WILD BEYONDER

Welcome Zoey: Some thoughts

Sat, 19 Mar 2011 10:28:00 -0500

Welcome Zoey...some thoughts

My newest great granddaughter just made the scene. She is beautiful. But someone asked the question on Facebook, "How many grandchildren do you have?" The answer is 14 1/2 grandchildren and 3 great grandchildren. AND if you add to the grandchildren total the husbands of my older granddaughters, you get 16 1/2.
Why did I choose to have such a large family?
Okay, well, I probably didn't choose. I just didn't discover what was causing all those kids until I had four. Then,I adopted three more. And those kids can't get it figured out either. The reason our family is so large is that my kids are SLOW LEARNERS.
Zoey, kids in our family miss out on a lot. You won't get the high-ticket gifts at holidays; there are simply too many of us for that. And you won't get a lot of one-on-one time with relatives because there isn't time enough for three on threes, let alone one-on-ones. And those "vote with your wallet" cute baby contests? While other grandparents can stuff a twenty in their grandbaby's jar, I have to ask the clerk at the register for change for a twenty. And divide it.
I guess I miss out on things too, like being THAT SPECIAL grandma. I mean, when I do something for one, I just about have to do it for all. I can't spoil the grandkids like other grandparents do; we have foster kids who deserve our attention too.
But the feeling I get when everyone is together at holidays? I can't describe it to you, Zoey, but you'll experience it yourself,and you'll find it is sometimes too sweet for words. The room rocks with the noise of babies and toddlers and the chatter of teens and adults, and we are all part of something much bigger. FAMILY.
I didn't actually choose a large family, Zoey; it just happened. But I would not trade one of my kids or grandkids or great grandkids or "sisters from another mother" for anything or anyone. I am proud of each of them. I am proud of YOU.
FAMILIES ARE FOREVER.

STUDENT "COUNSEL"

Thu, 17 Feb 2011 10:50:00 -0500

I had an interesting discussion with my 13 year old this morning. He wanted to wear wind pants to school and I told him I thought that was against the dress code. Turns out I was wrong. Sweats and wind pants are allowed. But should they be?

Okay, I come from a different generation. ( Gen X-Lax) and things were different when I was in high school.

Girls did NOT wear pants to school. (I mean slacks or jeans. They did not wear slacks or jeans. That is DEFINITELY not the same as going commando, which I don’t know if they did or didn’t.)

Boys wore pants that DID NOT show their underwear. (And admittedly, they COULD have been going commando, but under those dress codes, no one would have suffered with that decision but them)

We DID NOT call our teachers by their first names. Or by a nickname (to their faces. My principal was bald, and we called him Old Chrome Dome behind his back. But no one would have shortened that to Mr. CD and then used that in addressing him.) Mr. Kiefer, my chemistry teacher, would have made me sit in front where the room smelled like sulphur for calling him Rick. Okay, his name was Robert, but still…

I suppose I am hard nosed, but I just would like to see kids become students again. My generation was no smarter, nor were they more inventive, than today’s kids. So why was America ranked with the major players academically then and now we can’t even compete with third world nations? I think it comes down to attitudes.

CONSIDER: There was a wide debate over whether to use red pencil to correct student papers because the red color seemed so judgmental. It could traumatize them. Maybe they could use some trauma.

We have no way of knowing if our kids have done their homework (or have done it correctly) because they get a couple of periods a day to work on it and they don’t bring it home. In other words, kids don’t really have homework any more. My 13 year old dashes something off on an assignment and hands it in, correct or not. I HAVE NO OPPORTUNITY TO CHECK THE WORK. Okay, again, admittedly I don’t remember how to do a lot of the math, but I am STILL a force to be reckoned with when it comes to English or history

There is some evidence that, under certain circumstances, use of an Ipod during class might help a student tune out voices and other noises that could be even more distracting. Okay. I can sort of see that. I guess, to old people like me, it just seems disrespectful to teachers to attend their classes with an earbud in you ear and a cord hanging down your body.

But cell phones arte another matter. Kids are allowed to bring them to school, but not use them in class. Like that happens. Stats say most of kids texting happens during class time. AND older teens spend an average of nearly two hours a day texting in addition to half an hour talking.

I’m going to investigate this Ipod-vs. distraction thing further. There may be something to it.

And I am not against girls wearing slacks to school (though low rise jeans give them that little belly bulge (the new term for it is muffin top, I think) which is SO attractive.

But I believe that dress DOES affect attitude. And if we want kids to respect us, we have to model that for them.

AND IF THEY’RE GOING TO BRING MUSIC TO SCHOOL, I VOTE FOR TEXAS SWING OR SQUAREDANCE.

The Warehouse

Mon, 7 Feb 2011 15:35:00 -0500

There are times, in my life as a foster parent, when I am ready to chuck the whole thing and go into training pigs professionally.

That is, aside from the times when I believe I AM training pigs professionally.

Most children who come into our homes present challenges, but sometimes you come up against one who presents a brick wall.

Such is Elmo *not his real name, but it tickles me to use it. Elmo is 17, but he functions at a much younger age. And Elmo sees nothing morally wrong with lying. Or theft.

We've tried to help him. We've tried to love him into integrity. We've used every training we could remember to try to TEACH him integrity. Sometimes, we think we are making progress and a month or two goes by when Elmo does well. But then, something happens and, like the closet of that old radio character, everything comes rolling out onto us.

Have you been there?

Chances are, if you've been fostering for long, you have. If you haven't seen this issue come up, you will. A psychologist, a very wise man, once gave me some sage advice: TAKE THESE WORDS TO HEART.

This is NOT your child. His behavior DOES NOT reflect on you or on your parenting skills. He came to you flawed. The best you can do for him is to give him a safe place to stay until he is old enough to get into some programs designed to maintain him. I suppose the term is warehousing. But SOME things you do will make a difference in his life, however small. Think about those little things, and disengage as much as possible from his behaviors. Love him when you can, and tolerate him when you can't.

Not all kids are fixable. That doesn't mean you are a bad parent. And warehousing isn't the worst thing that could happen to a kid who is bent on self destruction. Abandonment is.

Put Away the China

Mon, 7 Feb 2011 13:10:00 -0500

I heard an interview with a politician the other day. It was shortly after the China visit. The politician was dragging China over hot coals because of its dismal record on human rights. Now, China may not be forthcoming with aid to its poor, and they may be stuck on this one-child thing. They may jail their disidents, and burn negative publicity, but:
In 2009, American owed China around $750,000,000,000 in long-term debt. That's seven hundred and fifty BILLION dollars.
So, looked at from that perspective, Chinese money is giving American students financial aid. It is reaching out to victims of natural disaster all over the globe.
It permeates every level of what should be our national budget.

Okay. I am not bashing the USA. America is a great and proud country. BUT consider:
I left a generous tip for a waitress the other day. I knew her, and her struggle to make ends meet. I gave her money I had earned, not borrowed. If I was mortgaged up to my eyebrows and borrowing more just to live, I could not have given the woman a tip. I could not have eaten out. I WOULD NOT have eaten out. I would have spent that money making sure my family had the essentials.
But our politicians don't understand that concept. They vote to borrow money from other countries, then go wild spending it on earmarked projects and congressional benefits. They send it overseas to help the starving in third world countries, and ignore our own poor. And then they have the guts to ask Americans to tighten their belts so they can go on doing it.

AND the guts to tell China off.

We throw billions at the world community ( billions we have to borrow) trying to make them like us. Trying to live up to the image we once had. AND THEY DON'T LIKE US NO MATTER HOW MUCH WE SPEND.
If Americans have to live within their means, why doesn't America?
That's all I'm saying.

When is Old...OLD?

Mon, 7 Feb 2011 09:25:00 -0500

Thursday, February 03, 2011

ARE YOU TOO OLD?

When is "old" OLD?
I mean, when do you cross over that hair's breadth line between middle-aged and old?

I thought about it the other day, when the question of MY age came up. (When are you going to apply for your Social Security payments? You know, you are eliglible now.)
I decided age is in the eye of the beholder ( provided he's not too vain to wear his bifocals.)

You are old when: You wear your sneakers untied not because it is the fashion, but because it will take you ten minutes to tie them IF you can bend down that far.

You are old when: You can't rush to the bathroom at the high school basketball game half-time because it takes you eight minutes just to get off the bleachers.

You are old when: You put your jaw out by biting down too hard on the dried cranberry in your granola cereal.

You are old when: You experience a horrific moment in the bathroom because you are desperate and you can't get your skirt up, but then you remember you're wearing gauchos.

You are old when: You keep asking questions at a parent teacher conference because you suspect you won't be able to get out of that little desk when your turn is over

You are old when you take the time to read through a blog entry like this just to see if it applies to you.

My "kid" Brandon Beck used to say,...

Thu, 3 Sep 2009 17:22:00 -0500

My "kid" Brandon Beck used to say, "Oh Foot!" When he got frustrated. I might start saying, "Oh Farkle."

I have a confession. I use the "start new game" button frequently when I'm playing that stupid game. I mean, if you start out with one "1" you know you are going to Farkle, and you won't get even close to your top score...so what's the point?

In golf, that extra try is called a "Mulligan"

A do-over.

It's a bummer that life doesn't come with a "start new game" switch.

There are a lot of things I would change---mistakes I would correct. My granddaughter wouldn't get Leukemia and my son would still be alive. grinning at us and being a real pain in the butt. But there is no Mulligan button for life.

I was remindeed of that again Sunday. We were having a good time---a family softball game. Afterward, Charlie was going to fry burgers on the Lions Stand grill ( those are the best burgers in the world) and the kids were laughing and yelling. It was great.

Until little Chad took a line drive to the face. It hit him hard. Though I didn't see the actual hit, from Charlie's description I know it was horrible. The sound was sickening. Chad went down like lead.

Blood was everywhere. Charlie took it hard...for him, it was as if our Chad (the little guy's namesake) was lying there helpless and blood-soaked.Sarah scooped the 6 year old up and the two of us raced to the pickup with him. I didn't stop at any intersections but blew the horn continuously as we rushed the little guy to the emergency room.

He passed out and Sarah and I prayed.

Chad was okay. A Catscan showed that there was no brain bleeding and he didn't break any bones. He was a little sleepy, a little sore and a lot bruised up. But okay.

The rest of us aren't so lucky. Why did we let him stand there beside his grandpa? What were we thinking? Charlie and Sarah have had flashbacks to the hit.

I wish we could take it back. I wish we could hit the "Mulligan" button. But we can't. Life turns on a dime. Doctors give us the worst news possible, police officers show up at our doors at two am, and little kids sometimes get in the way of hard-hit balls.

The best we can do is make sure we try to "get it right" when we can, and let our families and friends know that the one thing we wouldn't change is loving them.

I'm in a stew

Tue, 25 Aug 2009 10:52:26 -0500

OKay. I want to make some of the amazing buffalo stew we had at Dancing Leaf, but I don't have any buffalo. I put a beef roast on in the crock pot last night and so I have really tender beef.

I don't have jalapenos either, but I do have some anchos that I froze like ...like two summers ago.

And there were no dried pintos at the store. I had to get a soup mix ( dried peas, chick peas, black-eyed peas, navy beans, pintos, red beans)

I don't have any bay leaves. I do have fresh cilantro out on the deck.

And I used my last tomato on sandwiches the night before last. I think I have a can of tomato soup, but that's all.

So my Dancing Leaf stew will be kind of like my Silver Dollar City Skillet: Close, but not quite there...

Check out my books at www.beyonderqueen.net/annecarylinvitesyou

Healthy Body Image?

Sat, 15 Aug 2009 18:12:07 -0500

I'm a little miffed.

Watching Good Morning America the other day, I saw a piece on Kelly Clarkson. See. some magazine just airbrushed off about ten pounds on her cover picture. She wasn't happy about it.

GMA host Robin Roberts was trying to promote a healthy self image and she said--several times--that Kelly Clarkson was comfortable with her weight. Happy with her image. Good grief...you might expect someone the size of Cass Elliot.

But Kelly Clarkson is probably a size 10.

Shouldn't she be comfortable with her weight if she is a normal size?

I mean, that's like saying Mariah Carey is comfortable with being a woman. Stevie Wonder is fine with being Black. And David Letterman is okay with his nose. You have never noticed Letterman's nose? That's because IT'S NORMAL. But I'm sure he's comfortable with it

And the magazine editor said they didn't really make her thinner...they just added height. THAT gave the illusion that she was thinner...SO it wasn't her weight she was uncomfortable with...it was her height?

And the only reason they did it, the editor said, was to make a more colorful cover...to show more of the gorgeous dress Kelly was wearing.

It's called photo-shopping. You take this from someone's picture and add it to someone else's. Then you pare down this and tweak that...WHAT HAPPENS IF THE STAR MAKES A PERSONAL APPEARANCE?

"Hi! I'm Kelly Clarkson the American Idol."

"Yeah Right. Clarkson has itty bitty thighs. And no butt."

"No really, I am Kelly. And I'm comfortable with my thighs."

We need to grow up. Perfect is unattainable...unless you lie about it.

There are now organizations for really big women and men...Fat Clubs. THEY are comfortable with their weight. But the GMA host wants us to know that someone is okay with being normal.

And THAT makes me miffed because THAT implies that we need an excuse for it.

What's cooler than ice cubes in your...

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 22:08:00 -0500

What's cooler than ice cubes in your underwear? ( Like you never tried that)

Finding out that one of the stores selling your book has run out. Okay, they didn't buy that many copies to begin with, but THEY ARE SOLD OUT!

Hey, I admit I'm prejudiced about this, but these two books are good. I mean, if you don't blow your own horn, sometimes it goes unblowed...or unblown...

Anyway, with 5 teen boys at home I don't have a lot of time, but I am working on two new books...one fiction and one non-fiction based on the Gary Smalley/ John trent book "The Blessing."

So, here I go again!

SURPRISE!

Mon, 3 Aug 2009 10:29:53 -0500

On Thursday, we're getting a new foster child. That will make 5 teenaged boys. Charlie decided we needed a little outing before this all came down, so Saturday morning he told me to wear walking shoes and be prepared to leave at 8:00. Where were we going? IT WAS A SECRET.

The boys sleep in until 9 or 10, and then have their Saturday chores to perform. After that they can swim. Should they need help, one of my daughters lives just across the street. We were set.

At eight, we left in the Camaro and started east. We drove for an hour and a half over countryside that never changed fromn the flat, arid plains that surround Holyoke. Then, suddenly, trees and lush green grass lined the road. A forest stretched beyond them. We crept through a tiny village and turned off onto a dirt road marked by a small sign that read Dancing Leaf.

After a mile or two, we pulled into a parking area across from a gorgeous lodge-type building. We were welcomed by a tall, spare woman with bobbed graying hair. She took us into a small cabin marked as the museum, and we settled onto a bench.

For the next half an hour, Jan Hosick regaled us with the history of the area: Dancing Leaf is located near the Allen Site on Medicine Creek...an active paleo-anthology dig. Southwest Nebraska was once part of a huge inland sea, and then it became a tropical paradise, and then a savanna rimmed by glaciers. More types of elephants have lived in Nebraska, Mrs. Hosick told us, than any place in the world INCLUDING ASIA.

We held huge Mamouth teeth in our hands and marveled at the skill of primitive huntsmen as she demonstrated the methods they used to hunt and kill the huge beasts. We followed the progress of these ancestors of the Pawnee until they emerged into the "present" of the appearance of Caucasians in the area.

Then Jan Hosick took us down a path to a clearing where, overlooking the river valley below, there is a reconstructed Indian dwelling. Deer hide tanning processing racks rimmed the place along with covered shelters where the women could work during the day's heat, moving along with the shade. In the center of the clearing stood a moundhouse...something like an earthen igloo.

Then we stooped and entered the moundhouse where Mrs. Hosick explained the artifacts and laid out for us "a day in the life." She pointed out the "carpeted" floor and the hole in the roof through which a square of light fell near the firepit and served as a clock. She told us about the technology of the construction of the house that allowed it to keep out the rain and snow and the heat of the day as well as moderate the cold of the winter.

When we returned to the main house, the Hosicks joined us in a wonderful meal of buffalo stew, raw vegetables and melons and corn muffins...a meal, she explained, the Indians would have prepared, since they grew fruits and vegetables in abundance.

The cost of a day pass to Dancing Leaf is nominal. You can also camp or rent cabins there. You can even stay in the moundhouse...sleeping on the hide-covered shelves as the Indiand would have. Charlie and I are determined to go back, and to take the boys.

When we returned to Holyoke, both of us were refreshed and excited about this unexpected oasis in the arid plains. If you want to check it out, go to http://www.dancingleaf.com

And to all of you who aren't as lucky as I am to have someone like Charlie...EAT YOUR HEARTS OUT.

Check out my books at http://www.beyonderqueen.net/annecarylinvitesyou