I’m Used to Be Smart- From my blllog on Fredparent

 Once upon a time, I was the mother of little people. I was exhausted. I didn’t shower every day, or every other day, and a ponytail/messy bun was the hairstyle dujour. I could not see the end of being physically and bone-weary tired from taking care of little humans, and keeping them safe.

And then I had teenagers. 

I went through a phase recently that had me convinced I needed to re-read every parenting book I had ever read, and then I probably needed to read a few more. I mean, seriously, how do I manage to say the wrong thing. every. single. time. I speak to my daughters? Furthermore, I totally have the worst timing ever. I may not physically be warding off burn injuries, flying from second story window injuries, or window blind injuries, but, I am still physically and, more to the point, mentally tired.

Now, I’m a little bit mad, here, but I am also a little bit sane. The jury is still out on the smartness factor of my brain, but I have not ever been told I’m certifiably crazy. I’ve tried, actually, and I’ve had years of therapy, but I do not have a “you-are-out-of-your-mind” diagnosis. So, far be it from me to point out the obvious, but I know for sure that I can drive a car, I’ve graduated from a four year college (in nursing, mind you), and I can keep track of homeschooling my kids. So, how is it that I know nothing? Have I gone through some type of mind sucking machine?

My children are so much smarter than me, and they know everything. This makes me tired. I so love repeating myself thirty-seven times a day to get the chores done, do the school work, and put on deodorant. I also adore the fact that I can tell my teens that drinking Mountain Dew (why is that stuff not classified as a legal drug?!) will keep you awake all night. It’s not like I’ve never been to college (or have a nursing degree). 

“Mom! I didn’t sleep at all last night!” said my youngest precious Sunday morning when I had to wake her up for church.

“Well,” I answered, knowingly, “that is what drinking Mountain Dew does to you.”

She looks at me with that worried little thinking face for a few moments before shaking her head no. It took about everything in me to return the gaze with any kind of neutrality.

“No, Mom, I don’t think that was it.”

Oh, really? Caffeine and sugar don’t tell your brain to stay up? I read somewhere that arguing with thirteen year olds over obvious things only make the mom more angry, and the child just adds to their brain that mom doesn’t know anything.

When I facetime with the boy-man-child who is away at college, he keeps the camera on his eyes only. Tommy has a rule (that I have no real way of reinforcing), that he has to shave daily, and can’t have facial hair until his acne clears up.

“Tommy,” I say, “let me see your face.”

“You can see it,” he replies.

“No, your whole face,” I answer.

“That’s as far as the phone goes.”

Like I said, I don’t know anything anymore. And, I’m tired. I am mentally jousting with smart kids every single day, now, and they are a savvy bunch, these children. Not only do they know everything, they also think that any experience I may have with any kind of issue doesn’t count because that was before the internet. Right. I lived back in the dawn of history. I got it.

What does one do when their children know more than they do? I’m trying to parent and learn all of history every day. Apparently, I have to discipline and be mindful of all the feelings (their feelings, mind you), or I’m causing brain damage. I also have to have a PhD in psychology, psychiatry, botany, and child development in order to raise humans that will be productive in society. Did I mention I’m tired? By the way, I still have to tell my youngest to look both ways before crossing the street, my middle is driving (!), and my oldest is living away from home, so, I’m still trying to keep everyone safe. So, even the “well-at-least-I-kept-them-alive-during-their-early-years” phase, is also now a “I-pray-they-can-stay-alive-during-the-teenage-phase.” 

There is no rest for the weary.

That you get up and wrangle, love, nag, teach, love, and keep alive the children in your care every day is worth a celebration. When you fall into your bed each night, weary with worry, exhausted and overextended, just try to rest in the fact that the day was successful.  If you aren’t dead, you are successful. If you are still parenting and raising a family, you are part of something special! Read some books, but don’t live or die by them. Take all advice with a grain of salt, because your family is unique, and you know them best. While your children may think you are as dumb as the day is long, just remember that it’s a phase. It’ll pass. One day, they will be twenty-five and needing your advice again. At least, that’s what I hear. I’m not there, yet. Apparently, I’m still in the ignorant time frame of parenthood. I know nothing.

So, hang in there, parents! Keep calm, repeat each morning and evening that you are super-woman or super-man, and parent on!

From “We’re All Mad Here” Pancakes and Fire drills

 We have had some crazy happenings as parents, especially in regards to parenting and family-ing with autism spectrum in the house! My husband and I got into a laughing fit while we were reminiscing the other day.  I had been talking to him about trying to come up with a crazy-funny story to write about, and he was, like, “are you kidding?!?”  I wasn't kidding. Sometimes I feel like all the creativity has just evaporated. I tend to idle a little high, anyway, and bend toward the anxiety side of thinking (shocking, I know). So, I answered, “what do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean,” he says, “you could write a book!”

“Well, we've had crazy… I’m not sure it’s funny.”

He laughed.  “It's all funny!”

Hmmmm… Really? I thought about it for a second- maybe two- and then started laughing.  In hindsight, a lot of it is kind of funny.  The stuff of life, the every day, the mundane, it can be pretty funny.  I often think about how deep and meaningful things are.  I can easily get caught up in the frustrations, and the pain, but the everyday?  It's just stuff, right?  Sometimes, maybe.  It's hard to find humor in the meltdowns; except that sometimes, the humor is what keeps me sane.  If I'm not laughing about something, I'd probably be crying.  Now, crying, of course, is necessary, and important, and I'm not advising in any way that laughing at someone else’s expense is appropriate. There is a time and place for everything.  But, changing a perspective, in hindsight, anyway, could be good. It could be funny, even.

Not too long ago, I was home alone with the kids and the dog. I say the dog, because usually the dog would be with Mark at work.  We haven't had the dog very long, and I'm always afraid I'm going to wreck him, as in, mess up his training, because he's a working search and rescue dog.  He's, like, a rock-star (to me, anyway).  So, because the husband wasn't home, we were having pancakes for dinner.  I only cook if Mark is home- partly because I've raised the pickiest eaters in the world, so why bother cooking something that only I would eat, and partly because when he's not home, I'm done at, like, four o’clock. I'm ready for bed. Sometimes we even just have cereal on nights that Mark is at work.  I digress, and eating/cooking/food issues are a whole other story altogether.

Pancakes.  The most perfect food in the world is pancakes. I don't even mess them up.  This is an important part of the story.  Pancakes are the only food I never mess up.  

Tommy is always, consistently, very talkative around four o’clock in the afternoon. It's like he gets his second wind, and realizes it's time to communicate.  Plus, I think he sees me cooking, and he knows I can't just walk away from him especially if he's talking about something that doesn't make any sense.  Which is most of the time.  So, I've mixed the pancakes, the stove is on, and Tommy has me cornered.  It's the perfect time to launch into painstaking detail about some obscure capybara martial art in the time space continuum and fighting the Mongols in ancient China, and, “Mom. Right? Mom. Don't you agree? Mom? Can't you see me doing that? Mom? Maaahhhmmm?”

Me: um-hmm, um-hmm… Flip pancakes… Um-hmmm….

Katie enters the scene.  For whatever reason, Katie and Tommy don't ever seem to understand or acknowledge each other talking. So, she just starts talking over him, because she is louder and younger and has estrogen, and she talks really, really fast. It's weird.  For both of them, it's like they just don't hear each other.

“So, Mom, there's this new Barbie and she, like, dances and does gymnastics and ice skates, and she's at Target and maybe Walmart and she is only fifty dollars and I need my allowance so I can get her,like, tonight, Mom, are you listening, it's really important, tonight, Mom, Tommy, I was talking!! You're interrupting! Mom!?”

Obviously, conversational speaking is not one of their strong points. I'm about to address this, so, of course, my over achieving smoke alarm decides to go off at this exact minute, because why? Because I'm cooking? I'm cooking!  I'm not even burning anything-- it just senses me in the kitchen, so it has to alert the whole house that I'm cooking, and that something is probably going to catch fire, which, by the way, has only happened… less than five times….So, I'm offended by my smoke detector. By the way, my smoke detector has some serious nerve, because, if Mark is ever cooking, I promise, the alarm won't alarm.  It's true.  

Apparently, the dog is offended by the smoke detector, too.  He comes trotting into the kitchen, knocks over Katie, who proceeds to start screaming. Loudly. So, the dog starts barking- not at the smoke detector- but at Katie. Loudly. The smoke alarm is beeping. Loudly. Tommy starts yelling, “turn it off, turn it off!!” - and he's hitting his face like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man.  In fact, when Tommy was younger, we would call his tantruming a “rainman”, or we’d say, “he’s rain-manning.”

And he is doing it how??? You guessed it. Loudly.  

And I’m not allowed to tell the dog to stop barking, because it’s his job to bark...

I'm wondering- Can we get a reality TV show? Where are the cameras? I think we’d make a really good reality TV show.  I could cry, for sure, but laughing is sometimes just as effective to reset a situation.  So, I'm laughing, but kind of in a hysterical way.  This, of course, is when Mark decides to call to check in for the day.  We have an unspoken rule that all calls need to be answered.  We are not allowed to ignore each other’s calls. I take a deep breath.

“Hello. We are having a situation. I can't talk.” I am sure it sounded like I was at NORAD announcing ‘defcon 1’. He answered very professionally, “copy.” Click. It was that easy.  Without missing a beat, Danielle strides into the kitchen with a magazine, and starts fanning the offending smoke detector. Bless my neuro-typical child. She and I make eye contact, and we are both just shaking our heads.  Within a few minutes, she had Tommy distracted, and I was listening to the virtues of yet another Barbie for Katie’s collection.  As soon as the pancakes were on the table, I called the husband to assure him that we were not being attacked, and that the dog was fine, but did not appreciate a screaming little girl.  He even gave me kudos for handling the situation appropriately. Happiness.

This is what I mean about laughing. This is just a snapshot of 20 minutes in the life of our family.  Is it always so crazy? No. Can I always laugh? Well, no.  Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I'm so silent that everyone is asking if I'm ok. But laughter sure makes life feel good.  When we can all look at each other and not take it all so seriously, I think we move forward with positivity; we learn a few lessons, and we thank god for another opportunity to smile in the midst of challenging times. 

 

Keeping Positive and Rolling With It

Life continues to be interesting. In the immortal words of my good friend, Bernie, “Life is not for the weak!”

Indeed.

I’ve found it moderately hilarious that things will go awry when you are already in somewhat of a spiral!  There is a full moon coming, and two months in 2026 have back to back Friday the 13ths (what even in the heck?!?)

But that is neither here nor there…

On top of it all, this week, Satan decided to attack my Bible streak on the You Version app and make it look like I skipped a day. The very nerve. We got that fixed, like, right away. Minor panic attack. I know it seems silly, but sometimes those silly things can really throw you (me) for a loop.

I’m in the midst of some interesting health… things, we’ll call them. One thing has led to another, then another, and all of the sudden I have four new specialists and a full-time follow-up career with appointments and consults and tests. This was the perfect time for my dad to start having some health issues as well, so I had to pause my health-interesting-journey in order to come help him with his. And of course the timing is just “perfect” (imagine the eye roll/sarcasm/deep sigh) because, well, life. 

Again, not for the weak.

My theme song, when I was an unstable, overworked, anorexic, underpaid, severely understaffed ICU nurse was “Roll With It, Baby” because- what else could you do but try to keep your patients alive and give your heart and soul to the families of the patients for twelve hours on night shift so you could go home, crash for a few hours, have nightmares about all the things you might have forgotten to do, and then return to do it again(?)…

That is kind of how this feels… Everything in the world (albeit my world) imploding, disappointing situations, hard realities, trying to heal, pain, and me giving and giving and still giving…and I’ll do it until I die… so I’ll just roll with it. There is no other way. I roll with it, and pray, and God is God, and I am not, so… just roll with it.

                                                 

And, no matter how things may play out, there will be no regrets. My dad gave his all for me. He’d do it again. He still tries to. It’s a privilege to be here for him and to be able to care for him. He is almost eighty-two years old, and time is short- I get that. I don’t want there to be any doubt that I didn’t give him my all, when he gave me his. I want to be here.

                                                  

Silver lining: while it was in the 30s and sleeting/freezing rain back home , it was in the 60s and 70s here, and the sun was shining!

                                                 

Parents, You Are Seen…

 I see you…

You, parents, are on my heart and in my prayers.

While trying to avoid being overstimulated by social media, the news, the radio, all forms of communication, ETCETERRA, and AD NASEUM, it is impossible to completely not be aware of the news, and the consequences of last week’s events. The blame game has commenced, the politicians who have been calling those of us on the right threats to democracy, fascists, nazis, bigots, racists, and evil doers are starting their gaslighting campaign, OR doubling down on their rhetoric and celebrating.

I am bereft. I am appalled. I am disgusted.

I am also a Christian, and loving. I also seek common ground. 

I have been caring for my elderly father this past week, away from my husband, away from my support system of friends. I am absolutely, one hundred percent ALL IN with helping to take care of my dad. I wouldn’t have it any other way. He, too, has been very teary and angry about the assassination of Charlie, and the fall out that has followed. We’ve cried together, raged together, and reminisced. A lot. It is especially meaningful that as I draw closer to my dad and visit more often that we are able to have really deep conversations, share memories, and, for me, soak up every bit of wisdom that I can.

I’ve said before that no childhood is perfect. My brother and I moved every three years, my dad was often deployed for months at a time when we were young, and very married to his job as we got older. Mom was nurse, on shift work, or commuting to and from DC while we were in high school. Kyle and I are Generation X- and all that entails certainly describes us. I raised my brother for a time, and he certainly played the part of big brother/ protector when situations called for them. I never doubted my parents’ love. They did a great job. They supported us unconditionally. My brother and I were little grown-ups before we needed to be, but we’re better for it.

So, I heard on the news today a commentator lamenting about “where are these kids’ parents?”  Of course referring to the kids  (and adults) who are celebrating the demise of Charlie Kirk, the death of a United Health Care CEO,  and the violence culture that is becoming a new and sad reality in this country.

Let me say this about that…

We are dealing with our own daughter who is among the leftist culture. I would like to believe she is not celebrating anyone’s death, however, I don’t know. I know she hates the right. She hates Trump. She has chosen to have “no contact” with us… for why?  We don’t even know why. All of this came out of the blue.

My point is this: She was raised in a good home, she was homescchooled, she was brought up in church with a strong Christian moral compass. She wanted to be a missionary. She went to a conservative Christian college. We gave her music lessons from the time she was eight until she went to colllege. She played some sports. We took her to workshops and practices. She danced. We constantly told her how talented she was, how beautiful she was, how much we loved her, valued her. 

SHE made the choice to draw away, and come up with this narrative that we were awful. She decided to walk away from her faith. She decided to walk away from her family. 

And I’m heartbroken. I cry every day. This week while commentators and the Governor from Utah were imploring people to hug their families, and talk with people they disagree with, I thought, “Well, I’d love to.”

But I can’t. And it hurts more than anyone could imagine. 

I do blame social media, and I blame the algorithms that lead children down these dark, dangerous holes of “self expression” and the encouragement of hatred of self and families, and violence. In some cases, I’m sure, parenting may be to blame somewhat- but in the case of the assassain? Everything I’ve seen so far looks like he grew up in a regular family, and changed when he left home. I may be wrong- I’m obviously not on the case, or an investigator, or even watching the news 24/7. 

It’s not always the parenting. We (my husband and I) were far from perfect. We fought, and went through some very challenging times, including a short separation. But our kids had a front row seat to witness communication, love, conflict resolution, repentance, redemption and forgiveness. No one is perfect except for the Guy who walked on water. We parents… we are hurting.

I want to echo the sentiments of the Governor from Utah: Seek non-violence. Seek discussion. 

Be like Charlie. Speak truth in kindness, but boldly. Go to church. Seek to learn something. Do not be silenced. Be kind. Love your family.

#iamcharliekirk #parentingadultchildren #whenithurts

Enough

Yesterday was a hard day.

It’s been a hard week, really. The revelation that a young, beautiful refugee from Ukraine was stabbed in the neck by someone who had MULTIPLE prior arrests was bad enough. This kind of FAILURE of the justice system is unconscionable. 

The assassination of Charlie Kirk is devastating, heartbreaking, and horrific. 

This man used his words to galvanize young people toward Christ, toward values, toward becoming  people that stand up for the right. He didn’t put people down, He spoke truth. He spoke common sense. He spoke openly, and yes, critically, of the dangers of pushing harmful hormonal treatments and performing radical surgeries on young people- people too young to make major life decisions, too young to vote, and often too young to even drive. He spoke Biblical truth about marriage, family and Godly living. He spoke truth about the dangers of not having a moral compass to guide decision making on a personal level, and then broadened that idea to leaders and government officials. Shouldn’t people representing the people in our government also be guided by Godly príncipes?

He was effective at reaching people across all generations, but he especially had a heart for our youth.

And someone killed him for it.  A faceless coward took the life of a young man and orphaned a young family. 

And ignited the righteous anger of A LOT of people in this nation, in this world. 

ENOUGH

It is so interesting to me that the party of:

coexist

unity

get along

tolerance

everyone belongs

no guns

no violence

is the party that is killing and attempting to kill people that dare to speak common sense, and bring common sense back to this nation.

This is a country. We have borders. It is not inhumane to enforce our borders and our laws. Every other country in the world does the same.

This is not a socialist country.. or a fascist, or a nazi one. Nor is our President. Read your history books, and dictionaries.

I don’t recall the “right” calling for the assassination of any of the left leaders during any of the last administrations that were Democrat lead. I’m appalled at the merchandise for sale that call for the extermination of our president.

I’m horrified that people are celebrating the killing of not just Charlie, but of the encouraged inciting of violence toward conservative republicans, and the celebration of the assassination attempts, the killing of the United Healthcare CEO, and the suppression of news stories that don’t fit the mainstream media’s narratives.

We are not a threat to democracy- politicians on the left need to stop touting that. Democracy is not one sided. It is debate, discourse, voting, free speech, and freedom from oppression. 

KILLING YOUR POLITICAL OPPONENTS OR PEOPLE YOU DON’T AGREE WITH IS WHAT THE FASCIST/NAZI/CORRUPT GOVERNMENTS DO.

Again- you don’t see the conservatives killing or silencing people or calling for it.

Or looting or burning cars or cities, for that matter.

ENOUGH.

May God comfort Charlie’s family and friends, and all of us who mourn his loss. May God heal this country and the people that seek to destroy it. May Jesus be with all of us, surround us, comfort us. May the Holy Spirit Guide us and fill us.

Actively Trying To Process

What kind of person condones watching one human being cause the suffering of another?

Let’s take it a step further: what kind of parent supports their child’s spouse causing harm to her own parents without trying to figure out what is going on? What kind of parent tells another parent that they need to give their child space, and to back off? What kind of parent is ok with watching an adult child tear apart their nuclear family, their own parents, with no explanation and seemingly condone this type of behavior?

Would you condone some girlfriend/boyfriend/fiancé/spouse of your child being mean to and blocking contact with their own family without any reason? And be supportive of this behavior? Is this a new normal? Is this OK?

How do people solve problems if they won’t discuss said problems? We don’t even know what the problems are.

I tried to reach out to my daughter’s “in-laws” and was told she needed space and that I should leave her alone. That was back in February. Today I found out that they (my daughter and her “husband”) aren’t even legally married. The hits keep coming.

So, this all got me thinking about what kind of person it takes to be ok with watching someone self destruct. 

As a parent, especially, I would imagine that the “in-laws”- the other family- should be able to  put themselves in our (my husband’s and my) shoes, and understand the FRANTIC DESPERATION we feel for our daughter. And how much we miss her. And love her. And just want her back in our lives. I know I’d do it for them. If the proverbial shoe were on the other foot, I’d at least have a conversation. Or attempt to.

I guess my question is, “Can you really be neutral in a situation such as this?”

When this nightmare began, I respected that my other kids were claiming neutrality, but I’m beginning to see that if you are “neutral” and still speaking to the person who is actively causing harm to another family member, you can’t possibly be neutral. You are condoning the harmful behavior. 

And there in lies a huge, glaring issue: the kids (my kids) aren’t neutral, they’ve picked their proverbial sides, as the saying goes. Not that I’m trying to get anyone to choose a side, but I AM trying to get them to see that they aren’t helping the situation by being “neutral” - they are only further contributing to this division. They, too, are condoning the behavior of no contact and yes, it is mean, the notion of just up and telling the family that raised you, gave you all kinds of opportunities, and love, love, loved you in a way you couldn’t possibly comprehend, that well, you simply just don’t matter anymore.

I am so very sad. I suspect my daughter is morbidly sad. I feel it. I’m a high-functioning empath, after all. I feel everything. I feel my huge sad emotions, my husband’s, her’s, and even her siblings’.

And the more I try to find a solution, the worse it gets.

SO… GOD… Thy will be done, Thy kingdom come. I feel undone, and I am fully relying on YOU.

Peace.

                                       

Grieving Is Not Linear

I was reading my devotional- but first, actually, I was on Instagram. For all of three minutes, and that was long enough to spike the heart rate, blood pressure, anxiety, and anger, when I felt God nudge me gently (may be not so gently) to NOT start the day this way, and to look up. 

So, I felt like not rebelling, and tried obedience instead, and moved on to my devotion. I’m doing a lot of devotions on grief right now, because I am, once again, in a season of heavy losses. I was incredibly sad when my mother and grandmother died within six weeks of each other in 2019. That grief cycle was expected, and very hard to process. The two most important women in my life were gone, and gone in the wrong order, and gone rather unexpectantly (in my mother’s case). The grief, sadness, and guilt I felt took forever to process. But GOD… and a very good therapist helped me process and got me back on my feet again. This time,,, it’s.. something else entirely.

I feel, most of the time lately, that life is just a mounting series of losses. Some people experienced them harder than others, some are more resilient, some are not. Growing up as a Navy Brat (represent!), I learned very early on to be resilient with moves every three years, changing schools, friendships, relationships, communities, etc. And I’m better for it. Growing up with faith, and in a church certainly formed a worldview that centered around things of Heaven, and not things of this temporary Earth. These types of grief and dealing with the day to day, year to year changes, and yes, sometimes losses, were easier to process, feel, and move on. Life is, after all, a circle of sorts.

But, one cannot escape grief.

THIS season, is so very hard. It is so very painful. I and my family are so hurting and confused and blindsided that not only are we sad, but we don’t understand. None of us. It’s like someone died, but she didn’t, and we don’t know why, because she won’t tell us or talk to us, and we can’t reach her. No one thinks she is OK, and it would appear that she doesn’t care that we are worried sick for her.

It’s hard to process grief, and sadness, when you can’t even comprehend the why behind it.

Which brings me to my Bible devotion this morning, and a little bit of an a-ha moment, a tiny epiphany, and maybe a little, quiet Hallelujah.

Jesus knew He was on Earth to die on the cross for us. He knew it His whole life- for thirtyish years, He was aware of God’s Plan, THE PLAN. 

The night before He was going to die, though, He took His best friends with Him to the garden and told them how scared He was- ‘grieved- even to the point of death.” Which, He knew was coming. His friends, I’m sure, were confused, but worried, and a little exhausted, obviously, because they fell asleep when He went further on without them to pray. 

Jesus asked His Father if there was any other way, if there was any conceivable notion to to change the part where He had to die on the cross, If, there was somehow, some possible way to escape this part of the story, could it possibly happen? 

Then Jesus says, “BUT Your way, not Mine, be done.”

Your way. Not mine. Even Jesus had to step forward in faith, trusting His Father’s will. 

God ALWAYS has a plan. Always. He sees me. He sees us. He sees her. He is in control.

I do NOT like right now. I do not feel like all is well with my soul- even though I sing it, hoping that if I sing and praise, and give the words to Heaven, that I’ll start to know in my head, what I do believe in my heart is true. I’m human, with very human thoughts and feelings, but I do know my faith, and my God is bigger than this.

I need to keep moving forward. I need to keep praying. I need to trust.

Thy will be done.

It is SO NOT EASY.

It still hurts. It still sucks. 

But, GOD.