Friday, June 17, 2011

Just For Father's Day!

The Evolution of Dads
What happened to the good old days when Dad came home from work and Mom handed him a newspaper and said, “Here’s your slippers?”  Nowadays after work, the kids are at soccer and piano, Mom works late, hands Dad a Lean Cuisine and says, “There’s the microwave.”  Poor guy.  The rules changed as fast as you can Google “Women’s Movement,” and Dad had to learn to change the baby’s diaper as well as change the oil in the car.  
But a funny thing happened.  The uninvolved Dad realized he really liked kissing chubby little feet as he changed diapers.  And he enjoyed playing Barbies and Pirates with his kids instead of watching the Cowboys on TV.  The modern Dad is solid as a rock—and rocks at Wii Hoola Hoops.
Mom may be better at handling girl drama, but no one is better than Dad at lining up army men for battle and initiating ticklefests.  He rides with you on roller coasters, but not the rides that spin.  And he sculpts cool sandcastles at the beach and lets you bury him in the sand. 
Regardless of family dynamics and the demands of his job, he’s never too busy for his children.  He’s there to teach his son how to throw a fastball and how to survive when life throws him a curve. And he’s there to kill bugs and blow bedtime kisses. 
The modern dad knows how to fix a flat tire and fix his daughter’s broken heart.
He makes tee times for his son and makes time for tea with his little girls.
He teaches his daughter how to bait a hook and how to determine whether her date to the prom is a bottom-feeder.
He tells his daughter scary stories at nine and scares her boyfriend half to death at sixteen.
He checks for leaks in the attic and monsters under the bed.
College football is something he lives for, but he misses the game because Christmas lights are something his kids can’t live without.
He sacrifices luxuries in his own world for his kids’ first trip to Disney World.
He paints the whole house and paints his daughter’s fingernails.
He knows how to call a duck and call his mother just to say hi.
He bounces his toddler on his knee and carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.
And he’ll never ask for a pat on the back for simply doing his job.
        Whether he is old-school or modern, the moment a new Dad holds that squirming bundle in his arms for the first time, a powerful pride surges through his veins, calling him to be part of something larger than himself.  It awakens a protective and noble facet of his identity which first blossomed when he was a boy fighting fierce backyard battles with his trusty pirate sword.  He’s his daughter’s first Prince Charming and his son’s infallible Superman.
        Dads have transformed through the years, but some aspects of fatherhood never change.  Dad never misses an opportunity for a little friendly competition.  Mom is the one who warns you not to take that jump on your bike, but she doesn’t know Dad is the one who dared you to.  Dad races you to the house but always cheats and takes off before he says, “Go!”  He always wins the “can’t-keep-a-straight-face” contests, but he helps you win prizes at the fair.   
Though Dads have evolved, two irrepressible DNA traits remain from the vestiges of the caveman.  #1—Dad is always right so do not bother arguing with him.  #2—If he doesn’t know an answer, he will make stuff up.    
Predictably, as his toddler morphs into a teenager, Dad’s tender love often evolves into tough love as he imposes sanctions on cars and cell phones.  From Ward Cleaver to Al Bundy, Dads have repeated the same mantra to their irreverent subordinates—“When you grow up you’re going to have a rude awakening,” “Nobody cares why,” and “If you don’t like it here, go find another family!” 
I have a family of my own now, and I have etched Dad’s nuggets of wisdom into the bark of our family tree. When I grew up, I DID have a rude awakening, I realized my boss DOESN’T care why, and everything Dad told me was true, except the stuff he made up. 

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Only In Germantown

Seen in Germantown:


A lady walking her shih tzu, leash in hand, sticking her David Yurman-adorned arm out of her white Mercedes sedan.  You don't perspire before a tennis match, silly.   TRUE STORY!!!

Friday, May 13, 2011

Recognizing God's Gifts in the Everyday

Ephesians 3:17-19:  May your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love; and may you be able to feel and understand, as all God’s children should, how long, how wide, how deep, and how high his love really is; and to experience this love for yourselves, though it is so great that you will never see the end of it or fully know or understand it.

       When I had a 5-year-old, two toddlers, and a husband that traveled, I often felt overwhelmed and alone.  Bitterness slowly crept into my heart like the Angel of Death in that movie, The Ten Commandments. I complained that no one understood me, including my husband, who got to eat at nice restaurants every night while I cleaned peas off the carpet.  With my griping came the guilt that I didn’t fully appreciate the beauty of bedtime prayers and patty-cake, but I came to realize that God sees our faith instead of our faults.  When we throw temper tantrums, God doesn’t condemn us.  Instead He shows us his intense love by meeting us where we are and bringing comfort in the midst of situations that are out of our control.

       I admit those pre-school years were difficult, but I yearn to relive those days at the seashore when I wrapped up my squirming mermaid, smelling of chlorine and sunshine, in beach towels and wrung out her wet pigtails. Recently I jogged past one of those waterparks in which water randomly shoots up out of the ground.  It melted my heart to see a 2-year-old tip-toeing through the maze of spouts and squealing when one erupted.  In contrast, my teenagers, with typical aloofness, regard displaying emotion as the epitome of uncool. I try to shrug it off when they want me at arms-length, but I remember them standing at my feet with their arms raised for a hug.  My heart is still at the park pushing them on the swings.  I’m very grateful for my beautiful, ever-evolving adolescents, but I’m sad that Barbie high heels turned into real ones so quickly.  
  After my run, I plopped down in a chair on the hotel patio, lamenting the end of a cherished phase of my life and the emergence of woeful teenagers and wrinkles.  I closed my eyes, but I felt as if someone was watching me. Glancing up, I saw the blue eyes of a 2-year-old blond angel spying on me inches away.  With his highly-evolved toddler street sense, he judged me as friendly.  I smiled, and he reached out his chubby little hand, not in an impulsive way, but in a deliberate, mature way, and took my hand.  His grip was strong and peculiar, as if he knew me, and he gently led me to a small fountain three feet away.  He squatted on his heels contentedly looking at the shooting spray, and I followed his lead, straining my decrepit knees.  He gazed up at me with an adorable smile that took me back fifteen years when my son used to smile at me with innocent wonder pointing at the ducks on the lake.  When it was time to go, he disappeared with his young mom into the hotel.
  Teary, I wondered why God would use such a cruel means to strengthen my character. Today, when I missed my little ones so much, why would He send this little boy to rub it in?  Soon I felt God whisper, “How long has it been since you felt a little hand in yours?  How long will it be before you feel it again?  I brought this little boy to you because you needed him. My daughter, open your eyes to see the ways I show you my love.”
  I caught my breath, amazed that the Creator of the universe would hear my selfish complaint yet reach down into my everyday life to tenderly demonstrate his unquenchable love for me.  It’s not how I envisioned, but what a holy, sweet surprise. 

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Hope To Hang On - Devotion

Hope to Hang On
2 Cor. 4:8-10 - “We are pressed on every side by troubles, but not crushed and broken.  We are perplexed because we don’t know why things happen as they do, but we don’t give up and quit.  We are hunted down, but God never abandons us.”      The Living Bible
I don’t understand why I have to wait on answers to my desperate prayers. I’m glad the apostle Paul was also perplexed as to why things happen as they do. We can learn from Paul’s life that the Creator of the universe does see our plight and is always lovingly at work either preparing a rescue from the storm or providing a way to stay afloat.  
In Acts 9, when Jewish leaders plotted to kill Paul, God provided a basket in which His servant was let down from an opening in the city wall. In Acts 27, Paul’s ship ripped apart in a violent storm on the way to Rome. Instead of sending a flaming chariot to rescue him, God sent Paul the ravaged ship’s splintered planks to which he perilously clung while the storm continued to rage.  Do those sound like the actions of an all-powerful God? They certainly do. Both instances are characteristic of our lives.  God either performs a miracle or provides the planks.
While we wait for God to answer our critical prayers, He provides slivers of hope along the way to reassure us of his love. As God supplies us with one plank after another to stay afloat, we must reach down into the depths of our spirit to discover a faith we never thought we had. Realizing our helplessness, we are compelled to surrender everything we hold dear to an all-powerful God.  Not only does a miracle occur in our situation, but in our hearts as well. 


Prayer:
“Thank you, God, that you have provided me with bits of encouragement while I wait for answers to my prayers. Strengthen my faith and help me to recognize the instances in which you reach down into my ordinary life with divine intervention to assure me of your intense love for me.”


Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Mattel recently announced the release of MORE limited-edition Barbie Dolls for the Greater Memphis market (See post on March 29th for more Barbies)!

MORE BARBIES!

I received an email similar to this five years ago and filed it away.  I recently found it and laughed out loud.  I changed a lot in order to be applicable in 2011, but I kept some things intact.  You just can't mess with perfection.
I hope no one will be offended by the tongue-in-cheek stereotypes, but we should all be able to laugh at ourselves sometimes.  If you don't live in Memphis, it doesn't make much sense.  However, I'm sure you can accurately replace your suburbs with those mentioned because most Americans have more in common than we realize.


Horn Lake Barbie

This pale model comes dressed in her own Wrangler jeans two sizes too small with a Skoal ring on the back pocket, a NASCAR t-shirt and a Tweety Bird tattoo on her shoulder.  She has a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon and a Hank Williams Jr. CD set.  She has a deer head over her bed and can kick mullet-haired Ken’s butt when she is drunk.  Purchase her pick up truck separately and get a window decal stating “Good Girlz drive Kickin’ Toyz.”
Orange Mound Barbie
This recently paroled Barbie comes with a 9mm handgun, a Chevy with dark tinted windows, and a Meth lab kit.  This model is only available after dark and must be paid for in cash (preferably small, untraceable bills) ... unless you are a cop, then we don’t know what you are talking about.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Pet Peeves

I’m really a very easy-going person.  My family would argue that fact, but unless I’m hormonal or you take away my coffee, wine or chocolate, I’m your best friend.  However, there are some things I encounter on a daily basis that make me want to Google boarding schools.  Especially grievous are the flippant attitudes of certain members of my household who ignore me as if I’m that teacher in Charlie Brown with the incoherent annoying whine.  
 I ask these individuals, who call themselves inmates, every single day to rinse their cereal bowls of cemented Krispies and to pick up their noxious clothing off the bathroom floor.  I can only think of two reasons why they would defy me—either they don’t remember, which is not valid because they can recite word-for-word their last 15 texts,  or they simply choose to disregard my appeals which, to me, screams, “Mom, I just frieking don’t care what you say.”  Any mom would take that as a virtual slap in the face. 
From one Frazzled Mom to another, here are my Top Ten Pet Peeves:
10 - Putting clothes in the laundry hamper although you’ve only had them on your body for 30 seconds.  (The grimy clothes, wet from an improperly secured shower curtain,  are wadded on the bathroom floor).
9 - It is not my job to flush your toilet.
8 - Plopping on the sofa in front of your spaghetti-sauce crusted plate from last night, completely unfazed, logging onto Facebook. This is not a restaurant.  Scrubbing a bowl of Spaghettio residue that has dried longer than an ICarly marathon is also not my job.
7 - Leaving wet, muddy cleats from the last soccer tournament tied up in a plastic garbage bag for 4 days.  If those bacteria-laden, putrid shin guards are in there, I’m throwing the whole thing away, and don’t ask me where that bag is.
6 - Asking me “Why are you yelling?” after I’ve told you 12 times calmly to pick up the cat hair from the pile of clean towels.
5 - Tearing my house apart 30 minutes before a game looking for basketball uniforms, a certain kind of sock, sports bras, basketball shoes, both colors of soccer uniforms, shin guards, cleats, cleat inserts (so you won’t get plantar fasciitis in your heel again.  I am at Campbell Clinic so often I have my own letterhead), Underarmor, food, water, and head bands for two kids for basketball games and soccer games occurring back to back in one night.   YOU should’ve found all that the night before, but you were too busy conducting crucial business on Facebook.  
4 - Being at softball and soccer until 9:30 pm and learning at 11:00 pm after a glass of wine that I have to edit a 7-page paper comparing a Vampire book to “Dante’s Inferno” or something.  An inferno sounds like a great place for those who used their study halls to make Youtube videos of themselves.
3 - Finding clothes I bought you six months ago, which you asked for, in your closet with the tags still on because they were uber-dorky in the first place.
2 - Having to say, “Retrace your steps!” ten times a day.  Losing the uniform you need tonight—ok.  Losing your new underwater camera? —how ‘bout I lose your unlimited texting?   My last desperate option is following you around all day to ensure you won’t misplace things.  However, having your embarrassing, absurdly uncool fossil of a mother behind you will substantially decrease your swag.
AND THE #1 THING I HATE  -  is the fact that you’re growing up so fast.  I almost have to stand on my tiptoes to hug you.  One of you wears the same size clothes I do.  You sing as you’re pouring your chocolate milk and twirl around in the kitchen in your snow man pajama pants until you fall down laughing.  When you turn 18 in a short while, it won’t be my job to remind you to take Vitamin C when you’re sick.  I won’t be there to make sure you don’t speed going to school.  And it won’t be my job to tell you to say your prayers at night.
But right now, I DO have responsibilities.  I promise I’ll do them with all my heart, and I will give you the very best of me.  My job is to love you and help you learn from your mistakes, to tell you no, and to take the car away.  To hug you when your heart is breaking and urge you to search for silver linings.  I will check your phone, stalk you on Facebook, and help you with English, but not geometry.  I’ll let you fail your biology test, but I won’t let you off the hook.  I will make you pay for that swimsuit, push you to give 100%, and encourage you to dream.  I’ll remind you that God has a plan for your life and advise you that good girls don’t dance that way.  And when you’re out for the night, I’ll fall to my knees and pray for you to prevail against all the spiritual warfare waging around you.  
As you grow you’ll learn how to follow a budget and learn the joy of sacrificing the last piece of apple pie to your son with a sweet tooth and a sticky smile.  I promise to help you face your giants and find your way to the next fork in the road.  Currently I’m helping you find your history homework and your retainer.  “You probably threw the retainer away with your Spaghettios at lunch.  It’s not my job to keep track of your personal property!  When’s the last time you had it?  Are you sure?  You need to retrace your steps!”  

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Mattel recently announced the release of several limited-edition Barbie Dolls for the Greater Memphis market






I received an email similar to this five years ago and filed it away.  I recently found it and laughed out loud.  I changed a lot in order to be applicable in 2011, but I kept some things intact.  You just can't mess with perfection.

I hope no one will be offended by the tongue-in-cheek stereotypes, but we sho



uld all be able to laugh at ourselves sometimes.  If you don't live in Memphis, it doesn't make much sense.  However, I'm sure you can accurately replace your suburbs with those mentioned because most Americans have more in common than we realize.




Six or seven more Barbies are being released soon in the Memphis market, including Orange Mound Barbie and Midtown Barbie.  Stay tuned!


Eads Barbie:
This princess Barbie is sold only at Saks.  Comes with a multi-million dollar house in gated community and another in Rosemary Beach - with wine cellars.  Condo in Beaver Creek, CO and fur sold in conjunction with stock-broker Ken.  Also available is Randy, the Home Decorator, who is impeccably dressed, creative and loves to shop.  Sold with or without yummy pool boy.  Your choice of Mississippi State or Ole Miss bumper sticker on back of Hummer.  Available with or without tummy tuck and face lift.  You won’t be able to afford any of them. 

Germantown Barbie:
This I-wish-I-lived-in-Eads Barbie comes with a 2-seater Mercedes and an optional new Lexus SUV to cart super-busy Babs, super-competitive Kenny Jr., and Baby Bo to cheerleading, football practice, and My Baby Can Read class.  Comes with an inconspicuous "love" tattoo on her ankle from a spring break trip to Destin in the 80's and a case of Chardonnay.  Optional home-gym so that she doesn’t have to go to the real gym with tight clothes that show her muffin top.  Sold with a semi-custom house with no furniture because Babs and Kenny Jr. attend a $15,000/year private school.
Houston Levee Barbie:
This modern Barbie comes with an assortment of the trendiest clothes from the clothing boutique she owns.  She comes with a gym membership and bathroom scale, a country club membership, her own Starbucks cup and a wine cooler of expensive Chardonnay.  Also available with this kit are Hutchison Heather and MUS Maddox, accessorized with LAX sticks.  Pregnant version is sold in conjunction with handgun and bottle of Prozac.  Augmented version sold only in conjunction with Workaholic Ken.
Bartlett Barbie:
The hard-working, big hair Barbie is available with Ford Windstar Minivan with 120,000 miles.  Comes with a Sam's membership card and a frequent diner card at the Western Sizzlin'.  This ingenius model sells Avon and pockets the profit before Ken sees it.  Available with or without box wine, bright blue eye shadow and home-perm kit .  This frugal Barbie comes with a one-story brick house with a half-built deck in the back while Electrician Ken comes with a fully-stocked tool box and a tricked-out truck.