Tales of a Square Peg

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.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the absence of positive media images of local brown people.  Here's the first of a few follow-up posts about people who counter those images through their daily lives.

  This is Mari Maldonado.  She is a first generation natural-born citizen, the middle child of four who was born to parents who are originally from Puerto Rico.  She's funny, obviously beautiful, outgoing, passionate -- and compassionate about what she does.  Mari's the Fund Development Coordinator for the Guest House of Milwaukee, a men's homeless shelter located in the heart of the city.  Their goal is to move the men that live there -- the "guests" -- from homelessness to independence by providing onsite alcohol and drug abuse counseling, along with case management and other critical services.  According to Mari, they've had residents as young as 18 and old as 82.

So how did Mari -- this former salesperson of "everything from cameras to insurance" and now also a student of Mt. Mary College -- end up here?  Because (as she puts it) she has a heart for serving others.  Her heart led her to volunteer in the Guests House's dispensary (I didn't know what a dispensary was either....it's the place where guests get razors, toothpaste and other personal items.)  One year later, Mari was asked to join the staff as the fundraiser and volunteer coordinator.  This is really her calling, and it comes across loud and clear in Mari's voice when she talks about "the guys."

What I saw and heard during my short visit at the Guest House confirmed what I already knew: the tough economic times are hitting everyone; many of the men finding themselves at the Guest House are citing layoffs as an element in their homelessness.  It really made me wonder how many of us could only be a paycheck or illness or accident away from homelessness; and that people who -- by either bad choices or bad luck -- end up homeless were kids once upon a time...and their parents probably had the same hopes and dreams for them that I have for GG right now.  It made me sad inside, but it also made me grateful for places like the Guest House that are here to help.

One of the Men's Dorms

I left our interview wanting to do something...and that's what Mari's about: (in her words) Inspiring people.  She says "we're all here to do something -- even the little things can change and affect other people's lives."  So what are the little things?  Honestly, it's the stuff I never think about.  Like donating body wash, spray deodorant, razors, toothpaste, toothbrushes, gloves, socks.  These are things that places like the Guest House are always in need of.  I'm not proud to say it, but for me, these items are afterthoughts that I just throw in the shopping cart without thinking...but they can mean the whole world to someone trying to get back on their feet.

I initially went into this interview with the intent of shining a light on a brown person who counters the negative images that we all too often see.  And while Mari definitely does just that, I walked away from my visit with so much more: an appreciation for the blessings I have and the inspiration to start doing more to help.  Even if it's just the little things.

Thanks for doing so much more than shining a light, Mari. 

Mural by a Formerly Homeless Resident

*If you want to learn more about the Guest House, just visit their website at guesthouseofmilwaukee.org.*

I thought it was ironic that the whole Favre Saga was ramping up around back-to-school time...and it just got me thinking about the worth of expectations.

GG will enter K5 this fall, and I expect her teacher to relate to her as an individual with unique capabilities, and teach her in that manner.  I also expect that her teacher will maintain order in the class and encourage good behavior.  I expect GG's teacher to be attentive to her, while also being equally attentive to the other kids.  I expect that her teacher will put in whatever time is necessary to do a good job -- and I understand that this may mean workdays that exceed 8 hours.  I expect her teacher to have open communication with Jamie and me about GG's progress and challenges.  Finally, I'd certainly hope that GG's teacher will be a role model that all the kids look up to.  That's a pretty tall order, but isn't it close to what we, as parents, expect from teachers?  What about you parents sending your little ones off to daycare?  What are your expectations?  And what are our expectations worth?

Kindergarten schoolteachers' salaries start at a little over $27,000 and cap at a little over $52,000 depending upon experience, education and area of specialty.  Daycare providers' salaries start at about $17,500 and cap at around $24,000 depending upon experience, education and area of specialty.

So what expectations did Brett have to live up to?  What were they worth?  (Understand, this really isn't about Brett, I like the guy -- replace his name with any other sports figure if you want)  Anyway, the expectations were that he'd be in shape for the upcoming season, use that legendary arm, run fast, read plays well, and maybe even take us to the Super Bowl.  In 2007, these expectations were worth a cool $11 million; and then this year, he was offered $20 million to not meet those expectations.....both were a lot more than a teacher or daycare provider's salary at the top of their game.

Am I missing something here?....I don't know, I just wonder what kind of saga would play out if a teacher announced retirement or requested a transfer to a different school.  Would it make the headlines and cause the heartache like Brett's retirement-unretirement did?

I don't have a snappy bow to tie up this article; but as we begin the school year, I'd like to offer my sincerest, deepest thanks to all of the teachers and daycare providers who are living up to our high expectations even without the lure of a professional sports figure's hefty compensation.  Too often, they're the unsung heroes.  Many miss their own kids' first day of school because they're welcoming our kids on that day and even comforting the Nervous Nelly Parents among us.  Because we know our kids are safe with them, we can have peace of mind as we release our kids into their care.

I don't know about you, but that's priceless to me -- especially as a working mom.  And if it were up to me, the teachers and daycare providers would be the ones in the headlines because more often than not, they exceed the expectations we have of them.

If you have a special thank you to your teacher or childcare provider, or if you want to share what they mean to you and your family click on the comment button.  We can never say thank you enough to these special angels! 

Running.  Running to the kitchen.  Running to the bedroom.  Running to the living room.  Running to the bathroom.  GG runs in the house.  All the time.  It's not unusual for kids her age to do it, but when you couple constant running from a kid who scores in the 97th height and weight percentile with our small house, you end up with parents whose nerves are fried.

Silly us, we tried "Please don't run!"  "Stop running!"  "Don't run!" all the while forgetting that 5-year-olds only hear the "RUN!" "RUNNING!" "RUN!"  So I decided to address this nerve-frying, normal behavior with a strength-based approach by telling GG that I had a special assignment for her:  "Today, I want you to remember that we're only walking in the house.  Do you think you can do that?"  With a confident nod yes, she was off and ...walking to her play area.  Success!

Twenty minutes later, convinced that I was now a certified professional at this strength-based approach, I decided to reinforce the behavior with some praise.  "Hey, I noticed that you're walking more.  Great job at your special assignment."

She listened intently, and began to pace like a high-powered attorney making a closing argument.  "Well mom (hands moving expressively, eyes rolling heaven-ward and head cocked)....Here's the deal."  Here's the deal?  I didn't know we were in negotiations.

She continued "It's like this: when you're like all yelling and stuff (more hands, eye-rolling, etc.) -- I just can't do it.  But when you talk nicely, well...then I can."

Oooh!  She got me!  Right in the jugular too!  I mean -- am I nag?  Do I always concentrate on the negative?  Am I working too much?  Should I be working part-time?  Should I be working at all?  Will she end up on the therapist's couch ten years from now because her nagging, negative, working-too-much mother yelled about running once or twice?

And then I came back down to earth and realized that she was, literally, trying to broker a deal that would result in her own fantasyland.  One where mom and dad never raise their voices, and children are allowed to run freely and wildly over the open range of their homes and eat candy all day and never take naps.  So I ended up having my own "here's the deal" talk, which explained that mom and dad always want to use the "nice voice", but if she's not listening to the nice voice, then we will be "like, all yelling and stuff."

I shared this experience with one of my co-workers who, as the mother of two teenaged sons, has extensive experience in deal-making, kid style.  She gave me the following words of wisdom which I've tucked in a safe place for future use with my own little litigator:  I'm the Mom, and we don't make deals.

But I'll also be more conscious of like, all yelling and stuff...just don't tell GG I said that.

When I worked at a different organization over ten years ago, Emmy's (not her real name) and my boss did volunteer work together.  We had talked and joked with each other while we did meeting scheduling and those types of thngs over the phone; so although we had never met, we had a great relationship.  One day I called Emmy to see if her boss received the mailing I sent out.  He hadn't yet, and Emmy let me know that it was probably being held up with the temps in the mailroom because "Well.....they're [the temps] black.  You know how they are."  The confrontation just wasn't worth it, so I just got out a "Uh, yeah....I know what you mean.  Let me know when he does get it.  Thanks."  Guess I didn't sound like I was black -- whatever that means.

Calm down, it happens.  It wasn't the first time I ran into that, and it probably won't be the last.  And Emmy's genuinely nice -- its not like she burns crosses on people's lawns in her downtime; she was just talking out of her....ignorance.  And let's face it, even though Milwaukee's brown population -- Hispanic and Latino American, Asian, Black, and mixed-race -- is growing, the images that we see of these local "brown people" are kind of out of balance.  We see perpetrators or people in poverty, but not much in between.  So I can't completely place all of the blame on Emmy.  When we don't see positive images balanced with those of the negative, I think we (and I'm including myself here) subconsciously buy into believing that that specific people groups are the sum total of what we see.  This concerns me particularly as we raise GG.  I mean, she obviously has me and some of my other family members to see as positive brown images, but not many others.  Her primary exposure to local brown people (Hispanic and Latino, Asian, Middle-eastern) is what we see on television news or in the paper....and I just wonder how much of it she's buying into.

I know there are many brown people who counter the images.  They're dedicated individuals who quietly work to sustain our community through philanthropy, volunteerism, and just doing their day-to-day jobs.  Like I said in my first post, I am hopeful about our community's future, and a lot it of has to do with these kind of folks.  So, in periodic future posts, I'd like to shed light on a few brown people who counter the negative images that we see.  By uncovering the work they do, I believe I can re-educate myself, and in so doing provide better images for GG -- and hopefully for you and your kids too.

Now, don't misunderstand me, I'm far from an expert on "all peoples brown."  I know about some who are working in and/or leading great organizations, but I don't claim to know about all; so I'd like for you to help me out in this fact-finding mission.  Here's how:

*Email me at the link below if you know of a "brown person"  (that means black, Hispanic or Latino, Asian or other ethnic minority) who's doing something to uplift the community.  (Coaches, foster parents, people in business, teachers, EMTs, bus drivers, volunteers, you-name-it); or

*Email me at the link below IF YOU ARE a brown person who's doing something to uplift our community.  I'd like to hear your story; and, as always:

*Keep the comments coming.  The more we all talk and hear each other's views, the more educated we'll be.  Just click on the comment button below.

I'm looking forward to hearing from you.  I know we can't change the images we see overnight, but together we can uncover some new, positive ones....for ourselves and our kids.

Early last week, I came home to find two new members of the family:  "Bubbly" and "Tink," the goldfish that Jamie and GG brought home from a nearby pet store.  These were "replacement pets," promised to GG upon the untimely demise of her African Dwarf Frogs -- Irie, Nemo, Adjulasia -- and another one whose name I can't remember.   Jamie's been pushing fish versus frogs since we made that promise, but I would have preferred frogs because I have a silly, irrational fear of fish.  I know they can't hurt me, but it's just something about them -- the unblinking eyes, the mouths that always do that fishy-open-mouth-thing.  It puts me on the brink of nausea.  Sweaty palms.  Passing out even.  Love smoked salmon, but I just can't look at it.  Swim in a lake or a pond?  Forget it.  Need therapy?  Probably.

It isn't funny.  When I was about GG's age, my brothers had two big goldfish.  As goldfish are apt to do, they died after a couple of days or a week, and like most parents, mine flushed 'em when they did.  Well, I couldn't get those fishy eyes and mouths out of my head, and to top it all off, I knew they were there.  In our toilet.  In perpetuity.  I refused to use our goldfish cemetery for at least three months after that.  Luckily, we had two other bathrooms.

Now, I'm a grown-up and we go to the zoo.  The first place GG always wants to go is the aquarium; and I go because I don't want her seeing me being freakish about fish.  Once we're inside, I start thinking "What if there's a fault line in the glass of these tanks?"  "What would it be like to have all those fish flipping around your feet?"  Then my heart rate starts to speed up and by that time, we've got to move on to any other exhibit.  It really isn't funny.

Anyway, GG loved Bubbly and Tink.  As soon as I came home from work on the day of their arrival, she says "Mom!  Dad and me got goldfish!  Come LOOK at them!"  I glared at Jamie, clenched my sweaty palms and followed GG to her room.  There they were.....eyes and all.  I mustered a smile, swallowed hard, glanced at them and tried to divert my attention to the gravel on the bottom of the tank.  "Aren't they cute?!  Just look at their little EYES."  "Yes, hon.  I see them.  Adorable...Mama's gotta change into some comfy clothes now, okay?"  "But LOOK AT THEM!"  "Mom will, hon.  Later, okay?"

Bubbly and Tink lived happily in GG's room.  Every night, she'd read to them; play music for them and put fish stickers next to their tank, so they could look at the stickers and 'be happy.'  So, it was understandable that she was anxious to see Bubbly and Tink when we got home from our weekend get-away.  We walked in the door and she raced to her room, and......yep.  You guessed it:  Bubbly and Tink were gone.  Crossed over to the Other Side.

There were tears.  From all of us.  Jamie and I knew she loved them, and as parents, we hate -- more than anything -- seeing GG saddened by life's harsh realities.  GG and I went outside to talk about it while Jamie took care of things inside.  We went through the "they're in a better place," "it's okay to cry" and the "we'll always have the memories" talk -- like we did when the frogs died.  The tears soon subsided, and we went on to have lunch.

At lunch, Jamie said a "special prayer" in light of Bubbly and Tink's passing.  I don't know if it was tiredness setting in from our road trip, but when Jamie solemnly said "Bless Bubbly and Tink," and then "we know they're with the frogs now," I got the giggles.  Bad.  By the time he got to the part about us finding new pets, I was a step away from going into a full-blown giggle-snorting fit, but luckily, I was able to hold everything in.

Really -- I'm not a terrible mom; and I do, truly feel bad about Bubbly and Tink's sad ending.  And it isn't funny, life lessons haven't been lost here, but -- hey, wait a minute:

Did he flush Bubbly & Tink?  Oh no.....we've only got one bathroom.

This really isn't funny.

• 34 years ago, I definitely didn't plan on going to the grade school that I did, but because of "life happening" -- I met my best friend in kindergarten.  We share the same twisted sense of humor, and throughout the years, even the grief that goes