My Pink Dot

Another post on Alex Blackwell’s The BridgeMaker was the question, “What is the kindest thing you have ever done?” Hmmmm. I definitely don’t like to toot my own horn. No, no and another helping of no. I find it so boring; listening to someone talk about how wonderful they are, or about the wonderful things they have done for others. My answer that day was, “Be humble.”

Sometimes not talking about the kind things you do, or have done is a kindness in itself. No one likes a self absorbed person whose only reason for doing kind things is so they can report them to a room full of people. In my mind I’m just thinking (unkindly, oops), “Watch out for your arm, you might hurt it patting yourself on the back!”

My style is talking about what we can do to spread kindness, giving people ideas to inspire them to want to go out into the world and “Be the Change You Want to See in The World,” as Gandhi so eloquently wrote. What does it mean to “Be the Change?” In group settings these days I often hear people talking about one of the same social problems; an overall lack of kindness, manners and respect out in the world today. Talking about it is one thing. If you want something to change, you have to be willing to “Be the Change” and decide you are going to fix it. “Fix it all…by myself,” you are wondering? I know, I know. Breathe. I turn into a dithering loon myself, so I know. How about starting with some thing? Or a few small things each day?

When I decided to make a conscious effort to “Be the Change” I knew I couldn’t do it all or fix it all. But, I hoped my small, independent actions would make a difference in the lives of who I came into contact with, hopefully causing a domino effect and spreading kindness further down the line. I started simply by making sure that every single person I came into contact with was treated with the utmost kindness, dignity and respect. I actually thought I was already doing that, but I decided to really pay attention to my behavior and those around me and “step it up a notch.”

You know, I tout humility and today I think I’m the antithesis of it because for the sake of the blog, I’ve got to go out on a limb and share some of my personal stories. When I’m done writing, I promise to be super extra triple humble again.

I’ve talked about being kind out in the world to those who serve you in my blog, but are you doing it? How are you doing it? What about seeing others being mistreated, the old schoolyard misdeed that you witness and standby without intervening or doing anything about? That’s a category of unkindness and it has to stop too. I’d finally had it with unkindness and decided no one was ever going to be mistreated on my watch again. I was in line at a local store and I could tell the woman in line ahead of me was obviously in a bad mood by the way she was huffing and puffing and shifting from one foot to another. It wasn’t even her turn before she started in on the cashier, spouting off her mouth and speaking unkindly to her. Ok, I was ready. I said, “How dare you. Stop talking to her like that, can’t you see she is trying her best?” Mrs. Snottypants looked at me aghast and said, “WELL! I’m in a hurry, it’s my lunch hour and I only have so much time!” I looked aghast back at Mrs. Snotts and told her, “WELL! You should go shopping when you have enough time to behave properly and treat people kindly!” She mumbled something incoherent and then shut up. Job done. It’s only an example of the kind of stuff we see all the time and we don’t respond. I’m ready now though. These Snottypants people better learn some manners.

Have you been in a group situation in a restaurant where one person in the group is being particularly rude, condescending or overly demanding of the Server? It’s embarrassing, isn’t it? I’ve been there. Friends and I have discussed this and wondered the best way to handle it. We’ve tried to be the Damage Control Group, be the overly-nice ones to make up for the rude friend in the group. Have you ever, at the end of the meal, slipped a Server extra money to make up for Customer Rudeness the Server had to put up with? I have. This is another situation that needs to stop. We need to politely stop this at the beginning of the meal so the Server doesn’t have to endure this. It’s another form of childish playground taunting that we are all sitting back and watching, doing nothing. We are adults, not on some playground, yet are being bullied, and watching bullying in action by an obnoxious, rude person because we are not standing up to a person and saying, “Hey, enough of your bullying, rude and overly demanding behavior!" The Server doesn’t deserve it, neither do we. Aren't those of us who are making an extra monetary contribution for Customer Rudeness tired of it?

Kindness can be helping to correct unkindness. Helping to correct condescending, rude, and inappropriately demanding behavior. So while you are out spreading kindness, you also need to be a troubadour and help others by correcting them when they are out of line. We need to be teachers. There aren’t enough of us out there. If you are making the commitment to build kindness, you also have to include correcting unkindness by doing something about it when you see it happening. Every single time.

What about when someone treats you poorly, what then? Aren’t you worth being treated like gold? Absolutely, all the time! I demand it in my home and I hope you do too. My circle of friends is small, but it’s that way for a reason. I don’t waste time with people unless they treat me really well. Sometimes family and friends can mistreat you and it’s your job to set the standard for what kind of behavior you will accept from them so they will understand how they are to treat you. As much as I love my family and friends, there have been times I’ve had to sit down and have serious discussions with some of them when they’ve treated me in a way I do not find acceptable. This is never easy, but doing the right thing is often very difficult and requires thought, prayer, patience and strength.

Rather than concentrating on the negative though, it’s much more fun to concentrate on the positive and the ways you can contribute to making the world a kinder, better place. One of my favorite programs which feels to me like the ultimate kind thing you can do while you are alive, is participating in the Organ Donor Program. By having the small pink dot affixed to my driver’s license, I’ve already put into motion a plan, which in the event of my passing donates all my organs to whoever needs them. I hope my organs will save the lives of many people, like the heart of Marcus Quarles whose heart gave my Dad 7 more wonderful years with us. Kindness can be donating your organs and saving lives after you pass away. What a beautiful and inspiring thought. This is the sort of “kind” that I’ll stand on a tabletop and shout it out for the world to hear and pat myself on the back until my arms are black and blue. Go Organ Donor Program. Get your Pink Dot.

So Alex, to answer your question, it’s my Pink Dot.

Kindness

Recently I got stuck and all the stories I have saved in my blog folder just weren’t what I felt like posting. Nothing was hitting me right. I didn’t even feel like ranting or being funny, can you imagine? I have a whole blog post written about my Nappies coming up and I didn’t even want to post that one, and Nappies are one of my favorite things to wear in the whole world. If you don’t know what Nappies are, it’s just another reason my friend “Feen” says I need to post a Dictionary of Jodes-isms so people will know what the heck I am talking about when I speak. I say a lot of stuff people don’t understand and she thinks some of it deserves explaining. The Jodes-isms post is saved in there too and coming one of these days.

I’ve been sidetracked ever since I discovered a blog called The BridgeMaker, written by Alex Blackwell. He’s got an inspirational blog that has knocked my socks off. One Friday not so long ago he asked for responses on what people had going on that day. I’d finally had enough. He’s so awesome I just responded with something like, “You are so awesome I can’t even think of a thing to write on my own blog.”

It was a moment of being so utterly impressed I thought my blog served no purpose whatsoever and I should just suggest to anyone who reads my blog to read The BridgeMaker instead. That’s not even jealousy. It’s pure admiration. I wanted to tell everyone I knew to join me in the new wonderful and joyful thing I’d found. Isn’t it great when you come across something fantastic and amazing in your life and you can’t wait to share it with everyone you know?

It was just about that time The BridgeMaker announced his 31 Days of Kindness Project for the month of March 2011. I’ve shared this on Facebook but thought I’d take this opportunity to also share it on my blog as I have the opportunity to go into further detail here. I’ve written on the importance and need for more kindness in my blog but The BridgeMaker is taking it to a whole new level by asking us to make a commitment to perform an act of kindness every single day for the month of March 2011. Alex Blackwell’s hope is that these acts of kindness will become a habit after the 31 days of trying to think of ways to spread kindness each and every day for 31 days. Easy? Sure.

Early in the morning before you even leave your house, kindness can (and should) begin at home. Before you put on your best behavior for your boss, teachers, friends, etc., how about giving some of that at home for your family; the ones who actually deserve it? How about a note in a lunch box that says, “I Love You,” or one on the steering wheel of the car that says, “Drive safe, you are my world.” A lipstick heart in the shower, a post-it heart in a wallet, a funny note written on a piece of his/her fruit with a sharpie. My son especially liked the funny note I wrote on a banana to him. He showed everyone at work and they all said none of their Mom’s had ever written them a note on their banana before. Kindness can be fun.

When my husband gets home from work, I stand up, walk to the door and greet him along with the dogs. Sometimes I jump and pant like I’m a dog. It makes him laugh. I hug him hard, wrap my leg around him in this comical “barnacle” thing we do and make sure he knows how happy I am to see him so he knows he was missed. Kindness can be all sorts of silly stuff that makes you smile.

Am I old fashioned? Sure. I like it. He does too. In fact, he loves it. He loves that I buy all his favorite snacks so that when he comes home ready to chew one of his arms off, there are plenty of snacks to eat before dinner. Do I make his favorite dinners? You bet. The way to Ken’s heart is straight through his tummy, so kindness in his mind is right around the kitchen. I spend a lot of time there. Kindness is knowing what someone loves and always having it for them.

There are a million ways to show kindness. Thank goodness there are 31 days to talk about it since it’s one of my favorite things to talk about. Join me and The BridgeMaker, Alex Blackwell and friends and spend 31 beautiful days spreading kindness each and every day this month. Hopefully you’ll make it a habit too.

My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness. – Dalai Lama

Chosen

“Spell it for me again Mommy,” I said. “A-D-O-P-T-E-D,” my Mom spelled out for about the hundredth time. I loved hearing that word. We had a book in my parent’s room about being adopted and it was one of my favorites.

My brother, sister and I were all adopted as infants. My parents said as soon as they adopted us, they would hold us, cuddle us, and say, “You are adopted, we love you, and you are special.” They wanted us to grow and flourish as adoptees feeling loved, cherished and wanted. We certainly have.

We were lavished with physical affection. The physical bonds they created allowed us to know we always had open arms and laps available to us. We still do. Even when my Dad was sick, I would still climb onto his lap, or tuck in next to him on his hospital bed. When I’ve been sick, my Mom has always been there 24/7, to comfort me, care for me, or just to rub my forehead. She knows just the right way.

Years ago I was at a Dr.’s appointment and he asked me about my family history. I said I didn’t have any available as I was adopted. He stopped, looked up at me and said, “Wow, who’d ever give you away?”

I’d never heard that before. My parents, in all their wisdom had raised the three of us to feel so cherished. No one had given me away, I’d been chosen.



Happy Birthday Mother. I love you and cherish you more deeply than simple words could ever begin to convey.

Box Seven

When I started to unpack the holiday decorations this year and felt the usual terror/dread/panic set in I was reminded of the earlier blog I posted about how I suck at Christmas. Some of you might have read my earlier blog posting titled “Skipping Christmas,” but if not, I’m going to re-post it below so you’ll know what I’m talking about. I was on my mission to find Baby Jesus in my massive pile of my holiday decoration boxes. This year I did pretty well, He was in Box Seven. Whew and Yay!

The dogs were going beserk with all the craziness going on (me) and stuff flying and tissue and paper going everywhere in my quest for Baby Jesus. As soon as I set Baby Jesus on the fireplace, my puppy Ava decided she needed to start chewing on Him. AAAHHH! NO CHEWING ON BABY JESUS. Oh My God. At least Darcy had the good sense to go after Santa. Chewing on Santa, now that I can handle.

Now that the house is decorated I feel only sheer terror because there is “only” shopping, baking, Christmas cards, cleaning, cooking, wrapping, parties, and 1000+ other things left to do. How do I add all those tasks in on top of the regular stuff to do and get them all accomplished with a deadline in 2 weeks? I’ve done all this for over 25 years and I still don’t have it perfected! With any other job, if you’d done a massive project yearly for that many years, you probably would have perfected it long ago. Gong! Not Jodes. Still scrambling, still up wrapping or cooking until the wee hours of the night on Christmas Eve.

I hope the rest of you have perfected it and can teach me how it’s done….other than telling me to start before Thanksgiving. That, I won’t do. I’m with Nordstrom on that one. I’m going to celebrate each holiday in it’s entirety before moving on to the next one. So there won’t be a morsel of Christmas preparation or thought until the Thanksgiving holiday is complete.

One of the best things about the Christmas decorations being done is that they hide so much dust and dirt. “Woo Hoo,” I say. I’d like to leave them up all year just for that reason. Covers a multitude of sins. Less for me to clean is always a good thing… because cleaning is just not my thing.

I’m in the mood for cookies today, so I think some of the baking will get checked off the list of 1000+ things to get done. I think it’s the beginning of leftovers and scary dinners until Christmas.



Scroll down if you'd like to read Skipping Christmas






SKIPPING CHRISTMAS


I suck at Christmas. Most people wouldn’t believe it, but I do. I love Jesus, and the simple story of how he was born in a manger to Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem. But I wish we could celebrate his birth every year without any of the ridiculous hoopla that is now called Christmas.

My favorite Christmas decoration is a ceramic Jesus in a worn manger we’ve always placed on the hearth. Jesus is chipped, missing the ends of a few fingers and is wearing a loincloth Stephanie made Him when she was a little girl. The children were always allowed to play with Jesus and the manger, so they are a little beat up. I wanted my kids to know Jesus like I do; most likely very approachable, extremely kind, and someone who adored children. “Of course you may play with Jesus,” I’d tell them.

Each year as I unpack the 30+ boxes of Christmas decorations, sometime after the Thanksgiving weekend, I can feel the familiar panic already starting to set in. I’m trying to find Jesus in all this, thinking, “Where is He…where did I pack Him last year?” If I find Jesus and put him on the hearth, I think I’ll be ok. He’ll be a blatant reminder of why I’m doing all this.

There was one year, 2008, with Jesus’ birthday quickly approaching I knew I was going to have to lead my family away from our traditional Christmas, and Skip Christmas completely. GASP! Could I do it? Would I be allowed? What would my family and others say? What would Jesus think? I had to close myself in a dark, quiet room so He could drown out all the “noise,” so I could hear.

I’ve decided spending 12 glorious, uninterrupted, carefree vacation days in the company of my husband and children was the holiest thing we’ve ever done. If home is where your heart is, I was home cruising the blue-green seas of the Caribbean, snorkeling, sailing, swimming, sleeping, reading, listening, resting, staring, sunning, and basking in the 24 hour attention of my family. We immediately opened the doors to our adjoining rooms, and shared long, luxurious meals that were prepared, served and cleaned up after by others.

Those 12 days did not come cheap. Christmas doesn’t either, so we had to choose one or the other. We are blessed to have families who love us unconditionally & who wished us all a wonderful trip, possibly having broken hearts and hurt feelings. That’s love though. Our families knew I needed those 12 days of vacation, and to Skip Christmas to survive.

It had been a long haul for me trying to help care for my ailing Dad. After we lost him, I gained many new responsibilities, so many of which I had no understanding. Thankfully, I got a lot of help from my dear Godfather, and one of my Dad’s best friends, Tony Pierno, an attorney in private practice.

Towards the end of 2008, I knew I needed to get in a quiet place and listen for a voice that would give me some direction. What I heard was that I was going to heal. I heard I needed to say the words out loud that my heart was broken and I missed my Dad, who was also one of my best friends. I needed to say the words I can’t do everything, all the time, for everyone. I needed to say I was exhausted, drained, stressed beyond my breaking point and I can’t do Christmas this year. Those are not easy things for me. I am half Merrill, half Joan. Complain? Wimp out? Me? It’s not what we do!

While I was raising my children, taking care of my husband, our home, various jobs, a sick Dad, and a variety of other tasks, I was always going at 100 mph and rarely ever sleeping. Why then, was I in my quiet place, sobbing, thinking I was a complete loser because I couldn’t face a simple go-round with Christmas?

If that were someone else, I’d probably cry for them. I’d tell them to Skip Christmas and have a wonderful, relaxing vacation, they’d earned it. It took me longer to be kinder to myself and to hear His comforting words. He was offering to carry me again, and I was fighting it, always wanting to drag myself farther. I’m honestly like a 3 year old that screams, “No! Me do!”

Thank you God, my forever Abba Patare for your unending patience with me. I always want to be in control. Thank you for helping me understand how the celebration of your birth lives within my heart wherever I go. I’m still learning to let go and let you lead. I’m 49, but still just your little child.

The Old Green Tent

Ken was getting ready for his annual fall fishing trip to Bishop so I thought I’d set up the old green tent, get it cleaned and spiffed up, and see if there were any holes that needed to be sewn up. While I was working on the tent, and seeing it sitting empty outside most of the day, I had some time to think about the history of the tent and the memories we’d made over the many years we’ve had it. Sweet, cherished memories.

While it might sit with nothing inside, I walked inside the tent smelling years of campfire smoke, treasuring the stains of the Sierra Nevada, hearing years of family laughter, remembering the dreams, fishing stories, a love story and whole lot more. When Ken came home and said not to bother myself with hauling the tent upstairs to sew the torn pole pockets, I told him he was crazy. I can’t bear to part with stuff with sentimental attachments; a place where I fell in love, where one of our children first lived in the “garden” of my belly, and where our little family of 4 slept under the heavenly stars of the Sierra Nevada so many times. Just toss it in the trash? No, no and no!

I think I first met the old green tent when Ken and I were dating. He asked me if I’d like to go fishing for a long weekend and I quickly said yes. I had grown up camping; but then camping to me was in a camper and a campground, so I figured why not? Ken was a serious backpacker and fisherman so he didn’t think much about the need for a campground. It wasn’t until I had already said I was all fired up to go that he told me we’d be wilderness camping. Ok. So you mean no potties? No showers? Nope, sorry Jodes. Ok, breathe. In and out. Always the adventurer, always excited for anything new, this sounded like fun. I just had one problem.

For the next week before we left I sat wondering how long I could go without peeing or pooping. Then I decided I’d have to pee but wondered how long a person could hold their poo. I’m a person who can’t even poo in a public restroom so I was obsessed and worried. All Ken had was a shovel. Oh. My. Gosh. And he had packed a lot of good food!

We left in the evening after working all day at Hughes Aircraft and drove the 5 hours to the Eastern Sierras. The first night we were just going to sleep in the back of the truck since it was so late but we’d have to pull our things out of the back. When I came around the back of the truck there was a big present on the tail of the truck bed Ken was excited to give me. “Here, Jodes. Open it. It’s for you.” It was a huge awkward box, but inside was a flushing port-a-potty. It was love. I fell simply, madly and totally in love. In love over a flushing poo parlor under the stars in the Eastern Sierra.

Now when I walk inside the old green tent I still remember the night under the stars and falling in love over the flushing port-a-potty. The next night, and the rest of that trip we used the green tent and it saved our lives from what I remember about almost being killed from a herd of killer jackasses. Ken doesn’t think they would have killed us but when I was going to run screaming in the pitch dark for the truck, he’s the one who held me down and kept his hands very tightly clamped over my mouth so I couldn’t make a sound (or breathe). Wilderness camping! It’s a good thing he brought a lot of good wine. Whew. Killer jackasses. He hadn’t warned me about that.

When I’m standing inside that old tent it’s hard to imagine how all 4 of us and our gear all fit as our little family grew. Those are irreplaceable memories; darling, sweet, tender nights falling asleep under the stars with Daddy, Mommie, Sissy and Sam all snuggled so close. If you haven’t ever camped in a cramped tent with your family, you need to do it now; there is nothing more divine. Singing silly songs, Daddy dropping fish candies into everyone’s mouths, stargazing, reading by flashlight and being lulled to sleep by the beautiful sounds of the water and the wind in the trees.

There is a romantic element to the cramped tent too. To this day, Ken and I still zip our sleeping bags together. What could be dreamier than snuggling all night, warm under the crisp, cool Sierra skies with the man you love? There is no comparison to the feelings of being loved, safe and secure and then looking over and seeing your children sleeping peacefully next to you. Just a second…elevated sniffy goo moment.

Life is always hectic and full of work, school, sports and a variety of activities. Vacation has always been an occasion for us to reconnect. So, we zip ourselves up together and snuggle. It’s always been a time for our little family of four to be cocooned as one in a simple manner of togetherness. Tent camping has always fulfilled that need for us. It removes all the things in life that cause stress and takes us to where there is raw beauty, joy and peace.

Inside the empty green tent I thought about friends asking for advice about marriage and parenting. We didn’t give our children a lot of useless stuff; we gave them a lot of our time. Good parenting is exhausting; thus the need for vacations and the well used tent. Children are always watching and soaking up behavior. Close tent quarters were a perfect time to teach by example how to be a loving and tender couple.

We’ve spent a good deal of quality family time which has enriched our children, our family and our marriage. We’ve shown our children what a family is intended to be so they have a proper model as they go forth as young adults into families of their own one day. Sadly, a lot of children aren’t getting that education. Parents are forgetting this simple task. They are teachers and role models of what a wife and husband are, in addition to what a mother and father are. Are you mindful of the way you are living your marriage in the presence of your children (young or adult) every single day? If you have overlooked this in your quest pay the bills, remodel, carpool, cook, clean, and work, it’s not too late. A role models job is never over. You might need a tent after all. You are going to be exhausted, I promise.

Happy Camping.

When The Customer Wasn't King

When Southern California met Nordstrom in the late 70’s we were instantly addicted. What started out as a small, successful shoe business in Seattle, Washington turned into large department stores with the Nordstrom family eventually meeting the Segerstrom family of Orange County and making a deal to bring their store to South Coast Plaza.

We were transfixed. They brought a whole new concept in customer service into the arena, unmatched by anyone at that time. I’ll admit, I am a huge fan of Nordstrom. I am a past employee of one of their stores and after going through their orientation and working in their store I am impressed.

What doesn’t impress me though, is what has happened to our nation because of what I like to call my King theory. Businesses and people are all suffering because of it.

Nordstrom was a pioneer in the customer service field and many businesses followed suit seeing their huge financial success. They had a radically lenient return policy unheard of at the time. During my orientation they addressed their theory. Nordstrom said research showed their profit margins continued to soar even while taking returns on anything and everything they sold in the store, no questions asked, no receipt required, no time deadline; no rules whatsoever. No manager had to be called to sign anything, no special keys required to open the register for doling out the cash you wanted back, you simply got whatever you asked for. It was heaven on earth, everyone’s dream store, and the place where you were always King.

Sadly, as this customer service concept swept the nation, it taught the customer that short of stealing, any behavior as the King was ok, even when it came to the way you treated employees. Wrong, isn’t it? We’ve all witnessed it. The obnoxious customer with the employee trying their best to cajole, right a situation, and the customer taking their King posture and demanding a higher authority. The supervisor or manager then responding and immediately looking to the Kings needs and wants and demanding the employee make the King leave happy. Usually followed up with the employee being reprimanded on how to better serve the King in the future; or else! It really is a disgusting display.

I love to read books written about the simpler times in American history, and small town life across America written by authors such as Doris Kearns Goodwin and Bill Bryson. Those were the days when the customer wasn’t King. If you walked down to the town department store you knew everyone. If you treated someone wrong, whoever owned the store would have probably told you to leave, behave or called your parents. Did adults treat sales associates, cashiers, receptionists or servers in the despicable manner they often are witnessed doing on a daily basis now?

People’s lives are more difficult and stressful as the years continue and the strain is beginning to show. Jobs are scarce. Real estate seems to be at a standstill in many areas. Money is tight. The list goes on. What happens? People who have lost jobs are hurting, stressed and scared. Responsible people are staying in unhappy job situations simply because they have to in this rough economy. People who overspent and lost their dream homes, trailers, boats and cars are now living within their means and not very happy about it.

I've worked in many service industries and watched and learned a lot from seeing Kings in action, the very good ones and the worst of the bunch. I didn't mind serving them because I knew they needed to feel some power, even for just a little while. My goal was to be humble and allow them that short period of time to be King. I was there to do a job, and I could suck it up. I used to call it "serving up some humble pie."

Many people who feel powerless in their lives, marriages, homes and jobs can walk into any situation as a customer and be the King. It probably feels good. They are craving a serving of humble pie because they aren't getting any in their own lives. Ministers I know tell me there is a church wide problem with volunteers getting on power trips because of basically wanting and needing to be the King. Powerless in life, they come into churches and run rampant trying to take over committees and wreak havoc on a church. That’s all we need when Christianity is needed more than ever and church attendance is down.

We sure don’t need the same power trippers who have been rude to our service personnel coming into our churches and ruining our experiences there either. Haven't we all volunteered in a variety of situations? I sure have. Girl Scouts, Cub Scouts, PTA, churches, philanthropic organizations; the scary volunteers who need power are all there turning what could be a good experience into a circus and making you wish you'd never signed up. So, turn around scary power tripper. Go home powerless little person and pray, work on your marriage, family life, thank God you have a job (or get one), and start spreading kindness wherever you go.

We can all start by thanking every single person who serves us. Look them in the eye and thank them. How about putting our phones down and saying thank you, eyeball to eyeball? Taking 5 minutes to fill out the customer service form listing a persons name for good service. What about noticing someones name tag and thanking them by name? Quit complaining and say something nice. People inherently are trying to do their best.

So, you decide it’s time to go shopping, go to a restaurant, go to the doctor, dentist, buy some stamps or get your hair done. Grab your crown and your scepter, because suddenly you have been chosen King of your universe and you have the power to do good or to be King Henry the 8th. Choose wisely. And if someone else has decided to be King in your presence and they are an embarrassment to the crown it’s time to stand up and say something. We, the people need to take our power back from the power trippers who are abusing it. Put your crown on, pick up your scepter and get busy. You good Kings can take it from here.

Be the change you want to see in the world. -Ghandi

Their European Vacation

I’ve been hearing the same type of comments over and over again. “I’m sorry you don’t get to go.” “How come you don’t get to go?” Stephanie said she’d been asked too, “Isn’t your Mom upset that she doesn’t get to go?” We just laughed.

As I write this, Stephanie and her Daddy are traveling through Europe and Spain to celebrate her college graduation and I couldn’t be happier. This is what love is all about, sharing in the joys of others and being able to truly revel in someone else’s happy times. Jealousy, resentment and scorekeeping have no place in our marriage or our family. We don’t allow those ugly fellows in, therefore peace and love can thrive.

There have been plenty of times when I have been the one to fly off somewhere on my own or with the children and Ken has had to stay home and work. He didn’t wave us off sulking; instead we were met with enthusiasm and demands that we have a wonderful and relaxing vacation.

Many years ago when money was tight, Ken was secretly stashing away my Diet Coke cans and taking them to a recycle center for cash. On the day I left for a Girls Weekend Getaway, he handed me a surprise $75.00 he’d managed to save from all my soda cans. That $75.00 was pure gold, money I wanted to frame rather than spend. It was a symbol of the love we share, how respected my feelings were and how he wanted my time away to be special for me.

When Ken and I got married, my darling friend Kay Morrison read from 1 Corinthians 13 at our wedding. We have tried to make this the motto for how we live our lives, conduct our marriage and raise our children. Here are a few of my favorite verses:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
1 Corinthians 13: 4-7

To be able to live by the principles of faith, you have to be able to wave off your spouse and family on a dream vacation without envy in your heart. You have to be truly happy from the bottom of your heart, without having a record of whose turn it is to get time off. Why does it matter anyway?

My focus, being on my family, is to love, serve, and protect, and to do that each day with love in my heart. Watching Ken and Stephanie planning, and then eventually leaving on their European vacation filled me with enough joy to last a lifetime. Ok, all of my favorite Sound of Music songs were getting turned into Oktoberfest & beer themed songs, but hey….we were all having fun and getting into the spirit of things.

My wise and adored Grandmother Mildred often told me the secret to a happy marriage was for each person to always be giving more to the other person than to themselves. In that way, each persons needs were always being met. Grandma always had good advice.

It’s not just about giving gifts and tangible things. Gifts can also be your attitude. When I left on my Girls Weekend Getaway all those years ago with the $75.00 Ken had worked so hard to save up for me, I knew I left with his blessing.

Ken and Stephanie also left with the best gift I could come up with. It was my enthusiasm for this time together as Father and Daughter, because I know how irreplaceable their European Vacation is for them. I hope they are having the time of their lives.

Steps

Watching my first born child Stephanie graduate from college has left me longing to tell a story that began over 22 years ago. I find I am flooded with a sentimental passion I’ve found difficult to put into just a few words. My goal was to write a post about her graduation ceremony, yet there is a lifetime leading up to it and I’ve found it hard to only write about the actual ceremony.

First, I’ve had a lot of people ask me about her graduation announcements. We elected not to send the UC Davis ones out. Stephanie and I had talked earlier this year about her writing her own “announcement” to tell family and friends about her experience at college, including pictures. At this point, I think we’ll hold off and have her include her graduation trip in September to complete her entire college experience.

Next, I have a bone to pick with the OB/GYN who, when I was only 5 weeks pregnant with Stephanie told me I had a non-viable pregnancy and would need to immediately terminate my pregnancy. Having faith in God left me with no decision whatsoever. I would not consider terminating my pregnancy. I’ll spare you the details other than I’d like to send a faithless OB/GYN a picture of my beautiful, talented, vibrant, healthy college graduate! Non viable pregnancy? Faith is always must. In the words of the Rev. Dr. Randy Johnson just recently, faith requires waiting. Thank God we were patient and we waited. Stephanie has been a blessing and such a rare and special gift to our family from the moment she arrived safely into our arms.

UC Davis eventually won my daughter’s heart after agonizing and revisiting a number of universities she was choosing between. From the day Ken and I moved her into the dorms her freshman year, she knew she had made the right choice.

Did I? For the entirety of our children’s lives they were indoctrinated with the fact that they would go away to college. There wasn’t a choice; it would be the normal, next step after finishing high school. But when she chose UC Davis, over 8 hours away by car, I started to wonder what I had been thinking. I started to panic. I had to tell her that if Mommie threw herself in the street crying hysterically, begging her not to stay, to turn around and walk promptly away and have a blast; that Daddy would scrape up the mess of puddly Mommie Goo from the street and get me safely home.

As it turns out, lots of other Dads had similar plans for their puddles of Mommie Goo in Napa Valley to try to entice us into leaving our babies at the dorms. So off we drove, leaving Stephanie smiling from ear to ear and excited to begin her new adventure. It reminded me of Nursery School when she was 3. She just looked up from what she was coloring and said, “Bye, Bye Mommie.” No tears. Just “Bye.”

At a number of the wineries, we ran into lots of couples like us. Happy Dads and lots of puddly Mommie Goo crying over their wine. If you were crying and saw another one crying you asked if they’d just moved their child into college. That would get puddly Mom’s crying again and the Happy Dad’s laughing and saying to pour us more wine.

A startlingly quick four years later, watching Stephanie graduate, was the fulfillment of a dream for not only her, but for Ken and me too. We sat proud of ourselves, clutching hands, whispering to each other, “she did it…& …we did it!”

At the graduation ceremony, as Stephanie made her way forward and stepped up onto the podium to receive her diploma I started thinking about past steps in her life, and how there had been so many. I thought about how so many of her steps before were to Mommie and Daddy. Those cherished first baby steps, when she trusted us to catch her. And many more along the way were steps when we were there, right beside her, holding what I still love to call her “baby hands.”

Watching her take those excited steps up to the college podium was another joyous time for us to witness her taking steps, although these steps were very different. Now she was walking up as a grown woman, confidently, to receive the diploma she’d had to earn through hard work on her own.

Suddenly I felt fear rising in me and I wanted to go back to the beginning, before her first steps and hold my precious baby. I wanted to smell baby powder on her, hold her close and rock her to sleep. I’ll admit to the tears that fall down my cheeks as I write this. Remembering holding my babies is just something that turns me right back into a big mess of puddly Mommie Goo.

Watching my daughter walk up those podium steps was exciting and melancholy all at the same time. We’ve watched her take all her necessary steps to prepare for life, and now it’s time to let her fly. You can’t imagine how happy and excited she is as she looks to the future, wondering what to do next. Thankfully, the first stop was to come home for the summer before her graduation trip. I’m not so puddly and gooey anymore.

Stephanie has always been a strong person and doesn’t often cry. She obviously got that from her Daddy. I honestly don’t think she cried much during college until the day she packed up her car and had to drive away from UC Davis, as an Alumni.

I imagine after she hugged her roommate Corinne, drove away alone from her beloved Chi Omega home, away from Davis, the college town she’d fallen in love with… then the tears probably fell unabashedly down her face and onto Mr. Bear for many, many miles and hours to follow.


Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined. Henry David Thoreau

Going Postal

My son Sam recently turned 20 and I went postal. Not because he turned 20, but because the United States Postal Service does not deliver overnight from Temecula to Chico, and it was a huge, epic Mommie crisis.

I got up early the morning before his birthday and made a special batch of his favorite cookies to ship to him with his birthday box. Admittedly, I was sad thinking about him celebrating his birthday away at school and wanted to make sure a piece of Mommie love arrived on his doorstep on his actual birthday.

Like the many years before, I wanted him home on his birthday. I’d grown to love waking the children up on their birthdays by singing them Happy Birthday and jumping on their beds and smothering them with kisses. They were always allowed to eat ice cream for breakfast on their birthday, a tradition they love. One year, I took the fruit and vegetables out of Sam’s lunchbox and replaced it with a bag of candy. He threw himself around me and said he loved me and I was the best Mommie in the world. I felt like it.

There is no replacement for the intensity of love that pours into my body, mind and soul when I get a dose of love from my children. It literally feeds me. My big, beautiful, 6 ft, 20 year old college student is growing up and growing away and it scares me. I used to be the only one who could feed him. He didn’t want to sleep in his crib; he wanted to be held all night by me, and would cry when I’d try to set him down. At Nursery School, they had to peel him off me, screaming. It’s been baby steps for both of us, because I had to hide in the hedges, wiping away my tears at the Nursery School, peeking in to see if he was going to be ok. There were many days they’d call and say I needed to come pick him up because he just wasn’t going to make it through the day. It was baby steps.

When I stood in the Post Office with Sam’s birthday box, complete with the fresh cookies and was told they didn’t do overnight to Chico for Saturday deliveries, I literally lost my mind. I was sure the Postal Service didn’t quite understand these were Sam’s fresh, hot birthday cookies and needed to be in Chico TOMORROW. My voice was rising and getting screechy and the people in the notoriously long line were getting annoyed. I wanted to jump over the counter, bang some heads and demand a helicopter to airlift my son’s birthday box.

Instead, the birthday box had to make its way to Chico at a snails pace, missing Sam’s birthday and giving me a complete and total Mommie crying meltdown and entertaining everyone in the post office.

One of my best friends, Lori Jagger, my mentor of living life on the “No-Mad Diet” insists the Diet does not exist if the situation has to do with your children. All bets are off and you are allowed to get mad, really, really mad. So, Lori, I just want you to know that my last few postal episodes all had to do with my children. And I think the US Postal Service not delivering Sam’s cookies on his birthday, Saturday, a working postal service day was cause for me to go off the Diet.

Butt Ugly

One day when I was in my early teens, my Mother came into my room and found me crying hysterically. Always the lifesaver, she grabbed me up, and held me, trying to stop the crying and save me from my near death, pre-teen trauma. When the hysteria was over and my Mother got me calmed down enough to speak, she asked me what was wrong.

“Mother! I’m ugly! A boy told me I am butt ugly!” A dumb boy had to make it even worse by saying it was all a big joke that he even liked me and he wouldn’t go steady with me if someone paid him. Ohhhh, the pre-teen pain and agony. Ugly was a new one. I hadn’t been called ugly yet. Short, yes. Freckled yes. Butt ugly? Never. Ouch!

Now that I am a Mom, I understand feeling pain for your child. I bet my Mother was feeling it that day for me too. Mom, always at the ready with lots of tissues, got me spiffed back up and said I certainly wasn’t butt ugly. I cried more and said my friends were prettier, had better clothes, hair, could put on make-up like movie stars and could walk jiggling their hips like proper teenagers.

Me? I was behind! I wasn’t in “The Club.” I hadn’t crossed over the threshold into womanhood like most of my friends and really didn’t want to. I was far more interested in mastering the latest flip on the balance beam. When my Dad went to Russia, I was relentless begging him to bring me back an authentic Russian leotard like Olga Korbut had worn in the Olympics. I worked on mastering the splits in all three directions while folding the laundry. I was determined to look as much like Romanian Olympic Gold Medal Gymnast Nadia Comaneci as I possibly could. She was my hero. None of this translated into pretty for the boy of interest that particular day. He tossed me aside with one “butt ugly” swoop of his prepubescent face and went onto another girl with her supposed prettiness, great clothes, long hair, makeup, and jiggly hips.

All knowing Mother, with her great wisdom, did give me wonderful advice that day which I have carried with me throughout my life. She said, “Jodi dear, So-and-So isn’t all that particularly attractive. She doesn’t wear expensive clothing. She has ordinary hair. She has dime store cosmetics. She has probably practiced her walking skills by spending too much time adoring herself in the mirror. Furthermore, she shouldn’t be jiggling her hips like that, it’s completely inappropriate!”

“But Mother! Shhh Jodi. You are beautiful. You can pay more attention to your clothes. You can start by ironing them. Even the most humble clothes look 100 times better when ironed. You can periodically take your hair out of its ponytail, get out of your leotard and put on some of the darling clothes I buy you. I will help you mix and match so you will see how to stretch your wardrobe. We’ll visit the cosmetics counter at Bullocks and ask the saleswomen how to properly apply cosmetics for a girl of your age. We’ll find out how you can properly care for your skin. While we are at Bullocks, we’ll sign you up for Charm School. You’ll learn your basic etiquette skills, manners, how to properly get in and out of a car without showing your panties (GASP!), walk a runway and eat politely while on a date.”

A couple of weeks later, I was Miss Charming, Charm School graduate. I learned how to walk with a book on my head and can still get in and out of a car without showing my panties.

What my Mom did that day was give me some special gifts. Unconditional love, acceptance, and motivation. She also taught me the mix and match. Now she does the same thing with my daughter Stephanie. Besides being reminded that I was loved unconditionally, I was told I was beautiful. Beautiful? Mom’s always think that, don’t they? It’s great how they are always in your corner, rooting you on and thinking no one is better than you.

She also taught me something about self confidence. She taught me that you don’t have to be the tallest one in the room to feel the tallest. You don’t have to have the most expensive clothes to feel well dressed. You don’t have to spend a fortune on a haircut to feel like your hair looks amazing. You can apply dime store cosmetics with a skilled hand and it can turn out like a masterpiece.

My Mom’s best advice goes with me everywhere I go and it can’t be beat. Walk in with confidence, hold your head up high and wear a great smile; you’ll light up a room.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom. Thanks for always being in my corner and making me feel like the tallest, brightest and best thing in the world. I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.