Inappropriate Behavior

I worked in the counseling field for a number of years.  Because of my training, degree and occupation, the phrases "inappropriate behavior", "responsibility for our actions", "appropriate response" and that sort of  "therapist speak" are pretty much the norm around my house.  I never thought much about it, until the first conference with the principal at my boys' elementary school.

The principal had called me in because of the inappropriate classroom behavior of one of my boys.  As we were discussing the incident, she remarked that she'd never heard a child use words like he was using.  As a parent of three very mischievous little boys who's father was a sailor, I was a little frightened to hear what she had to say next.

She said he knew his behavior was "inappropriate" and that he should have "made better choices" because his "response was not the best one for the situation".  I laughed and told her what my occupation was before I had children. 

Nice to know they're listening!

Helping Others

H is the letter of the day.  Last summer, my boys and I were busy with our usual summer activities: swimming, baseball, fighting (the boys), refereeing (me).  And my children had a SEVERE case of the "gimmies". 

"Mo-om, I want (fill in the blank with the latest cool toy/gizmo/gadget on the market)."

I'd sincerely had enough.  We went to a local dollar store and bought brown paper bags, small packets of crackers, tuna, cookies, dried fruit and nuts.  We came home and I asked the boys to draw pictures on the bags.  They did.  Then we proceeded to put a bottle of water, a couple of food items, and a piece of hard candy in each bag.  After we were done, we drove around town and handed them out to the homeless.  I talked with the boys while we were doing this about the homeless, the less fortunate people we see every day.  They were very quiet. I wasn't sure if it was sinking in.

We came back home after an afternoon of handing out the bags and the boys went into their rooms.  I let them go play, with little thought of what they were doing.  A little later, all three came out with small toys--probably collected from various kid's meals--and asked if we could take those somewhere for children who didn't have toys.  I noticed more than a few Hotwheels and cherished treasures among the toys. I have to tell you, my eyes filled with tears as I looked at those little faces. 

We loaded up those toys and took them down to a local shelter.  I was, and still am, so very proud of them. That's the kind of men I want to send out into this world. 

Blessings.

Grammar Glitches-- A Sarcastic Rant

This is a post about the misuse of words and misinformation. The children are our future but what kind of future will they have if they're (not there or their) misinformed? Will their (not there or they're) minds wander (not wonder) to other things, if what (not watt) they learn from incompetent instructors leads them to fail later? And we're told these "little glitches" in the education process are really not (not knot) a big deal. They're (again, not there or their) such minor problems with which (not witch) we (not wee) really shouldn't concern ourselves. So, when your (not you're) children learn the following, please don't be alarmed! We (not wee) really want our (not hour) future to look like this:

"Wee the people believe in the write to bare arms. Wee believe their are know boundaries too what wee can do with this quality education. Wee believe anywon whose fortunate enough two git a grate education in hour school system is indeed very lucky. Where else do ewe find out that wondering the class is a problem!?! Eye wander watt the answer is? Quality education is the key! Eye no its very hard two get thru school, sew we're lucky that sum teachers don't git held to a higher standard! And hoo cares if the Bill of Writes was wrote inn 1776 or 1976, ore whatever. It really ain't that important. Eye get flusterated with remembering awl those dates anyhow. Sew ewe sea, we're doing find with awl these things we're learning. Ewe got know worries over these miner glitches."

This is a slight exaggeration of the nonsense I've seen recently. I'm not perfect.  And I'm sure grammar gurus could look over my work and have a field day.  But people, I am not a teacher.  I'm aware of my deficits.  But when you don't know the difference in homonyms (to, two, too; their, there and they're; etc.), and you're teaching children, THERE IS A BIG PROBLEM!!  When you teach children incorrect methods of solving math problems, THERE IS A BIG PROBLEM!! When you teach incorrect dates in history, THERE IS A BIG PROBLEM!!  And no amount of excuses make up for it.  NO EXCUSES!!

For you teachers who do your job and do it well, thank you. For those who don't, I have no patience.

The F-word--Not the One You Think I Mean

Today's letter is F. I know what you're thinking--Linda and the F-word. Well, hold on a minute! I'm not going to use THAT F-word once. Really.

I've been trying to come up with a post I like about an F-word. Friends, family, fear, faith and a dozen other F-words have been going through my mind. But the one that keeps jumping out is fear. Fear can be the greatest barrier or the greatest motivator.  If I'm honest, fear has paralyzed me and pushed me my whole life. If you're honest, it probably influenced you also. 

I fear I'm not good enough at being a mom, a wife, a friend, a writer. I fear I'll fail or that I'll succeed. I fear I'll fall or that I'll have to keep climbing. When I do well, I fear my achievements won't be recognized...or that they will. Pretty screwed up, huh?

I think the craziest thing about it all is that I keep putting myself out there--writing, making jewelry, creating (I hope) beautiful things. Things that make you laugh, cry, think. The fear is always there, but I'm learning to use it. And I find I'm not alone.

Embrace the fear and grow from it. I am.

A Review of All Bottled Up by Angela Rose

I'm not normally a fan of romance novels, but I read All Bottled Up by Angela Rose recently.  It was a witty, fun read and this author is going on my list of favorites.

Robin, the main character, learns to accept herself for who she is and is fortunate enough to find someone who cherishes her. The journey there was quite entertaining. I don't want to give away any details, but I was pleasantly surprised to read about a woman who decides she IS enough, just as she is--curves and all. It may have taken her a little while to come to that realization, but she did!

Great job, Ms. Rose!  Can't wait to read the next one.

Attack of the Elvi!!

Many years ago, two dear friends and I went on a road trip. We drove to Tupelo, Mississippi.  Tupelo is where Elvis Presley was born.  Now, I'm a born and bred Southern girl, with a love of a lot of things Mississippi.  Elvis is NOT one of those things.  I know, I know, I'm going to hear from haters on this one.  But after years, no not years, decades of hearing Elvis' Blue Christmas blasted over department store sound systems all winter, and radio stations that played all Elvis all the freaking time on or near his birthday, I sincerely cannot stand him.  (I will say I liked him and his movies when I was much younger, but time changes many things.)

One of my friends was from Tupelo and thought it would be a treat for us to see his childhood home and other various homages to all things Elvis.  There was lots of wine, so I was happy enough.  We stopped at his childhood home, toured some other Elvis-related places, then headed to the casinos in Tunica, Mississippi.  We walked in the first casino and saw Elvis posters and statues.  Elvis was blaring over the stereo system.  Heaven help me!  But there was wine. 

After a day and evening of casinos, Elvis and wine, we slept a few hours and headed to Memphis, Tennessee.  I was dying to hit Beale Street.  Bars, wine, music...I forgot about one thing-- Graceland.  The friend who'd arranged this trip had paid for admission for all three of us to Graceland.  But still, there was wine.  Lots of wine.  Have I mentioned I had a fondness for wine?

We headed into Graceland for the tour.  Deep breath.  We walked through a sea of Elvi.  There were short ones, skinny ones, tall ones, chubby ones, blond ones, just about any ones.  I needed to drink more wine.  Actually, that isn't true, I'd had more than enough wine.

When I drink alcohol, I get chatty.  And loud.  And I find myself to be very amusing.  I can't help it if others don't appreciate my humor.  As we walked through the grounds, touring his plane, his home, his memorial site, I began to comment on various things. 

"Attack of the ELVI!!" I screamed, as we traveled through the throng of Elvis impersonators.

"Shhh!" said my friend. "You're going to get us hurt!"

I kept up commentaries throughout the tour.  And when a guide yelled at me for using a flash camera, I held up my hands and said, "Nope! Empty hands here!  I'm not a fan!"  Shortly after that, we left.  I think it had something to do with threatening looks, words, or something from the fans.

It was a fun trip with good friends, good wine and good memories.  Okay, the crowd of Elvi chasing us away was a little freaky, but...

Just Dance!

Dancing is always something I've liked to do. I'm not good at dances that require remembering steps in a particular order. For some reason, the sequences cause me major grief. I trip over my feet, and everyone else's. It's really pretty sad to watch. But I truly love moving to music.

I love dancing around the house with my boys. They, of course, think Mom is the best at most everything. (Grinning like a fool here.) My husband doesn't dance, but he will slow dance if we're out. (Which happens about once a year, if that. Hey, with three kids it's a little tough to find the time and money to go out!) 

My parents danced a lot when I was growing up. Maybe that's where I got the love of dancing. They would invite friends over, listen to records and dance. I remember dancing and singing along while the grown ups danced. Funny how those times stick with you. And standing on Daddy's feet as a little girl, while he slow danced around with me, I felt like a princess. 

Today, I build memories with my boys. Dancing and twirling around the room.  Laughing. That's really what life's all about, making memories. 

Dance, live, laugh, be silly, love and make happy memories. Blessings!