Looking Ahead

I know that for many, including me, 2013 won't be much missed.  For me, the year started out with an unsuccessful job search, but the distinct likelihood of a move due to my husband's quick and successful job search.  The question was quickly becoming not whether we'd move from the most stable and loved family home we'd had in our 20-year marriage, but whether that move would take us to Indy (preferred) or "the middle of nowhere Ohio" (as we fondly refer to New Bremen, Ohio).

It was, in a word, hard.  In the span of two weeks in early/mid-April, my son had surgery, we moved out of our home of seven years, and I started a new job (remotely).  All of this while Darrell was already living in Indiana.  But as hard as it all was, every step of the process fell right into place, like a puzzle that had already been planned in advance for us.  It was emotionally difficult, but it all just worked out.  I choose to believe that had to be God's doing, because it certainly was not something we could have accomplished on our own.

I'd love to tell you that we've found replacements for everything that so filled our hearts in Lexington, but that wouldn't be true either.  We've made friends with a family that we quickly bonded with here that I think will last forever.  We've begun making other new friends, including a dear lady I work with and workout with (just really met the rest of her family recently).  We've learned ways to cling to friends in Lexington, like meeting halfway to get my kids and their friends to each other for some weekends, and some of our friends who have already visited us here.  I don't plan on ever letting go of those dear friendships, but those who know me well, know I'm also not the best "phone/long-distance" friend, and for that I can only apologize.

We have found fun things to do.  If anything, we like our new house better, which I didn't think was possible as we considered the move.  We've increased our income significantly with me in a salaried job again, while reducing our long-term expenses and debt by buying a less expensive house (thank you, affordable Indy suburb housing market!).

And I know that what we went through in 2013 was really so much easier than other difficulties some have had.  I have a friend who went through a divorce after a long marriage, an aunt who made it through a liver transplant, other friends who lost dear family members, found out they (or a love one) had cancer, lost a job, and so many other worse things than we experienced in 2013.  For all of you, I pray that 2014 is a much better year!

So, with all that, it's time for us to look forward to 2014.  I don't really make New Year's resolutions.  I have goals, I just don't tend to wait for a new year to start them.  But, there are certainly things I look forward to with 2014, and feel happy to leave behind in 2013.  My hopes and plans for 2014 include:

• Stability in where we live and in jobs.  We have no plans to move for 9 years (long enough to get our son through high school graduation) and pray that both of our jobs are stable for 2014.
• I want to read more in 2014.  That is one of the things that definitely gave way with the hectic year that was 2013.  I realized just today that at least half of the books that I "read" in 2013 were audiobooks.  While not all bad, I want that ratio to be different for 2014, and I want to add in more non-fiction.
• I want to lead and show more love to my children.  I couldn't love them more than I do, but I can better show them my love.  And we have only two and a half years left with our daughter at home full-time to lead and instruct her, and to show her just how much she is loved.  I'm not completely sure how this all looks.  I think it was started for us in 2013 with choosing a church based more on her needs, and with our weekly family Bible studies, but I know that we can do better.
• I want to repriortize on healthy eating for the whole family.  I try to set a good example with what Darrell calls my "nuts and berries" eating, but I need to try even harder to find ways to get us all to eat better.
• I want to run at least one half marathon in 2014.  I went all of 2013 without one, which I think was a first for me since 2009.  I don't plan to let that happen again, at least not unless and until a future health problem prevents me from running at all.
• Darrell and I have decided to tithe in 2014.  It's been a while since we committed 10% of our incomes to giving.  I know that I should trust that it will work out.  Even recently, I've seen the way God takes care of us (giant healthcare increase more than covered by an unexpected raise), but why does it always still scare me?

There, that's it.  Six things to focus on for 2014.  No problem, right?  What are your goals for 2014?  Did you have a rough year in 2013 like we did?

The Road Not Traveled

Do you ever wonder, "What if?"  Our lives are a series of decisions, and some seemingly small ones make such a big difference.  Sometimes the decisions others make have a huge affect on our lives as well.

I probably spend more time than I should thinking about those branches of my path and life that might have been, and wondering what they may have been like.

• What if I had stayed with my boyfriend from home instead of breaking up with him for Darrell?  Would I have spent years as a military wife and would that have appeased my sense of adventure with many moves that way?
• What if Darrell's oncology team had gone with the original plan to give him the chemotherapy combination with a 99% infertility rate?  Would we have spent years trying to get conceive with no success?
• What if we had decided to try for each of our kids at just slightly different times?  I can't imagine not having the two amazing kids I've given my heart to and would lay down my life for at any time.

I could seriously go on like this for ages.  I even made a chart to highlight several of the big decisions and milestones just for the first 10 years of my adult life (from age 18-28):

 

The dotted lines lead to completely different and unknown paths.  And these are just the big events that stand out for me personally.  I have no idea all the ways my life touched others, or even the ways that perhaps I should have helped or touched others and didn't.

God gave us free will, but I also believe that he has a plan for each of us.  That's one of the tougher aspects of Christianity to completely grasp, in my opinion.  Does God help connect the dotted lines back to our planned path when we make the "wrong" decision?  I'm not sure, but I do know that sometimes he has redeemed the decisions in my life that I either should not have made, or that seemed to take me astray at the time.

I worked one job I disliked, in part because for most of the time I commuted an hour and a half each way while pregnant, but we found a way for me to stay home with our daughter for a while, and I'll forever treasure that time as a new mom with her (even though some days were more difficult than anything I've done before or since).  I worked another job I disliked for three years.  Then I started a small business that ultimately failed.  Then Darrell's job kept going downhill, and the only way to fix it all seemed to be moving away from the only place that had truly become home to both of us.  But every step of the way, things fell right into place.  God seemed to be telling us all along that this move was his plan, even if we didn't know why.  It was the first time in my life that I really felt that way, and it has been very comforting.

What about you?  What is your path, and do you ever wonder about the roads you turned away from along the way?

Talk with them a lot. And then talk with them more.

I hesitate to give advice on anything related to raising kids for two big reasons:

1. I've found way too many parenting books, columns, etc. that give conflicting advice.  The main thing I've learned from this is that different tactics work for different families AND kids are not as predictable as we'd like to think.
2. My kids aren't grown yet.  While I doubt that either of my two are going to end up in jail or anything even more drastic, I suspect I have some rebellious years ahead of me.  And I estimate that a good amount of what they turn out to be has little to do with me anyway.  Sure, what Darrell and I do can help make them better or worse, but there are innate qualities they have that I can't take credit for.  Kids from good families can go astray.  Kids from bad families can turn out great.

But, I'm going to go out on a limb on this one.  Talk to your kids - often and openly.  And I am saying this as much to remind myself as to give advice to anyone else.

I was a quiet kid, and still tend to be fairly quiet and need some alone time to function well.  I was so sure that I would have at least one quiet child.  Nope.  I have the kids unafraid to ask for help finding something in a store, unafraid to read aloud in front of their entire class, unafraid to challenge what their own mom and dad say even.  I have the kids with voices that "carry" sometimes in school.  The ones I get asked about their hearing, because they talk loud.  Now, mind you, they get great behvior reports in school, because they don't talk at inappropriate times, they are just plain louder than average when they do talk (which at home seems to be ALL THE TIME).

And they don't seem to mind carrying on two entirely separate conversations with me in the car.  Yes, there are many times when I get to discuss my daughter's friend's latest boyfriend while I also carry on a conversation about Minecraft.  All while they talk over each other and expect frequent input from me.  Do you know how difficult that is for someone who definitely leans towards the introverted side?

But, I try.  I tell my kids they can come to us with anything.  They know they might as well fess up if they've done something wrong because the consequences are SO much higher if they lie.  I handled the birds and the bees discussion with my son, even though I swore it was Darrell's turn with him, because I answered when he asked. 

Have I had to hide in the bathroom on occasion for alone time?  What mom hasn't?  Have I been known to ask (possibly too loudly) them to JUST BE QUIET for a bit?  Sure.  Is my daughter's tendency to talk back in part due to my encouragement to speak her mind?  Perhaps.

I also think lots of family talk and discussion promotes things like a good vocabulary and general intelligence.  They learn things from us.  They learn to be inquisitive and question the world around them.

And let them see you interacting with other adults.  My kids have seen Darrell and I argue.  They've also seen us apologize to each other, kiss, and make up.  We've each apologized to them from time to time as well.  And my kids see that I have a life outside my family.  They see me work, they see me with other friends.

So, we talk.  And talk, and talk...  And I hope that means something to them someday.

Matriarchy of Strong Women

I grew up in a family of strong women.  Yesterday would have been my Papaw's 89th birthday, but he didn't quite live to see 80.  He was perhaps the most kind, sensitive man I've ever met.  I'm blessed that he got to meet both of my children, although he was sickly long before my son was born, and since he passed away so soon after, I don't have a single picture of the two together.

My Papaw cooked and cleaned as much as my Meme, and not just after he retired from the coal mines.  They worked together in the garden.  I have no doubt that Papaw was a strong man, too.  He was a coal miner when that meant a lot of very physical work, and when it was an even more dangerous job.  He was a first generation American, born to immigrant parents from Hungary.  He was a big man, until he grew old.  But, he was also one of the younger children in his family.  A boy who got to finish high school, while his older sisters did not.

My Meme, on the other hand, was first-born.  A girl in a time when boys were still worth more, perhaps, but she was expected to help much more at home, I'm sure.  She had lots of younger sisters and brothers to help take care of, to "borrow" her clothes, etc.  Although her family were not immigrants, she grew up equally poor at the end of the Great Depression.

Meme is small, but feisty.  And what she lacks in physical strength, she seems to have in mental acuity.  She's smart, and she knows how to get her way and get things done.  She's not afraid of hard work, but she doesn't always have to work hard to get her way.  When she talks, people seem to listen.  I think to this day, I may be the only one besides the kids who isn't afraid of her, just a little.  I think kids identify with her because she's closer to their size, and usually willing to play with them, and give them just about anything they want.  But adults take her seriously, and naturally want to please her.

You see, there was never any question growing up who was "in charge".  That would be Meme.  The matriarch now perhaps because she so beautifully represents her generation, but always the matriarch as far back as I can remember as well.

The only way my parents really repeated the pattern is that the oldest daughter married the youngest son.  I always saw my parents' marriage as more of a balance of power.  There were things my mom was in charge of and things my dad was in charge of, and in most ways, I've tried to model my own marriage much more after that compared to my Meme and Papaw's marriage.

And I grew up a girl in a time when the world was a girl's for the taking.  My father let me know that I could be anything a man could, and if anything, he implied that I had more power than a man due to what a man would want from me.  I will never forget the "no boy wants to just be your friend" speeches.  My father had two girls, and I suspect he would have liked a boy, but he didn't let that stop him from doing "boy" things.  He sent me to a gun safety/target shooting class and took me hunting.  He rode a bike alongside me while I trained for track.

But, even in my family, if you really wanted to do or get something, you knew who to ask.  Mom.  Mom was the everyday disciplinarian, even if it was Dad's discipline that we most feared.  Mom was the gatekeeper of going to a friend's house and first dates (she had to meet the boy first).

By the time I was ready to have my own children, I was convinced that any differences between boys and girls were due to what we as a society teach them.  I was at least 50% completely wrong.  Boys and girls are in fact born very different, and I think God gave me one of each to teach me that.  But that's also a topic enough its own story to not get into here.

After years and years of mostly girls (three girls for my Meme and Papaw and two for Mom and Dad), my aunt began a trend of mostly boy children.  Meme is still firmly the matriarch of the family, and there have been glimpses that perhaps my mom will take over that role someday.  But I wonder after that how things will continue.  Although, my own daughter, also firstborn but the only girl granddaughter on both sides of the family, is very strong willed.  I can see her leading her own matriarchy someday, and I'd love to live to see the start of that. 

Four Generations of First-born Girls

 

Take Me Home, Country Roads

Sunset starts early in my West Virginia hills. At 3pm today, I already needed my lights on driving through the valleys along Route 250.

I haven't spent as much time among other hills and mountain ranges, but I always notice the particular way the rising and setting sun hits just one side of the trees along the hillsides. It almost looks like one side of the tree trunks and branches is a different brighter color than the other side. Am I the only one who notices this?

I've easily spent about half of my life living on flatter ground. I've lived in places where the sun doesn't slowly rise and fade behind high, majestic hills. Early on, it seemed so strange to be able to see so far. The sky wasn't so big where I grew up.

My relationship with West Virginia is a strange one. I grew up always knowing I'd leave. But I'm fiercely proud of growing up there, and loyal to my home state.

Today, I loved pointing out landmarks to my daughter. From my high school, to her old school (we moved back for a few years), to where an old boyfriend lived... And then it made me sad when she pointed out several houses and buildings literally just falling down from neglect.

I grew up well off in West Virginia. Even when my dad was out of work, we had strong family support. And my dad got out there, worked for less while he had to, and then worked his way up at a better job. My mom went back and finished her degree. I like to think I inherited and learned my strong work ethic from them.

West Virginia has always had to fight to stay alive, it seems, but I still see signs of her dying when I look around. In Research Triangle Park, NC, fully half of those I worked with were West Virginia natives. For decades, well educated West Virginians have fled the state. Sure, there are exceptions. NASA and other high tech jobs in North Central WV, the Eastern panhandle being within DC commuting distance, and a lot more I'm sure I don't know about since living away. But my husband couldn't make a decent living there as a mechanical engineer, nor could I in market research, other than working remotely for a Michigan-based company.

The state population today (always less than 2 million total) is still less than it was when I was growing up, and my home county in particular has probably lost more than its fair share - where once several coal mines dotted the landscape, none are left operating in Marion County, WV.

My hometown was a boomtown in the very early 1900s, but it is sad to me that it may never see anything like that again. The interstates may have helped to save WV, but mostly folks use those roads to travel across it when they must. Maybe you've been skiing or white water rafting in West Virginia? Well, at least then you may remember that it's a state.

I still constantly hear stories of those who don't recall or perhaps never learned that West Virginia has been a separate state from Virginia since 1863. I've personally run into that ignorance several times.

My challenge to you is this: if you've never really visited West Virginia, you should; and if you've never really been away from West Virginia, you should do more traveling. This world and this country have many wonders to see. There just might be more than its fair share in West Virginia.

As for me, I may travel far from its borders. I may live longer in other states. I may have married a Jersey boy. My kids may grow up in suburbia. But country roads will always take me home.

Thankful Posts

I've tried, perhaps not very successfully, to do somewhat more quirky thankful posts on Facebook this year.  I know folks get sick of seeing all those thankful posts each November, but it's a tradition I still kind of like.  If I were more ambitious, I'd make one of those cute thankful jars or other great Thanksgiving crafts you can find all over Pinterest.  But my problem with Pinterest is that it gives me way too many wonderful ideas that I'll never be able to get to.

So, back to the thankful posts.  I started writing out today's, but it got too long, so you get a blog about it instead.  Lucky you!

Today, I'm thankful for my house's intercom system.  It's not something I would have shopped for in a house (not even this, our 7th one!).  I remember noticing it in the online pictures when we were house-hunting from Lexington though.  I remember my teenage daughter immediately asking if she could plug her iPhone into it to play her music throughout the house.  But the house was built in 2008 as a model home, so that was doubtful.

We don't use the intercoms much to talk to folks at the door or to talk to each other from different rooms from the house (although of course that's possible).  But, it reminds me of my childhood.  Despite them not being as much like this today, I suspect I got my love of tech and gadgets from my parents, because our house had some very cool features for the late 70s/early 80s, and the one that was the most novel and fun (because let's just admit that an 8 or 10-year-old could care less about a whole-house built-in vacuum) was the intercom system.  We had built-in walkie-talkies, for heaven's sake!  Find me a kid that doesn't think this is cool, I double-dog dare you!  We could play the radio in almost every room in the house.

I guess the novelty wore off after a while, but that intercom system was certainly showed off to every visitor that I remember growing up.  At some point, it stopped working, and those poor intercoms just started collecting dust, but I find it very cool that our house now has something so reminiscent of a very techie part of my childhood.

Come to think of it, we also stayed pretty up-to-date with the gaming systems of the day, including having a Pong system.  We were a pretty high tech family!

The main unit of my 2008-vintage intercom system came with a built-in 6-disc CD changer.  Ah, 2008, not so long ago, but just before everybody actually played all their music from smartphones.  Sorry, kids, no smartphone/mp3 player input for you.

Ah, but, that 6-disc CD changer was broken, and we just happen to have a good builder standing behind our house and repairing things (thank goodness due to some bigger issues we quickly ran into).  After several months of searching for a replacement CD changer and even trying the one used one they were able to track down that still didn't work, I got a call asking if we'd mind having a single CD player with an auxiliary input for things like mp3 players.  After careful thought and consideration (not), I jumped at that.  It cost our poor builder another $800, but we now have exactly what we thought would be so cool when we saw that picture of our house online.

Sometimes things just work out, and I can see that happening with ever step of our most recent move, down to the intercom system in our house.  I'm not sure why we've been this fortunate, but I am definitely thankful.  Now, excuse me while I get back to work and blast some Bryan Adams through those intercom speakers ; )

Main intercom unit similar to the one I had growing up

Our main intercom unit in my house today

 

A Poem for My Girl

I push you because

I am good, but you are better

I cheer for you because

I am amazed at what you can already do

I say you’re beautiful because

You are, inside and out

I say I’m proud of you because

I am, and didn’t hear it often myself

I criticize you because

I know when you can do better

I praise you because

I know when you’ve given your all

I hug you because

A hug gives strength

I encourage you because

We all need it

I say “Try harder” because

I know you can

I tell you to be honest because

We all should be

I love you because

You are my only daughter

I am proud because

You are turning into an amazing woman

I am sad because

You are almost grown

And, to close, can anyone possibly believe that this girl has no idea she's beautiful?

 

Why I embrace suburbia - Part 2

Have you guessed it by now?  How this girl growing up on three acres of hillside became the mom living behind sidewalks and bike paths, with neighborhood associations and fees?

I'll bet you wouldn't be too surprised if I said it was all due to my kids.

It didn't start out that way.  Our first house was the house in a new town that we could afford.  It was actually downtown rather than suburban, but it was a small downtown in a little place called Plymouth, MI, just far enough from the big city of Detroit.

We wondered then why the realtors were talking so much about the great schools.  What did we care at the time?  We were a good five years from having our first child then, and still amazed that a mortgage company was actually letting us buy a house just based on the promise of a job for Darrell. Yes, folks, I can trace the housing bubble/mortgage crisis back to 1993, when a signed letter from Ford was enough to get two 22-year-olds into a house.

So, here it is, the reasons I've come to love suburbia:

• Great schools. Do you hear about the generally really good schools in the cities or out in the country?  No, they're typically in the 'burbs, where taxes per square foot are high, but give us our money's worth in terms of a great education for our kids.  I've found this to be true in at least five states.
•  A ready-made supply of friends (for the kids).  I grew up with exactly three neighborhood friends. And I was lucky - there was no one near the age of my little sister.  My kids have always been able to walk down the street to find a friend near their age.  That doesn't mean I won't drive them across town to meet up with a good friend, but it's nice that I don't always have to.  
• A ready-made supply of friends (for me).  Thank goodness.  See my post about girlfriends to understand how important this has become to me, a slightly reformed so shy I was afraid of my own shadow kind of girl.  Oh, and being able to car pool now and then can save a mom's sanity as well.
• Amenities like a neighborhood pool and such.  I wouldn't have a pool in my own back yard, but I love having one just down the street.
• Biking/walking paths.  I've only recently discovered what I've been missing out on.  I lived in a great neighborhood for running in Lexington.  I live in one twice as good now due to abundant trails.
• A wide choice of homes.  Try finding your dream house on a few country acres without having it custom built.  Good luck with that.  Try finding your dream house in several neighborhoods with hundreds of houses each.  Can you guess where you'll find it first?
• Location.  Location.  Location.  At least that's what the realtors say.  It's never taken us more than two months to sell a house, in just about every economy imaginable.  We've done it six times, probably more than hundreds of newer realtors.  That happens by carefully choosing a home in a neighborhood with good resale value.  Well, that and you have to take care of your home (but that could be an entirely separate blog post).

So, yeah, I guess I've learned how to live closer to my neighbors.  And I've learned to love it.  At the same time, I suspect that once the kids are out of school and we finally settle down (ha!), it may be on a little more property somewhere. We'll see.  After all, I've still never lived outside of the Eastern time zone.  Maybe another adventure is yet to come...

Why I embrace suburbia - Part 1

I saw a friend's post on Facebook about wanting to live in a farmhouse with no neighbors and just peace and quiet, and I realized how much that isn't what I want, at least at this stage of my life.

I grew up in the hills of West Virginia.  That will forever be a part of me, and to this day, 20 years after moving away, my pulse quickens and I breathe more deeply whenever I cross the state line and go back to where I'm from.  If you haven't seen West Virginia in the fall, with the glorious colors of changing leaves all around, you've missed out on one of God's glories that you owe it to yourself to experience. 

 I couldn't find fall pictures, but you get the idea, right?

I didn't grow up on a farm, but I did grow up on a three-acre hillside.  Up on that hill, I had a special rock in a clearing where I'd go to sit when I wanted to get away from everyone, including my family.  It wasn't far from my house, but it felt far, because when sitting down on that rock, I couldn't see our house, or any other house on the hill.  When the snow came, I could sled down that huge hill, better sled riding than any I've experienced in other states, right in my back yard.

When I ran cross country, it was real cross country, running up and down steep hillsides and through creeks.  My own hill was so steep, that to run to the top, up to the radio tower above our property, seemed so far away that I could barely make it up there at a jog, even in the best of shape.  I'm sure it was less than a mile away.

I went hunting on that hill with my father several times, although I didn't ever even really try to kill anything.  I was a pretty good shot though, the best scoring girl (third place ribbon to prove it) in a gun safety course I took as a preteen.  And my father had the boys who called my home asking for me as a teenager believing that I hunted and trapped often, or at least he tried.

I wouldn't change a thing about the way I was raised and where I grew up, and yet, I had a wanderlust all along, knowing as far back as I can remember that I'd go other places and see other things.  I always wonder about people who live in exactly the same town their entire lives.  Don't they know that they are missing out on so much?  And they probably wonder about me as well.  Don't I know what I'm missing out on, not living near my life-long friends and family, not experiencing everything my hometown had to offer?

In the first home Darrell and I bought together, I felt claustrophobic.  It was so weird to step into our fenced in back yard and see neighbors on both sides so close that I could reach out and touch them if I went up to the fence.  It was weirder still to have the neighbor girl tell us what we watched on TV the evening before.  How did she see through the curtains?  And why was she looking into our window in the first place?

So, why have I lived in true suburban neighborhoods ever since?  Stay tuned for Part 2 to find out!

Growing up too quickly

In the beginning, it's all about making it to the next milestone.  That first smile, rolling over, sleeping through the night, crawling, saying their first word, walking...  And for a long time after that, it feels like you are just looking forward and making plans for them.  It's a whirlwind of viruses and playdates and preschool... and, life. 

At some point, your attention has to be more evenly spread between an outside job, more attention to that husband that you hardly remember seeing that first year or so other than to pass off the baby for a break, and eventually, maybe even a new baby.  You might not be able to imagine how your love can be spread between two (or more) children, but seemingly miraculously, your capacity to love increases proportionally.  Because what you really didn't understand, is that you'd love them just as much, even if in sometimes differing ways.

They get more active, signing up for pee-wee cheerleading, Brownie Girl Scouts, soccer, gymnastics, academic team, piano lessons, band, basketball (and that's just a partial list of my daughter's many activities over the elementary school years alone).

I'm not sure exactly when it happens, but somewhere along the way you stop looking forward quite so much, and start looking back, wishing for your child, maybe especially your firstborn, to be young again.  Since that can't happen, you at least want time to slow way down. 

You finally regret starting her in Kindergarten early, because that is now one less year that she could have lived at home.  By the time you debate coming up with any possible excuse to hold her back a year, it's too late.  When she talks about the fact that she could possibly even graduate early, at least you can put your foot down about that, but it's small consolation knowing that she will be going off to college at only 17 years old.

And she's always been the independent one.  Your son may beg to live at home during college.  But your daughter, your firstborn, has been ready to move out on her own (at least she thinks so) since about age 4.  You suspect that she talks of college in California just because it's the furthest continental state away from home.

Ah, my daughter, my beautiful, headstrong, independent, strong young woman.  There are so many things I want you to know before you venture out on your own.  Two and a half years doesn't seem long enough to make you realize everything I want you to know.

Forgive me when I look at you, and still see this little girl instead of the nearly grown woman you're so quickly becoming:

You are beautiful.  You are loved unconditionally, not just by me, your father, and yes, even your brother, but most importantly, you are loved by God.  You can do (almost) anything.  I push you hard sometimes because I know that you can go further than your father and I ever did, or could.  I expect a lot from you, probably more than is expected from most of your friends.  But I believe children live up to expectations.  I went to college because I was expected to.  I made good grades because it was expected of me.  I expect all that of you, and so much more.

You are the child I learned on.  I don't know if that means I'm a better mother to your little brother, of if knowing that I've made mistakes is a good thing.  I know I could have done better raising you, but I could have done much worse as well.  Hearing positive comments about you from your teachers, peers, and parents of your friends...  Just looking at you, I know that you will go far.

You are strong.  You are sometimes fearless.  You are honest.  You are amazing.  You are my daughter, and by that I've been blessed beyond measure.

The Importance of Girlfriends

This, my friends, is something I used to not appreciate nearly enough.  I had exactly two best friends all through high school.  Before Facebook, they were the only ones from my high school I kept in contact with.

Then, and sometimes even now, I found it much easier to strike up a conversation with boys than girls.  I can't really explain why, but it does explain that even though I was generally painfully shy, I did manage to have high school boyfriends.

After college, Darrell and I made a group of couples friends.  We were fresh out of college starting our new careers, all but one couple without kids yet.  There were a few singles we socialized with also, but mostly it was that core group of couples friends, one set from college and the others either transplants like us or locals to the Detroit Metro area.  We played board games on Friday nights, went out to dinner together.  They were the ones who would visit or even drive Darrell home sick from work when he was fighting Hodgkin's lymphoma.  They even helped us move away when the time came.  I would sometimes do things separately with the ladies, but it wasn't quite a cohesive group of ladies friends.

My first real dip into a group of adult girlfriends came by joining a playgroup with my daughter the few years I stayed home with her.  Those ladies saved my sanity!  Talking to them about what we were all going through as generally first-time mommies was the best therapy imaginable, and quite reasonably priced as well.  Their children became my daughter's first friends, but I am the one who remembers them and knows that they had a leading role in making that first year enjoyable, and perhaps even saving my marriage, probably without even realizing it.  I haven't kept in touch as well as I should, but they still mean the world to me.

The next time something similar happened, it took seven years to build in Lexington.  For the first time in my life, I became a real part of a network of friends, mostly girlfriends.  We carpooled our kids to activities, filled in at bus stop pickups, cheered each other on in going back to work/changing jobs, talked about our husbands, had book clubs and game nights, let my daughter watch their young sons, watched our kids (generally boys somehow) grow up together and play soccer/basketball/join cub scouts/etc. together, had Bible study together, hosted/attended various family gatherings, trick-or-treated together, had girls-nights-out together, even went on a cruise together.  I could go shopping at Target or Kroger and maybe even run into one of them there.

And for the first time in my life, I felt like I perhaps could not live without my friends.  Before, I'd always thought it might be Darrell and I against the world, with the help of our families.  Now I realized that we could call in reinforcements from so many more.  I cared about these ladies.  They cared about me.

Which might explain why I'm so darn excited that several of them are coming to visit me this weekend!  I've been so happy I've nearly been skipping around my house, definitely not typical Jennifer behavior.  I'm more excited to go to the grocery store for them than I have been in...  (well, perhaps ever?)

Those two friends from high school?  Yes, I still love them, too!  One of them is coming this weekend, too.  Lifelong friends that you can pick up the phone and catch up with anytime are priceless, and I won't give them up for anything, probably more so now that I realize more about the true value of friendship.

I'll always remember the little girl who wandered the grade school playground with no one to play with, who was too shy to ask to join others already playing.  I'm glad she's been blessed with more friends than she ever imagined as an adult.  Thank you, girlfriends, you are each amazing!

A Job Well-done

My view of what constitutes a good job at something has changed significantly over the years.  Early in my market research career, I thought it was important to be one of the ones who went above and beyond, put in extra effort, and stayed late.  I was even rewarded for that effort.  After starting out at what seemed like low pay for a college graduate at the time, I received ten and even 15-percent raises along with promotions those first few years.

Then we had our first baby, and I couldn't even imagine going back to work when she was born.  So I didn't.  I focused everything into that little girl, even though the baby stage is very tough for me.  I read every parenting book I could get my hands on, but was disappointed to find that even the experts weren't always right.  Dr. Sears was one of my favorite parenting experts, but once he insisted that exclusively breast-fed babies did not suck their thumbs, I wanted to seek him out to personally introduce him to my daughter (ok, maybe I wanted to slap him, too, but just a little).

The work of being a mommy is the toughest job I've ever had, but I still didn't find only it rewarding enough somehow.  I wanted something more than just being my daughter's mother and my husband's wife.  I admire women who can be fulfilled without a life outside their families.  The ones who bake home-made cookies not just at Christmastime, the ones who pack their children's lunches with sweet daily notes of encouragement each day, the ones who do all that stuff on Pinterest...  Ok, so maybe the perfect mom doesn't even exist, but I know there are many out there much more perfect at it than I.

So, I went back to work (the paid kind), but it was never quite the same as the work I did before.  Sometimes I'd try working really hard and putting in extra hours again, in an effort to get recognition or get ahead.  But then I'd feel like I was missing out on too much with my kids.  I tried working part-time.  I tried flexing my schedule.  I tried running my own business.

And what I learned is that it is more about the attitude and just plain learning to be more efficient as I get older than it is about finding the perfect balance or schedule.

I told a coworker recently that at the end of each pay period, the company and I are even.  I do believe that to an extent.  After all, I'm employed "at will" - they can fire me any day they choose.  But it's not quite that either.  I still want to do a good job.  I still want to make a difference.  And I hope that in my generally quiet way, I can be some influence for good in my work environment.

My family runs best when I work at least part time, not just because of the money I earn (which is important, of course), but because of the fulfillment and independence it gives me as well.  I would not work if I didn't make enough to make it worthwhile (i.e., I wouldn't have worked just to pay for daycare).  But I'm thankful that part of the reason I work is because I want to, not because I'm forced to.  And I like that I'm not forced to stay home either.

But my weekends are much more sacred to me than were when I've not worked for pay and compared to before I had kids as well.  I may glance at a work email that comes in on my phone over the weekend, but I won't sit down for long at my computer giving away my time.  Luckily, I honestly believe I'm more efficient at work than those younger coworkers putting in more time than I do.  And I don't dread things like being fired anymore.  You might think that's just because we make enough to be comfortable, but I promise it's not.  Darrell and I have both earned more at past jobs.  He could take a much more stressful job so that I could stay home, and vice versa, but neither of us want that.  Our family is too important for that, so the balance that works for us is to both work somewhat less stressful jobs.

And balance is a constant work in progress.  This Pew Research study indicates that, and I'm betting that your own life does as well.  I wouldn't ever expect my balance to be your balance, or my job well-done to match yours.  I'm just content to be in a place in life that it all feels right, for the first time in my life.  I can only pray that it lasts, and hope that you can find your balance as well.

How long does it take for a house to be a home?

You may have heard that we moved again.  Yeah, this is our seventh house.  Is there anybody else out there who can even say that?  Anyone?  Bueller....  Bueller... 

So, I've hereby decided that owning/living in seven different houses (that's just as an adult and not counting apartments or mobile homes) qualifies me as an expert on several things, amongst them knowing how long it takes for a house to feel like a home.

Now, I completely subscribe to the notion that my home is where my husband and kids are.  (Or maybe I just have to in order to keep my sanity at this point.)  But, that's not the same as feeling at home in a new house.

See, when you first move in, there are boxes everywhere.  Even if your husband's new company pays movers to do all the packing, loading, and unloading...  Even if you have family or friends that help unpack...  And especially if you jump right into your new job with barely a long weekend to start unpacking...  ...it takes time to even look like a house a family lives in rather than a temporary storage unit.

You miss your old home.  You ache for its familiarity.  You miss your old friends, and hurt for your kids missing their old friends, too.  Because even though you keep in touch, it's not the same as living down the street, or right next door.

You drive to an unfamiliar office in an unfamiliar town, not even the one you are now living in.  Your husband drives to a different unfamiliar town, but he has a three-month head start on you in feeling like he belongs here.

Blinds are put up on windows.  The stacked boxes come down and get moved around (please don't look in my basement for another year) until there are some rooms without boxes in them at all.  The wall decorations get hung.  The kids set up their bedrooms just so.  Maybe you paint a few rooms just before or soon after moving in.  You start meeting a few of the neighbors.  The kids get signed up for activities and start school.

And then one evening you go to a band boosters meeting, and suddenly, you've made a friend for yourself, two for your son, and one for your daughter, all in one little family.  Your son is asking to ride his bike down the street to meet another friend from summer camp and after school care.  Your daughter is regularly texting a few girls again, and talking regularly about certain people from school and church.  Your husband has a work friend over to help him work on a car and have dinner with us.  You are meeting a lady from work to work out once a week at the local rec center.  You're just about to the point that you'd consider her a friend as well.

Driving to work doesn't feel so unfamiliar anymore.  You're considering adding some of your coworkers as friends on Facebook.  You trust the neighbor to get your son from the bus if he forgets to go to after school care on your work in the office days.  You walk around the house without a slightly lost feeling.  The rooms look and feel like they are yours.  You can sit down to read or watch TV in the evening rather than collapsing in bed from constantly unpacking/cleaning/decluttering.  And the couch feels right sitting where it is again.  It feels right to sit at the table eating dinner. 

You might even start to forget little things about your old house.  In the least, you think more often of the things that were wrong with it and are better in this house.

You tuck your son in at night, hug your teenage daughter goodnight, and it just feels like home.  It's been almost four months.  You're home.

Why I don't want my kids' best days to be during high school

High school was perhaps the worst four years of my life.  With the exception of a few very close friends (I thank God to this day for Shara, Rachel, and Heather) and getting the experience of heart-brake and braking a few hearts of my own, I was often pretty miserable.

I was the shy girl with acne who didn't even begin to develop a figure until halfway through high school.  I was so painfully shy that some mistook it for being stuck up and others just didn't even notice me.  I had overprotective parents who didn't allow me to go to middle school dances and events.  I didn't belong to the "Mannington crowd", or any other crowd or group for that matter.  I was a band geek, math field day nerd, track/cross country middle-of-the-pack runner.  I really had no idea who I was, to tell you the truth.

Today, I don't care if I fit in and I finally feel very comfortable as just me.  But every teenager wants to fit in and be "normal", and I was certainly no exception to that.  I remember the cruel comments that others thought I didn't hear.  I remember the cruel comments about me said right to my face.  And, I remember the mean things I did and said as well.  Teenagers just aren't the nicest people, including me.

It's bad enough to not fit in with your peers, but even my teachers couldn't remember me.  I was the straight A student who always did her work.  They paid no attention to me, as far as I can tell even looking back to this day.  Don't get me wrong, there were a few good ones, but a lot of the teachers that I even respected spent class time lecturing us about what a horrible job teaching was, and recommending that we never do it ourselves.  They may have done a good job teaching me math, but they also made me steer clear of something I thought I'd do someday, and they helped inspire me to leave my home state of West Virginia as soon as I could. I am so thankful that my kids' have had much better teachers all along the way.  Instead of good teachers being the exception as it seemed to be for me, it has been the general rule for them, thank goodness.

In my high school, teachers actually voted on who would get into National Honor Society.  It was a big deal my junior year when one of the Valedictorians wasn't voted in.  I had one and only one B one semester of high school, which positioned me just below the four Valedictorians.  No one seemed to care the next year when I still didn't get voted into National Honor Society.  I was the only one who graduated with highest honors in my high school without the NHS patch that year, and probably for most other years.  My name was the name left out of the list of highest honors graduates in the yearbook.

It hurt, and yet, even then, I felt a sense of pride at sticking out.  I tried to showcase not having the NHS patch the day I graduated, and hoped others would notice.  I felt a sense of pride that the following year, they changed the way NHS "voting" was done, having to at least list more information (GPA, activities, etc.) instead of giving teachers just a list of names to vote on.  So maybe someone actually did pay attention.

I can honestly say I didn't learn much in high school.  Math felt like the only subject I really advanced in at all, and even then we had warnings from previous high school graduates about how difficult Calculus would be in college - stories of North Marion graduates having to take it over, failing the first time or struggling to just get by.

I was so ready to get away that I was disappointed at first to be going to college as close as I did to home.  But it was immediately different and invigorating to be away.  College is where I bloomed, not high school.  College is where the classes challenged me, where I was around more diverse people, where I met my soul mate.  I was still in West Virginia, but it seemed a world away.

I was determined it would be different for my kids.  That they would be challenged through high school and not just after.  That's why I'm so happy they've had the opportunities to advance that they have.

But even then, I don't want their glory days to be in high school.  I don't want them to ever look back and think, yeah, those four years were the best of my life.  I wouldn't even say that about college.  For me, every season has brought growth and new challenges.  If you asked me the best season of my life so far, I'd quite honestly say my 40s, and I hope the next decade my answer changes to that season.

I want my kids to have the same, only better.  Isn't that what we all want?

This side of 40

Disclaimer:  If you are still under 40, you may not want to read this.  If you are 40 and over, you will probably just sympathize : )

There are things I wish people had warned me about before I started stumbling significantly past 40 years old.  It's not 40 that gets you, it's those years shortly after 40 that you start noticing things changing, at least it was for me.

At 40, I thought something like, "Well, this isn't so bad.  I basically look and feel better than I ever have."  Good-bye insecurity with my body, hello long-term running to continue to keep me in shape, hello confidence in my ability to be a mom, wife, and employee that I've never had before.  Overall, 40 felt great.  What was all the fuss about anyway?

But then, I noticed a wrinkle on my forehead!  I mean, really, I could live with more pronounced bags under my eyes and laugh lines.  Those were just signs of enjoying life, right?  But a really distinct line right across my forehead?  It just wasn't fair to go straight from still fighting teen acne in my early 40s to this!

Then, I swear to you, one day I just woke up and the skin on my arms looked OLD.  I don't mean that it hung more, it's just that the texture didn't look like my skin anymore.  This can't be right.  I'm still a mom to a teen and a not even preteen.  I can't have skin that looks like I most remember my Granny's skin looking, can I?

And then, I just started waking up with mysterious aches some mornings.  Sort of like what you get when you overdo it on exercise, but funny thing, it wasn't after days of too much exercise.  I mean, really, what is that all about?  But sure enough, talking to others 40+, I hear a similar theme.

I was the person who healed quickly.  When I had PRK (like Lasic) eye correction surgery in my early 30s, my eyes healed too quickly, said the eye doctor.  Anytime I was injured, from teen through my 30s, I healed more quickly than the doctor said I would.  But something weird started happening shortly after 40 on that front also.  I don't heal so quickly anymore!

Finally, I'm just tired more often.  That one actually has me a little worried.  I seriously want to nap often, which is totally unlike my typical go, go, go attitude.  I've always enjoyed a good night's rest, but my energy during the day just isn't what it used to be.  I even tried a diet recently that promised to help give me extra energy, but it didn't deliver on that promise.

I mean, seriously God, why do things have to start falling apart just as we women actually feel really comfortable in our skin?  And I'm one of the very lucky ones.  I know lots of people with chronic conditions that actually have the right to complain, while I don't.

I am grateful at this point that I've taken decent care of this body that's starting to wear out.  How much worse could it be if I hadn't?  I seriously don't want to know!

House Rules: Be honest, work hard, and trust God

I can honestly say that I look around most days and wonder why I've been so blessed to live this amazing life.  I have everything I've ever wanted, and so much more than I need.

If you glance from a distance, you may think it's all come easily, that I've just been lucky.  And in some ways, you'd be right.  I'm lucky that I got a scholarship for college and that my parents paid my living expenses.  But I worked hard to make the grades and test scores that got me that scholarship, and to earn my parent's trust to live away from home.  I'm lucky that I ran into my soul mate living right on my dorm floor freshman year of college.  But I had to work through whether he was the best man for me, overcome lots of obstacles along the way, and continue to work hard to keep the strong marriage I have.  I'm lucky that I got pregnant easily, when so many struggle, had a healthy pregnancy and full-term baby girl, when many do not.  But I nearly lost her once when she was only 2, and I will never forget that day.  And every day since, I can't help thinking how easy it would be for her or her little brother to be taken away from this life in an instant.

If I had to boil down the rules of our household into a single statement, it would be this:  Be honest, work hard, and trust God.

My children know that telling the truth is extremely important (although we've had a few discussions about not being brutally honest, etc.).  They will get in much worse trouble if they do something wrong and try to hide it than if they come forward with a confession, and they know that parents typically have ways of finding out, eventually.

I expect a lot of my kids.  I expect a lot of myself.  I push them to work hard and always do their best.  I'm much more proud of hard effort that pays off (or sometimes even doesn't) than I am of their natural abilities and things that come to them with ease.  I have two intelligent children.  But intelligence alone does not get you far in this life.  Being "book smart" is nice, but what does that really get you if you don't apply it to living and helping others?  I'm probably a difficult, hard to please parent.  I imagine that's one of the things my kids will complain about me when they are grown.  I expect a lot.  But kids often only live up to what is expected of them.  I'd rather set high standards for them than no standards at all.  I just hope they know how much I still love them even when they do fall short.

Then there's the toughest one, tough for me to teach since it's been so difficult for me to learn.  With a controlling personality (though typically in a passive-aggressive, under-the-surface kind of way), I don't easily place my trust in others.  I've always been independent, and it's important for me to know that I could take care of myself and my kids on my own even though I have depended on my husband for a long time, too.  I've always believed in God.  It's the letting Him be in control and trusting part I struggle with.  See, I even still put it in terms of "letting Him", as if one little human has some sort of control over God.  It just feels like a safer world when we feel like we have some control.  And I'm certainly still a work in progress.  I just hope it is still something my kids are learning.

Be honest, work hard, and trust God.  Is life really more complicated than that?