Pieces of You

I realize it’s been a while since I’ve posted.  But I haven’t felt like writing—or doing much of anything for that matter—in a while.

One thing I have done in the past year is get two tattoos—one on my foot and the other on my wrist.

So when one of my students asked me, “Are you against tattoos?” I at first thought he was being sarcastic.   

But he assured me he was sincere.  He was considering getting something on the inner side of his forearm, and people were telling him not to, that it was “trashy.”  So he wanted to know if I judged people by their tattoos. 

I told my student that if he was that concerned about what others thought, if he was worried it would impede him in advancing in his future profession, to get it in a place he could cover it up, as most white collar jobs require long sleeve shirts and pants.  Our conversation pretty much ended there, but my thoughts continued. 

Although getting a tattoo has become quite trendy, back in college, many of my sorority sisters got our letters and/or symbols tattooed on their ankles. 

I considered it.  But I didn’t. 

And speaking for myself, I’m glad I didn’t.  My sorority meant a lot to me, but I don’t know if I’d want my letters, or an anchor, or a rose, or a teddy bear on my body in this season of my life. 

After all the boys were born, I played with the idea of getting three butterflies tattooed on my ankle to symbolize the boys.  But I just couldn’t decide on the “right” design, the “right” size, the “right” placement, etc.

But on the morning of March 25, 2016, after my sister had called and told me Daddy was gone, and as I made the hour and half drive blurred by tears to the hospital, I knew what was right.

I love the tattoo on my foot; it’s a constant reminder of the loves and losses of my life—my babies and my daddy.  And one day I’ll add a hummingbird, by request, for my mother. 

My daddy is my only daddy.  My mother is my only mother.  They made me who I am.

My three boys (and the baby I lost) are the only babies I’ll ever have.  They are precious to me.  They are part of me.

I cannot imagine a season in my life where I would ever not want these images reminding me of these special people and their love for me and mine for them.

So judge me by my tattoos—please. 

Pieces of You--Jewel

Let's Hear It for the Boys!

It used to be that every time we got into the car, my kids would demand the TV on.  But here recently, thankfully, they've been demanding to listen to the radio instead.  And in our household, there's only one radio station, of course!  Merle 96.7

So the other day, we're driving down the road, and "God Made Girls" comes on.  And one of my five year olds, James David, who sings along to just about every song--even if he doesn't know it--is singing along, and so am I.  Not a thought or care in the world.

Until 20 minutes after we got home.

I'm in the kitchen getting dinner ready, and James David asks, "Mom, why did God only make girls?"

This innocent, sincere, troubling question just about broke my heart.

Don't get me wrong here--I'm all about some girl power.  I've had my share of men belittling me because I'm a woman in both my personal and professional lives.  So my heart cheers when songs like "God Made Girls" and "Girl in a Country Song" come out. 

But I'm raising three little boys.  And it got me thinking:  what about the "Boy in a Country Song"? The beer/whiskey drinking, woman chasing, masculine bravado that dominates our culture in nearly every genre?  What about him?

Blake Shelton's "Boys 'Round Here"

Society is so concerned about the depiction and treatment of women that we forget about our boys--yet they're facing just as much of a cultural dilemma.  And ignoring this reality only exacerbates the poor treatment of both genders.

We complain about the insensitive man, but we scold the young boy who cries.  We demonize the aggressive male, yet chide the boy who "hits like a girl."  What do we expect?!?

I can feel my husband glaring at me right now, so let me clarify:  I'm not saying we should raise/treat our boys to act like girls.  Boys are boys, and they are indeed different from girls.

But what I am saying is we should embrace and foster the sensitive, nurturing nature that most certainly IS inherent in boys.

As a female, wife, and mother, I can testify that my husband is never sexier than when he cares for his kids--when he comforts them, plays with them, feeds them, bathes them, teaches them, and snuggles them.  It is the sensitive, nurturing qualities about my husband that I find most attractive, not how much he can drink, how big his muscles are, how tough he is, or how big his truck is.

God made boys, too.  And they're beautiful, caring, and strong.

Our boys need to know that.

It's 5:00 Somewhere--Bottoms Up!

A couple of years ago, every time my cell phone would ring at 5:00 pm, my now 8 year old would predict, "It's Sally!"  Sally* (name changed to protect the innocent) was my girlfriend without children, and 95% of the time, he was right.

You see, when you have children, 5 pm loses its allure; 5 pm becomes a time of chaos, of screaming, hungry, grouchy children and frantic mothers searching for something easy yet healthy to cook.  5:00 pm is probably the worst time of day (besides bedtime...oh, and bath time).

And now that my children are older, dinner time still isn't any easier.  Only one out of the three is an adventuresome eater and will eat vegetables, including broccoli and edamame.  So catering to my picky crowd of eaters makes 5 pm even more of a headache.

But I've recently discovered the magic of soup. And it's magical for several reasons:

• it's easy to make;
• it makes alot, so there's leftovers for several nights or to freeze;
• inexplicably, my kids will eat things in soup that they will not eat out of soup.

I can beg, bribe, threaten my children all night long to eat peas, corn, black beans, etc, and they will NOT touch it.  Put it in a broth, and they're gobbling it up.  Maybe it's the easy fun of the spoon, or maybe it's the ability to turn it up and slurp from the bowl.  But whatever it is, it works.  And maybe it will work for you.

Here are a few of my favorites, some time-honored family recipes, others more recently added to my repertoire. 

Mom's Homemade Vegetable Soup

1 pound lean beef stew, cut into bite-sized pieces
1 large onion, chopped
4 carrots, sliced
1 package frozen corn
1 package frozen peas
1 package frozen okra
1 large can tomato sauce
1 large can diced tomatoes
salt and pepper
2 large potatoes, diced (optional)
egg noodles (optional)

* I usually omit the potatoes and/or the noodles, just because of the additional carbs, and it's super tasty without them.

1. Boil stew meat in a large pot with enough water to cover the meat with salt and pepper.
2. Once meat is cooked, add all other ingredients (except noodles) and additional salt and pepper, and add water to cover.
3. Boil for 30 minutes.
4. Reduce heat and simmer for 3 hours.
5. If adding noodles, you'll do that at the very end.  Put them in the soup uncooked, and bring the soup back to a boil to cook the noodles.  You may have to add more water since the noodles will absorb some of the liquid.
6. Serve and enjoy!

Italian Turkey, Bean, & Spinach Soup

2 TBSP extra virgin olive oil
1 pound extra lean ground turkey
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
pinch of red pepper flakes
1/4 TSP black pepper
1 TSP dried oregano
1/2 TSP dried basil
1 - 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes
1 - 15.8 oz can great northern beans, drained and rinsed
8 oz baby spinach
3 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese

1. Heat the oil in a large pot over medium-high heat.  Brown the turkey with the onions, garlic, red pepper flakes, and pepper until the turkey is cooked through and the onions are translucent.
2. Add the oregano, basil, tomatoes (with liquid), and beans.  Stir to combine.
3. Reduce heat to medium-low, add spinach, and cover for about 2 minutes or until spinach is wilted.  Stir to combine.
4. Add broth, stir, and increase heat to  medium.  Continue to cook until heated through--about 5 minutes.
5. Remove from heat, stir in parmesan cheese, and serve!

Tortilla Soup

1 - 32 oz box chicken stock (or make your own with chicken bouillon

1 - 15 oz can refried beans
1 - 15 oz can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 - 15 oz can diced tomatoes (with juice)
1 small can diced green chiles
8 oz bag of frozen corn
1-2 cups cooked brown rice (or quinoa)
1/2-1 cup salsa
2 TBSP taco seasoning

Mix all ingredients together and let simmer over low heat for at least 10 minutes. 
Serve alone or with tortilla chips, cheese, sour cream, or whatever toppings you like!
And if you have any leftover chicken, you can throw that in for some extra protein.


Hot and Sour Soup

4 cups chicken broth
3 TBSP soy sauce
1/2 cup shiitake mushrooms
1/2 TSP sriracha sauce
 1/4 TSP ground white pepper
1/4 cup white vinegar
1/3 cup canned bamboo shoots
3 oz tofu, cut into 1/4 inch diced
2 TBSP cornstarch
1 egg, beaten
2 green onions, diced
1/2 TSP toasted sesame oil (or olive oil works fine too)

1. Bring chicken broth to boil over medium heat.  Add soy sauce, mushrooms, and sriracha sauce.  Simmer for 5 minutes.
2. Add white pepper, white vinegar, bamboo shoots, and tofu, and simmer for 5 minutes
3. In a small cup, add 2 TBSP cold tap water to 2 TBSP cornstarch.  Stir until mixture is smooth; then pour into soup mixture and stir until cornstarch completely mixed into the soup.
4. Simmer 5 minutes, or until soup thickens.
5. Beat one egg in a cup, and then pour it slowly into the soup mixture while stirring constantly.
6. Wait 1 minute, then add green onions and sesame oil to the mixture.
7. Stir well for one minute.
8. Remove from heat and serve!

Give soup a chance to turn your 5:00 into "Bottoms Up!"

Dare You to Move

The Polar Plunge and the Ice-Water Challenge were hard to miss if you’re on any form of social media.  Even celebrities participated and aired their water torture on television.  So when one of my son’s friends challenged Trey to do the Polar Plunge, Trey was more than happy to participate.  However, when one of the friends that Trey challenged then challenged me, I was not so quick to oblige. 

It’s true that I’m scared of what’s in the Clinch River; the water is murky and the bed is slimy.  Plus I’ve always had the fear of something coming up from below, unseen, and “getting” me.  It’s irrational, like my fear of flying, but it’s a fear I cannot control nonetheless.

Beyond this fear, however, I couldn’t help but wonder how submerging myself in cold water and posting it on social media would really DO anything.  So I decided not to do it.  I decided to donate to the charity of my choice instead.  I went down to the river, with my son videoing, and made my announcement to post on social media. 

The response I got stunned me—not from those on social media, but from my 8 year old son:  “You took the easy way out!” 

He was disappointed in me!  I had bucked the trend, I had opted to DO something, and he was disappointed in me! 

I felt like I had been sucker-punched.  I’m supposed to be his role model, and I had let him down.  But it wasn’t because I didn’t do the Polar Plunge.  It was because he didn’t get it, that he thought me getting into the icy water took more courage and effort than doing something good, something tangible for someone else.   I had failed in instilling the value of charity in my own child.

I had to DO something:  that afternoon, Trey and I went shopping.  As I filled the cart with toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, T-shirts, all items the Crisis Center for Women in Lenoir City, TN needs, he asked, “Why do they need all this?” 

It’s hard to admit to your child that there are such things as monsters, except they don’t lurk in our closets and under our beds—that the real monsters are in our everyday reality and, for some, in their everyday lives.  But if I wanted him to feel compassion for those who are sick, hurt, hopeless, in need, or in danger, he had to know of their existence. 

I can’t say that what we did that one day was a life-altering experience for Trey.  But it was for me.  In acknowledging the monsters, I must also shine the light on all the angels that are out there as well.  I need to be the role model I want my children to one day be.  I will DO more. 

I Dare You to Move…and DO.

Rock the [Cache] Box

Ok, yeah, I know it’s really “Rock the Casbah,” but as a kid, I was certain the song was saying “rock the cash box, rock the cash box.”  It wasn’t until I was in my 20s that my husband informed me of the real lyrics.  But what’s really important here is that every time I hear that song, I’m reminded of my childhood, days spent playing outside in my backyard or running around the neighborhood. 

I certainly wasn’t a tom-boy, and I had/have no skills in sports, yet playing outside was just what we did as kids.  Making goulash with a discarded pot and “ingredients” found in my backyard was one of my favorite pastimes, along with digging holes in the backyard and covering them with sticks and leaves to trap “intruders” I was sure were coming into my yard at night.  Even on days when it was raining, I’d put on my raingear and play in the rain, or my mom would back the car out of the carport and I’d roller skate.  As I got older, I’d ride my bike around the neighborhood. 

I can’t imagine my kids riding their bikes around our neighborhood.  The world and neighborhoods just aren’t the same as they were 30 years ago.  Even still, my husband and I have worked hard to provide an accommodating and entertaining backyard for our children:  a swimming pool, swing-set, Power-Wheels, bikes, basketball goal, river to fish in, woods to play in, and plenty of yard to run and kick/hit/catch a ball in.

But the other day when I came home from work, my three boys met me at the door whining, “Ms. Wendy made us go outside and play.” 

I’m sorry—what?!? 

Sadly, the great outdoors and all the amenities we’ve provided just can’t compete with the Xbox and Minecraft. 

I weighed my options.  I could go to the extreme and remove the glowing, hypnotic Xbox from the house, I could banish the kids against their will to the outdoors, or I could find another outlet for them.  And that’s when I came across Geocaching—my perfect solution.

James David's & Jacob's victory pose.

Geocaching has everything I was looking for—the outdoors, adventure, critical thinking, and fun; plus, it’s something we can do together as a family and it’s inexpensive. 

The activity itself doesn’t cost anything, except the price of gas and perhaps a trinket (if it’s a large cache with items and you want to take an item, you must leave an item in its place).  But you do need an app to locate the caches.  Though there are several cheaper options available, I went ahead and bought the official geocaching app for a whopping $10.00.  I figured if it worked out, then it’d be a great one-time investment.  And so far, it has been.

Our first geocache find! 

Any time I ask the kids if they want to go geocaching, they are always up for it.  For them, it’s a real-life treasure-hunt; for me, it’s memories in the making.

Pirate Flag

Maybe it's the cool way of speaking, the action-adventure story-lines (particularly the treasure hunting), or perhaps it's just the eye-patch, but playing pirates is a favorite past-time of my kids.  And even if your kids aren't really into pirates, these two adventures I'm going to share with you in this special Pirate edition of my blog will be sure to please.  I've had no complaints yet!

First off, we have the pirate themed birthday parrrrty.  Trey asked to have one for his 6th birthday party, and it was a major success.  In fact, even though Trey's birthday is in June, kids who had come to his 6th party were telling me at the school's October fall festival that they were coming to his 7th birthday party.  And even kids who had not been invited (only due to not being in his class) were telling him they were coming too.  So we repeated for his 7th, with some fine tuning of and additions to the previous year. 

The most important lesson we learned from the previous year was that, since this pirate themed party centered around a swimming pool, hiring a life guard was a must.  That took a great deal of stress and anxiety off of us and our guests' parents.  (But it didn't save the inflatable pirate boat from sinking.)

And since I was repeating the party theme, I didn't have to plan as much for favors and decorations, so I spent more time on the food:

From left to right:  Fruity Booty (watermelon fruit ship), Pirates Planks (crackers), & Gold Doubloons (cheese cubes)

.

My greatest accomplishment, however, was the cake.  Trey told me he wanted a sea serpent.  I was like, "how in the world am I going to do that!?"  For those of you who really don't know me, I am not crafty at all.  I have pretty good ideas, but those ideas do not translate into reality well at all--if I'm the one doing the translating, that is.  So I fretted and fretted over that stinking cake until it finally clicked:

I made two bundt cakes, one chocolate and one yellow.  I then cut each cake in half and alternated each semi-circle to create the serpent. 

I then iced the cake with a white frosting and sprayed it with a green spray "paint" for cakes.  I finished it off with craft google eyes (non-edible) and thin chocolate wafer cookies for the fins and spines.

I was so happy with the finished product; I could have punched someone!

And the treasure hunt was much easier this year because of one simple fact:  the party guests could read!  So I had clues hidden all around the yard with key pirate figures (Tick Tock Crock, Peter Pan, Captain Hook, etc.) pointing to the next clue, leading to the treasure chest--filled with candy, gold doubloons, and pirate booty--guarded by the sea monster.  Of course the hunt was mass hysteria, and hours of clever clue writing paid off in just a matter of minutes, but it was the perfect way to close out the party.

The second is a paid adventure I found during our annual trip to Myrtle Beach, SC--Pirate Adventures.  Everything I read about this online and in brochures sounded really awesome, and let me tell you, it did not disappoint!

It starts out by dressing your child like a pirate, including face paint and being assigned a pirate name. 

James David, Trey, & Jacob ready to get their pirate on!

Then you get on a boat that looks like a real pirate boat and sail out into a harbor.  In pirate lingo, rules are discussed, and then the mission is given--to find the hidden treasure.

 

While sailing around the harbor, 

the pirates are given various tasks,

such as looking through the telescope, looking at the map, hoisting sails, etc.  At one point, the boat is attacked by a rival pirate, and the pirates have to fight him off with real water cannons attached to the side of the boat.  (I was so jealous I couldn't use the water cannon.)

Finally, they find the treasure, pulling it up from the bottom of the sea.  And each pirate gets a handful of treasure.  They then celebrate by dancing, doing the limbo, and drinking Pirate's Grog, which they pull up from the sea as well.

This is an extremely clever and creative adventure with thorough and detailed touches that make it truly memorable and one which ALL of us enjoyed. 

I guess none of us are ever too old to trade it all in for a Pirate Flag every once in a while! 

Have a Nice Day

They are the stock archetypal characters of many classic kids' and young adult films.

They are the ones we love to hate.

They are the Bullies.


Yet no one likes a bully--not in real life.  Perhaps it's because we all have experienced the inane cruelty of a bully either through personally being the target or through someone we love being the target of a bully.

Several weeks ago, my seven year old came home one Monday complaining about a certain kid giving him a hard time on the playground.  When he got in the car on Wednesday with the same complaint for the third day, my heart sank as I felt the sucker punch in my gut.  I knew.  And I knew I knew.  I couldn't rationalize out of this--for him or for me.  He was being bullied.

But why?  You think back to those classic movies, and it's the dorky, weird kids who are the targets of the bullies.  My kid isn't dorky and weird.  (Okay, I know I'm biased, but really, he isn't!)  He's a bit goofy, perhaps too nice, but he's pretty typical, really.  And this kid, this bully, used to be a friend.  And I think that's what really hurt my son the most.

But what hurt me the most was that my little boy was hurting.  And he was hurting because he was a beautiful, sensitive, gentle soul who did not say anything in response because he was afraid it would hurt this kid's feelings!  The bullied did not want to hurt the feelings of the bully.

That night, as my son and I were lying in bed together for our good night routine, I told him one of the things I loved about him was his sensitive, good heart.  But just because he was sensitive and good, that did not mean that people could walk all over him, say mean things to him, do mean things to him.  He was never to be mean, he was never to start a fight, but he was always to stand up for and to protect himself.

My son then asked me, "How?" (Now, his Dad and I would have different definitions of "stand up and protect," and I will concede that different circumstances will call for different reactions.  But I think my response is appropriate for a second grade context.) I told him, "when he says, 'we don't want to play with you--go away!' You say, 'who said I wanted to play with you?' and walk off."

I should also note that I followed up with contacting the teachers who were extremely proactive, and the situation has since been resolved, fortunately.

Unfortunately, however, the reality is that there will always be bullies in our lives.  Bullies don't exist only on the playground.  They exist in the college classroom, the boardroom, the PTO, the gym, our churches, our neighborhoods, etc.  While there may be psychological justifications for such behavior, I've never really understood why people choose to be bullies.  It's shameful behavior at any age.  I'd rather be the friendly face, the pleasant presence in someone's life.

Like kids--like my son--we all just want to have fun; we all just want to be liked; and we all just want to be good at something.  And we deserve that.  Even though there are bullies in our realities, we do not have to be the bullied. 

So in the words of Bon Jovi:  "When the world keeps trying to drag me down, gotta raise my hand, gonna stand my ground.  I say, 'Hey! Have a nice day!'"