The Measure of Happiness

Posted on February 20, 2011 by JKW
I recently discovered that there are organizations whose sole purpose it is to help people live happier lives. Really, there is an organization called, The Happiness Institute. And, actress Goldie Hawn has an association called The Hawn Foundation that serves to help children live happier lives.
To those that know me, it will come as no shock that I learned this information while watching Oprah. She had Goldie Hawn on stage promoting her foundation’s work with children and another man there from The Happiness Institute. The show centered on asking you, me – the viewer – Are you Happy? And to find out, all you had to do was follow along with the quiz they were doing at the show.
Oprah asked questions, and the audience, Oprah and Goldie all had do-dads with A’s, B’s, Cs and Ds on them, so that when they pushed their own responses to the questions, their answers collectively popped up to create a poll. Then they compared their poll with national surveys that gave us the answer to the question, Are You Happy?
They started off by asking, Do you think happiness is genetic? Are you born with it?  72 percent of Oprah’s audience said, No, they do not believe that happiness is genetic. (Me, at home, I said, Yes, I do believe it is genetic. Look at someone like Paula Dean’s, the cooking personality, disposition and tell me she wasn’t just born happy.)
The answer was: Researchers at the University of California found that people can be born happy – up to 50 percent of your happiness is genetic. (40 percent can be learned and 10 percent is influenced by life circumstances).
Question number three was, Do you make time in your day for complete silence? 51 percent of Oprah’s audience said, Yes.
The Happiness man said, A Harvard University study has shown that spending just 10 minutes each day sitting and breathing – doing absolutely nothing – will increase your happiness.
Question number four was, How often do you have sex? Sadly, 37 percent (the largest percent of the quizzed) said they could not remember the last time. But on a happier note, the next largest percent, 36 percent, said once a week.
The Happiness man said, According to a study by Dartmouth College, the more you have sex, the happier you’ll be.
And I say, if you are not getting the recommended dose, there is always chocolate. Didn’t I hear somewhere that eating chocolate releases the same chemicals as having sex? I also heard once that shopping has the same effect on the brain as having sex.
OK, so I’ve shared some of the quiz questions to give an idea of what was going on and how this quiz works. But the Happiness man asked a question that got me thinking. It was, Do you think having children makes people happier?
Goldie got an interesting look on her face and said, “Can we talk about this first?” I actually found myself holding my breath before they pushed their buttons.
If I look at the surface of this question I would have to say, no. Not because I think having children makes a person unhappy, but I also cannot say that the childless people I know are any less happy than me just because I have chosen to have kids. In fact, they are foot loose and fancy free compared to me. They come and go as they please, they travel a ton more, their houses have to be much neater, and I guarantee they are not bitching as much as I am on a daily basis.
However, I might say having a child versus not having a child is like looking at a work of art. Say, an artist like Jackson Pollock or Picasso would be someone without children. They do great work, those two. Pollock is the artist that splatters paint all over the place and Picasso was well-known for not following the typical “rules” of his craft. He created weird shapes within his work and his efforts have a certain whimsy. These guys, they were free to do whatever they wanted. And their work is fun to look at, I think. You can see they have little boundaries set for themselves.
Compare Pollock or Picasso though, if you want to follow my analogy, to someone like Michelangelo. His work would be someone with children. Of course everyone thinks of the Sistine Chapel when they think of Michelangelo. This particular work is filled with color, and it is structured – divine even. Every inch of it is filled up with something. When you look at it as a whole, it may seem chaotic – all of those angels and people and cherubs, but individually each scene clearly has meaning that contributes to the whole of the image. His work is rich and looking at it gives me a feeling of completeness and divinity.
This is how I see parenthood. It’s structured – I can’t do everything I want. Many days I am frustrated and if someone saw me in that moment, they may say I wasn’t happy. My life, my home, can be chaotic. Sometimes I feel like a failure and other times I feel like a maid, a cook, a driver, a psychologist, and, yes, even a mad-woman.
But I do feel happy because I am a parent. The happiness is much deeper than the day to day doings of being a parent. It comes from my soul, like my soul and my children’s souls are meant to be together. I love them so deeply that one look at their little faces or their laughter can send me to a place I didn’t know existed before they were here. No kidding, I might be cleaning my kitchen (it does happen occasionally) and the kids are playing in the living room (nicely for a change) and if I hear them laughing together, I immediately come to the present moment and just listen. For me, they have been the clearest path to my soul, more than anything else in my life.
I love to hear my children say something I didn’t expect, and they do that often. I adore my son’s eye color, and it is fun to me that my daughter looks just like me – we draw a lot of comment about it. I can’t believe how talented my son is at drawing or how compassionate my daughter is towards others, even so young I can see her compassionate heart and it makes me want to be a better person with her.
Being a mom is funny too. Just yesterday I was at the pediatrician for the second time this week, and a lady in front of me checking out with her young baby said, “It has been the worst winter for sickness.”
“I know,” I said, “I was just here in December and my daughter just had bronchitis and now here we are again, bronchitis again. And, I was just here yesterday with my son for the same thing. I gave up trying to protect them from both getting it.”
Then the lady said, “Me too. I was in the kitchen and I hear my son, who is sick with fever, yell to me, ‘Mommm, the baby just stuck her finger up my nose… and put it in her mouth.’”
She had me cracking up, not just because what she said is funny, but because it is so darned true to what being a parent is like. That one statement from that lady summed up the hilarity of parenting young children in a nutshell.
But even more than being a humorous experience, being a mom has taught me much about myself. How I am under pressure and what kind of kid is still inside me. I love to turn on music and dance with my kids. To see my son “break dance” is comical. To see my daughter put on a princess dress and dance to “Rebel Yell,” by Billy Idol, is pretty darned delightful.
I could keep going, but I’m sure you get it by now. I am happy being a mom. I cannot say I would trade it in for a life of complete freedom and whimsy. Well, I would be willing for a weekend if anyone wants to come babysit.
And what did the Happiness man say? He said, Research from Dan Buettner’s book, Blue Zones, shows that while having a child is stressful, a parent’s happiness rises after the child turns 18 years old… and keeps rising!
Me, I’m happy to hear that.
Sources:
Ophra.com – http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Goldie-Hawn-on-Happiness
Happiness Quiz: http://www.oprah.com/showinfo/Are-You-Happy-Take-Our-Quiz-with-Oscar-Winner-Goldie-Hawn
The Happiness Institute: http://www.thehappinessinstitute.com/
The Hawn Foundation: http://www.thehawnfoundation.org/
Photo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michelangelo
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I’ll Admit It, I’m Addicted

Posted on February 8, 2011 by JKW
When I think of addiction I normally wouldn’t count myself in that club. Vices, up until this year, have not had a grip on me. But something has changed. I have taken up a habit that isn’t good for me, has bad repercussions that I know about, and I really, really am having a hard time quitting.
I’m talking about espresso. I swear, every judgment I have ever gleamed on another human being has been coming back to bite me in the behind, and addiction is now what I get to experience. Being that I smoked for 17 years, one might think that this was an addiction, and it was, but not really. I always, more or less, felt in control of that one. When I decided to quit, I felt a little grumpy the first few times I was around smokers and then it was over. It didn’t take me long before I found cigarettes disgusting and smelly.
But espresso is different. I found the Magnificent Mocha around 2003, when I started working in public relations. At the time I hadn’t done much writing, and what I had done was for my eyes only. I found that when I tried to sit and concentrate to write articles for my job, my mind roamed, I got hungry, or I just thought of other things that were more interesting to me.
My account was the Atlanta Home Show, so my articles would have titles like, How to Keep Your Lawn Green in the Winter, or Five Reasons to Remodel Instead of Move. I found that if I had a Mocha I could sit and write. Not only could I write better, I could do it faster too. With the espresso shot, my typing hands were flying faster than the Wheelie ride spins around at Six Flags.
But this was occasional. Not every day, just once in a blue moon. Then somewhere along the way, I think after my son arrived in 2005, I started to allow myself a Mocha twice a week. Usually Wednesdays and Saturdays (don’t ask me why those days).  Now granted, my son has never (even now) been the best sleeper. I was tired. So many days, so very tired. What’s twice a week, right? I felt joy when I walked in those days to smell the aroma of brewing coffee. I watched as the barista put three squirts of chocolate, one shot of espresso, combined with wonderfully white steamed milk; then she would ask, “Whipped cream?” To which I would respond, “Oh, yes, please.”
Even after my daughter was born in 2007, I still kept to my two days a week. I looked forward to my comfort drink those days, but I didn’t think that much of it. Sometimes I even skipped it – forgetting about the frothy milk, the bitter-sweetness of the chocolate mixing with the espresso. (Now I ask, How could I not remember that?)
My addiction has come gradually, sneaking up on me like a handsome, dark puma in the night.
It’s been in the last year that I have become an addict. This is no joke either. It’s like a real addiction. Here’s what I am experiencing: almost every day I think about whether I will get a Mocha. When I tell myself no, I then start to think of a reason to justifying having one. An excuse might be, “Well, I have been busy this morning and I still have the afternoon to be with the kids.” Or, “It is bath night for the kids. I’ll be in need of extra energy to get them to come up stairs and take the bath and then even more energy to wrestle them into their pajamas before they go running off naked and wet to the basement to play with their dad before bed.”
Trust me, there are plenty more excuses where that came from. But there’s more. My teeth are getting stained. Really, my teeth didn’t look this yellow-brown when I smoked. And, rather than quitting the drink, I am working out ways to get bleach. I called my cousin, the hygienist, and had a chat about my teeth and she is going to make bleaching trays for me.
And next, these drinks are expensive. More than once I have raided the kids’ piggy bank for the $3.37 to get cash for my Mocha so my husband cannot see all of the Starbucks charges on the card and know how much I go there.
The first time I walked up to the counter and the girl handed me my coffee without my saying a word, I knew I was in trouble. Normally I feel good when someone recognizes me, but this time I just shook my head and admitted, My name is Jennifer and I’m an addict. I love, love, love the taste, the feeling and the overall comfort this drink gives me. I feel relaxed just walking into the place and smelling the beans being brewed to bitter perfection, waiting to be mixed perfectly and put in my hand for my satisfaction and energetic desires.
I supposed I could be thankful that it’s only coffee and that I have a good hook-up for bleach. I have long done away with the whipped cream and I use fat free milk. I once went 14 days with a Mocha every day and I gained six pounds. That got my attention, a little. I did go a whole week after that without having one. So I know I am capable. It’s just going to take time.
I do have a new appreciation for addicts. I can see how someone could say to themselves, I just don’t want to feel bad today. Or, maybe just today and tomorrow I will take a break, only to find themselves saying the same thing the next day. I take my Mocha addiction as a lesson in non-judgment of those that are addicted to far worse things than coffee. It’s a hard thing to beat, addiction, and now I know.
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Working at Playing

Posted on February 2, 2011 by JKW
I am a stay-at-home mom. This is very important to me because I was somewhat of a latch-key kid growing up. Most people either become their parents when they get older or they do the opposite. In many respects, I am my mother, for sure. But in this respect, I am doing the opposite, for sure.
My mom has taught me a lot about life, so I’m not knocking the working mother. If you can find balance in the home and still work, more power your way. But I’m more of an all or nothing girl, like my own mother, I suppose. She was mostly about work when I was growing up. Even now, at That Number in front of a 4, she is in nursing school preparing to be an R.N. in the near future. She is happiest when she is accomplishing something in her work.
To those that know me, I’m sure it is no shock that I decided to dedicate myself to staying at home rather than pursuing a professional life. Or that I didn’t try and do both. My background is advertising and public relations. I have a Bachelor of Science degree in Journalism from a small school in Milledgeville, Georgia. I worked mostly for one small ad agency for the time I was working for someone else. I also briefly owned and operated a newsletter company in my 20s where I designed, wrote and mailed newsletters for dentists to send to their patients to promote their products and services. Writing is my passion, but public relations is not. Neither is advertising. So it wasn’t that hard to give up my job and stay at home after my first child was born. I do miss the money though, no doubt about it.
I still have passion, like anyone that gets up and takes themselves to an office every day and loves what they do. Of course I love being a mom. That’s a different kind of passion though. Something I didn’t really count on when I took the job. The difference, I have found, in a stay-at-home mom and a working mother is that the working mom is always trying to carve out time for her children while the stay-at-home mom is always trying to carve out time for herself. You might have time to take the kids to the zoo on a week day when it is less crowded, but when you come home those kids better get their behinds in the bed for a nap because if you have to hear one more scream, screech or asking for candy for the twentieth time (when they haven’t even had lunch yet) you are going to explode. This is the effect of spending days on end with children without much of a break – the exploding, for me, happens much more frequently when I have not had even 10 minutes to myself (or that is what it feels like) for a few days.
Staying at home has its rewards, but it is not the same as finding a calling, like say, writing, where a person’s individual talents might stand out and the public might say, “Wow, great job.” Mostly, as a mom, you hear things like, “Wow. Could your children be any louder in this quiet restaurant?” Or, “You let your kids do what?” Not saying I don’t hear compliments, but for the most part parenting is a job where others seem to feel free to let you know exactly what you do not do right (in the eyes of the beholder) rather than letting you know they admire what you are doing well.
I believe this is why when the kids get into school and there are lots of mommy volunteers we often go overboard. For instance, you might have a classroom party where a mom was a former caterer for dinner parties. You might end up with food that is somewhat elaborate for a three year old. Sandwiches cut out into turkeys and pilgrims for Thanksgiving, cupcakes that look like Martha Stewart herself created them into reindeer for Christmas, Goody Bags that are not bags at all, but sand buckets overflowing with all kinds of new stuff to add to the toy collection, complete with a laminated luggage tag just for your child. Former lawyers make the greatest class moms. They are concise with their mission, ready to take on multiple tasks and fired up for the next gig. They’re good.
My own overzealousness comes out in the class newsletter I help produce each month for my daughter’s three-year old class. I love to create a theme with great colors and pick the perfect font to go with it. Once, when another mom didn’t know it was me that designs the newsletters, she said, “Who does those things anyway? Does she not have anything else to do?”  She was one of the working moms. I raised my hand and said, “Well, I guess I do have other things to do, like laundry, and my kitchen is trashed, I could grocery shop, or tidy up that junk drawer that is overflowing (again), but the newsletter is so much more fun.”
To the reader of those newsletters it might be just another class bulletin, but to me it is an opportunity to use my skills where these days I do not have too many outlets. I love to create my kids’ birthday invitations and our family Christmas cards. Anything I can do to express myself I take that opportunity and run like the wind.

Maybe one day I will go to work again, earning the bucks and having more money to burn, but I suppose for now I will play. That’s a good way to express how I feel about my job now. I might be the driver, the maid, the laundress, the cook and even a psychologist, but I am also allowed the freedom to play – writing anything I want and going overboard at the school when they let me. It’s a pretty good life, I must say. I’ll take happiness anywhere I can find it. And more often than not, I find it in the small things, like creative expression.

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More Prosperity, Anyone? Yes, PLEASE!

Posted on January 31, 2011 by JKW
This past Saturday I was where I typically am on Saturday nights at 6, my local metaphysical bookstore, Phoenix and Dragon, participating in the meditation. This week’s focus was prosperity. It was a packed house. And, I was even able to convince a friend of mine to join me this week with ease. Who doesn’t need a little more prosperity, right?
The reason I love going to a meditation on this topic and focusing my energy on it is that I learn all over again that I am the one in charge of how prosperous I am. It reminds me to live life rather than letting my life’s circumstances dictate how I will live. The meditation provided principles and motivation and even reminded me that angels are all around to help me with my life’s difficulties when I take the time to ask.
The interesting part about prosperity and the Universe (or God, if you prefer), is that, according to those that study prosperity, there are rules and ways of acting and asking for the outcome you desire. This is why some are much more prosperous than others. And, I’m not just talking about money here.
The first principle of wealth is to look at your present moment. The right here, right now. What are you doing to make your next moment better? If you are not doing something in that realm, then you are not going to be more prosperous in your future.
Want better health? Then spend the present moment eating right, learning about eating better, exercising, or doing something that in general is going to improve your health. Want more money? Then spend the present moment finding a way to make more. Starting a business, finding a new job, figuring out how to ask for that raise you know you should get this year (the economy be damned!). Want more love in your life? Then spend the present moment writing a thank you note to someone that has recently done something nice for you, or call a friend and tell them one (or more) of the reasons they are so important in your life. Do something that promotes more love in the exact moment you think you need more love in your life.
The presumption is, when you create a better present moment, your future moments reflect it. I’m not just coming up with this stuff on my own, by the way. There’s a whole book called, A Happy Pocket Full of Money, by David Cameron Gikandi, with all kinds of little tid-bits like this. I have to warn you though; this book is not for the faint of heart reader. In other words, I would not call it an easy read so much as a really interesting and helpful read if you have trouble feeling money- or wealth-worthy in your life.
The other main principle I gathered from reading this book was, rather than asking for what you want in the future, it might be helpful to go ahead and act as if you already are there. You know, I AM wealth, I AM abundance, I AM joy. In fact, this statement is repeated throughout the book over and over and over again. After every paragraph it is repeated, so while reading you are actually repeating a mantra.
But I digress from this book and its principles and back to my meditation this past Saturday.
I went in feeling like I could really use this particular meditation at this moment in time. I’ve said in my earlier posts, 2010 was a rough year. I see my vision board (see post, Vision Board Visions) making a difference in my life, so this is good. I recently have received a couple of book orders for Surviving Braces, one from an orthodontist which is more or less the only way I can make money from this venture. I have had a renewed wonderfulness lately with Hubby. We are closer than we have been in years. I recently had a terrible cold and am now feeling much better from that, so my health is good. But you know, it’s still that money thing for me. There just never seems to be enough for what I really desire in my life.
One of the main things I desire in my life is a particular private school for my children. They now attend the school, but with the housing market being what it is, it is hard to afford. Really hard to afford along with the other things we have to afford in our life.  So this is something I wanted to concentrate on in my meditation. PLEASE for the love of all that I have, and I am darned grateful to have what I do have, but PLEASE let the money rain down for the school!
And the message I received is this: let go. Let go of the notion that there is only one solution to your asking. When you get locked in to only one solution, then you are trapping yourself. The money will more than likely be there when you feel so strongly about the subject, but you are limiting yourself to this one solution, this one school, and not seeing any other way. YOU are trapping YOURSELF. BE CREATIVE and EXPLORE your OPTIONS.
It might not have been exactly what I wanted to “hear,” but it sure made sense to me. I have been limiting myself in this matter and causing myself great stress over it. I will look into other ways to have my children get the kind of education I want and I will create a Plan B, just in case we need one. Problem solved for now.
In addition to getting my own guidance for something I had been concerned about, I also received guidance from Don Simmons, the wonderful man that leads the meditation. He too has Principles for Prosperity one can live by for better abundance.
These are 12 principles of prosperity:
  1. Harm no one.
  2. Do good work.
  3. Add value.
  4. Enjoy what you do.
  5. Make a difference to others.
  6. Give a portion of what you make to someone who needs it.
  7. See the higher purpose in all you do.
  8. Define your intention.
  9. Don’t judge (yourself or others).
  10. Listen to others who are wiser.
  11. Be willing to change.
  12. Let go of outcome.
These are, to me, wonderful principles to live by and to increase prosperity. I am going to really try and use these principles to make my present moment better which should in turn make my future moments better and more prosperous.
The other advice Don gives on money prosperity is this: we often look at money as a masculine, or yang (in Eastern culture), energy. It is something to possess or get. Don suggests looking at it as a more feminine, or yin, energy – as a nurturing, helpful energy in one’s life. Not something to possess, but something that helps us feel more secure and taken care of. This feels good to me. I like feeling that when I earn more money, it means I can take better care of myself and those around me.
Other affirmations Don included with this meditation follow. I hope your day is prosperous and happy and you can use these affirmations to guide your mind and soul to a more prosperous life.
Affirmations:
I am a creature of God who accepts my Prosperity for the greater good of all creatures great and small.
I attract into my life all that is needed and all resources I need are available to me now.
I am guarded and guided by angels of divine acceptance. I am free to prosper completely.
I have abundant Health.
I have abundant Wealth.
I have abundant Time.
I have abundant Love.
I have abundant Spiritual Connection.
My world is pre-paid.
I now graciously and gratefully accept the Greater Good into my life. For I am Divinely designed for ABUNDANCE and PROSPERITY.
Sources:
 www.themysticpath.com (Don Simmons’s website)

A Happy Pocket Full of Money, Your Quantum Leap into the Understanding, Having, and Enjoying of Immense Wealth and Happiness. David Cameron Gikandi. 2008

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Vision Board Visions

Posted on January 8, 2011 by JKW
If I am to be honest with you, 2010 was not a great year for me. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say Hubby is a builder and he and I rode an emotional housing-rollercoaster for the entire year. And it didn’t end well either. We did not exit the ride exhilarated and wanting more. In fact, 2010 had me saying, “Bye-Bye, 2010, don’t let the door hit you where the sun doesn’t shine on your way out!”
In that spirit, I was at meditation at my local metaphysical book store, Phoenix and Dragon, when Don Simmons, the guide of the meditations, mentioned he was hosting a Vision Board Creation seminar on Sunday. After my year, I decided that this could be good. I’ve read about vision boards in plenty of my spiritual books, but I had never created one before.
So, on Sunday, I bought some poster board, packed my scissors and a glue stick and headed to the Phoenix and Dragon for a little vision creation. I also printed off a picture of Hubby’s and my dream house, a picture of a back yard and I made a copy of the front cover of the book, Surviving Braces, which I wrote with my aunt. For even better luck, I took Nate, my five-year-old, with me. He seems to get just about everything he wants, so it couldn’t hurt to have him by my side.
Nate and I made our way in to the room. It was packed with people and poster board. The smell of glue and magazine print surrounded us. The sound of scissors making dreams come true rang out.
We found a little space left on the floor where Nate and I just did fit. I left him there while I went to a long table covered with magazines. I thought about my vision for myself and my family and decided on a health magazine, a parenting magazine and a fashion magazine (for the more explicitly exciting kind of words). I also had a big book full of artist’s illustrations from my days at an ad agency. I’m not sure how I ended up with it, but it had been in my office closet for at least six years and I had not used it yet, so I decided there was no better way to use it than to cut it up for my vision board.
Nate and I started cutting and pasting. He got a hold of some letters and glued down his name and the year. I’m now a little concerned because he put a football picture on his. I had hoped he would be more of a golf, tennis or baseball type. He also asked me for a real dollar bill. I gave him a dollar and he glued that down. There are stars and arrows and a heart on his. He also used a picture of a dove flying; that one was nice, and knowing his dislike of structure it seemed appropriate.
Mine, I divided into three parts – family, my individual life, and Hubby’s business, which, obviously, directly effects me individually as well as within the family unit. On the top I put our family name and I surrounded it with the pictures of the house and back yard that I had printed and brought with me. I included a heart and over it I cut out the caption “Love + Life” from a magazine and glued it down. I attached words that I think symbolize what I want for my family; words like Play, Giggle, Love, and All for One and One for All. I decided that I would love to see my family travel to Costa Rica for a vacation in the future, so I cut that out of a magazine and glued it on. I pasted a photo of a man and a woman sitting at a table together, representing Hubby and I together, alone. I also put a couple of intimate words there, but I’ll let your mind’s eye do the talking for me. I also included in big, capital letters “GOOD HEALTH.” And I put a slot machine with 777 on the face right, smack in the middle of the board. I’ll take a winning lottery of any kind, thank you.
Next I concentrated on me. The largest picture is one of two people stretching. Their bodies are one on top of the other, in mid-air, and their legs go out, one to the left and one to the right sides. This picture says to me, balance, good health, exercise, and flexibility. Some of the stuff I think creates a happy existence.
On my business or creative section, I put my ideals for what I would like to have happen to me. I glued my Surviving Braces book photo down and over it I glued the word “Money.” I glued the word “Books” down, because eventually I would like to author more books. I glued down a picture of a brain with a magnifying glass over it, representing ideas, or “picking” of my brain. Of course, for me, no vision board would be complete without a photo of Oprah on it. I glued two of her pictures down, to be sure the Universe heard me. And with her picture, I put a picture of myself so that the Universe would be sure to know that I not only want her to know of me, I want her to know me, personally. With all of this I glued a cut-out from a magazine that says “The world is a magical place.”
In Hubby’s business or creative section, I found an illustration of a bean-stalk with houses coming off of it, as if the stalk is growing houses. Of course, I didn’t have to jump far to conclude that this would be a good representation of a growing business for Hubby. But just in case it wasn’t clear, I wrote the words beside the picture, “Business Grows. Building Contracts Abundant.”
In the end, I was happy with my vision for my and my family’s future. I also left a little room to add other things I desire, but I might not have thought of at the moment I was there. I enjoyed creating a Vision Board and I believe it is a great tool for getting focused on the good things I intend to create in my life. I hung it in my office and I look at it often to remind me of my goals.

And on that note, I think one part of it worked. The very next night, I tried a babysitter last minute and she was actually available. So Hubby and I went out to celebrate New Years a couple of days late. We had the best time we have had in a long time together. We had a great dinner and we went dancing. What fun we had! I’ll let your imagination work out the rest of our night, but it was fun too.

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Fight or Flight

Posted on January 5, 2011 by JKW
One of my biggest challenges as a mom is watching as my children learn life lessons. I don’t want to be one of those moms that swoops in at every dilemma and saves my baby, but man, is it hard.
One of those incidences happened yesterday that still has me wondering this morning if I did the right thing. I guess I won’t find out until Nate is 30 and brings it up to me that I didn’t help him out of this jam when he was five.
So, I give you permission to judge me. I am going to tell you what happened and you can decide for yourself if I should have interfered or not.
Yesterday was a nice day as far as winter goes. For me, anything above 50 is good outdoor weather. I’ll go as low as 47 if the kids are rowdy enough. So after school yesterday when the kids asked me if I would take them to the park, I said yes. And so we went.
At first Nate and Jesse were content to play on the playground, but this particular park has a large field where the kids can exit the playground and run free. My son has always preferred this “run-free” portion of the park to the more structured play ground.
Down in the field there were six kids playing together, boys and girls ranging in age from around five to 11. The oldest was a girl that looked to be about 11. She was definitely the leader. There was another girl with her that looked about nine. And most of the other kids were boys that were younger, say five to seven.
I noticed all of those kids were fighting each other. Two little boys were fighting, another couple of kids were taking the nine-year-old girl’s book and running away with it, and I saw a little kid, probably five, swinging punches at the 11-year-old girl while she held his head so his fists could not reach her. I suppose the parents to all of these children were up on the playground in the table area, which is not visible where these kids were playing.
As usual, Nate went down in the field. He went down and found a large branch that had been cut from a tree. It was thin in diameter, but long with branches coming off of it. It looked like a small tree itself if stood on its end.
Nate has always loved to play with sticks and branches, so I took my daughter and we went to the field and stayed far enough away but close enough that my eyes were on him. He was having fun showing me his strength at being able to carry the branch. He even told me that it was not a branch it was a tree and he was the strongest boy on earth.
After seeing him feel so strong, you can only imagine my heavy heart when after a while the boys that were playing rough with one another saw my son’s big tree and decided they too wanted a turn with it. I had gone back to the playground area with my daughter, so I watched far enough away that I could see everything, but hear nothing.
As the boys approached him my heart sank. I hoped that they wanted to play with him, but they just wanted the branch. I saw Nate shake his head no and dig his heels in the ground. Then one of the boys went and stepped on a branch sticking off of the main part of the “tree” and broke it. Nate still hung on. But when the 11-year-old girl came up and lifted it straight out of Nate’s hands and ran off with it, it was more than he could do. He stood there for a minute and ran away as fast as he could.
In the end there were four kids surrounding his branch and one of him. I didn’t go stand up for him, I just watched. And when he ran, I went over to meet him.
The first thing he said was, “They took my tree.”
I asked if he told them he didn’t want to give it up and he said, “They asked me for it and I said no, then that kid just broke it.”
Then he said something that made me question what I had done. He said, “Come on, mom, let’s go get my tree back.” That was hard. He was asking me to be on his team. To go fight with him, not just for him.
I said, “You had two choices in your situation when those boys were taking your tree.”
“What were my choices?” he asked.
“If the stick meant that much to you, you could have dug your heels in and refused to give it up. Or, you could have said ‘It’s just a stick, take it.’” I said.
“Let’s go get it back.” He pleaded.
I said to him, “No.”
“But why?” His eyes looked at me so sweet when he asked me this question.
“Because, for me, it is just a stick; nothing more and not worth the fight.” I said. “You feel sad more because the boys (and girl) took your stick than you feel sad about the stick. If we went and got the stick you would not feel better, only vindicated. They still took something from you and they acted like you were not even there. That is what hurts. You did the right thing. You were outnumbered and you walked away. I’m proud of you.” Hug-time.
I’m not so sure I made a big impression with my, “it’s just a stick talk,” because all day he came up with ways he was going to get those kids. He said he would get a hockey stick and trip them. He had a rolling pen that he was going to bop their heads with. He was going to kill them. We went to the mall last night and when he threw a coin in the fountain to make a wish, he wished that he was big enough to fight those kids and beat them. At the end of the night when it was time to go to bed, he had one final thing to do to them. He said, “I know, I will take their mom and they won’t have a mom. That will hurt them for sure!”
My heart melted. Like anyone, I want my child to be happy every moment of his life, but I know this is impossible. I am glad that I was there to be with him after his let down. Every time he mentioned it afterwards, I listened to him. I hugged him. I told him no matter how hard the world gets I will always have a soft place for him.

I went to bed knowing that my son made a good decision in a tough moment. Now I just hope I did.

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Mess? What Mess?

Posted on January 4, 2011 by JKW

We are trading in the mini-van soon. Hubby has asked me to clean it out. Oh my, what a task. It reminded me of this post (below) I wrote a while ago. In honor of my mini-van that is about to be replaced, I am re-posting it. I am gunning for another mini-van, affectionately called a “swagger-wagon” in one of my favorite blogs, People I Want to Punch In the Throat. (DO NOT follow the blog link unless you are prepared for very bawdy language. Me, I can appreciate an f-bomb now and again, and she drops them plenty).

This is some of the throw-away I have collected. Much of what I have found I can keep!

My husband is forever on my ass (language necessary in this case) about my messy mini-van (don’t knock the mini-van, I love it). Never mind that letting someone sit in his truck means he has to move a mountain of paper that is stacked from floor to ceiling. Rolls of building plans litter every surface and stacks of paper sit all over the place. I have even seen pretzel bags and Coke bottles in there too.
But, he says, his is work. My retort – my mess is work too! My work thinks popcorn and goldfish are a type of confetti. And my work looks at juice squirting out of a juice box like it is an alien experience – a very cool alien experience (who designed those boxes anyway?). My work loves to take the toy of the moment with them every time they go somewhere, but by the time we get back the interest is lost and the toy stays where it is until I find it and say, Hey there’s the piece to that toy no one can play with because this is missing!
It’s not all toys and food in my car though. What Hubby doesn’t realize is what he might view as “trash” is really my arsenal of motherly preparedness. Those moldy sippy-cups can be washed and used in a thirst emergency. That jacket that was stripped and thrown on the floor last month becomes a spontaneous trip to the park when it is too cold to be without cover. Just last week, my daughter started coughing and ended up throwing up. I saw that gag coming and just so happen to have a full sized towel in my car to throw over her and catch her ick before it tainted yet another car seat.
My clutter is a real life-saver more times than I can count. I have had sand buckets left from a beach trip that come in really handy when there was a sand box at a park. Blankets, food (Goldfish never really go stale, do they?), yesterday’s drink becomes today’s “opps, I forgot your drink but here’s one that is only from yesterday,” and antsy kids – I have toys all over the place in there.
Once, I even found a change of clothes after the kids were playing in a mud puddle at the park. It was such a relief because I really needed to go to the grocery store on the way home.
Shoes – it’s usually covered. Socks, I have those too. Just about anything you can think of, I have it in my car. It’s my office, my helper, my get-away (I have chocolate in the console – it’s not all about the kids, you know).
My point? The next time you get in a woman’s car and see a mess, don’t judge us. What might be chaos to you is her saving grace in so many situations she can’t even count. It’s not her mess, it’s her space and it’s great.
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The Truth about Old Photos

Posted on December 21, 2010 by JKW
This week my aunt asked me for a favor. At first I thought, oh crap, something else on my plate, that’s what I need. But this is my aunt that babysits for me often, for free. She doesn’t make me ask either, she just offers to come over after she’s worked all day and let my husband and I go to dinner. So, I will pretty much fly to the moon if she asks me to.
What she wanted was for me to scan photos from an old album. The pictures are all black and white and old. Most are of my grandparents, my mother’s parents, just after they were married. The photos would have been taken in 1944.
My grandparents were young when these photos were taken. The album was made by my mother for my grandparent’s 50th anniversary party (given in 1994). Both of my grandparents have since passed away; my grandmother only died this year at 84, with a blood disease.
So I look at the photos knowing a lifetime of information. That’s what makes them so special and strange at the same time. I know what went down. And by down, I mean down hill. From those happy times of being young and in love they had a lifetime of hardship and I know it.
I have started this post a few times only to close the file for another day. I have done this for one reason and one reason only. How do I tactfully say that my grandfather beat his family – beat them physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. He beat them any way he could.
Granddaddy was a man outnumbered by women in his family. He and my grandmother had five children, all girls. Later those five girls had six more girls. Then those six girls had three more girls. Only two boys have made it into our family, unless you consider that one of the six girls turned herself into a boy.
So, granddaddy was outnumbered big-time. Is this what made him so angry? He was a drinker, but one of the worst stories floating around the family happened when he wasn’t drunk. My mom has told me that when granddaddy was a boy his father often beat him mercilessly. She said it happened because his sister told on him all the time for things – normal sibling rivalry, but my grandfather would be beat for them. Sometimes granddaddy’s sister even made stuff up to get him beaten. If true, I firmly believe this gave him a sore spot for women.
So what if that is the reason though? I still look at the pictures of my beautiful grandmother; her head thrown back in a laugh, so much like my own mouth, my own face, and I know that she was grossly abused.  Beaten down so that in later pictures, there’s no smile there; especially in her eyes. She became angry. Granddaddy cleaned up his act later in life, but grandma could never overcome her anger as long as my grandfather was alive. When she was with him, she was mean to him. And it was hard to be around. How could we blame her though?
Growing up in my family we all compared my grandmother to an ostrich. We said she buried her head in the sand when she saw a problem coming. Then we all grew up a little bit and we said she was a survivor. And when she died, at her funeral we heard the words, “lived her life with grace,” a good bit. How hard it would have been for her to face up to having five girls to clothe, feed, care for and support after having been trampled on. How hard it must have been for her to watch day in and day out and to be so afraid for herself and her children.
The pictures are a beautiful reminder of her soul – the person she was meant to be. Seeing her in this light gives me every reason to try my best to live a life of “carpe diem.” I seize the day because I can. Because there is no one standing over me saying I can’t.
I have read before that we carry the DNA of our ancestors. When something happens to them, a piece of it lingers, passing down generations so that every person feels the pain and happiness of those that preceded them. If this is true, then I consider it my mission in my life to change for my future generations that hurt which my grandmother, my mom and my aunts felt (and probably still feels).
As a note, I have to say something nice about my grandfather. He might have been a mean ass drunk of a man that beat his family, but he was also one of the smartest, most creative men I have ever met. At 13, he asked if he could drive a car that was in the yard of the family home. His parents said if he could make it run, he could drive it. So he did. He completely took apart and rebuilt the engine and he made it run.
One of his brothers tells a story where they were out fishing and my grandfather was drunk, passed out on the boat when it stalled and would not run. His brothers could not figure out how to get the boat to run so they woke my granddaddy up and told him. He got up and, drunk, took an oil can, put a hole in it and did whatever else to rig the motor and got the boat running. Then he lay back down and passed back out.
My grandfather was a carpenter, he wrote poetry, he drew beautifully and he could tell a great story. He called me (and my cousin) “Doodlebug.” For all the meanness, there was a warm heart in there. He too had a soul of the person he was meant to be. Possibly someone beat that out of him, just like he, in turn, beat it out of his family.
And for all the hell they had put in the front end of their lives, like too many children do, my mom and my aunts are such wonderful, strong women. If my grandfather was a fighter, then the women he was fighting came out swinging. They swung with all their might and today are women of strength and grace and courage and hopefully, a piece of happiness.

My grandmother died happily, remarried. Her smile returned. She sparkled and shined and had a bright ending to her life. I know today she forgives. She’s back to her soul state in forgiveness and compassion and she lives happily.

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Why I Find It’s Easier to Just Bake Muffins

Posted on December 10, 2010 by JKW
I love to cook. When my cousin, Laura, and I lived together in the 90s, I felt pleasure at her salivating while I stood at the stove whipping up some concoction or another.
I made interesting sauces of mustard, soy sauce, ginger, garlic, and sesame seeds. I might have even thrown in a spike of rice vinegar. I whisked it up and poured it over chicken, and sautéed it to perfection. I paired my chicken du jour with broccoli, done with a little butter, salt and garlic, and left it crisp enough, but not too raw. Laura lapped my cooking up every time. No matter what mad mix of a meal I came up with, she went back for seconds, then thirds, then sat stuffed on our couch and told me how wonderful I was. It was appreciation at its peak.
Laura’s not the first to think I am a wonderful cook. I have had more than one person tell me, “hands down, you’re the best I know.”  Part of my love of cooking involves the freedom to throw anything into the mix. If I follow a recipe it will always be loosely followed.
So when I married my husband in 2002, I had fantasies of standing in our beautiful kitchen with my apron on making us dinner to put on the candle lit dining room table. He would gobble up whatever I put in front of him and ask for more, more, more. He would call me in the mornings to see what I was cooking for dinner that night. My culinary skills would reach new heights from all the cooking I was doing for my husband and me.
Enter the reality of Hubby’s palate. Meat, potatoes and God-forbid anything healthy. Vegetables must be cooked to death, meat must not contain any herbs, and Lord knows he can sniff out flax seeds like a dog finding drugs on the luggage carousel at the airport.
So many meals cooked and the response I get is, “What did you put in here?” And this is not said with a tone of, “Wow, what did you put in here!” It’s done with a look of mistrust, like I’ve hidden poison in it, but the poison might be rosemary, or basil or olive oil.
Then we had children. Again, I had visions of new little mouths to feed. I was going to make them the most delicious meals with all kinds of nutrition packed in. So much nutrition, my kids would never be sick (ha, ha) and love everything I put down on the table.
Turns out, they too have “delicate” palates. I have thrown away more food than I care to admit, or eaten so it would not go to waste. I have also made more Kraft Macaroni & Cheese than I will ever admit (to anyone that can see me in person).
It takes a lot to make me blush. A lot. But I had to when one of the mothers from my son’s school said she sat by him on the bus for a field trip and the entire time they were going to the destination he told her every restaurant along the way and what he ate when he went there. He’s in preschool and can’t read a word on those signs, but he knows every one of them.
Because I try to find a bright and spiritual side of most everything in my life, I ponder my lesson here. Why, oh, why have I born a family that does not appreciate my cooking? A place where I really found joy has been stripped away.
On one hand I feel sad about this subject. On the other, the time I save in cooking for everyone frees me up to do other things. I take this as a lesson in acceptance. I accept that I can cook for visitors. And I have taken a fancy to baking muffins as my creative cooking outlet. I make a really great muffin – apple with a crumbly top, banana with almond extract as a surprise flavor, and my favorite, pumpkin with chocolate chips. I make them gluten free, I make them with all kinds of hidden healthy ingredients, I make them moist and delicious, and I make them for me. And while my husband won’t touch them (too healthy), sometimes the kids will even ask for one.
I have included my favorite muffin recipe below. I freeze mine and use the microwave to heat them up.
My muffins are made with gluten free flour, so that is what I call for below, but you can use regular. Feel free to follow the recipe or throw caution to the wind and use it as a guide. Whatever, I just hope it brings you happiness when you bake them and even more when you eat them.
Pumpkin-Chocolate Chip Muffins
3/4 cup white sugar
1 Jar of Organic Apple Sauce, 4 oz.
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 can of pumpkin
1 mashed up banana
1/8 cup water
2 cups gluten free all-purpose flour*
1 teaspoon Xathum Gum**
1 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
½ teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup semisweet mini chocolate chips
1 cup ground up (in food processor) walnuts
Directions
1.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (200 degrees C). Grease and flour muffin pan or use paper liners.
2.  Mix sugar, apple sauce, vanilla, and eggs. Add pumpkin, banana and water. In separate bowl mix together the flour, xanthan, baking soda, baking powder, spices and chocolate chips, and salt. Add wet mixture and stir in walnuts.
3.  Fill muffin cups with batter. Bake in preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes, or until you can stick a toothpick in and it comes out clean.
* These muffins are good with regular flour too. I went on a gluten free diet once for 30 days and this was the one thing that stuck from my time on the diet. I use Bob’s Red Mill All Purpose Gluten Free Flour. I get it from the organic section at my regular grocery store.
** Xanthan Gum is a powder that you can put into gluten free flour to give it a more chewy, regular flour, texture. I get it at my regular grocery store in the organic section.
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Help! Mommy Mantras to the Rescue

Posted on December 9, 2010 by JKW
One of my favorite parenting books does not give instructions on how to get the kids to hear me, clean up their messes, or how to punish them when they do not do what I say. My favorite parenting book helps me deal with me – my emotions in that moment when they are being kids and I am being, well, a mom.
I have to say, before having children I considered myself a rather sane, healthy person. But, post children I find that the silliest things are what seem so big (and insane when I really think about it). Like constantly picking up socks from the floor. I think every time my children put their shoes on they get a new pair of socks, multiple times per day. I suddenly realize there are socks everywhere I look. Why can’t they just use one pair? Or put the socks in one place when they take them off to make it easier to deal with at the end of the day?
It’s small – socks – but it can set me off when I have had a long day and I find myself once again picking up socks. I come to a crossroad – I could feel the anger to the greatest extent and let everyone know how angry I am so they too can feel it. I could say to the kids, “I’ve told you a million times to put the socks on the stairs and only use one pair a day! Why can’t you do that? Is it so hard?” (On and on and on I could go.)
Or, I could use the practice I learned when reading a book called Mommy Mantras, Affirmations and Insights to Keep You from Losing Your Mind, by Bethany E. Casarjian, Ph.D., & Diane H. Dillon, Ph.D.
This book is divided into five parts, each dealing with a different part of life. For instance, Part One is Mantras to Lighten the Load. This part covers Anger, The Blues, Monotony, Stress, Fear, and Letting Go of Negative Moods. In each section and topic, mantras are given to help with certain situations. Some other topics, without going into too much detail, are dealing with parents, comparing ourselves to others, making mistakes, and  flexibility. These are just a few, there are many more there.
The mantras are great, and I actually have used them. It also prompted me to come up with my own mantra, which is “Choose.” When I say this word, I know it is time for me to choose how I want this moment to be. I am reminded that I am in control and it is my choice how I react.
But, I loved this book for more than its principle purpose, to help my life by using mantras. I loved this book because it helped me feel normal. The stories included made me laugh, they made me cry and just made me feel like a better mom.
One story is about a mom who is at a friend’s house for a mom/kid play date. It is time to go and mom is trying to put her three-year-old daughter’s shoes on. The daughter, who does not want to leave, kicks off one shoe every time her mother is putting on the other shoe. A game that is perhaps funny once, but after a couple of times, and in front of friends, is not so funny anymore. The other moms see that their friend is getting angry. One mom steps forward and touches her friend’s shoulder and says, “Breath, now.” And so she does. Mom is able to take a deep breath. And it was good and the stress of the moment was diffused.

The stories are funny and truthful and reading this book was like talking with best a friend about all of the antics and dramas that can come with being a mom. I left it with a new arsenal of better ways to deal with my mommy-emotions, and feeling good being me. I kept this book and promised to read it again very soon.

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