Nostalgia

My husband is an extremely sentimental person. He still has toys and books from his childhood, tools from his grandpa, and we even live in a house that his grandparents built. I, on the other hand, am the complete opposite. My parents gave me a plastic tote full of items from my childhood.  I sat down and went through everything. I kept the Indian head pennies. I tossed the candle I made for them in 1^st grade, the papers I wrote in grade school, my art projects in junior high. I took a photo of a cool “old lady who lived in a shoe” clay boot I made in 8^th or 9^th grade, and promptly dropped it into the trash. “Stuff” makes me crazy. I am surrounded by it and try to purge it often. This quirk of mine makes my husband crazy and I think he is going to will himself to outlive me just so I don’t get rid of all of his stuff.

If the house burns down or is swept away by a tornado, it is likely I will have to commit Eric to an institution because he will be completely distraught. I will be sad about losing some of the kids’ photos, but there are SO many photos of them, and will still be so many photos taken of them in the future that it doesn’t really matter that much to me. My parents and my ex have copies of most things. Digital photos are backed up on Facebook and other places you can reach from anywhere. My "stuff" I don't really care about. I can always buy new things. I've been wanting a new sofa anyway... 

There are a couple things that are irreplaceable though.

I own a piece of artwork that hung in my grandparents’ home (the Boesens) that I have had since my mid 20’s and it hangs in my dining room. I have a set of brass bells on a rope that those same grandparents had hanging up in their home. I’m still looking for a good place to put these, but they are hung in the basement for now. I think I might have a clay bowl that a great-grandmother made. A couple of milk glass vases. A set of "nude" lady porcelain drinking glasses painted by my maternal grandmother. None of those can be replaced. Because someone else's milk glass vase has no meaning for me. 

I have a couple of old photos that mean the world to me though. Thankfully the originals are with my parents, and I have digital copies, so they will never truly be lost. 

Betty and Louie Billick. Ada Boesen.

None of the people in this photo are still alive. On the right is my Grandma Boesen who passed away just after I turned 4. To this very day, cinnamon toast and Coca-Cola make me think of her. The other woman is her sister Betty. And the man is Betty’s husband, Louie. This photo was taken at Cattle Congress, behind Estelle Hall, where Betty and Louie ran a concession stand. It was still there during my child hood and I visited that concession stand at least twice every year during the fair. I especially remember getting 3 foot ropes of red licorice. It was the only place I’d ever had it.

The three of them look so happy in this picture. Aunt Betty’s smile was contagious. Uncle Louie’s kindness was unmatched. And my grandmother, well, I don’t know what to say about her except that she died way too young and I never really had the chance to know her. But I still miss her anyway. Maybe even more so because I feel robbed of time with her.

And this photo, with all of my grandparents at my parents’ wedding in August of 1971. I LOVE this photo too. 

Don and Ada Boesen. Norma and Howard Briden.

My maternal grandparents (on the right) are 90 and 91 and living in Sun City, Arizona. Eric and I drove out in February of 2013 for my grandpa's 90th birthday. I sadly could not make it this past March to my grandma's. I need to get out there again soon, because their health is rapidly declining. I'm just happy to have had almost 40 years so far with them. 

So my husband is wrong when he says I am cold hearted or not sentimental. I am. But I don't need a car or house or garden tool of my grandpa's to remember him. I have hours and hours of big band music that does just that. I have just a couple of items from my grandma, and that's enough. My Grandpa Briden made me choose one of his wood carvings when I was in Arizona last time, and I will have that after he passes. I wore some of my Grandma Briden's costume jewelry in my wedding 3 years ago. I don't need much "stuff"  in order to remember my loved ones who have passed on. My memories will suffice. And maybe when my memory isn't so fantastic anymore, and I don't remember much about them, I won't miss them so much. 

True Friends

I've been thinking about writing this post for awhile. It was even more on my mind after last week's surprise half birthday party for Eric, where friends came from California, New Jersey, Texas, Illinois, and Minnesota. They worked out complicated flight schedules, and even came during a completely inconvenient time (2 days after a move) just to show Eric their love. Then this morning I noticed this article (why-women-need-their-girlfriends) on an acquaintance from junior high and high school's Facebook page about friends, and how you need your friends even more as you grow older. So here goes.

I'm not changing any names in this post to protect anyone. 

My true friends mean the absolute world to me. I'm not the easiest person to get along with all the time, but I have many friends who know this and love me anyway. Then there are the people who are no longer friends, who were my very best friends, or so I thought. Here are a couple of stories.

I grew up next door to a nice older couple with 4 adult children and I think 14 grandchildren. One of those grandchildren was Leslie, who was 6 months older than me, and a year ahead in another school system. We spent our summers riding our bikes to the pool, talking about boys, and torturing my little brother. We had sleepovers, watched music videos and ate lots of junk food from the convenience store on the way back from the pool. We kept each other's secrets. We even stayed friends when I moved to Cedar Falls in 8^th grade, especially once she could drive, as we'd go to the mall and drive to the Cedar Falls pool. But Leslie was the type of girl who could only have one close friend at a time and I wasn't always it. She cycled between me and 2 other girls from her school. 

As adults, I was in her first wedding when she was 20. She had a daughter and was separated by the time I first got married, at age 23. She was Matron of Honor. I remember not being able to find her during the wedding party dance at my reception. She had gone home to change into something more comfortable. That's just how Leslie was. We spent the next several years in our on again off again friendship, through the birth of my 2 boys, her remarriage, and the birth of her son. There were several years we were not in contact, not even for Christmas cards. During this time I'd gotten a divorce and she'd had another child. We got pulled back together because her husband, and my boyfriend (now husband) Eric, bumped into each other at a poker game, and realized they had been in band together in high school. She and I had an awesome evening out, catching up, and Eric, the boys and I were invited to their house for a delicious chili dinner. But then things changed. I had been fighting a battle for custody of my kids to move them to Cedar Falls with me. I lost. She no longer wanted to be my friend because I should NEVER have let that happen. Instead of supporting me during the toughest time in my life, she disappeared. I sent her a sympathy card when her mom passed away a few years ago, but I've never heard from her again, nor do I ever expect to. And I don't think I want to. 

And then there's Jes. I was separated from my ex, living in a duplex in Urbandale when she moved in next door. She had just gotten a divorce, had 2 younger kids (her eldest and my youngest were the same age) and was a year younger than me. We had a lot in common and were soon bosom buddies. We went out, shared date stories, and told each other about our childhoods, our families and our failed marriages. We just clicked. The owner of our duplex passed away, and once her adult children got involved, the rent was going up a couple hundred a month for each of us. That was too steep for us, so we discussed finding a big place for all 6 of us. We found a townhouse in Ankeny. Her kids were part time and so were mine, so we sometimes had the place to ourselves, and sometimes we were overrun with kids, but it all worked out. We both bought groceries, we both cooked meals, we both cleaned. We still went out together and planned to write a book about our hilarious and awful dating stories. 

Then I met Eric. And I got a new job. And I started a custody battle for the boys, just months after the divorce was finalized. Then I lost said job, and the market crashed. I couldn't find work. I paid for my half of expenses for the remainder of the lease, but ended up moving back to my hometown of Cedar Falls with Eric.

She found an affordable apartment. Then she lost her job. She ended up moving into her ex-husband's old house (they were still good friends). Through all of this, we supported each other.

I got engaged. She found a new boyfriend. She moved in with him, got knocked up, and got married within 4 months. I did not show enthusiasm for her pregnancy because she had had 2 previous relationships where she proclaimed, "I'm going to marry him!" and within 6 months that "him" was declared a douche-bag and was dumped. She hadn't even made it that long with this guy. I was worried for her. I wrote her a long letter of apology explaining my reaction, and was blasted in her reply. She stopped talking to me, and since she was supposed to be in my wedding, I asked her if she still wanted to be my friend, because if not, I did not want her standing up for me. She eventually came around and said she wanted to be in the wedding. Her position in my wedding? You guessed it: Matron of Honor. 

Eric and I were the only ones to represent her at her intimate wedding at the grocery store where her first date with her husband had been. My wedding took place and she played an integral part, as she lost Eric's wedding ring during our April Fools' wedding, and made it truly memorable. (She later found it in her dress when she took it off that night.) I helped throw her a baby shower. I visited her after she had her baby girl. She was frankly a bitch and no fun to be around until she finally found a job selling flooring to builders. Then the "real" Jes came back. The one I knew and loved. All was well, until her ex asked me for interior design help for his friend who was opening a restaurant. Jes had him talked into vinyl plank flooring, but I talked him into carpet tile because of acoustics. She had said the carpet wasn't in her system at work, so I told him I could sell it direct. She called a week later to get pricing and was pissed that I had given it to him already. I immediately put up the white flag and said I refused to let something like this wreck our friendship. I gave her pricing that was better than I’d given him, but her bid to him was so high he could no longer afford the carpet. A month went by without her talking to me. I left messages and sent emails and texts. Her reply was to call Eric and tell him if I begged for her friendship I could have it. After the way she had made me feel numerous times, I refused. 

Our kids were in the same class that fall. She went out of her way to avoid eye contact at the Meet the Teacher event. The next spring at a chorus concert, she made sure to say hi to Eric, but again went out of her way to ignore me. I understand if you no longer have real time to be my friend, since you think you no longer need friends since you have a husband and HIS friends, but being cordial would be nice. 

It was hard moving to Cedar Falls and leaving my friends behind in Des Moines. I still see many of them for lunches while I'm in town. I still make appointments for my hair in Des Moines, just so I can spend time with Jennifer, who I have known since way before she became a kick ass stylist, and she's still around despite her turn as Maid of Honor in my wedding to Eric, so at least that position isn't cursed (though I don’t plan to have any more weddings). I'm lucky enough to have reconnected with a grade school friend, Nikki, who lets me stay at her place when I need to stay overnight in Des Moines. We've gone on a couple of road trips and always have a blast. Back home in Cedar Falls, I reconnected with my grade school best friend Ninya, (who of course is now moving to the Des Moines area) but I don't fear losing her friendship because of this. I also reconnected with my high school friend Amy (we also went to grade school together, but were merely acquaintances), who is also moving to Des Moines for work. These 2 moves make me sad, but I know I'm not losing these friendships. I just won’t see them as often. I have made other friends here, like Krista, who seems to be the exact opposite of Jes, in regard to her always making me feel wonderful about being me, and always puts me in a great mood. I am so happy I can call her my friend. And Dawn, who despite disliking me at our initial meeting, has decided I am not so bad after all. And I have her solely to thank for getting me involved in volleyball locally, where I have met so many other awesome women. And then of course there is Heather, who has been my friend since the middle of 8^th grade when she moved back to Cedar Falls. She’s the mother of 4 very active kids, so I don’t see her much, but we do email and catch up at lunch every so often.

I have friends that live far away that I don't talk to for months at a time, like Kim and Kate, but I know we can pick right back up where we left off. I have no doubts about our friendships.

I have girl friends I only know through Eric (Kim, Nova, Christine, Mandie, Molly, Arren) who I know I can call if I need to talk, or need advice, or just want to catch up. And then there’s the multitude of other friends in Eric's life who seem to love me by extension since they already love him.

I have awesome neighbors who bring me fresh eggs, come to our parties, hang out on our deck for a drink, or pop over at 11:30 at night because they see the lights on, to chat or heat up hot dogs in our microwave because theirs isn't working (Rowena, Sarah, Chris, Amy, Kevin, Angela, Eli, Briana, Jay, Katie, James). And those neighbors who have moved away, who we still see on occasion, or at least follow on Facebook to keep up on what's happening in their lives (Sarah, Chet, Mariah, Chris, Maria, Rory) and that I miss dearly since I no longer see them on a regular basis. 

Family seems obligated to love you (although I count a couple of cousins as friends, like Alexia and Sharon, and would hang out with them regardless of relation). But friends have a choice. They can walk away at any given moment, sometimes with no reason that you can understand. Sometimes it hurts even worse than breaking up with or divorcing a significant other, because they know you in a different way. I truly hope the friends currently in my life stay there indefinitely, and there are SO MANY more than are mentioned in this post. I appreciate and love them and will do my best to make sure they know they are important to me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being my friends.

A Little Blurb About Memorial Day

I am such a sap when it comes to our military. I think of the sacrifices they have all made and the floodgates open. (By the end of this post, no doubt I will have tears running down my cheeks.) And honestly, I can't even truly appreciate the sacrifice because none of my immediate family was ever in the military. I did get to experience something that not many people have though. Last year, we drove to Gettysburg for the 150th anniversary of the battle. We took the boys with us as well. 

Our camp

We dressed in period clothing, and we camped out, just like the soldiers did in 1863. The weather was hot, and we were miserable. All I could think about were the luxuries we had, like ice, coolers, and delicious food, prepared over a fire by a guy we dubbed as "I Love You". We had corn on the cob, steak, scrambled eggs and bacon, and other delicious foods that I know no one had 150 years ago. We were able to drive right up to camp and unload our belongings. We did not have to drag them with us as we walked for miles and miles. We had the luxury of being with family and friends, and not having to worry about any real battles. I was able to look forward to a nice long shower. I had sunscreen. We took a break and went to a museum with air conditioning. It is incredibly difficult to fully imagine what it was like back then. 

The clothing we wore. ALL WEEKEND.

The scale of the event was small in comparison to the real battle. I still can not wrap my head around how they communicated with each other. There were no satellites. There were co cell phones. There were no fax machines. It amazes me they could coordinate any type of unified effort to win a war. 

A very VERY tiny portion of Pickett's Charge.

I see posts on Facebook from families that are separated right now and it breaks my heart. I am glad that technology allows our troops to better communicate with those back home. I can't imagine how hard it must have been waiting weeks or months just to get a letter. At least now there is Facetime and Skype. 

After Gettysburg, we went to Washington D.C. and stopped by several war memorials, including the World War II Memorial. My grandfather served in the war, although stateside. I am still proud that he served. The memorial is beautiful, and I'm glad it was completed in time for some of the veterans of the war to see it in person. They deserve that honor. My grandfather was invited on the Honor Flight a couple of years ago. He said it was a very emotional experience.

I am glad we could take the time to go on the trip last summer. I think the boys won't fully appreciate it until they are adults. I know I didn't. 

Let's take time this Memorial Day to thank all of the fine men and women who have served and are currently serving our country, as well as remembering all of our loved ones who have passed. This is the land of the free, BECAUSE of the brave. 

Mother's Day 2008

This year I will be pampering my mom (and by default my dad as well) with a nice Mother's Day lunch. I will celebrate a week late with the boys, and that is fine by me. I hate to say it, but Mother's Day is much more enjoyable without the kids.

6 years ago, I wrote a blog on MySpace (I know, right?) about my Mother's Day. It's funny to me now, but I was pretty pissed off 6 years ago. Enjoy!

Sunday, May 11, 2008 

Happy Fucking Mother’s Day to Me It is 10:30am. This is how my mother's day has gone so far. The kids were quiet for about a half hour this morning, then decided they were going to fight with each other, and yell at each other, and tattle on each other.... I told them to get dressed so we could go get donuts. Tyler did great, but Jake complained that he had NOTHING to wear. He had clothes from last year that he didn't want anymore.  So I told him to get a job so he could buy his own clothes. After a lot more bitching he finally got dressed. We go to Hy-Vee so I can get a chocolate frosted fried cinnamon, my favorite, and Jake says, "I don't like those."  I replied, "I don't care, I do." When we got to the store, the parking lot was packed, so I had to park far away... no big deal, except today is windy enough to blow away a small dog.  We grab a basket, go inside, and go to the bakery. They have rearranged everything, and the donuts are no longer in a case where the employees have to get them for you, but are in a self-serve type case.  And guess what? They have plenty of maple frosted fried cinnamons (gross), but practically nothing else. No long johns, no bismarks.. so I decided we're just going to get Hostess chocolate Donettes. The kids of course complain. We grab some other groceries, including a gallon of skim milk, and a half gallon of chocolate milk, and some food for tonight.  And I saw something that caught my eye.. Smirnoff Pomegranite Martini.  Already mixed up and ready to drink.  I figure "why not"? We get checked out and leave the store. I am carrying 2 bags plus milk, and Jake has one bag. We push through the wind to the car, and I pop the trunk.  While rearranging bags, and my purse, I dropped the gallon of milk, which exploded all over my shoes and my jeans. I hope next year's Mother's Day can be spent child free, on a massage table somewhere... And let me tell you how happy I am that I brought home some alcohol! Good impulse buy! I have a feeling I am REALLY going to need a glass at the end of today.....

I never went back in to buy more milk. If that happened now, I would send Tyler in to get it for me. He rides his bike to Hansen's with a backpack and is our "milkman" during the summer when he's here. I LOVE that they are older now and can fend for themselves and actually help me out a bit. They still fight and yell and tattle, but I can't expect any different, since my brother and I fought throughout childhood as well. 

Here are some of my favorite pictures of the boys from that summer (2008): 

Cheesy Monkeys

 

Selfie before they became all the rage.

Pic #1:Ty is being pretty good. Pic #2: Jake is being pretty good. NEVER at the same time though. 

And to show how much they have grown up. Five years later, at the end of summer 2013, Jake is almost my height. I'm mad at myself for not thinking to take these photos every year. 

Thank you, Jacob Harrison and Tyler Elliott, for frustrating me, making me laugh, teaching me patience, and getting me off my ass to have fun playing with you. I wouldn't want it any other way. 

Love, 

Mom

The Power of the THANK YOU

I’m only 39, but apparently that is old enough to make me an “old fuddy duddy.” I believe in hand written letters and homemade cards. I also believe in thanking people in person and sending thank you notes when you can’t.

They are a pain to write sometimes, but honestly, it’s the right thing to do. If someone went out of their way for you, whether it was just a nice gesture or whether someone spent time and money traveling across the country to attend your wedding, you should thank them. It might be just a wave to the car that let you in, or a smile and quick “Thanks” to a stranger that held the door for you. But it counts. And it encourages that person to repeat those actions for others. When you stop getting thanked, you stop caring, because no one seems to care about what you've done for them.

My grandparents expect thank you cards for the $2 they send for your birthday. If they don’t receive one, they will stop sending the $2. It’s really about the principle, not the money. And as I get older, I understand that philosophy more. I make my boys write thank you notes all the time. I hope they understand that it’s important and not just busy work.  

I get irritated when I utilize my time and money for someone and I don’t even get a measly text message telling me thanks. I’m OK not getting a handwritten note, because I know times have changed, but some acknowledgement of the gift I thoughtfully picked out for you, but couldn't be there to hand to you in person would be a nice thing. I’m starting to think that when I can’t be there in person to give someone a gift, I should just forget it, since more and more of the recipients don't seem to care enough to thank me.

I like doing things for people. I volunteer my time. I give my money. I try to pay things forward. I am not motivated by money, but rather appreciation. It gives me warm fuzzies inside knowing I could do something for someone or a group of people and they really appreciate my efforts.

I volunteered to review portfolios for interior design students at UNI. The professors bought me lunch and thanked me for taking time out of my day.  I received a hand written thank you for doing something I love: designing invitations for a Main Street Cedar Falls event. I was completely floored, as I certainly wasn't expecting anything. Since I volunteered to make the invitation, I considered it part of my “job” being on the committee I am on. I want to do more for them since I know I am appreciated. I received a hand written thank you for a donation of a cool bag for the IIDA (International Interior Design Association) Holiday party. I don’t ever remember getting a hand written thank you for previous donations. A verbal “thank you” is perfectly fine, but I almost felt the need to thank the party committee for the thank you they sent me because it meant so much.

As I write this, I realize I am overdue in showing my mother in law my appreciation for her renewing our recreation center memberships. It’s now #1 on my “to do” list tomorrow. Life has been crazy busy, and my memory is horrible of late, but a belated “thank you” is still a thank you.

(Update: Here's the card I made my mother in law this morning.)

So thank you, dear readers, for taking time out of your day to read my little blog. As the number climbs on the “reads” on my page, I truly appreciate all the people in my life that take a little time out of theirs for me. 

Spring Break: An Overview

We only have the boys every other year for spring break and have traditionally traveled to San Antonio and stayed with friends. This year, those friends are in between houses and are living in a small townhouse. No room for us.

So in looking for warmer places to go I started researching South Carolina. I wanted access to the ocean. I somehow stumbled upon Beaufort.  It was near Parris Island (Marines train there and for 2 summers their Marine Band came to play at Sturgis Falls), not too far from Savannah, and not too far from Charleston. Done. I found a condo that would accept dogs too, as we wanted to take them along with us. However, once I researched a rental van, the decision was made to leave them behind.

When we go on vacation with the boys, there are always elements of historical relevance peppered into the mix, or, as in the case of our Gettysburg trip last summer, history is the main focus.  Even when we went to San Antonio, we visited the Alamo.

San Antonio 2010

We left Iowa on a Friday evening at about 7:00 pm and drove. And drove. And drove.  This is what Eric and I do on long car rides. We drive straight through. It saves a lot of time and money (no hotels). We made it to our townhouse at about 2:30 pm on Saturday.  We unpacked, we napped, went to the grocery store, showered and relaxed.

Sunday we went into downtown Beaufort and walked around downtown and drove around the area. We also headed to Hilton Head where we found a beach for the kids to dip their toes into the Atlantic for the first time.

 Monday we went to Charleston. It was rainy and cold for St. Patty’s day. We stopped by the Charleston Museum, oldest museum in the country. We wandered around downtown and ate a late lunch at an Irish pub, after watching a Pipe Band play several songs when we walked in the door. We then went to Ft. Moultrie to see some history. We toured the fort and found out how to get to Ft. Sumter. Since it was cold, we decided we would make the 80 minute drive again on Thursday.

Tuesday was supposed to be even colder and wetter than Monday, so we didn’t plan much. It ended up not raining, but it was pretty chilly. We decided to get out of the house that evening and go bowling.

Wednesday we got up a little early and headed to Savannah. I was very excited about seeing this city. We parked at a train museum, where Eric started drooling immediately, and crossed the street to the museum/visitor’s center where we purchased passes for an on/off bus tour of the city. It was beautiful. Eric couldn’t believe the history in the city. I thought the planning of it was ingenious and the trees and houses were breathtaking. I fell in love with all of the wrought iron.

 

In an effort to get back to the train museum in time to see some things, we probably didn’t see as much of Savannah as we should have. But trains are IMPORTANT people! We were able to ride on a hand cart, and ride on a coal train. It was actually a really fun experience.

 

On the way out of town, I took my friend Krista’s advice, and we stopped at Leopold’s Ice Cream. As you can see by Tyler’s expression, it was DELICIOUS! It’s probably good I don’t live closer, or I’d be 500 lbs.

The deliciousnous of Leopold's Ice Cream can not be contained.

Thursday we went back to Charleston so we could go to Ft. Sumter. We picked up our tickets for the boat ride and headed out on the water. It was a beautiful sunny day and we were treated to several dolphin sightings.  We got to Ft. Sumter and had a great history lesson provided by a park ranger. We then wandered about the fort, soaking in the history. For those of you who may not know, Ft. Sumter is where the Civil War began.

 Ft. Sumter used to be 3 stories tall until it took the impact of  73,000,000 tons of iron in battle.

We left the afternoon free so we could drive to Kiawah Island and spend more time on a beach. It was very windy and a little chilly at 63 degrees, but it was beautiful. We collected some shells and Eric built a fort, and put some new toy soldiers on it.

Friday we went horseback riding at Camelot Farms on St. Helena Island.  The boys had never been on horses before. They had a blast. 

Clockwise: Shoes, Apache, Kid, Wizard

We then went to Hunting Island State Park. It looked like Jurassic Park from the road, with all of the Palmetto trees. However, we also decided to go up the lighthouse, all 167 steps, and the view from above was all pine trees. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in Beaufort. We went to retrieve our free chocolate sand dollars from a candy store and passed this national cemetery on the way. So after the chocolates, we backtracked. It was pretty impressive.  We then went back downtown and went through a few of the stores. The kids played at a play ground while Eric and I sat on a “porch” swing and enjoyed the sun and sound of the water.

National Cemetery in Beaufort

The next morning we packed up and headed home. It was a much longer drive home due to the GPS wanting to send us through Atlanta, and by the time I discovered that, we were an hour into the trip. We backtracked so we could go through Lexington instead. Note to self: always travel with an atlas in the car. The temperature on the car read 80 degrees somewhere in South Carolina, and by the time we pulled in the driveway at 5:30 am on Sunday morning, the temperature now read 17 degrees. Iowa was punishing us for leaving.

You Can't Tell Me What To Do...

Everyone has the right to their opinion. You don’t have to agree with each other, but you should respect each other. That’s where we tend to fail. There is an awful lot of finger pointing out there. There is a lot of arguing over political issues. A lot of “I’m right, you’re wrong.” I welcome arguments when they are based in scientific fact. If I argue the sky is green, you can retort with evidence that it is indeed blue (in appearance at least). You can argue with me that water freezes at 32 degrees Fahrenheit or make observations like, “We’ve had more days this winter below zero than any other winter in our recent history.”  These are all based in fact.

You cannot, however, tell me I am wrong in my opinion of the President, gun control, religion, gay rights, how I raise my boys, what I eat, etc. It is an OPINION and nothing you say will change my mind. My opinions are rooted in my own experiences. I am not RIGHT. But I HAVE the right to those opinions. We all do. I just wish we could all get along despite them.

Eric and I have friends on both sides of the political fence. Both of us are somewhere in the middle, so maybe that’s why we can have friends on the whole spectrum. Either that or we all just respect each other’s opinions.

I tell new mothers to listen to everyone’s advice because EVERYONE has advice, and then do whatever the hell they were going to do in the first place. I retaliated and put my boys to bed on their tummies. Guess what? They didn’t die. They didn’t have bald spots on the backs of their heads and they didn’t need to wear a helmet. They also started sleeping through the night before they were 2 months old. Yet people insist on making me feel bad about that choice.

Some people may not think I care about my boys, because I don’t smother them with attention and cater to their every whim. They would be wrong. I love them both with my whole heart. My goal in life is to create two adults who don’t freak out over the pressures in the real world, so I don’t coddle them at home. I’m teaching them to do their own laundry, clean the house, and make their own food. I’m making them independent. 

Someone berated me for my last post, asking where all the good stuff about the boys was. Well, this blog isn't about all the happy bullshit in my life. It’s not a way to just show the sunshine and ignore the rain. This is a blog about what is going on in my life, my opinions, etc. I will NEVER be one of those people who constantly posts on Facebook gushing about how much I love my kids. That's just me. I gush to my kids directly about how much I love them.  I don’t care what anyone else thinks. My kids know I love them and that I’m proud of them. They also know I can get frustrated with them. They NEED to know that. They aren't perfect. Neither am I. The sooner we learn this, the better life is going to be.

I find it very interesting to peruse Facebook to see what people's statuses are, or what articles they are posting, or what sites they comment on.  Today I was amused by a post about the 5 second rule, and how much gunk you are actually picking up on your dropped piece of food, and then it goes on to tell you a super duper ultra cleaning method. Frankly, I don’t care. Germs are good. Dog hair, is not. It depends on what I drop, on whether or not I will eat it. A pretzel? Sure!  An M&M? Absolutely!  A piece of toast, butter side down? Hell no.  I have a cold right now, but it’s not bad, and compared to how sick everyone else and their kids have been this winter, I will keep exposing myself to germs. My immune system thanks me. Some people are clean freaks and germaphobes and hypochondriacs. That's their right. I choose not to be. 

I also found an interesting post on food allergies and the 3 theories of why they happen. Heredity, the hygiene hypothesis (over cleaning too much), and the GMO theory. I know there is a HUGE movement to go away from GMO’s. According to that article and MANY others I have read, no one can actually find a link or a case in which a genetically modified food has actually hurt someone. (Please do not send me links to other articles that say the opposite. I don't care.) I personally vote for the hygiene hypothesis. Using my own kids as examples, their father and I have no known food allergies. Neither do the boys. So that shows heredity. They are eating all the same GMO stuff all the other kids out there are eating. Little Bobby can't eat peanuts, but my boys can. What’s the difference? Germs. I am a horrible housekeeper. I took both boys to Target before they were a week old, and Ty was just 2 days old. I never wiped down the carts. I only marginally cleaned off the stuff they stuck in their mouths at home and in public. Again, this is OPINION. This has absolutely no basis in fact. The only FACT is that they have no known food allergies. 

I have friends who are Catholics and friends who are atheists. I have friends who are Democrats, Republicans, and Independents. I have friends that are meat eaters, vegetarians and vegans. I personally think the latter two are CRAZY because meat is delicious, and I know all about how it ends up on my plate and I don’t care. But they absolutely have the right to eat what they want, and I will accommodate them any way I can. Because I love and respect them. I have friends who are cat lovers, friends who are dog lovers and friends who would rather not have any animals near them. I have friends that are stay at home moms and friends who are moms that work. I also have friends who don’t want kids, and I think that’s a wonderfully valid option.  That’s why we all have choices.

I will happily take suggestions on some things I could do better. But do not criticize the way I do something, or what I believe in. Do not tell me you are right and I am wrong on something that is OPINION. I may not like or agree with how you raise your kids, what you choose to eat, or that every post you put on FB refers God and how He is your Savior (because after growing up going to Catholic school, that is no longer my opinion), but I will respect it. In turn, I ask that you respect my opinions, beliefs and the way I live my life. You don’t have to agree with me. Just respect me.