Tales of a Square Peg

Huh?

“What did you say?”  She said it again.  I picked up my jaw off the floor and flashed back to the first time I said a …um…chosen word in my mom's presence.  Before I continue, you’ve got to understand that my mom was “old school,”  in fact, she’d be 84 on her next birthday.  Hers was the generation where you didn’t sit down and do mini-psychotherapy to find out why your 6-year-old just cussed like a sailor.  You simply spanked her little bottom, and she never said the word again – even if she didn’t know why saying the word was wrong in the first place.  Which is what happened with me.  But I knew I wanted to do things differently with GG.

“Who have you heard say that word?”  Heaven knows that Jamie and I aren’t halo-heads or anything, but strong language is something that just doesn’t happen around our house.  In fact, I was 30 years old before I ever heard my own dad swear.   Anyway, back to GG the Sailor.  “I heard it from my Surf’s Up movie.”  Great.  Not only did I take her to see that movie, but bought her the DVD too…So we had yet another “talk.”   We talked about how she may hear people saying words like that, but it doesn’t mean that she should use them; how she’s got so many words in her vocabulary that she doesn’t have to come up with dirty words to explain herself; how saying dirty words can get her in trouble at school or even cause her to lose friends.  And whole bunch of other stuff that took about 10 minutes to go through, as well as a “time out” and an apology to me.

Really…didn’t I just have “the talk” about alcohol with her the other day?  Great…and now we’ve moved onto swearing.  Guess I better buy a book about the “Birds & the Bees”…that’ll probably be the topic of tomorrow’s “talk” at the rate we’re going.

Anybody have suggestions for some "cover the gray" hair coloring?

I think I'm gonna need it.

“Now….are you crying because it’s that time of the month, or uh…..”  That was my Beloved's response to me crying over a working-mother dilemma I was facing. 

Bottom line is this: there was a last-minute work thing that got scheduled smack-dab in the middle of GG’s first big-kid speaking role at school.  “She’ll be fine.  You know she’s got it memorized, she’ll do great.  I’ll be there.  I’ll videotape it."  That was my husband's very logical reasoning. Jamie’s not clueless – far from it.  My job’s been cranking up lately and he’s really been Dad AND Mom lately, so I should have been thankful.  But instead, I was ripped up in shreds.  So no – the tears weren’t because of “that time of the month,” these were bona fide Working-Mom Tears.  He looked at me helplessly as I forced out an "Okay."  Realizing his logical logic was useless to his teary wife, he said “You need to talk to Amy about this.”  He meant BFF Amy.  We’ve been friends since we were five and he knew she’d talk some sense into me.

But he forgot BFF Amy is also a mom…with THREE kids.  BFF Amy and I talked about it…and like a Mom, she advised…”Yeah, that’s hard… she’ll have other stuff, but she’s only going to have her first time doing something like this once...and you can't get that back.”  Later, I talked to BFF Becky – she’s my sister-in-law and GG’s Godmother.  Back when her 20-something-year-old was GG’s age, she was a working mom too.  After a lot of tears on my part and lots of hugs on BFF Becky’s part, she offered “Maybe you just have to stand up and tell ‘em that your daughter comes first.”  But at the same time, she also understood the work obligation “But if you have to be at work, you tell me – and I’ll be there.  I know it won't be like you being there, but I’m her Godmother. That’s what I’m here for, honey.”  Makes me tear up now just writing about it.

Anyway, that’s what I love about my Mom-BFFs…they get it.  They put up with every conversation being about the crisis at hand, even if it means having a week-long conversation about the same thing.  They get the push-pull of working and mothering, and they’ve got the common sense to say when it’s time to push back.  They put up with Working-Mom Tears….and they never, EVER ask if the tears are there because it’s “that time of the month.”

Thanks to the Journal Sentinel series Wasted in Wisconsin, I think a lot of necessary attention is being turned to drunk driving.

I’m highly aware of alcohol issues because I work for IMPACT.  We assess convicted drunk drivers to determine if they have major alcohol problems; and if they do, we connect them with treatment.  If they don’t – which surprisingly, is about 50% of the people convicted of DUI – we connect them to education with the hopes of preventing future offenses.  We do similar assessments and referrals that are free for people who think they might have a problem, or know someone who has a problem with drinking or drugs.  We also run a substance abuse prevention program for elementary through high school kids.

All that to say, that in the nine years I've been working for IMPACT, my awareness about drinking has grown by leaps and bounds; and it really should have, since I write grant requests for a lot of what we do.

Leave it to GG to show me how little I know: 60 Minutes aired a story about a movement to bring the drinking age BACK DOWN TO 18.  Hmmmm.  They highlighted the sad story of a college student who, along with his fraternity brothers were binge drinking.  He passed out and his friends couldn’t wake him up, so they moved him to the library steps where he was found unresponsive.  He was never revived.  It was heartbreaking -- and it is heartbreaking, because stories like this are all too common.

I didn’t know that GG was paying any attention because all the while she was drawing on her doodle board; but a few minutes into the story, she showed me a picture that she had drawn about the student, saying that he shouldn’t have had “all those cups of beer.”  I knew this was a “teachable moment,” but I wasn’t sure what to say.  I mean, really, her dad and I have a beer or glass or wine here and there, so I didn’t tell her that drinking is altogether wrong; instead we talked about choices…and how having too much of anything is never healthy or safe.  Then I told her to think about the choices that the student and his friends should have made, and to draw a picture about those choices.  She didn’t let me down: one scene was of the boy smiling with his friends because they called 9-1-1 to help him, and another scene was about him at the party having fun because he didn't drink “too many cups of beer.”

TALK BACK:  Do you talk to your kids about alcohol and/or drugs?  What are some of the things that you tell them?  Do you think the drinking age should be rolled back to 18?

I was never a whiz at math.  I mean, really – I once asked our algebra teacher why we had to solve an equation if we already knew that 6x = 18.  My poor mom – she put in countless hours trying to tutor me on the FOIL method alone.  By the time I’d finally get a concept, our class was moving on to a new unit and then she’d have to start the whole process all over again.  One time my rock-headedness tried her patience to the point that she ended up in tears.

GG’s different, though.  This kid’s been a whiz at everything she’s put her hand to in her short six years on this earth.  Reading?  No problem.  Writing & Art?  I’ve got a ton of her love notes and masterpieces on my nightstand.  Socially, she’s the most well-adjusted kid that I’ve seen.  In fact, I was the one crying on her first day of daycare – not her.

GG started ice skating lessons at the Pettit Center two weeks ago, and I figured that she’d take to it like everything else she’s done.  Not so much.  Her knees seemed to be glued together, and her feet barely left the ice.  My darling, outgoing, smart and graceful baby looked like a big pink penguin.  And I could tell it was bugging her too as she watched some of the other kids whiz past. 

As we watched during her first lesson, GG's usual smile had been exchanged for a look of pure grit and determination.  My motherly instinct wanted to scoop her up and tell her that she didn’t have to do it anymore, but it dawned on me:  this is the first thing that she’s had to work for; and it’s good for her.  She and I skated after class, and I was giving her what I think were helpful hints.  She began to make progress and was slowly morphing from a penguin into a little skater; and you could see the look of pride on her face when things started to “click.”

This whole experience is good for both of us – GG’s learning that some things will take hard work, and that there's personal satisfaction in achievement after you work hard for something.  I’m learning that I can’t just swoop in and always make it “all better” for her; and I know that down the road, sometimes, she’ll even have to make her own mistakes.

But I’ll always be there right alongside ready to help when the time is right…..as long as it doesn’t involve math.

Good comedy's all about timing; and if you were at Red Arrow Park's Slice of Ice this past Friday around 2:00ish, you probably got some great comedy from the adults there skating badly.  VERY badly.

Like this one woman  -- she oozed cockiness as she came out of the skate rental place with her daughter (who was obviously a little pensive about skating in the first place) and her husband -- who was there with the camera ready for the photo ops.  Nose in the air, she told her little one, "Let Mommy warm up first, and then we'll skate together" and took off.  Only she didn't.  She wobbled like a newborn calf and joked "Wow, this ice is really slippery!" with the Sideline Moms who couldn't help but look at the spectacle.  They only looked at her like the fool she was.  I'll give the woman credit though, she kept her brave face while stumbling awkwardly and began to glide....glide out of control, that is.  That's when she came crashing down with a BANG-ker-Slide (about 4 feet, if anyone was measuring) on the ice.  The beaten-down woman looked at the Sideline Moms and mumbled something like "What the heck happened?" and the moms just tried to politely ignore her as best they could.  I swear, the ruckus this clumsy woman created even caused her husband and child to back away (far, far away) from this crazy-newborn-calf-nonskating person they came to the park with.

That would have been hilarious...if it hadn't been me.

Once upon a time, I had been a very graceful skater.  I regularly skated at Mayfair Mall's ice skating rink, zipping round and round for hours on end.  And even last year -- and the year before that -- even the year before that, I had been good!  DARN good!  But for some reason this past Friday, I remember stepping out onto the ice and knowing that something didn't feel quite right.  I figured that the unusal slippery-ness was just me getting older (heck, I'm gonna be forty this year), but it wasn't anything I couldn't overcome, hence the trivial commentary with the Sideline Moms.  Then the initial fall happened.  Stubbornly refusing to believe that getting older could turn me into a wreck on the rink, I got up.  Big Mistake:  That's when the final SPA-LATT happened.  I was ready to throw in the towel or at least use one for my backside that was by that time covered in slushy ice.  Even Jamie and GG had backed away and started looking at me like I was from the Twilight Zone or something.  Then thankfully...finally, some wonderful man whose name I shall never know, but to whom I'll always be grateful said "Hey!  You've got your blade guards on!"

My pride hopes that your timing was off on Friday so you would have missed the five minute disaster that was me that day.  But if it was on and you caught my impromptu slip-sliding-away show, I hope you got a chuckle out of it.

This time of year known as the Holiday Season to everyone else is known as Year End to those of us in the non-profit world.  Now's when we make our last push to get those extra donations in to meet our budgets and fundraising goals, so we send out letters, double-check with funders that we've approached about pending grants, and start preparing for the annual audit.  In a word, it's just been busy, and I've definitely been on that crazy treadmill too.  And lately, the running theme in my mind has been "All I want for Christmas is my sense of humor back...or at least my sense of fun back" because I find it really hard to disconnect from the busyness of work and reconnect with the not only the true meaning of Christmas, but also the funny, silly things that GG does.

Anyway, today started the first day of an entire week off.  I spent the morning -- probably like a gazillion other people -- trying to get the last minute things done that I should've have done weeks ago, and of course GG was with me -- partially so she could see Santa, and mostly so we could reconnect.  GG calls it a "Mom and GG Day."  We got up early, headed to the mall in the blowing snow and made it there before the crowds hit.  She picked out a present for her uncle, and then we headed off to see Santa.  I love Mayfair's Santa because he looks like the genuine article.  Each year, he says "My you've grown"  and that always makes me feel like "maybe, just maybe he does exist."  But today was the capper of all cappers -- he says "Well, you're on the good list.....BUT you've got to work on your listening.  Especially when you're shopping with your mom."  That was the very thing we've been talking about over the last few days!  How did he know?!

Call me naive, but all of the sudden, I was 7 years old again, wondering along with GG how he could've possibly known that she's got "listening issues."  I couldn't have asked for a better present than that.  And GG had renewed motivation to work on her listening.

Think I'm officially off the treadmill now.  Merry Christmas everyone.

Today’s the 17^th…so let’s see….25 minus 17 means there’s….EIGHT MORE DAYS until Christmas!  There's still plenty of time left!

I'll start with our Christmas tree.  Poor thing’s been sitting there naked except for three hundred lights and some garland.  Easily squeezed in tonight after GG’s Christmas pageant.  Oh – that reminds me….I didn’t tell GG’s Godparents about the pageant.  That’s okay, I’ll call them after I’m done with this post.  Cross that off the list.  Back to the tree.  I still have time to do it and…wait a minute: GG’s mini-tree needs ornaments too, and I’ve been promising her that we’d decorate it after she gets home from school.  Perfect!  We can do it before tonight’s pageant.  Cross that off the list too.

Was I supposed to be calling someone about something?

GG’s Christmas shopping should be easy -- I know what she wants because she told me what she’s going to tell Santa she wants.  Oh no, GG hasn’t visited Santa yet!  We can’t very well have the gifts and tell her that Santa brought ‘em when she hasn’t even talked to him yet!  I wonder how long that pageant’s going to be…Hmm...think I’ll call to see how long Santa’s at the mall once I’m done with this post.  Perfect!  We’ll just go see Santa after the pageant’s over.  Back to shopping for GG, stores are open super late now, so I can still fit that in tonight after we see Santa after the pageant after we decorate the tree.  Cross some more stuff off the list!

Who was I going to call again?

Whatever.  After tonight, I’ll have another seven days to shop for Christmas dinner, even though I don’t even know what we’re having …think I’ll call Jamie & see what he thinks once I’m done with this post.  Speaking of Jamie, I’ve still got time to shop for him, GG’s Godparents, my mother-in-law, my Godchild, my brother and his wife; get the Christmas Cards in the mail; clean the house and hopefully find the Jimmy Buffet Christmas CD that hasn't been seen since last Christmas.

So you see, eight days is plenty of time….Now, why am I calling Jamie again?

4 days until D-Day – or shall I say the B-Day (although, technically, GG’s birthday is indeed D-Day/Pearl Harbor).  Anyway, she’s turning 6 on Sunday, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.  I don’t know if has to do with hormonal stuff that women go through when they reach a certain age, or just the fact that (sniff, sniff): my baby’s not a baby anymore.

I’ve realized this melancholy/nostalgic/introspective thing happens to me every year about seven days before her birthday.  GG, on the other hand, seems to exert her independence/will/individuality – sometimes exhibited by uncharacteristic (and it pains me to say it) brattiness seven days before her special day. 

And so I end up on this weird emotional seesaw where I’m on her (it seems like constantly) for doing things she wouldn’t normally do (e.g. sassing one of her favorite aunts) and wondering where I went wrong and realizing how woefully unprepared I was for this parenting gig in the first place.  Then the seesaw goes up (or down depending on the day) and I see how she’s got her own little circle of friends at school.  Or I call home from work to see how her day went and she tells me that she’s “a little busy right now.”  Or she comes up with ideas about helping “people who are poor” and “people who are sad.” 

All of it gets me misty because I realize that GG really is a big kid now….and maybe, just maybe – in between all the ups and downs - some of what we’re trying to impart is getting through.

Guess I’m looking forward to D-Day/B-Day after all, even though I’ll see it through the misty eyes of a woefully unprepared mom.

Happy Birthday, GG.  Mom and Dad love you more than anything.

GG two months after THE Birth Day

GG at last year's birthday party.

Sniff. Sniff.

I'm training The Lady, The Man and The Girl pretty well, but there are still a few things that they don’t quite get:

1.  Puppy teeth toughen up slippers.  My family only wears the slipper things in the house.  I guess it’s because slippers aren’t tough enough to wear outside.  Ever since I moved in, I’ve committed myself to toughening up those flimsy things by chewing on them so The Lady, The Man and The Girl can wear slippers outside too.  But what does it get me?  A firm “No Sir!” and a wave of the finger from The Lady -- and even from The Girl!  But I think The Man is starting to understand.  He says “Awww” and giggles when I get a hold of his slippers…finally -- some appreciation!

2.  The rabbits want me to play with them.  A family of rabbits lives under a bush near my special area of the yard; and they'd like to play a game of Chase with me.  I just know they want to play -- why else would they sit so still whenever they see me?  You see, every game of Chase needs a good chasing route, and when the rabbits are sitting still, they're just thinking up a challenging route for us.  But as soon as we see each other and the route-planning starts, The Lady and The Man say "Leave the rabbits alone, Charley."  And before you know it, the rabbits are gone.  And so is our game of Chase.

(A Model of the Milwaukee Rep's A Christmas Carol stage set)

Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, A Christmas Carol is a universal story of hope -- something I think everyone needs more of, especially this year.  But there’s another side to the Milwaukee Rep’s production of A Christmas Carol -- another story of hope in an unlikely circumstance….

The mom of a struggling family was terminally ill.  Like most moms, her first worry wasn't about her disease -- instead, she worried about the kids....and how their Christmas might be ruined because of her illness.  Christmas came….and it was the best the family ever had: all because of people who cared.  These people got presents for the kids that the parents could never afford.  They arranged a day at the spa for the mom, giving her a space in time where her real-world worries wouldn’t intrude.  The people even got everyone in the family new clothes -- items that had been an unheard-of luxury only a few weeks before.  The family cherished that last Christmas together; but some months later, the mom succumbed to her illness.  The family was sad, but they remembered the kindness of those people, and they held that last, very special Christmas in their hearts forever.  These memories comforted them when they missed mom the most and even gave them hope for the future.

This is a true story; and it happened because of our own Milwaukee Rep’s A Christmas Carol.  But how?  After each performance of ACC, costumed actors greet the audience as they exit the theater and collect donations.  Then right before Christmas, all of the Rep’s employees – everyone from the cleaning crew, to the costumers, to the admin staff – go shopping with collected donations so they can “bring Christmas” to a struggling family.  The next day, everyone at the Rep wraps each present, and then they go out and personally deliver them.  The families to whom the Rep “brings Christmas” are clients served by a non-profit agency that is selected by the Rep earlier in the year.  The selected agency also receives collected donations.

(pictured above, Lanise Antoine Shelley, star of this year's "Eurydice" ready to be "Santa" in 2006.)

Annie Jansen Jurczyk, the Rep’s Fund Development Director tells me the Rep’s been helping Milwaukee non-profits and families through ACC performances for 15 years.  First time you’ve heard about this?  Well, the Rep doesn’t do this so the newspaper will pick up the story and say how great they are, or even that some some blogger will write about it.  They do it because, for them, it’s the right thing to do.  And a lot of people who go to ACC each year feel the same way.  Like the family with the kids who actually bring their piggy banks to the play.  Each year, these kids save money to give when the play’s over. 

(BTW: That's Annie & GG in the picture)

All told, since 2001, people who go to see ACC have given over $165,000 to seven different agencies and brought Christmas to over twenty families in our community.  That’s a lot of change bringing a lot of hope to people when they need it most.

So, if you go to see ACC this year (and I hope you’re planning to), toss a dime, quarter, dollar – or whatever you may have rattling around in your pocket or purse or piggy bank to Tiny Tim, Bob Cratchit or even old Scrooge himself  -- and you’ll be a part of A Christmas Carol’s other story too.  Like Annie says, “I don’t care if it’s just the change in your pocket; every bit of change makes a difference.” 

Installment #2 in the Shining A Light Series

I'm proud to feature Matricia Patterson, she's the Telephonic Services Coordinator for 2-1-1 @ IMPACT a free hotline that's operates year-round for 24 hours, 7 days-a-week.

People dial "211" to find emergency food, shelter, financial help, healthcare – as well as places accepting donations that help those of us who are struggling in this weird economy.  Anyway, Matricia and I interface quite a bit through my role as a fundraiser for IMPACT -- the organization that operates 2-1-1.  I know her as one of those put-together, intelligent, positive -- but never overbearing -- women that I'd like to be when I grow up.  Anyway, that's how I know Matricia. 

But if you're one of her thirty or so nieces, nephews (yes, 30 -- she's the youngest of 7 kids) or extended family, you may know her as the person who taught you to drive.  Or she's the person who brings you to work on those "Take Your Daughter to Work" days.  Maybe you know her as the aunt who taught you the family recipes.  Or maybe you were one of the 10 kids she took skating.  Maybe she's the aunt who took you in and was your parent when your own parents were trying to sort their lives out.

Maybe you called IMPACT or 2-1-1 over the past 11 years and were one of the 2,500 people that Matricia helped.  You might have been like the lady who called because this past summer's floods caused mold in her mom’s basement and she didn't know what to do.  She called 2-1-1 and spoke with Matricia.  Matricia connected her with the Milwaukee County Emergency Management Division, and the mom’s basement problems got solved.

If you're involved with the Cathedral Center, you know Matricia as a Board member.  If you've been to County Board proceedings, you may have seen Matricia there too.  You could also know her from Cardinal Stritch, because somewhere in between the long hours that come with a supervisory role, inspiring her extended family and community involvement, she found the time to squeeze in a Master's Degree in Business Management. (That's in addition to the Master's Degree in Social Work that she already has.)  And did I mention that she's the President of the Wisconsin Alliance of Information and Referral Systems (AIRS)?

The few words posted here don't begin to scratch the surface of how brightly Matricia shines, but what is it that makes her shine so brightly?  At her job, it’s knowing that she really is making a difference -- like the calls where she's helping people get access to lifesaving prescription meds that may seem out of reach.  Her commitment to her profession drives her to be active in organizations that deepen her understanding of community issues.  But above everything else, Matricia gives her parents all the credit  (See moms and dads, our kids WILL appreciate everything we do one day!).  She says her parents "made me who I am."  They instilled a "strong work ethic" and exposed her to community leaders, spirituality and the positive brown images that are so critical for everyone to see....

My BFF Amy emailed me the following message:

So Holly comes to my bedside this morning, wakes me up, and asks me why the tooth fairy didn't come last night. There goes my Mother Of The Year award....geez.

She's got three kids, ages 10, 9 and 7, so Amy gets a pass.  The Tooth Fairy's visited our house four times already; and we only have one child; so I can see where things might get a little tricky with three.....and expensive.  When GG lost her first tooth, I had no idea how much the Tooth Fairy should leave, but I thought 2 shiny new quarters would be cool.  Then I found out that the Tooth Fairy was being cheap, so we started leaving a dollar per tooth after that.

Which brings me back to my forgetful BFF Amy.  Read on...

So I remember the tooth the next night after Holly told me she didn't come. Feeling a bit guilty, I put $3 under her pillow thinking she'd be so wowed. Her reply was "Why did Molly get $10 for her tooth a few weeks ago?"

TEN DOLLARS? Is that the standard going rate for baby teeth these days?  Heck, we've been hoping that GG will save every Tooth Fairy dollar to help pay for braces when her permanent teeth come in.  And now I'm really confused:  On Monday, we found Charley's tiny little canine tooth on the carpet.  Apparently, puppies lose their baby teeth too; and it is rare for an owner to find them.  Lucky us.  I just wonder what the Tooth Fairy is supposed to do for puppies.

So fill Amy and me in -- how much does the Tooth Fairy leave your little one?  How much money is too much?  What did the Tooth Fairy leave for you when you were a kid?

“What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet…..”'

The Bard was right when he penned that.  And if I'm remembering sophomore year literature correctly, that whole thing was about Romeo and Juliet falling in love, and how only their love should have mattered, not their family names.

Beautiful, ain't it?

But what about love for little furry, feathery or scaly creatures?  You know -- the kind used for biology class dissection?  Would you change your name to help spare them the scalpel?  According to an article by the Associated Press, that's exactly what 19-year-old Jennifer Thornburg of Asheville, North Carolina did.  She's legally changed her name to a web address for one of PETA's home pages against animal cruelty.

But Rochelle, you say -- is that really a bad thing?  Think about it:  You're Jennifer's parents.  Nineteen years ago, you combed over every baby book to find a meaningful name.  Maybe you promised the now sainted Gramma that you'd name the baby after her.  Or you found out that you were finally having the baby girl you always dreamed of, and you painted her bedroom pink and outfitted it with a frilly canopy bed, and lovingly sprawled those wonderful girly block letters on her wall to spell J-E-N-N-I-F-E-R....

.....and now, after nineteen years, you must now refer to your darling daughter as CutoutDissection.com.  Actually, according to the article, she prefers Cutout.

During my wanna-be-a-hippie days, I would have thought that this was the coolest thing EVER.  Not so much anymore.  Responsible Parent things come to my mind -- at the very least, things like Where does the first name start and the last name begin?  Is the dot in dot com a middle name or a middle initial?  If she gets married, will she be Mrs. CutoutDissection.com-Smith?

I don't know, Cutout's probably the same old Jennifer; and my guess is that her parents probably understand Shakespeare's rose sentiment on a level that I'll never quite get to......unless GG's got plans to change her name someday too.

About two years ago, GG went through a "sensitive stage."  Certain songs like "It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" and "My Grown-up Christmas List" would leave her in tears every time they came on the radio.  Every time.  Needless to say, it was a really weepy Christmas that year.  When asked why she was crying, she'd answer through her tears "because it's a really sweet song."  Then there was that time in the car when she asked what I was thinking about; and I told her that I was thinking about how much I loved her.  I checked the rear-view mirror only to see tears streaming down her face and heard "that was a really sweet thing to say, mom."  You get the picture.  She was acutely sensitive back then, and to a certain extent, she still is.  I've often wondered which one of us passed that onto her.

Until last week.

Jamie and I donated GG's now-too-small clothes to the *Good Samaritan Outreach Center, a place that distributes clothing for free.  GG's clothes were packed in plastic tubs that I wanted to bring back home, so I unpacked while the volunteers sorted through the items.  There were people who were being helped by other volunteers that day, and some were waiting to be helped.  Among them was a mom with a little girl that was maybe a year younger than GG.  The sight of the two of them really hit me hard, and I started picking through the tub I was unpacking to see what would fit the little girl, what she might need in light of the changing weather, bypassed the sorters and handed some stuff directly to the mom.  When I got done, the mom simply said thank you, and I left.

I called Jamie right after that in a composed state, but when I started telling him about the little girl, I just lost it.  GG and I could've been the ones in need, but we've been blessed, that's all.  Anyway, my husband is a saint.  He waited patiently on the phone with me until my blubbering was over, and said that we'll be going back there with more stuff -- for adults and kids -- from now on.

*We found out about Good Samaritan by calling 2-1-1.  If you’re looking for a place within your ZIP code where you can contribute clothes or other items, just dial 2-1-1 from your home phone or 773-0211 from a cell or pay phone.

The search is over:  Charley found us; and we're proud to announce that we're new parents and GG's the new big sister of Charley, a four-month old Shih-Poo.   

I say he found us because we had actually answered Sunday's newspaper ad in response to a different puppy.  On Monday, before we went to check the puppy out, both Jamie & I agreed that if the puppy we were going to see was "the one," we'd get him, but if not, then we knew that it just wasn't meant to be.  Well, the puppy that we went to see wasn't the one, but we saw Charley and he definitely was.  We made arrangements to pick him up on Friday afternoon.

It's amazing how much preparing for a puppy's arrival is like preparing for a new baby.  I had to submit my PTO request (called FMLA when a baby's on the way).  I thought about how, like GG, he was coming to us with nothing but a birthday suit.  He needed a crate, collar, leash, food, toys, grooming stuff, cleaning products for the inevitable potty training accidents; so Tuesday afternoon, I spent my lunch hour (and a good chunk of cash) at PetCo.  Even before that, I bought "Raising Puppies for Dummies" and "Raising Puppies & Kids Together:  A Guide for Parents."  Reminds me of reading the "What to Expect When You're Expecting" series before GG got here.  Then we had to select a vet.  GG's Godmother provided us with a referral and I immediately scheduled his appointment for this Monday.  And of course, we had the name dilemma:  I thought he was a Charley right away.  Jamie thought maybe he was a Mack...or a Pierre.  GG wanted to name him after a boy in her class.  But he's a Charley and the name stuck.

Anyway, Charley's home now; and for a first night away from his puppy buddies, I think he did quite well.  I was expecting much more yelping, but he seemed quite content.  Then 5:00a rolled around and Jamie did the "go outside duty" -- again, just makes me think of those early morning feedings with GG.  Speaking of GG, she's ecstatic, and being such a gentle little soul.  She's read "Clifford the Small Red Puppy" to Charley," and has helped me out with feeding and watering him.

Charley's a sweet little guy, and it's going to be very exciting to see what life is going to be like from now on with that not-so-familiar pitter-patter. 

If you're over a certain age, the title of this post probably took you back to the 1970's Norman Lear ground-breaking sitcom "Maude."  Maude came up when Jamie, GG and I were out on errands this past Saturday, and I asked Jamie what he thought of my new sunglasses.  With one glance, he immediately said "Nice glasses....Maude."  Apparently, my funky new eyewear reminded my beloved of the glasses that Maude used to wear.  Rather than leading to hurt feelings, it led to us singing what we could remember of the show's theme song, and ending with the best line of the whole thing: "Right on, Maude!"  Poor GG.....she's got some weirdo parents and she knows it.  She sat there, captive in her booster seat looking at us like we were from another planet.

Anyway, if you're not old enough to remember Maude, I'll give you the premise: Bea Arthur (of Golden Girls Fame) played the title character. The whole thing centered around the fact that Maude bucked against traditional trends by being outspoken, divorced more than once and even (gasp!) working outside the home.  Obviously, Maude tackled a lot a hot button topics of the time, but the big deal was that the character was a "women's libber."  She challenged the "established roles" for women in word (sometimes a LOT of words) and deed.

So here I am thirty years later:  I work full-time at a job I love.  It keeps me busy while I'm at work and, at times, my mind busy after hours.  I also have a couple of volunteer commitments.  I'm full-time wife-ing and full-time mom-ing which includes on-call hours for illness, field trips, puppy-planning, the school play, and whatever else I can do for the PTL in the extra time I have.

What the heck was Maude thinking, anyway?  I believe in women's rights, but sheesh!  Even with extraordinary help and support from Jamie (a great partner, dad and jack-of-all-trades), handling career and family is a lot.  But for a lot of us, that's just the way it is.  And there's plenty more moms (and dads too) who are either doing all of this stuff on their own and/or doing a ton more than what I'm doing in my little corner of the world.  So yeah, women's lib was great, and yes, many a glass ceiling has been shattered because of the movement, but did Maude's groundbreaking chosen lifestyle back in the 70's morph into a way of life that's backbreaking for us now? 

Don't take me too seriously, here -- these are just the Sunday night musings of a mom who's looking at Monday morning coming down.  I know that the real life Maudes did us all some good: they were the foundation of our generation:  women (and men) who don't only sing "I am strong...I am invincible," but when the economy and needs of family call us, we are strong.  And we're smart enough to realize that we are not invincible, and that it's okay not to be.

And if nothing else, they gave us the TV Maude....and she had an awesome theme song.  Right on, Maude!

We're expecting.  This is how I found out about it.

A few weeks ago when GG had gone to bed, my husband and I were chatting when he said "Just so you know (followed by the most pregnant of pauses ever known to man)....I told GG she could have a puppy for her birthday."

Since I didn't want to be forever known as the Wicked Witch who's the killer of puppy dreams, I accepted -- and even embraced -- our expecting status.  So yes, we are expecting: a puppy.  Which to me is pretty much like a baby -- except puppies are weaned and can walk at eight weeks old.

Now, my acceptance of our new family member was based upon two conditions: 1.) that I select the breed; and 2.) that said breed will be small enough to believe that our house is a mansion and that our backyard is a park.  And because GG has a December birthday, and I don't intend to begin potty training while the snow is flying, our new arrival should arrive sooner than later.  Thus, my search for the perfect puppy has begun. 

I grew up with big dogs and don't know a whole lot about the little ones, so researching these little guys or girls is essential -- and the research alone is proving to be an experience in of itself: there's Morkies, Schnorkies, Dorkies, Schnoodles, Doodles, Doxiepoos, Teddy Bears, you name it.  Then there's the research to find breed personalities that mesh with our lifestyle.  For instance, I know that we're all pretty tuckered out by the end of the day. Cocker spaniels (adorable as they are) are genetically disposed to be high energy and would not work well with us.  Alternately, my research and advice from a dog enthusiast points to the Bichon Frise.  Laid back, needing moderate exercise, the Bichon Frise would be a perfect lifestyle match for our family.  Only thing is, Jamie isn't crazy about them.  So it looks like researching and identifying the right match BEFORE the snow flies AND making everyone happy is going to be my new part-time job.

Sometimes I think having another baby -- the kind that learns to walk at two years old on two legs -- would be easier.

The view from down here is dizzying.  Oh, did I mention that the High Horse I was on, Prepared Pepper, threw me off this weekend?

The bucking started when I realized that school was one short week away.  GG still didn't have school clothes, including shoes..or any school supplies, for that matter.**  Not to worry: there was a major sale going on, and to top it off, I had coupons so there was no way I could go wrong.  We got up early to beat the crowds and as soon as we walked in the store, I could hear the heavenly chorus singing -- everything GG needed was right there -- on sale.  We gleefully skipped from rounder to rounder and picked out two or three sets of each outfit that GG'd need (at least until the weather changes), and left with our treasures.  We got home and GG tried everything on.  That's when the bucking got violent.  Everything -- EVERYTHING -- was one size too small.  C'mon!  Hadn't she just grown a full size at the beginning of summer?  Doesn't matter, I reasoned, we've got time to exchange this stuff; it's not like school is starting next....DOH!

I kept calm and kept riding.  This didn't have to stop me from going online and ordering school supplies.  Even better, GG's school online system would let me buy everything without having to step foot in a store.  It only took a couple of clicks and....they weren't accepting any more orders for the schoolyear.  I had waited too late to order supplies from the comfort of my own home.

I reined in the increasingly stubborn Prepared Pepper, and went to the store with the supplies list.  Item #1: a box of 12-count broad-tipped Crayola washable markers.  We immediately found:  Crayola markers (check), Broad-tipped (check), Washable (check), 12-count (NO check).  Oh sure, there were 8-count, 10-count, 16-count, and even Stampers.  What the heck are Stampers anyway? I stood there confused, and puzzled for a good 10 minutes, weighing the pros and cons of 10-count versus 16-count versus Stampers.

The rest of supplies shopping was a blur because by then, Prepared Pepper had catapulted me to where I am now; and I won't be hopping back up on that High Horse anytime soon again.  In fact, I think I'll just stay right here: dizzy, dazed and confused.

**Many parents and caregivers in the community are having a tough time buying school clothes and supplies.  If you want to help them out, just dial "2-1-1" from your home phone or 414-773-0211 from your cell phone to find out where donations for these items are being accepted.**

Yeah. I'll go there; snub me if you want, Miss Manners.  I know politics isn't polite conversation, but there's a whole lot of stuff going on.  Good stuff.  Now I'm not talking about Republican versus Democrat; Offshore Drilling versus Keeping It Green; or even Pearls Girls versus Hockey Moms.  I'm talking about the election process (or spectacle at times) and how it's giving our kids -- my kid included -- a world view of people and expectations that we never had.

I must admit that I've become somewhat of a cable news junkie.  I only know this because I was trying to talk GG into doing something in the midst of the primary season.  She went into one of her long explanations why she couldn't do whatever it was that I had asked her to do, and to cap it all off she said "and I don't want to be a Superdelegate."

But she did ask reasonable questions.  Like exactly what "the lady" (Hillary at that time) and "the man who dresses like a president" (Obama) were doing during one of the debates.  I explained that they were in a contest to see who could get in the BIG contest to be President.  She wanted Hillary to win at first "because she's a girl."  Then later on she said she was going to vote for Mike Huckabee (I think because his last name is kind of funny).  Then she said she was going to vote for Obama.  (For the same reason as Huckabee, I think)  The neat thing is that GG never once said anything about a lady or a brown President being "different."  My daughter's five, and she does notice skin color and gender, but they never came up in this particular context.  HOW COOL IS THAT?

For us "old people" this kind of thinking -- this kind of worldview, I believe, is new for us.  Seriously, I still find myself thinking how incredible it is that women are vying for national leadership positions.  I also think about my parents, and how I wish they were alive to see a black man running for the highest office of the land.  I'm not sure who they'd vote for, but especially for my dad -- a man born in 1922 Alabama, whose uncle was lynched during those dark days -- this entire process would be huge.

But it's not huge or incredible for GG -- or her contemporaries.  This is how they see our world now and how they'll see it in the future.  As far as they're concerned, why wouldn't a lady or a brown man be President?

I just think that's really good stuff; so you'll have to excuse me for bringing up politics this time, Miss Manners.