Sweet Nothings

Oh goody, it’s that time of year again:  the day we celebrate evil and high blood sugar.

Every year I scratch my head and wonder why people find the day appealing.  My husband says it promotes community spirit.  I hope so.  I can see the fun of dressing up and pretending, but I can’t believe people actually buy blood-spattered chainsaws and horrific masks in the name of good clean fun or community spirit.

Then there’s the sugar.  Studies have shown that refined sugar suppresses the immune system and can make us more susceptible to colds and flu.  Of course, other studies have supposedly disproven this.  All I know is that Halloween seems to be a great kick-off to flu season and my kids are more likely to get sick when they’ve been sitting in piles of mini chocolate bars, lollipops, and bubble gum.

I used to encourage my children to make their Halloween candy last until Christmas – or longer – thinking that a little sugar each day wouldn’t be so bad.  I’ve changed my mind.  Maybe I’m a sucker but I’d rather have them binge on Halloween night, throw up if necessary, and be done with it.  One heavy night for the pancreas and then back to normal.

Then there’s the hyperactivity – another theory that has been poo-hooed and discarded.  Maybe I should see if those discrediting scientists want to babysit my kids the day after Halloween.

Sorry.  I wasn’t planning to treat you to a sour anti-Halloween tirade but I guess it’s a day that brings out the best in me (and so many others).

I actually planned to enjoy Halloween this year – even started putting together costumes back in August.  But try as I might, I can’t sugar-coat it.  There’s pretty much nothing I find sweet about Halloween.

Too Much Info

At first I thought the trend to put decals representing family members on rear vehicle windows was a cute idea.  But when I considered buying some for myself, I realized it was a bad idea.  Why would I want strangers to know how many family members, including pets, rode in my vehicle or lived in my home?

Consider the following:

Someone sees your vehicle with 6 stickers on the back:  mom and dad, 2 boys, 1 girl, and a dog.  He follows you home and learns where you live.  Later, he watches from a safe distance while a teenage girl rings your doorbell.  A few minutes later, mom, dad, 2 boys, and a dog leave.  Now Mr. Rapist knows only a babysitter and your daughter are home.  Too much info.

Someone sees your vehicle with 3 stickers on the back:  mom and dad, and 1 boy.  He follows you home and learns that you have a big house, two vehicles, and an RV.  He realizes that a wealthy family with one child is more likely to have expensive furniture and electronics inside.  So Mr. Burglar waits for mom, dad, and son to leave the house then strikes.  Too much info.

Someone sees your vehicle with 5 stickers on the back:  mom, 3 girls, and a cat.  He follows single mom into the grocery store and strikes up a conversation with her in the kitty litter aisle.  Before long Mr. Pedophile is dating mom and knows he’ll soon have access to 3 daughters.  Too much info.

It turns out those cute stickers that display our family pride are a security risk.  They simply give out too much information.  Maybe I’m being paranoid but if I ever buy them, it’ll be 5 men and 12 dogs that never leave the house.

Write, Read, and Remember

As I helped my daughter sort through her “special box”, I noticed there was a fancy journal she had started but decided not to continue because she had messed up a page and thought it was too ugly to keep.

I tried to convince her that diaries didn’t have to be neat.  In fact, sometimes the messy writing, scribbled diagrams, or tear stains are part of their charm.  She didn’t believe me, so I went to my cedar chest and dug out my box of old journals.  My children gathered around as I lifted these treasures out one by one.  I carefully opened the pages and showed them what my printing (starting at age 7), then cursive, looked like.  I pointed out mistakes and misspelled words.  They were enthralled and convinced that perfection is not the point of keeping a personal record.

What is the point of keeping a journal?  To remember special moments, learn from past mistakes, relate to youngsters, and resolve family disputes.  But most of all, to leave a record of your life so your children and grandchildren can know you.

When email came on the scene, I noticed my journal entries decreased.  Instead of spending a half hour on Sunday afternoons to write, I found myself typing emails to my family and friends instead.  But then I got smart and printed off these emails to put in a binder journal.

Then came Facebook.  I recently realized that precious information about who I am in 2012 while my children are young is being sent into cyber-wherever-ness instead of being preserved in something tangible.

So I bought a pretty spiral notebook and began to copy my status updates into it.  I add extra personal information as needed – et voila! – I’ve got another valuable record that I can read, remember, and share with future generations.

Now Is The Time

This past week marked two years since my mom was hit by a car while crossing a street in Lethbridge.  Yes, she waited for the light to turn green and she was in a crosswalk; nevertheless, a car ran straight into her.

She doesn’t remember much except lying on the ground for a long time while emergency workers assessed her injuries.  She required surgery to set a broken leg with metal plates and pins.

That wasn’t a phone call I was expecting.  Fortunately, by the time I was notified, the news “Mom was hit by a car” was followed with “but she’s alive and came through surgery okay.”

Times like this make me refocus.  What’s most important to me?  My relationships.  Does my behaviour reflect this?  Am I quick to apologize, to forgive, to spend time, to say “I love you”?  Sometimes when those phone calls come, it’s too late to go back and change things.  Now is the time.

As for driving, let’s slow down, shoulder check, put away the cell phone, and invest in sunglasses.  And pedestrians, even when you have the right of way, make sure the cars around you are stopping before you cross.  Make eye-contact with drivers to ensure they’ve seen you.

My mom endured painful physiotherapy, did her exercises faithfully, limped around on crutches for awhile, and her leg healed.  But the strain on her knee took its toll and a few months later she required knee replacement surgery and more rehabilitation.  Now she’s up and about, but the accident caused permanent nerve damage and she’ll never be the same.

Still, when I think of how that phone call two years ago could have gone, I am thankful my mom is still with us.  Who are you thankful for?  Now is the time to tell them.

Friends In High Places

I once heard someone say, “If anyone has to buy a zucchini in the summer, that person must not have any friends.”  Having just bought a zucchini, I said, “Hey!”  So we became friends and I didn’t have to buy another zucchini that summer.  Or the next.

The abundance of zucchinis this summer reminded me of this.  It also reminded me how nice it is to have friends.

A few weeks ago we ended up in Emergency (again) with our little guy.  It seems that whenever he gets a cold, he has complications – the latest ones being breathing difficulties that sent us to the Stollery by ambulance.  It sure is frightening to watch your baby struggling to breathe.  Then there are the other children at home to worry about.

Enter friends.

Friends who watch our children.  Friends who provide dinner when we’re unable to cook.  Friends who pray for us.  Friends who offer to keep our kids overnight if we have to be at the hospital past bedtime.

What would we do without friends?  I’m glad I haven’t had to find out.

In June I saw six high school girls walk past my house.  Five of them were holding some kind of electronic device, heads bent, fingers texting.  I couldn’t help but wonder if they were friends and, if so, why they weren’t talking to each other.  Or were they texting each other?  I don’t know.  But it did make me worry about the ability of future generations to make friends and communicate in relationships.

I tell my children that to have a friend you have to be one.  Sometimes we’re on the giving end, sometimes the receiving end.  But whenever someone lifts another, they are, indeed, a friend in high places.

When To Push

Don’t worry; this article isn’t about childbirth.

It’s about that difficult question:  When do we make someone do something they don’t want to do?  When do we push?  When do we ease up?

Some things are distasteful but necessary – like taking out the garbage or cleaning the toilets.  Some things have to be done.  Some things don’t.

This past week my daughter begged to be home-schooled again.  It was okay with me, but we had to consider what was best for her.  Did she need to work through this?  Did we need to make her stick it out?

I think such decisions require us to ask at least five questions:  1) Is it necessary?  2) Is there an alternative?  3) Is it affecting one’s health?  4) Is it becoming a pattern?  5) What are the possible future consequences and are they acceptable?

Sometimes making a decision is like stepping into the dark.  Sometimes the light doesn’t come on until after we’ve taken that first step.  I found this out 17 years ago.  My fiancé and I were great friends and had the same goals but I was completely miserable when we got engaged.  Breaking it off was hard but right.  I was sad but at peace.

It’s okay to turn around if we find we’re going the wrong way.  In fact, I think it shows wisdom, character, and humility to say, “I was wrong; I need to back up and try something else.”  My mom will be forever grateful her parents pulled her out of boarding school when she was 12.  I’ll be forever grateful I was allowed to quit jazz when I was 15.

Perhaps great leaders choose to motivate, inspire, and invite because really, who likes to be pushed by anyone but ourselves?