tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58277506688299210902024-03-08T00:20:52.952-05:00Family TimesUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5827750668829921090.post-29105364244486833452008-09-29T21:41:00.002-04:002008-09-29T22:20:52.114-04:00Abort The MissionWhen a tiny life growing inside our swelling belly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">jeopardizes</span> the life that sustains it how do we make that choice?<br /><br />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, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">remorseful</span> women, curious individuals, skeptics and protesters.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br />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. <br />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. <br />I said to Seth's mom,<br />"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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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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. <br />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.<br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">vomited</span> everywhere. There was hardly a spot that wasn't pink. It was great and we all waited patiently for her to mature.<br />Time passed and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Bethy</span> (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.<br />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 "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">girly</span>" characteristics she was adopting with age.<br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ecstatic</span>. I enthusiastically exclaimed my excitement over this idea and we immediately began to plan.<br />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. <br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">sno</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">PlayStation</span> in their sleeping bags never to be heard from again until morning.<br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">paraphernalia</span> behind them. Games, make-up and fake jewelry were among the items smuggled in that evening. <br />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. <br />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.<br />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. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Whiney</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">else's</span> spacing to determine if they were cheating by crossing the line. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Bossy's</span> real name was Bethany, and yes, she's mine. Bossy collided with Stubborn and Stubborn had issues with Meanie. Meanie constantly bad mouthed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Whiney</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Whiney</span> kept trying to get Popular to leave the game and join her alliance as Sporty, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Sweety</span> 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.<br />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. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Bulls eye</span>, she got the shoe right on the foot. Sporty, Shorty, Stubborn, Bossy, Bratty and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Sweety</span> all followed behind. Each one managed to get the shoe almost directly on the correct spot. Popular and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Whiney</span> went last but weren't able to get anywhere near the desired spot. A new argument erupted. Popular and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Whiney</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">bullseye</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">every time</span> but by that time, I just wanted to give them their bubble makers, princess rings, happy face pens and princess <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">slinkies</span> 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.<br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">converse</span> with my friend. Popular came to inform me that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Whiney</span> had locked herself in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Bossy's</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Bossy's</span> big brother, Bratty and Meanie had scared them in <em>my</em> closet by turning off the light and holding the door shut.<br />Still, I chose to believe they were having fun until my oldest son came to me.<br />"Mom?"<br />"Yes Garret, what now?"<br />"I think you may want to check out Levi's room."<br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">cheez</span> whiz. It's everywhere back here."<br />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.<br />I burst into Levi's room and saw Sporty, Bossy and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Sweety</span> sitting on the bed. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Cheez</span> Whiz is on the carpet, the bed frame, the dog, the dresser, the comforter and the wall. On the wall there is a perfect <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">cheez</span> 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. <br />"What happened, who did this, what is this!!!???" I asked in an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">exclaimed</span> way.<br />Sporty and Bossy quickly pointed to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Sweety</span> without saying a word. Not <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Sweety</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Sweety</span> was the quietest, most polite child in the den of the Devil's Disciples. Yet when I asked <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Sweety</span> if she was the one that pressed her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">cheez</span> whiz covered hand against the wall and had covered the dog in cheese, she answered yes.<br />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. <br />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!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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Don't you think it's an earned privelege that may help current young couples or at least bring a smile to their face as they look at each other and say, "That will never happen to us!"<br /><br />1. Never pass gas in front of your spouse. Now unfortunately this only applies to women because for men it's perfectly acceptable after the second date. Honestly, it can seem very unlady-like and it's definitely a turn off for the man. Now on the flip side of that you can always feel free to use their disgust to your advantage. Are there times that you're just not "in the mood"? Usually it's when you're cooking dinner, reading in bed or trying to fold clothes. These are the times that popping off a little gas bomb could help you without encountering an argument. Men will quickly scramble away in search of a sports channel or power tool to avoid you witnessing their disgust. Result: You get to continue reading your book, cooking dinner or folding clothes.<br /><br />2. Don't get too comfortable with each other. Again, this applies more to the women. If you begin showing signs of being "too comfortable" around your man you will soon find yourself involved in interesting situations. When a man knows that he can burp, fart, blow snot straight from his nose to the ground and make noises while sitting on the toilet all in your presence then physical aid and advice is not far behind. A man that feels completely comfortable with you will have no problem peeling off his sock in front of you, tossing his shriveled smelly foot in the air and asking you to look at the sore on the bottom of his third toe. A comfortable man will not hesitate to ask you to squeeze the infected hair on his back and administer alcohol and antibiotic cream to the area. A man at ease with his mate will not think twice about asking you to investigate the contents of the toilet bowl after making a deposit to see if you think the contents are "normal". Now I have to admit after you have kids this is much easier to endure.<br /><br />3. Never pretend that single friends are okay to go out with alone. Single friends are your enemy. Single friends are out at night looking for single women or men and if your mate is out with him/her then who do you think they're mingling with? Single friends are like a horrible religious cult. Once they are out of your presence they will preach relentlessly to your mate about the joys of freedom and the single life. They will visit your house, eat your food, and laugh at your jokes but make no mistake...they are the enemy.<br /><br />4. In-laws should be called Out-laws. These people will turn on you in a second! In-laws will always take the side of their child. Now they may act differently when you're around and there's an argument taking place but in private quarters, they are siding with their son or daughter. I also feel compelled to tell you that once the grandchildren are born, you're both out. Husband and wife are invisible and the grandchildren become the new focus. Once in-laws become grandparents, you're marital problems are abandoned which could be a good thing or a bad thing depending on your situation.<br /><br />5. Don't try to break old habits developed in childhood. Men are especially impossible and guilty of the inability to change old habits. This is mostly due to their mothers. Tossing their clothes on the bedroom floor and dumping food in the sink is among a few of the childhood habits you will have to deal with. I really don't have any advice here because nothing will work so my advice is to just accept and deal with some of these disorders instilled by the mothers of these men and move on to bigger issues. I tried everything. After years of asking, begging, pleading and fussing about food being dumped in the sink, I finally snapped. We didn't have a garbage disposal so I had to manually scoop this slimy, soggy wet food out of the sink by hand. One afternoon we had beef stew for dinner. I cooked, we ate, and all the dishes went into the sink. I bathed the kids, read the bedtime stories and relaxed for a while as my husband ventured off to bed. I returned to the kitchen to begin the dishes but the water wouldn't drain because there were large carrots and potatoes lodged in the drain. I always emptied the kids and my bowls so I knew it could only be from one bowl. HIS bowl. I calmly reached into the drawer and pulled out a large soup spoon. I used the soup spoon to scoop out a large portion of the soggy food and slowly walked into the bedroom where my sleeping husband lay. I gently dropped the large spoon full of food into his left work boot and returned to the kitchen to finish the dishes. I wouldn't hear another word until 6am the following morning as I listened to my husband yell out in anger after shoving his foot into a beef stew filled boot. Result: He still dumped food in the sink although it was a while later.<br /><br />6. Don't leave with food during an argument. Since we're on the subject of food I have to express the importance of food to a man. One of the biggest arguments I had with my ex-husband was just before dinner time. He stomped off to the bathroom to take his bath because he had worked in construction all day. We continued to argue from separate rooms and when I walked into the kitchen to begin making hamburgers I quickly decided I wasn't going to cook for him. I made the decision to scoop up the thawed hamburger meat, potatoes and other vegetables and make my way to my mother's house to cook there for me and the babies. Unfortunately I announced my plans throughout the house and this didn't sit well with the ogre in the tub. Shampoo and conditioner bottles whizzed past me as I walked out the door and the crazed shoutings of a hungry construction worker echoed through the neighborhood.<br /><br />7. Never force a personal activity on the other. Sometimes it's just better to go alone. Honestly, you're going to have a better time by yourself if your partner didn't want to go in the first place. There's nothing more unpleasant than being at a function with someone that is miserable. Just leave them at home. If they don't like parades and they've told you they don't like parades then don't drag them to a parade. You won't have fun, I promise. Find a friend or family member that enjoys that particular activity and leave your spouse at home. Give him/her a chore. Maybe they can do dishes or mow the lawn while you're gone.<br /><br />8. Don't befriend your spouses ex. The ex-wife or husband of your spouse is not your friend. They're divorced for a reason and like it or not, there are sore feelings on one or both sides. You can definitely be civil and gracious but don't start inviting the ex to parties and events. I totally believe that it is better to get along but that doesn't mean you have to start going to the movies with the ex.<br />The ex-spouse is not a whole lot different than the out-laws except they don't warm up when another child is born. This is only viewed as a threat to them. If you're lucky you'll meet a mate that has an ex that isn't crazy and all will be well but for those of us that aren't so lucky, we'll be cursed with a crazy psychotic that's out for blood. Be cautious and be alert and you'll survive the ex.<br /><br />9. Make a list of things that annoy you and a list of things you adore. Both parties can have fun at this. After years of marriage you're probably pretty clear on what bugs the crap out of you the most. Share that with your mate. I actually never had the opportunity to do this activity but wish I had. My list would have included things like: <br />I can't stand the way you scratch yourself at night.<br />I don't like that pair of jeans you wear all the time.<br />I hate the way you pronounce battery.<br />I love the way glance at me from across the room.<br />I appreciate your determination to get that broken motorcycle to work.<br />I admire your passion for animals.<br /><br />10. Make love in anger. The best way to get rid of all that anger is to use that energy and stress as a release. The whole "never go to bed angry" actually does make sense. There's a lot of adreniline that comes from your arguments. Use that adreneline and apply it to the bedroom. The real issue can be readdressed the next day when both people have a more clear head.<a href="http://www.lisalaceyonline.com"></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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My father has never recovered. He has never found peace. At times it feels as though he's a ghost just floating through life looking for his purpose, trying to find his way home, grieving the loss of the other half of his heart and soul.<br /><br /> Transitioning into a parent of a parent was a very confusing and painful event. I fought it every step of the way reassuring myself that my dad would "snap" out of it. I convinced myself that he was just going through the grief process. I was also dealing with my own intense grief and the grief of my children. My mom left behind four grandchildren that loved her dearly. If God was testing me, I was failing miserably. I tried everything with my dad. Compassion, understanding, empathy, sympathy, pity, anger, tough love...you name it, I tried it. I did everything I could think of to get my dad to care again. He gave up on life after my mom died and it became my job to take care of him. <br /><br /> Over several months and years following my mother's death, my dad slowly stopped doing the normal things that people do everyday. He would go weeks without bathing, changing clothes, buying groceries, cleaning house...the list goes on. As slowly as this began to happen, my role began to change as well. Before my mom died, my dad was the person that helped me clean my gutters, mow my yard, fix my car and was always the general "handyman" around my house. This was especially true after my divorce. When rainwater would spill over the sides of my gutter, my dad would bring his ladder over and make sure that every leaf and limb was removed before he left. When I couldn't find time to keep up with the lawn, my dad would spend hours mowing and trimming without ever complaining and at least once a week I'd look out my window during one of my parent's many visits to see my dad underneath the hood of my car checking the oil and water. Provider and protector was the role my dad held for 33 years until the death of my mother.<br /><br /> Suddenly I found myself in the same position I was in as a mother of four children. I had to constantly ask my dad if he had taken a shower or mowed his yard. I was constantly harrassing him to clean his house and go to the doctor. There was rarely a day that went by that I didn't have to ask my dad if he had managed to do some simple task or another. Even simple things like eating or grocery shopping became a topic of conversation usually ending with me reprimanding him for not achieving the task.<br /><br /> It has taken 3 years for me to finally realize something that I wish I had realized in the very beginning. The mistake I had been making with my dad was putting a question mark at the end of my sentences. Recently, I went to the store and bought three things. A dry erase board, markers and a pill dispenser. The dry erase board is a sectioned off as a calendar so I was able to create a day to day agenda for my dad to follow. Certain days are shower days, others are cleaning days and some days are chore days. I have to attach consequences to this daily chore list or my dad won't follow it (just like a child). If he doesn't complete what is on his list for that day then in return, I refuse to accompany him to the doctor or pay his bills. I took over his checking account and bill paying a year ago. I know it sounds mean but it's the only thing that has worked so far. My dad seems to operate better with a routine. The daily agenda creates a routine for him and once he got past his tantrums, I think he appreciates and welcomes this routine. Just like with a child, I've had to make good on a couple of my consequences but it only took a couple of the "putting my foot down" scenarios to show my dad that I meant business. This is still a work in progress and it's still too early to make any real assessments but I plan to keep posting and updating our progress. We've only been practicing this new formula for a few weeks. I've also had to take control of his medicine because he wasn't taking it properly either. I now have two pill dispensers that I trade out each week and give to my dad with all of his medicine already placed in the daily dispenser.<br /><br /> I'm not sure exactly what I can say or advice I can give to people in the same position as I find myself but I can say, KEEP TRYING NEW THINGS! If one solution doesn't work, think of something else and try it. For some people, it may be necessary to stop asking their parents if they've done something and begin telling them that they have to do it. It's hard and it's awkward in the beginning but just like your children, in the end it's for their own good!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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