The happy, sore, tired and sunburnt couple Saturday night

My husband and I celebrated our 10th Wedding Anniversary over the weekend. We were married at Fort Snelling Chapel in Minneapolis, MN on May 11, 2002. It was chilly and rainy that day as I recall.

Our anniversary weekend has always been marked by some event that has impacted us greatly. Two years prior to our wedding, I moved to Massachusetts, fearful that I would lose what I was convinced was the real thing when it came to dating. He was the real thing, and obviously, I didn’t lose him.

On our wedding night, my husband’s grandfather passed away peacefully in Roswell, NM. My own grandfather passed on a week later.

Our first anniversary was spent in New Mexico. I went into labor with our daughter exactly nine months to the day later.

Our third anniversary was spent with my mom, two cats, a toddler and a broken-down UHaul while driving across the country to move to Arkansas. Honestly, if a marriage can survive that, it can survive most other things.

On our fifth anniversary, Kathryn was sent to my mom’s for the weekend. She came back completely potty trained. It’s strange how wonderful we thought that present was!

On our sixth anniversary, my husband had a specific surgery that only males can have. We sent Kathryn to my mom’s house and her question of the week was “Mommy, will the doctor fix daddy?” Well, um, Kathryn, um.. Yes. Yes he will…

Our 10th Anniversary night lake-view Honeymoon Suite

And so, this year, we wanted to make our own memory that we’d cherish forever. We hadn’t been camping together since I was two months pregnant. Unfortunately, sixteen weeks of borderline hyperemesis gravidarum did not make for an enjoyable camping trip that year.

This weekend, we went to Lake Ouachita State Park and roughed it for three days. Our campsite had only a fire pit, a pad for our tent and a park bench. We remained mostly unplugged from the world.  It was fantastic! Our only regret was forgetting our fishing poles at home. It only rained from bedtime Friday night until lunchtime on Saturday and by 2 pm Saturday, we were able to get out on the lake to canoe. I hadn’t been canoeing in 20 years. We walked to each destination and didn’t get into the car once. By the end of that night though, I was downing three pain pills, I was so sore.

We reluctantly left our campsite yesterday afternoon and drove to my parents’ house in Searcy to fetch our child and dog. We got back home late last night.

Today, George is back at work and I’m home doing housework dreaming of the day we will be able to return.

Similarly, yesterday, Michael Sadler was at the Asher One-Stop in Little Rock where he pulled out his wallet. Fourteen-year old Michael Stanley took the wallet from Sadler, which apparently held a significant amount of cash, and left on his bike.

Stanley was a student at Little Rock Alternative School, located close by.

After Stanley fled, Sadler then followed Stanley in his van, chased the kid down over a curb and through a vacant lot where Sadler then ran Stanley over.  But see, witnesses said that Stanley didn’t just leave it at that. They said that Sadler pulled Stanley out from under his car and proceeded to kick and punch him. Once Stanley slumped over and fell down, Sadler then picked him up again, propping the kid against the hood of the van and continued to beat the kid.

Michael Stanley was pronounced dead soon thereafter at a local hospital.

The multi-layered example of the degeneration of society within this one incident is frightening.

First, this took place in the late morning, when Stanley should have been at school. Obviously either the parents were unaware of his truancy or didn’t care. Or, perhaps the school did not advise the parents of Mr. Stanley’s absence. If that were the case, this deepens the fright even more. Is it commonplace for a school to not call the parents if a child didn’t show up to school? If that’s true, then if (hypothetically) a child is kidnapped, then the parent wouldn’t know until three or four in the afternoon! I don’t call my daughter’s school every day asking if she’s in the classroom. If I did, I’m sure the school would kindly invite me to find alternate means of education for my child or order me to a psych hospital.

Now, let’s take a look at how Mr. Sadler handled the situation. After his money was stolen, he intentionally pursued the child with his van. Mr. Sadler jumped a curb and drove through a grassy lot until his van made contact with the child. But, see, that wasn’t enough in Mr. Sadler’s eyes, apparently for he drug the injured child out from under the vehicle and apparently continued to injure the kid further. Vigilante justice. Really? Where is the justice here? Now, Mr. Sadler is sitting in jail on murder charges and the Stanley family is planning a funeral. Does Mr. Sadler feel justified now?

Perhaps if Mr. Sadler had stayed put and called the police, Mr. Stanley would still be alive. Cops can drive faster than a bicycle can move. If they hadn’t recovered Mr. Sadler’s money, there are many kind-hearted people out there who probably would have been able to replenish Mr. Sadler’s lost money.

If the incident alone isn’t scary enough, while reading several comments made by people on various news sites like this, I saw that some of the comments made state that Sadler’s actions were fully justified and that the boy got what he deserved.

I hope and pray to never encounter the people who felt this way. They scare me. Even if it was the last penny Mr. Sadler had to his name, it still does not make killing a CHILD for stealing a righteous act!

It is the people what write this that create children like Stanley who then grow up to be people who act the way Mr. Sadler allegedly did yesterday. Are we too blind to see this?

As parents we are sometimes oblivious of the fact that our kids absorb so much more than we think. If we act one way but tell our children not to act that way, the child will mimic the behavior more so than the words. If we wield a gun and practice violence, but tell our own children that violence is a terrible thing, the child will be likely to be involved in gun violence themselves. If we tell our child to not be prejudice but then badmouth those that differ from us, the child will still grow up to dislike anyone who is different.

Wake up and realize that our children aren’t simply a product of society. They are a product of us. Unless we as adults act like adults we can’t expect our own kids to surpass that.

✓ Re-ground child for still not doing school work

✓ Move toys and ‘fun’ furniture out of child’s room because, well, she’s grounded

✓ Email principal regarding child not doing school work

✓ Buy child 15 new books to read while grounded

✓ Deal with one husband, one dog and one cat all being ill with a tummy bug at the same time

✓ Borrow carpet cleaner from parents (see above)

✓ Prepare for the last scout meeting of the year

✓ Sort patches for the last meeting of the year

✓ Plan year-end activity with scouts

✓ Become the main leader for your scout troop

✓Attend leader awards banquet

✓ Plan a weekend away for 10th Wedding Anniversary

Finish project for upcoming class reunion

Clean carpets with aforementioned cleaner from parents’

Move toys back into child’s room

Tend to growing garden

Find hotel for trip up north for reunion

Rearrange office/sewing room

Take 10 kids under 12 camping for the weekend

At least I have more items WITH checkmarks than without!  Hope all is well with you, too.  THREE MORE WEEKS UNTIL SUMMER VACATION!

And so, though better late than never, congratulations to:

KIMBERLY JAMES

You have one three hardbound kids books. You may connect with Kristina Hanry to receive your books from our Downtown Little Rock office (as I’m sure you don’t want to come to the office when I’m there.. overnight)

OK, so maybe I do.

But truthfully, I don’t often call everyone in my phone book in full-out-feak-out mode. Last night, I sure did.

My days, when not at work, have been lately consumed by one misbehaving child, four girls graduating up to the next level of scouts, one printer that has become a paperweight at the peak period of its necessity, ten years of marriage coming up that I’m trying to plan a weekend trip for and a twenty-year upcoming reunion 750 miles away. Last night, I was the mighty multitasker trying to juggle all of the above at once.

Kathryn was caught not doing classwork again and was suffering the wrath of mommy.

I was trying to arrange and plan my final two scout meetings of the school year.

I was also relay-emailing a High School friend about a project she and I are working on for our reunion.

In the background, I was removing junk programs from my computer hoping to get to the bottom of why my printer was suddenly not communicating with my laptop..  right when I needed to print out my plans for the biggest scout meeting of the year.

It was around this time that I heard my email chime go off and I looked.  Immediately, my child, from her room, could hear an array of words that she automatically knew to never repeat until she reached the ripe age of at least 18.

*****

I live in North Little Rock, you see, and we are zoned for the lowest-scoring public school in the District. As a result, we opted to put Kathryn in a private school her kindergarten year. Last year, we had her placed in one of the better schools on the condition that I had her in after-school care. Well, because of my refusal to put her in daycare any longer. I work overnight, which allows me to pick her up every afternoon directly after school. Thus, she would default back to our local school.

She’s currently enrolled at a local charter school and loves it there. The short drive to her father’s work is convenient for the both of them and the fact that she already had established friendships with several of the students there was a bonus. We promised her this year that we won’t put her through the wringer of switching schools over and over again, unless we moved.

*****

The email, which came from her principal, stated that the Charter school that my daughter had grown to adore was reportedly closing at the end of the year and that we would need to find alternate schools. The staff had been informed of the news and the apologies were numerous for the inconvenience.

I immediately picked up the phone and called a fellow scout/charter school mom I knew and told her about it.

That’s when the panic struck.

It was after open enrollment! I probably wouldn’t be able to plead my case successfully in getting her into another school. I didn’t want to put her in the school that the other kids on our block were going to. It would have required me to drive from work (downtown) at 6 am and then come BACK downtown four times within 24 hours to pick her up, take her to school and then come back to work. I had little to no desire to make that trek so many times in one day!

I couldn’t home school her! I need to sleep!

I could put her in a school in Maumelle I suppose.. but I didn’t want to make that drive either…

Oh my gosh! What was I going to do! I had to call more people!

I called another one of my scout moms, but she was out with her husband celebrating their anniversary. Oh, no. I wasn’t going to call her cell phone. They needed their time together.

I called ArkieMama because somehow that just made sense in my panic-stricken moment.

I called one of my scout dads who suggested we start a petition against them shutting down the school (his children also attend said school). He then suggested I just sit, relax and have a cold one.  “OHMYGOSH, I’M OUT OF BEER!!!”

Now, things are escalated!

I called my mom

I called my neighbor across the street.

I called my husband (who I knew was at work and unable to get to the phone)… twice.

I even talked to another one of our bloggers for a few minutes.

It was she who asked me to sit down and read the email again. Yep, it said the school was closing… but.. there was another email.

The principal’s email was hacked. The school isn’t closing. Sorry for the trouble. Carry on as normal.

Oh. OK. Um…

And so, I called my mom

I called my neighbor

I texted ArkieMama

I texted George

I called the scout parents; all three of them

I told them all it was false and all was well, apparently, and that Kathryn will be there next school year.

I sat down, calmed down and hit “print” on my laptop while crossing my fingers. My photo printed perfectly. My world was on its axis again.

As many of you know, I lived in Minnesota for more than half my life. My favorite city in this state overlooks the largest lake in the country: Lake Superior. As you enter Duluth from the south on I-35, there’s a rest area off to the right. Leading off from there is a trail that leads to an overlook. Off to the Northeast, all you can see is blue, almost like an ocean. In the distance, you can see barges going under the lift bridge. Wildflowers grow along the edge of the cliff that goes down to the interstate. To the immediate north, I-35 comes to an abrupt end. It was here, in late April, 2000, that I decided I was going to marry the man who lived a few miles away from that spot.

Duluth, Minnesota is also the birthplace of one Robert Allan Zimmerman. I’ve driven past his childhood home many times. I’ve known of his existence my whole life. Yesterday, one of Robert’s (or more commonly known as Bob Dylan) closest friends passed away from cancer. I know what that, too, is like.

How many times must a man look up,
before he sees the sky?
And how many ears must one man have,
before he can hear people cry ?
And how many deaths will it take till we know,
that too many people have died?

On April 20, 1999 a small town in Colorado became a household name after 15 people died in their local high school.

On April 20, 2007 William A Phillips held a man hostage in Johnson Space Center. At the end of the day, two people died.

On April 20, 2010, just a few miles away from the aforementioned spot, Deepwater Horizon exploded. Eleven workers died.

Today’s Freebie Friday gift is “Blowin’ in the Wind” by Bob Dylan. It’s a hardcover book and includes a CD of his original 1963 recording. If I hadn’t already picked this out a week ago, I would have still picked this out today in light of yesterday’s news.

Sticking with the “Bob” theme, I am also throwing in “Bears! Bears! Bears!” by Bob Barner and “Oh, Daddy!” by Bob Shea.

Reply to this blog below by Tuesday at midnight, and you have a chance to win these three books. Winners are picked at random. You must be able to pick them up from our Downtown Little Rock office in order to be eligible.

Good luck.

Step 2: When both parents arrive at your school to pick you up at 4:00 together, you fail to take a hint when they opt to rummage through your desk themselves for the items listed in Step 1. In the process of the rummaging, they find school work that was reported as “missing” by the teacher completely untouched. (This after being spoken to about this behavior two weeks ago). Situation is now escalated to “No Scouts Tonight”.

All of her toys currently reside on our spare bed.

Step 3:When told that you will not attend “the coolest scout meeting of the year” and will instead be making up the incomplete school work and doing your homework instead, you choose to draw a real nice picture of a dolphin over the span of an hour and a half, leaving all of your homework undone still by the end of scouts.

These three steps of completely ignoring the warnings from your parents at least twice in a matter of a few hours will thus lead to your room being cleared of all toys and having television, friends and playtime with the cats taken away for a week in our home.  Just so you know…

Dave Matthews “Gravedigger” 2003

I’ve spent my lifetime hearing of children dying. It’s something I read about on my social media feed weekly. Sadly, it happens all-too-often to children born with the same health issues I have. In fact, in the past three months, I’ve read of five babies with my skin condition passing on. Five. Baby Quinn’s funeral is this weekend, as a matter of fact. But like most I read about, I shook my head in sorrow and moved on. Maybe over the past thirty-something years I’ve become conditioned to it. Desensitized, if you will. I’ve come to expect to hear such news now. I remember being quite aware of the fatality rate of EB when I was my own daughter’s age.

But, the death of a child brings about a completely different emotion when it is the child of someone you personally know.

On the morning of September 18, 2009, for example, I had the day off work. It was early on a Friday morning when I got the text message: “Tell our supervisor I won’t be in for a while. Sawyer passed away.” Sawyer was only five and a half months old. His cause of death could only be determined as “unknown”, or SIDS. I ached for my friend. I cried as I told our supervisor what happened. I wandered around Target aimlessly for at least an hour that afternoon trying to find a card that most fit her situation.

But, there are no cards that adequately express “I’m sorry to hear that you lost your child”.

My daughter and I attended his funeral. There was no coffin for little Sawyer; just a photo of him at the front of the chapel. His big sister still remembers him and tells stories about when he was on Earth.

On Wednesday, I read via social media that someone I knew from High School was preparing to bid her final farewells to her son, Ty. Ty was diagnosed a year ago with leukemia. Though he no longer had any trace of cancer in his body, he lost his battle this morning. I’ve known Heather and her twin sister, Heidi since 1989. Ty was exactly a year older than my own daughter. My heart broke into a million pieces for Heather, and I cried when I read what she was going through. I was moved by her journal entry tonight as she described her last moments with her only child, which took place coincidentally, just down the hall from where Quinn took her final breath just two days before.

Like many, I cannot imagine what she is going through. I don’t even want to. I just know that all 675 of us who graduated with her are thinking of her and her family tonight.

A wife who loses a husband is called a widow.
A husband who loses a wife is called a widower.
A child who loses his parents is called an orphan.
There is no word for a parent who loses a child.
That’s how awful the loss is.
- Jay Neugeboren – An Orphan’s Tale – 1976

I’m not one to mind consignment clothes. I don’t get the ‘heebie jeebies’ at the thought of my child wearing something another child wore before her (I just am always sure to wash them real well before giving them to her!). And so, I’ve always tried to buy her things second hand if I could. Up there, we only had a Once Upon a Child to rely upon for good used clothing and consignment.

Once we moved down here, though, with so many consignment options and hand me downs now coming from another one of her cousins, I was rarely buying her clothes brand new. This is still something about this area I love.

George and I have been trying to come up with ways to save up for our upcoming vacation to attend my High School Reunion. Though I vowed to myself to not do it again, I opted to consign with Rhea Lana’s  this year. They rented the old Levy WalMart this time, which is almost walking distance from my home. The fact that I don’t have to fight mall traffic to get to the sale this time was a high point of my week! The location was perfect and quite spacious (even my husband commented on that fact this morning!).

I'll keep track of my sales through my Iphone. Their mobile site makes it pretty easy!

Kathryn and I went through her closet the other day and found several items that she’ll either never wear or has outgrown. She also went through her toys, omitting several that she hasn’t’ played with in years. She has ventured out of the Preschool song genre and into the Pop and Radio Disney songs and so, her baby CDs also were taken out of the closet.  In all, we came up with 41 items to place for sale.

Since I have the equipment to do it at home, I printed and put together my own labels (though Rhea Lana’s offered to print them for me, but I declined). In all, between the sorting, hanging and the labeling, this took the three of us a cumulative total of about two and a half hours. If I make about $50 (I keep 70% of the money earned), $25 per hour is a pretty good income if you ask me!

Today, we dropped off our items. Some were rejected, like the jackets she had outgrown and a couple of shirts that had stains on them that I didn’t catch when we were sorting. Overall, though, most of my items were accepted and are now hanging on the racks waiting to sell this weekend.

While walking around, putting our items in their assigned places, we saw so many exciting things that we can’t wait to consider buying this weekend. As a consignor, one gets in a little earlier than the general public to shop. We saw Legos, bikes, cribs and seas among seas of clothes. Kathryn found a bin of Star Wars toys, which, she was disappointed to find was labeled as a “boy toy”. Mind you, this was just after she dropped off her own old race car collection into the bin next to it. Silly girl.

You know, I may even convince George to come with me when I go find new shorts and maybe a couple of Legos for the Mini-me! Yeah. Right.

So many clothes to choose from, and they are still accepting items until tomorrow night!

Kathryn helped me put clothes on the sales racks.

I haven't seen one of these in YEARS!! They still make them?!

Fully furnished three-story home, great view. Car included. $110.

This is apparently a motion-activated horse!