Abort The Mission

When a tiny life growing inside our swelling belly jeopardizes the life that sustains it how do we make that choice?

Recently I began my yearly coordinator role as the pro-life scheduler for the booth at our local fair. It was a role that my mother filled for 30 years and a position I feel proud to inherit. This year I decided to take a 3 hour shift myself in addition to coordinating the other volunteers. As a result I was introduced to a wonderful mixture of people. Expectant mothers, proud grandparents, remorseful women, curious individuals, skeptics and protesters.

Later in the day I was visited by a young teenage boy. His name was Seth and he was 16 years old. At first I overlooked Seth as he grazed past the booth fumbling through the literature as a lot of other teenagers had done with no real interest or understanding. I focused more on women because most of the time once the younger men figured out what the booth was about, they moved on quickly. They almost seemed embarrassed and confused but Seth was different.

Seth continued to linger at the booth until I offered a pamplet. He then pointed to the monitor we had playing and asked about the ultrasound videos with sincere curiosity. Seth took notice of our baby stages display and asked the age of the oldest display. I told him that was the approximate size of a 30 week old baby. That's when Seth told me he was born at that age.
His mother was diagnosed with cancer early in the pregnancy and the doctor pressured her to abort so she could begin radiation and chemotherapy or else she and the babies wouldn't make it. Seth was a twin and his mother sadly lost one of the twins as her pregnancy progressed. Seth's mom refused to abort and carried Seth until he was prematurely born. His only side effect today is asthma. Seth was the most articulate, well spoken 16 year old I've ever had the pleasure of conversating with and that includes my own 15 year old son.
Seth's mother was running the ice cream booth a few doors down and later that day I found myself there complimenting her on the spectacular job she had done so far with her son.
I said to Seth's mom,
"I hope my own son is that clear, articulate, passionate and educated about his own personal beliefs in the future as your son is at such a young age."

No matter what you believe stand strong and be educated in your convictions. I may not agree with you, others may not agree but we will respect your opinion much more if you are steadfast and educated in your belief. You will respect my belief in return if I am passionate and educated about the subject I speak about.

Seth is a belief. He's a living, breathing example of what I believe about abortion. Seth and his mother are miracles. They both survived a situation that doctors believed were deathly for both parties. Seth will be an addition to our society and because of that his mother's decision not to abort the mission was a good one. Life is fragile. Consider every decision you make carefully and use your heart.

When I Was a Child

When I was a child, we made our popcorn on the stove with oil and a skillet. We enjoyed watching the popcorn push the lid up as the kernels swelled in the pan.

When I was a child, color bars and tone filled the television after midnight before snow would appear confirming it was bedtime for the surrounding community.

When I was a child, we made sure we had plenty of batteries, milk and gas before Christmas Eve because all stores were closed afterwards.

When I was a child, our television only received three channels so we spent hours outdoors inventing new games and riding bikes.

When I was a child, we were expected to stay in line not online. A mouse had a heartbeat and a web was something we frequently walked into on a warm summer day. Surfing involved water and an apple was something you ate.

When I was a child, the sun seemed to warm my face a little more and the rain seemed to fall a little more lightly. Rainbows seemed to have a little more color. Birds sang a little sweeter.

When I was a child...time passed quickly. I fell asleep as a child and woke as a mother. We make popcorn in the microwave, television is available every hour of the day, we are free to buy batteries on Christmas Day, we receive 97 channels, and my children stay online surfing the web with a mouse.

However, when I was a mother, the same sun warmed my children's face and the same rain fell lightly. Rainbows still seem vibrant and they are excited by the song of a bird.

Flies Can't Swim But They Sure Can Float

When my teenage son was a young boy he often spent his time outside with nature. He found excitement in discovering new creatures and snatching up creepy crawlies to show me. Garret often burst through the door with some squiggly insect frantically wiggling in hopes of breaking free from the grip of a five-year-old boy. I would agree to keep it in a jar for a few days before insisting on setting it free.
These bugs were very resilient as they found a way to survive the grasp of a child and days in a jar without proper food or water before being released. Garret had not experienced death yet and at the time I wasn't sure how he would react when it did happen.

One hot summer day I made lunch for Garret and his little brother. After eating their sandwiches and macaroni and finishing most of their juice, it was time to for little brother to lay down for a nap while Garret went outside to play. After thirty minutes or so of playing outdoors, he returned from the front yard looking for his juice. A few moments later he found me with his cup in hand.
Holding his cup up, he asked me to look inside. I leaned over and peered into the cup. There was a single fly in the center of the juice.
"Look," he said to me. I looked and nodded my head as I started to tell him to pour it out.
"It's a fly," he replied to my nod.
I nodded again in agreement as I watched the fly slosh around in his cup and wondered if he had drank from the cup before discovering it. As Garret stretched his arms to get the cup closer to me, I watched as the soggy fly flipped over showing its underbelly and limp little fly legs.
Before I could respond Garret held his cup as high as he could.
"Flies can't swim but they sure can float!"

Over ten years later I still remember the sound in his voice as he excitedly revealed his newest discovery.
Anytime I've faced a difficult time since then those words come back to me and I lay back and begin to float. Life hasn't killed me yet so when I don't have the strength to swim anymore, I roll over and float until my strength returns...or until someone pours me down the drain!

Chambers

When you were born a flame was lit
A love was born that would not wilt
And inside my heart this fire grew
As my heart swelled with love for you.

And as time passed another came
And with that spark another flame
A flame that swelled my heart as well
You grabbed my heart and cast your spell.

A few years passed and another spark
Caused this flame to light the dark
Another chamber was brought to light
As I saw your eyes and found new sight.

The last to strike this fire of mine
Would ignite this love without any sign
I wasn't sure how or where to start
But you lit the fourth chamber of my heart.

Pretty Pretty Princess Party

As a lot of you may already know, I'm a mother of four wonderful children. I find it necessary to always use a positive adjective when describing the children because it usually sounds so much better than the other available adjectives such as crazy, insane, loud, strange, sassy, odd or weird to name a few.
The first three of the spectacular children born happened to be boys. Now as much as I loved and enjoyed my boys, I believe every woman secretly yearns to have a little girl at some point. Understand that I loved having the boys. I loved their independence, rowdiness and constant attempt to out-do each other but there was a part of me that still longed for a little girl. A little girl to dress in pink, to buy pink blankets for, to put ribbons in her hair and play dolls with on rainy days.
After three boys and six years I got my wish. I had a beautiful little baby girl to add to the three gorgeous boys I already had at the time. We named her Bethany.
The first eighteen months were great. Pink was everywhere. Dolls and strollers waited anxiously in the corner of her room for Bethany to get old enough to play with them. I stocked up on Barbie's and play outfits. Her grandmother bought her a complete dish set and stuffed animals flowed over the edge of the toy box. Bethany's room looked like a flamingo had vomited everywhere. There was hardly a spot that wasn't pink. It was great and we all waited patiently for her to mature.
Time passed and Bethy (as we call her) grew, began to talk and develop her own little personality. However, the dolls and dishes remained in the corner as Bethany chose to play outside in the dirt with her brothers. I frequently found myself picking up more monster trucks and Hot Wheels cars from Bethany's room than her brothers. She wouldn't stand still to have her hair done, she hated braids or ribbons, dresses were worn out into the mud and on rainy days, well, she spent rainy days playing in the rain with her brothers.
Bethany remained a tomboy until she started school. Slowly she began to appreciate some of the little things that make us all female. She wanted her nails painted from time to time and even let me start putting her hair up with ribbons and clasps. Bethany still buried baby dolls at the bottom of her closet and toy box but I wasn't asking for miracles so I embraced the new "girly" characteristics she was adopting with age.
In second grade, Bethany came to me and asked if she could have a sleep-over for her birthday party. She wanted to call it a Pretty Pretty Princess Party. I was ecstatic. I enthusiastically exclaimed my excitement over this idea and we immediately began to plan.
We went to the store and picked out a princess cake, an inflatable castle ring toss game, pin the slipper on the princess game, tons of prizes, princess movies, tiara's for everyone and of course, ice cream. I made princess dogs and chili and royal chips and dip. We bought princess balloons and a princess centerpiece.
After having three boys, I was an old pro at the slumber parties. All the boys had a sleep over at some point or another for their birthday. It was always a great time complete with sno cone machines, inflatable food toss games and more. The boys would usually begin losing steam around 9 or 10pm and would crash in front of the PlayStation in their sleeping bags never to be heard from again until morning.
Bethany invited every girl in her class and all but one was able to attend. That fateful evening, eight little girls that I like to refer to as Satan's Disciples, arrived on my doorstep towing additional princess paraphernalia behind them. Games, make-up and fake jewelry were among the items smuggled in that evening.
My best friend of 23 years came down with her oldest daughter to join in on the festivities. Marie and I sat comfortably on the sofa talking about trivial things as the girls continued to arrive.
At first, things went as planned. Everyone ate their princess dogs and chili and royal chips and dip. Then we went directly into the cake, ice cream and gifts. By this time, girls were already in their princess pajamas and were wearing their tiara's. Small arguments began to form as they fought over who had the better tiara. One of the Devil's Disciples was unable to speak without a long drawn out high pitched whine. Every word was stretched to maximum ability and the sound barrier was tested with each sentence but still things were going seemingly well.
Once the cake and ice cream was over and the tiara debate was settled, we moved into the living room to begin the fun. We started with the castle ring toss. Whiney immediately disqualified herself after the first round when she couldn't get rings around any of the castle tops. I moved the line up in order to increase their chances and end this game sooner. Another girl, I call Bossy, began to monitor everyone else's spacing to determine if they were cheating by crossing the line. Bossy's real name was Bethany, and yes, she's mine. Bossy collided with Stubborn and Stubborn had issues with Meanie. Meanie constantly bad mouthed Whiney and Whiney kept trying to get Popular to leave the game and join her alliance as Sporty, Sweety and Shorty continued to try to win prizes. I don't think Bratty was ever part of the game but I think she was in an alliance with Bossy and Stubborn.
We finished the princess castle ring toss and decided to move on to pin the slipper on the princess game. Meanie decided she would be first so I put the blindfold on, spun her around and sent her toward the wall. Bulls eye, she got the shoe right on the foot. Sporty, Shorty, Stubborn, Bossy, Bratty and Sweety all followed behind. Each one managed to get the shoe almost directly on the correct spot. Popular and Whiney went last but weren't able to get anywhere near the desired spot. A new argument erupted. Popular and Whiney were convinced that the other girls had all formed an alliance and had cheated in order to win prizes. Now I must admit, it does sound unlikely that all those girls were able to hit the bullseye every time but by that time, I just wanted to give them their bubble makers, princess rings, happy face pens and princess slinkies so I can go to bed. I was ready to say goodbye to my friend, pop in the princess movie and get some well deserved sleep.
The girls began to chant Hide and Seek over and over again to my horror. Bossy, the birthday girl, begged to play a game of hide and seek. It sounded like a good idea and a perfect opportunity for me to get to sit down and chat with my old friend for a little longer. Squeals, loud bangs and the thunder of little feet echoed throughout the house as I continued to converse with my friend. Popular came to inform me that Whiney had locked herself in Bossy's room to cry because the other girl's weren't playing fair. I chose to tackle that issue later as I continued my conversation. Girls screamed past us and I could feel the wind from their movement. Bratty and Shorty came to me in tears because Bossy's big brother, Bratty and Meanie had scared them in my closet by turning off the light and holding the door shut.
Still, I chose to believe they were having fun until my oldest son came to me.
"Mom?"
"Yes Garret, what now?"
"I think you may want to check out Levi's room."
Levi was my second born son. I sat there for a minute trying to absorb what he just said when the family dog, Sophia, jumped into my lap. I reached to pet her and felt something sticky and thick. I raised my hand to observe and determine what was all over my dog when Garret responded, "I think it's cheez whiz. It's everywhere back here."
I looked down and my little black dog was covered in an orange substance. My friend immediately began to laugh as I leaped from the couch.
I burst into Levi's room and saw Sporty, Bossy and Sweety sitting on the bed. Cheez Whiz is on the carpet, the bed frame, the dog, the dresser, the comforter and the wall. On the wall there is a perfect cheez whiz hand print. I'm stunned as I see a flash out of the corner of my eye. Marie is standing in the doorway laughing to the point of tears and snapping pictures.
"What happened, who did this, what is this!!!???" I asked in an exclaimed way.
Sporty and Bossy quickly pointed to Sweety without saying a word. Not Sweety. Sweety was the quietest, most polite child in the den of the Devil's Disciples. Yet when I asked Sweety if she was the one that pressed her cheez whiz covered hand against the wall and had covered the dog in cheese, she answered yes.
After my friend left, the remainder of the night was spent corralling nine insane girls into the living room, keeping them still, attempting to quiet the room and struggling to get some sleep.
The following day after all the girls left, I found myself in my bed asleep for three hours. It was the first time in birthday history that I had to take a nap after a party!

Sophia's Babies

Sophia has always been an interesting and somewhat peculiar character in our family. When you say her name, she raises her top lip and appears to smile.
We used to have to fill pie pans full of ice water for her to soak her feet in. Sophia can sometimes have traits similair to a cat. There are times that she will bring "gifts" to our door. These gifts are usually small, dead, smelly and unrecognizable.
All in all, Sophie, as we call her most of the time, has been a fun dog to have around.

One thing Sophia has always loved are her toys. Her favorite toy is her first toy we ever bought for her. It was a bright white pineapple with a squeaker in the center. She loved the pineapple and three years later, she still has this pineapple although it is now a dark gray, deflated, squeakerless toy. But she still loves it.

Recently we began adding toys to her collection. She has two polka-dot cloth squeaky bones, a squeaky hedgehog, a plastic spiky football and a rubber dumbell. Since adding these new toys to her collection, Sophie began nesting. She hides these "babies" everywhere. We started calling them babies because surprisingly, Sophie started lactating last week. She cries if you pick them up, cries if she loses one, cries if we move them, cries if she leaves one outside and basically just cries for the sake of crying. She even cries over the dead pineapple baby.

(Dead pineapple baby!)

At night, we gather all her "babies" together and put them in her bed in the laundry room and she jumps in to surround herself with them for a good nights sleep. I'm a little confused over what to do or if I should do anything. It really is amazing how much of a personality animals can have and how particular they can be about some things. I also just recently had to move our pet rabbit back to the edge of the living room where all the activity is because after moving her to the corner of the room for one week, she spent everyday turning over her litter box and emptying her food bowl in an extremely agressive way. Once I moved her back to "her spot", she was back to normal. Crazy animals!