him off.

4)  Last night, Hubsy and I received numerous prank phone calls, from an obvious young girl, pretending to be a guy, delivering love messages to our Punkin, who was not home at the time.  (she was spending the night with a friend, who had already been mother tested-father approved).  The prankster had no respect, no fear, and no qualms about making sexually explicit statements to my husband, about our Punkin.

I guess I'll have to admit that some of the family rules have loosened up over the summer break.  It's not something that I intended, but something that seems to have happened so gradually that I hadn't really noticed.  But these recent incidents, and the fact that school starts again in a mere three weeks, have gotten my attention.  It's time to tighten things back up, and cut off the loose ends.  I'm not racing against the county truck, but I am racing against time.  There's precious little of it left to get Punkin back on the right track, before a different sort of county vehicle comes to haul her away!

A Busy (Manic) Week At The Circus

Bzzzzzzzz... this house has been a hive of activity lately.  So much so that I have neglected my blogs.  It's not that I haven't had anything to write about, it's just that I haven't had the time to sit and write it.  So, here, in one fell swoop, I'll give you an update on the status of the circus.

Hubsy is running himself ragged in his new role of Service Manager at the apartments. He is painfully understaffed, in the upkeep of two upscale five-story buildings, two parking garages, and a strip of retail stores.  Aside from keeping everything clean, his typical maintenance duties, the office politics, the inventory and reordering, and a slew of air conditioner calls throughout our recent heat wave... he's also had to deal with the tragedy of a suicide, by a resident that everyone knew well.  Without being too morbid, I'll let you know that it was done outside, at the start of the heatwave, and wasn't discovered for four days.  Hubsy had to guard the body until the police arrived, and then stay with them while they investigated the man's apartment.  Then he had to secure the scene to prevent other residents from gawking.  Then stay with the crime scene clean up crew for two days, while they attempted to remove the blood stains from the concrete.  Although this isn't the first time he's experienced death in the apartment industry, this was the first time he actually knew the victim, and it was difficult.

On the upside, a new family has moved into the neighborhood, complete with a young girl who's age falls smack dab in between the ages of my Princess and my Punkin.  These three musketeers have been together everyday for the last four days.  Of course, it just so happens that Punkin has been grounded from going out during this time, and so their new friend has been coming in.  When they're not on the phone gossiping with friends about boys... or with boys about friends... they're chasing the dog through house, and doing each other's hair.  On their downtime, they fall into heaps on the floor in front of an SVU marathon.  Although I'm not very used to having more than my own kids in the house, I have to say that I like this girl.  She's ultra polite, and coming from a very nice and strict household, she may be a good influence on my girls.  She's been  helping them with their chores, and even nudges Punkin to "shut up and obey" when her alter ego, Miss Attitude, rears her ugly head.

What can I say about The Boy?  When he's not upstairs in his room, on his computer, he's downstairs with me, on mine.  It's been nearly a month since his high school graduation, and he's done precious little in his search for work.  Everything he's done, he's done from home... filled out some online applications, and created an account with an online job search service.  Since no one has knocked on our door yet, to offer him employment, I'm sending him our today.  Out ... into the world ... feet to pavement, with the wind in his hair, and the sun on his back.  He's not happy about it, but ask me if I care.  Go ahead, ask me.

As for me, I'm still in the process of cleaning up the messes I made during the whole "house reformation" project I started two weeks ago.  After refurbishing the new dining room table, I had to:

1)  Rearrange the living room to make space for the office furniture.

2)  Patch and paint the living room walls to cover the holes I left when I moved shelves and pictures around.

3)  Rearrange shelves and pictures in the dining room, after reclaiming it from the office furniture, and place the new table.

4)  Patch and paint the dining room to cover holes left from moving shelves and pictures.

5)  Relocate Hubsy's Star Wars collection to the bedroom, since there's no longer space for it in the living room.  Luckily, all I needed to rearrange, in there, was some shelving.  I will eventually patch and paint the bedroom walls ... but OMG, not now!

6)  I've also had to take some time out last week to finally get my North Carolina driver's licence.  Geez, what's the rush?  I've only been living here for five and a half years.  

Things are almost back to normal, but I'm still struggling with a few piles of paperwork that have made a home on the new dining room table.  Once that is dealt with, I can post the photos I've been promising.  In the meantime, when I need downtime, I've been playing Sims3.  I tend to get completely addicted to it, so I've been up late at night, playing out the adventurous and lavish lifestyles, that I wish were mine.  In fact, I think I hear them calling me now.  I'd better go!

(By the way, this is what a Bipolar hypo-manic phase does to me. I discuss more about my Bipolar Disorder on my personal page).

        

A Visit From The Credit Fairy

The Credit Fairy

In my younger years, in my previous marriage, we ran our credit into the ground.  It didn't just crash and burn... it skidded and bounced, and did several barrel rolls, before landing in a twisted and crumpled heap... and then it burst into an atomic fireball of flame and noxious gas.  Aside from my colorful imagery, let me tell you, my credit was bad.  At the time of our divorce, because I was about to become a single mother with very little work history, the judge laid all those bills on his plate.  Luckily for me, not so much for him.

I don't know how he did it it, but he handled it all well enough, so that he and his new wife were able to rebuild their credit to be able to get auto financing, and a mortgage. Meanwhile, my new husband and I vowed to never touch a credit account.  For fifteen years, aside from a few personal loans from family members, we lived by the law of cold hard cash. Hubsy works in the apartment industry, so we always rented, with some serious employee discounts. We always bought cheap used cars, for cash. I lived for so long with bad credit, that even though those old debts were gone, I just assumed that my credit was poor, but that if we paid our bills and didn't apply for anything, things would get better.  Wrong!

So, last week our old used car took her last breaths, and we were back in the market for a new used car.  I started scouring the newspaper and Craigslist, but everything in our price range already had the same mechanical ailments that killed our last car.  So, we began driving up and down the road that we've come to know as "Used Car Alley".  Lot after lot of dealerships that specialize in low credit financing.  Suuuure, they offered us financing, in exchange for my first born child, and then a monthly payment of whatever body parts we could spare.  An arm here, a leg there, a kidney, a cornea.

Then Sister Fate stepped in to take the wheel, so to speak.  My daughter came to us and happily announced that our next door neighbor is a car salesman.  That seemed strange to us because the last we had heard, he was the owner of an office cleaning company.  We shrugged it off.  Until the next day, he handed my husband his business card, verifying that he was indeed a newly hired used car salesman at a well known dealership.  So we gave him a shot.  He took us on a test drive of some fabulous newer model used cars, until we settled on something that we really liked.  

While filling out the paperwork, we informed him about our low credit score, and were assured that it wouldn't be a problem.  Well, there was a problem.  As it turns out, we didn't have the low credit that we thought ... we had NO credit at all!  After several bank denials, the financial manager was ready to give up on us, but our wonderful neighbor wouldn't let him.  Our new best friend urged him, almost begged him, to keep trying.  Literally twenty four hours later, they found a bank that was willing to give us a chance.  We got that phone call just as we were climbing the stairs, kidneys in hand, to another low credit used car dealership, specializing in much older models, with un-diagnosed mechanical ailments.

So, at nine o'clock last night, we got into our shiny new used car and drove home, with a shiny new bank loan that will guarantee us a bona-fide credit history.  I think we just officially joined the capitalist society.  Yippee?  

How To Keep Your Sanity During A Divorce

Divorce can be a wild beast ... a tricky animal at best.  I know a thing or two about it.  I grew up with divorced parents, and I watched my mother go through a second one later on.  I saw it happen to every one of my aunts and uncles.  I helped my best friend go through one of the messiest on record.  And I've waded through those choppy waters myself, once upon a time.  I'm currently watching another couple attempt to tackle the tempest, and it isn't going well.  Like I said, I know a thing or two about it, and I'd like to tell you what I've learned:

1)  It has the potential to turn you into someone that you never thought you would be.  Looking in the mirror, you won't even recognize the angry, bitter, vengeful, cynical person you've become.  And then there will be the days when the reflection is nothing but a sniveling, whining, sack of depression and lost hope sending out the RSVP to the pity party you've invited yourself to.  It's The Faucet Syndrome; emotions running hot and cold, back and forth, and never the same one twice (in a row, at least).

2)  In the midst of these mood swings, is not the time to make permanent, life altering decisions.  In order to stabilize, it's important to find a support system.  Surround yourself with friends and family to help you build the confidence you'll need to move on.  They don't have to be wise, they only have to be honest.  The last thing you want is a group of "yes-men" clinging to your anger to satisfy their own agendas, or grudges that anyone else may have against your ex.  Or their own ex's, for that matter.  There may be strength in numbers, but you can't rely on others for your own strength.  It has to be built from within.

3)  Don't get caught up in the "he said-she said" drama, and don't immerse yourself in the mystique of the International Spy Game ... finding and collecting evidence, and every little stick and stone that you can throw in a courtroom battle.  It may make you feel powerful in the moment, but it only leads to a very anti-climactic ending.  Depending on the laws of your governing state, many of your weapons may be irrelevant or inadmissible.  Most divorces never see the inside of a courtroom.  The battles are fought between the lawyers, through their phone lines, while sitting at their desks.  You reach out to grasp the handle of your perceived sword, but your lawyer only hands you a pen, which is indeed mightier anyway.  Just sign your name on the dotted line, and be done with it.  Besides, all the threats and mind games serve to do is distract you from your original task, which is getting on with your future.

4)  Speaking of weapons... children are not them.  They aren't steel plated or covered in spikes.  As tough as they may seem on the outside, they have chewy centers.  They are soft, pliable, and easily injured.  If it's spikes you want, then go ahead.. involve them in your troubles, engulf them in your anger, use them as your messengers, fill their heads with tales of woe and stories that they aren't ready to hear.  Go ahead and belittle them when they show affection for the other parent, and openly attempt to sway their loyalties.  You will indeed cause those spikes to grow, but don't be surprised to find that they are aimed at you.  And they don't dissolve away as easily as you might think.  They merely shrink to cover their hearts and damage their own future relationships.

5)  Take responsibility for the part you played in whatever went wrong.  A marriage is a partnership between two people.  It takes both of them to build it up, and it takes both of them to tear it down.  The other one may have made life a living hell, but how much fun were you to live with?  Were you a supportive partner, or a critical one?  Maybe you either pushed them away, or kept them in a choke hold.  Maybe your part was as simple as knowing that the whole thing was crashing and burning, but never once reaching for the fire extinguisher... or making an attempt to get out of the smoke and save yourself.  Remember that old adage about pointing the finger at someone else, and how many are pointing back at you?  It's corny, yes, but there is a seed of truth in it.  It took me four years to be able to say, out loud, what I had done wrong in my previous marriage, and then two months of therapy to be able to apologize for it.  Oh, how nice it was to breath that sweet, clean air!

6)  Don't let greed get the best of you.  The "best of you" is what you're trying to rebuild, so that it can carry you forward into a new and better future.  Of course you want to be sure that you get the financial support that you deserve for the kids.  And you need to try to split any assets fairly and evenly.  However, if the fight is turning out to be just another way for you to hold on to your ex, or your anger, or if it's causing pain to those around you (especially your kids), or if it's keeping you from moving on ... then it might just be in your best interest to cut your losses, and walk away.

7)  A divorce can be a great opportunity for you to perfect your Madonna impersonation.  That means "reinvent yourself"!  Lose some weight, or put on some muscle, or just work out to boost your energy level. Dye your hair.  Change your style.  Change your diet.  Discover a new form of music.  Redecorate a room.  Learn a new skill or sharpen the ones you have.  Start a new hobby.  Make some new friends, or get together with some old ones.  Take that walk down memory lane, and rediscover the dreams you once had, that maybe you had let go of.  Make a new you, make a new plan, and put it all into action!  This is a great way to keep yourself busy focusing on something positive, instead of sitting around and stewing about how things have gone awry.

8)  Learn to be alone.  You certainly don't want to isolate yourself, but there are going to be times when you find yourself alone on the couch with ... yourself, and you have to learn how to spend quality time with... yourself.  Being alone together is one of the best ways to learn how to like... yourself.  A quiet walk in the park.  Morning meditation on the porch.  It soothes the nerves, and clears the mind.

9)  Divorce can be a test of your character, and an opportunity to build upon it.  No other attribute can be as life changing as respect, for yourself and your ex.  This is not the time to brag about all that you have, that the other person will now have to live without.  And this is not the time to put your new lover on display.  Those times will come.  But for now, practice the fine art of discretion.

10)  If you subscribe to any religious institution, or just harbor a spiritual ideal, then it's time to take a look at the mantras.  The Taoist would say, "Hey, it is what it is, and all things are what they're meant to be".  The Buddhist would say "Life is suffering.  It's the struggle against the suffering that brings unhappiness.  So accept it, and move on."  And the Christian will say "Forgiveness is the key". If that doesn't work for you, then listen to Julie Andrews ..."Whenever God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window".

So, there's my two cents.  I know that every situation is different, and every person has to do what they feel is best for themselves.  But it can't hurt to learn from other people's mistakes, and it only helps to know that you are not the first person to suffer through any situation, and you won't be the last.