The Dirty Truth About Youth

In March I posted on confessions, and *whew*, did that feel good! So I thought I'd follow it up with a "part II" and put this shallow topic of vanity to bed. In the next few paragraphs I'll come mostly the rest of the way out of my closet (the one I keep all my skeletons in) and throw you a couple more bones I've been keeping to myself.

They say the "secret" to success is not to blab all your secrets but I just celebrated the 10th anniversary of my 29th birthday and honestly, staying 29 forever is a LOT of work! It takes commitment and almost having to be down right OCD about it. So because some of you have asked about my routines, others have been just plain nosy and because I think everyone should be able to stay 29 if they want to, here's my formula:

Accidental Friends

The unfinished story of Lisa and Christina

At our first practice, I didn't recognize the short little plain-looking girl wearing a Disney T-shirt with her hair all slicked back in a pony tail.  I was told her name was Christina and she'd filled the most recent alto position on our church worship team.  I was brought on the team as her alternate. Then I heard her sing, and I understood why.  There was nothing plain or little about her voice. She was jazz meets gospel, a classic tone and vibrato gelled with contemporary R&B style.  And come Sunday morning, she cleaned up very nice! A pretty blouse replaced her Minnie-mouse tee. Unleashed from its pony tail, was a perfectly manicured, shiny, thick, brunette mane permitted to float around her shoulders framing her adorable, freshly powdered face. She was cute as a button. Then she'd proceed blow the roof off the church building with her ginormous voice.

Kaden's "Angel" Day

Sunrise: Septemper 12, 2003

Sunset: January 4, 2004

It's been eight years ago today since my baby boy died. Whenever this day comes, I feel like I should say something...to commemorate him...preserve his memory...continue his legacy. But the reality is, I don't know what to say. No words are worthy-enough.  So some years I don't say anything. Honestly, I don't know what good it will do or why it even has to 'do' any 'good'.   I don't want to be melodramatic, I don't want pity, I shrivel at that kind of attention. Fact is, I celebrate Kaden every year on his Birthday. (He is 8yrs, 3mo and 3wks old now, btw.) That is always a happy day for me. 

There is nothing to celebrate today. After all, this day is not really not about Kaden. It's a glaring stamp in time that more represents me, my family, and what we're missing.  A child we'll never get to love on, make memories with, or watch grow into a man. I struggle with this day because it shouldn't be about me. This is his anniversary, it's Kaden's 'Angel Day'.  In my mind, this day is monumental. So, if  I'm going to 'go there' and mention my son, I expect the world to stand down and take notice of him.  If  I say anything, I only want my words to give more purpose to his short little life...but then again, it's not my job to define it. Kaden already has purpose, it doesn't matter whether you or I will ever understand what that is, exactly.

Viva la Mexi-No No

I recently returned from my first vacay out of the country. The hubs and I flew to Cancun with some friends. I took some notes and here's what I ended up with.


Upon exiting the plane, I instantly felt the tropics in my hair as every fiber of it frizzed in the warm salty breeze. We had arrived to the promised-land.  I was expecting the pungent fragrance of a palm tree and pina colada nirvana, so as I drew the humid air in through my nostrils I was totally unprepared for the assault on my olfactories. Cancun smelt like a basement.  Since this was our friend's fifth trip to Mexico, I asked them about the musty odor wafting through the airport and they replied something like "ahhh, that's the sweet scent of Paradise, you'll grow to love it!"  Cancun didn't look much like paradise from behind the windshield wipers sloshing through torrential downpour so our friends were eager to divert our attention towards it's more positive attributes and show us the heart of downtown, roads less traveled by most tourists.  A few miles beyond the hotel zone we saw why they were less-traveled.

Confessions & Whatnot

I've been going through a sort of bloggers-block lately. I don't have any poignant thoughts to share but I do not want to lose my audience, so I'm hoping this post will placate you until I ponder something a little more enriching 


Remember when the "25 Random Things About Me" was circulating on Facebook in 2009? Well, I revisited my old list and noticed  this and that has changed some. So in typical narcissistic fashion, I decided an update was in order.

I like this picture.

1. I struggle with the classic dichotomy of appetite vs. vanity. My sister, Sarah, suggested I call the disorder "Burgers & Bicycles" or "Donuts & Diet Coke."  She is an excellent writer and I wish she'd start a blog. Truth is, I'm just a self-loathing glutton with a gym membership.
   
   
2. I pronounce the word "bag," like "beg", and "lackadaisical," like " laxidasical" and "topography," like "top-oh-graffy." Sometimes I just make up my own words...I don't like people bringing this to my attention, it makes me feel bad about myself.
   
   
3. I continue to maintain a big bag (not beg) of candy stashed in my closet. I also keep a refrigerator in my closet.
   
   
4. I wear fake tanner. It's part of my ever growing makeup/preserve my youth routine--spray face and decollete, blow dry, moisturize. I plan to introduce formaldehyde to my skin care repertoire soon. Staying young is all about balance.
   
   
5. I take humongous bites of food as if someone's going to steal my food and then I swallow really fast, sometimes it gets stuck in my chest and I get the hiccups.
   
   
6. I had my eyebrows tattooed on.

10 Things That Happened While I Was On Holiday...

I have finally stolen a few moments to mind-dump from a very momentous vacation of firsts.  Destination: Kona, Hawaii at the Bff's place. During my ten days away from the mainland I experienced some things and learned a couple things. All of which I shall unload forthwith on you...

1.  Experience:  This was my first solo trip away from home for more than 4 days, a chance to clear my head, break away from the monotony of daily hum-drum, spend quality time with the bff,  focus on my goals...

     Lesson:  Ten days is too long to be away from my family. I missed the chaos that is my house... Jamey's theatrical hysterics, Audrey's incessant prattling, Jared's jokes and Jeff pining after me (yes, he pines).

2.  Experience: Audrey, the last child to exit my womb, lost her first tooth while I was gone and I wasn't there to yank it out. This first loss of tooth also commences her gangly-kid stage. I might not be taking very many pics of her for the next year or so...

     Lesson: I felt like a deadbeat tooth-fairy. She got $5.00 and Dada gloated in all the glorious credit. I am sad she will have her grown-up teeth soon and my baby wont be a baby anymore.

3.  Experience:  I swam with manta ray sharks at night in the dark black sea.  Perhaps these giant monsters wouldn't have been so intimidating had I not been floating prostrate atop the ocean waves peering down into the abyss while the behemoths charged at us like UFOs with their mouths gaping open, looking all ravenous and able to swallow a baby elephant if they so desired.

     Lesson: The scary mantas were actually quite amazing and docile. Despite my attractive plankton-colored skin and terrified screams, they did not eat me. For this I am grateful.

Our New Normal

Well we did it, the unthinkable. Steve moved in with his rifles and our family is going off the grid, people. With the impending Apocalypse, we've bought our beans and rice, stocked up on toilet paper and got enough bleach to purify water for a year, maybe more.  Now, we begin our journey in a cash and barter society...well, er uh, till the economy (real estate) picks up anyway.
 

[Insert shameless pitch for referrals here]

If it's not obvious, our fam is in a bit of a monetary pickle these days.  Well, you're not going to hear me whine and blog about what I can't control.  Instead, I choose to broadcast our predicament as an adventure. From now on you'll watch us learn, in real time, how to manage and live with what we do have--and that is a dependable, single and sufficient income earned by my hard working #1 man, Jeff.   

That's a lot to be grateful for when so many (including myself) these days can barely scrape together enough change to keep food in their mouths. I'm going back to earning the 'fun' money. Too much pressure being a bread winner. Besides, I'm liking all this extra time with my kids and I'm going to start a new hobby that will save us money. Have you heard of it? 

Living the 'American dream' has made a mess of our finances. We've never had so much available credit to play with in our whole life, I think we're up to 100K+ limit now!  Irony is, paying our credit bills was getting to the point of stealing from Peter to pay Paul.  We needed to do something drastic and responsible.  So we spent the last thirty days in sort of an experiment,  living on just cash and a prayer.  Well, and creative rearranging, cutting, slashing, starving and denying ourselves and, we did it.  We survived, paycheck to paycheck. I have to admit though, I woke up in sort of a panic the other day.  I could feel big brother whispering in my ear, reminding me of all the stuff we still 'need' and it propelled me to do something even more radical and more mature... I got out of bed and chopped up our plastic money, all of it. I know, so unpatriotic.

(Don't worry I blurred and scrambled all the numbers)

Actually, we've done quite a few new things to cut corners these days. We had the Naz family move in with us and  communal living has been not only fabulous but productive! The kids are quieter, each a little less rambunctious with having a roommate buddy to hang out with 24/7 (sans the fist fights).  Having extra muscles in the house has afforded us lots of finished honey-do's like, re-painted cabinets, walls and trim...

My curtains finally got rehung, there's someone else to cook dinners three days a week and there's eight extra hands to help with daily chores.

Oh!  By the way, meet my "#2", Steve, he's doing yard-work today ((squee!)).

My only complaint is the laundry. I just cant get ahead of it.  There are nine bodies living here.  That adds up to at least fifty articles of  rags, towels, changes of clothes, pajamas, underwear and socks to launder per day, at minimum. But Lisa, you say, why not have a greener attitude and conserve, have the kids re-use their towels, take less showers and not wash their PJ's after every use? Okay then smartypants, tell me how to police them without acting like a hovering she-devil on a rampage?  I do not have the energy to fight that battle. Not with two little girls who require two towels per shower and play dress up with their wardrobe. Not with two teenage man children who smell like ground beef and sourdough bread by mid-day. Not with two pre-teen boys who wipe their mouths and snot with their shirt sleeves and collars. I'd rather just keep a-washin'

Okay, so maybe we aren't exactly 'off the grid' and we will probably have to come up with plan 'B' when the Armageddon happens. I just count my blessings, baby steps will have to do for now.

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Teacher Conference Day...@#%$#!

@#%$#! as in, Arrrrgh!!! (c'mon, you know I wouldn't say that;)

I dread teacher conference day, even more so than I did when I was the the subject of dissection. The meetings feel more like an inquisition, but what kind of mom would I be to worm my way out of them?  It's my parental duty. Was it in the fine print of the contract I signed at the birth center that I would go, of my own volition, to these lynchings? It really doesn't matter whether my kid has been scoring A's or F's, I know it's all a ruse.

Nowadays, I arrive to the ambush donned in full armor. My defenses engaged, walls up, and already bristled by what terrible slanderous things the teacher is going to say about my child, to which she'll actually project on moi and my careless decision to over-populate the planet with yet another humanoid that doesn't  fulfill their duty to society by spending all their free time studying, brooding, over their ginormous pile of home-work of paralyzing proportions. Unwittingly I'll nod as the teacher gingerly points out how my child is not testing at neighborhood state guidelines and how he/she will degenerate into a complete mental retard within the next two years if I don't start reading to them ASAP

Call me a bad example but I didn't sign up for 'Teacher" classes in college. I'm not good at teaching academia and I don't pretend to be. I'm a concrete learner, I learn by doing. Unfortunately, I birthed children who learn different than me and my knee jerk response to them is to lose my ever-loving mind when they don't get what I'm trying to explain. It frustrates me to the nth degree. I boil on the inside and call my kids mean schoolyard names and banish them to their rooms for not understanding what I said the first time. I want to spoon out my eyes and shave my head with a potato peeler.  But I have, however, embraced imparting morals, values and ethics into my kids, illustrating love and relationships, instructing them on manners, and disciplining them on accountability, integrity and self control.  I presumed there was a perfectly good public school system in place my tax dollars were paying for that would teach them all the reading, writing and arithmetic stuff. I'd depended on it. Apparently I was mistaken..

A teacher told me once in a conference how brilliant my son was in school.  He was a natural whiz, a truly gifted and bright child. He aced all his advanced math tests and showed utter genius on his written science exams...but...he never turned in his homework so she was forced to FAIL him... Eh? You mean, he's proficient in all the material and he's learned what you taught him but he's, failing? "Yes. And its your fault. You have failed him by not helping him do his homework."  But I don't know how to do his homework, I flunked pre-algebra three times. "Well, Mrs.Frey, how can you help me solve this problem?" Um..how about you don't give him homework?!  *big pitiful grin*

Last week I attended my daughters first teacher conference.  She's in kindergarten.  I was just coming down from an unfamiliar high after wrapping up a rare, glowing five-star conference with my son's 4th grade teacher.  I should have known better than to frolic into my daughter's classroom on that glittery bubble of merriment and delusion.  There sat her teacher, just waiting for me with her pitch fork. Crap.  I'd left my armor in the other classroom.  So on she went, tersely telling me how my daughter is behind national world levels and giving me lots of helpful tips on how I could teach my daughter how to read...Eh? You mean, she's here in your class for 8hrs, 5 days a week and she hasn't learned how to read yet?!  "Well, you'll be amazed at how fast she will learn if you'd just go over these 17 worksheets, have her memorize these 9 pages of  sight words, practice her handwriting, plus have her read aloud to you the 3 books I send home with her every day and then just read to her 30 minutes every night!"

I left that conference totally dejected and angry with myself for not having taught my 6yo how to read before she started school. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now she's bombing Kindergarten and in imminent danger of becoming an illiterate homeless person and I was all to blame. How did I become such a base and shamely slug of a mom? Who was I to ever reproduce?

But then I got over it. And then I was mad. It can't all be my fault?!  There's just got to be something wrong with the way our schools are teaching our kids when we are 7 months into the school year and my daughter, who spends most of her waking hours with her teacher, cannot phonetically sound out words!  When; my neighbor home schools her kids, spending just 2 to 4 hrs a week with her 4yo and he is basically at the same reading level as my daughter. Based on this pathetic fact alone, I would home school my kids if I had the patience. But I don't...besides that someone would eventually call CPS on my arse. So, kudos to you home-schooling moms! I envy you.

FYI, I am picking up the slack now and reading to my daughter more. *Let us all exhale now* She is sharp as a tack, smart as a whip and I know she's gonna be fine, just like her older sister and brothers. Perhaps I'm a little jaded and the teachers aren't as awful as I depict here...they seem like nice people I might even be friends with otherwise. Under the circumstances though, may have to quit going to their interrogations, bad parent or not.

Manchildren Like These

Most of my friends have smaller kids closer to the age of my younger ones. I am in a weird place in my grown-up life. Not quite middle-aged, not young-n-dumb, just...thirtysomething.  But Jeff and I have already raised and released two kidlings from our nest with three to go, ages 14, 9 and 6.  My friends still have yet to discover what their relationships will look like with their soon-to-be adult children. It's hard for them to imagine, but what they can count on is this: The way their kids are as babies is the way they will be as grown-ups, just more refined. I am fortunate to share a glimpse here of what inevitably awaits them...at least, I hope it will be as glorious.


I was young-n-dumb once, that's how I ended up having a baby at the tender age of 12. OK...that's just what I tell people, though I was barely of legal age when I gave birth to my first child. Because my boyfriend and I were 18 and in careless, ignorant lust, we created a beautiful little son.  It was a hard path I chose and if I had to do over I'd probably do things differently.  But thank God He knew my future and the plans He had for that sweet baby.  Precious little Elih turned out to be my most favorite mistake. 

Elih is all grown up now.  My job raising him is done, he's accountable for his own mistakes and something magical has happened.  We have become friends! Don't misunderstand, I still get to be his mom, boss him around and guilt him into obedience but, he likes me now.  And when we walk hand in hand, people think I'm robbing the cradle, teehee.

He makes me laugh, he's goofy and silly and I'm convinced he will always be a boy at heart.  He's generous and unpretentious, the homeless love him.  His heart barely fits inside his 6'1" frame that suffocates me when we cuddle now.

Sometimes he's too sarcastic and gets misunderstood but he's pretty witty and talks himself out of a lot of trouble..what is it, like 9 traffic tickets now, Elih?!  He's always been a charmer.  He was terrible in school but somehow managed to trick his teachers into taking pity on his adorable brown puppy eyes.  Conferences usually went the way of  "Elih doesn't do his homework and really needs to apply himself, oh, but I just looove Elih, he is such a sweet boy, such a joy..."

Growing up, Elih was also the family guardian, the first on the scene of a scraped knee or bruised elbow.  He would console his younger siblings for their booboo's and confront their bullies. He was just an all around good kid. The only time I was called by the police to come pick him up was when he jumped in between two strangers engaged in a fist fight at the skate park. "your son isn't in trouble ma'am, but you may want to remind him that kind of behavior might get him killed one day."

Elih was always strong willed and determined to win. If he didn't think he could ace something he wouldn't attempt it. He loved free raffles when he was little but he'd cry bitter tears if he didn't get the prize. He was definitely a child persuaded by positive reinforcement. Unfortunately, he was my Guinea pig 1st born and got the tar beat out of him until he was 10yo before I realized money and bribes worked better.

He was always a bit of an independent and a self teacher, too.  He knew how to rationalize pain and make the best of his situation so authority (and punishment) didn't really intimidate him, neither did high cliffs or deep water.  He was smart and his inflated self esteem fed into his assumption that he should already know how to do stuff without reading the instructions.  I'm sure that's why he loved Lego's.  That kid could just look at the box from the age of 5 and put a set together perfectly.  As he grew up that self determination, coupled with a progressing adrenaline addiction, he excelled at video games, skate/snow/wake boarding and driving a stick shift.  Elih spent his senior year in HS switching out the motor of his Honda civic with the help of a couple friends.  It didn't surprise me he taught himself to do it all.

So I wasn't shocked when the day came he told me he wanted to join the United States Marine Corps.  Something inside me knew all along he'd choose the military as a career...it's why I threw away every mailer the USMC and ARMY sent him through high school.  This time my threats and pleads made no dent in his decision.  Elih always had a pension to be the best, a hero-mentality about him.  I'm convinced a traumatic event he witnessed as a toddler jaded him from wanting to be a police officer and he's never been able to stomach blood or gore so being a paramedic was not an option for him either.  Becoming a mechanic or something in the field of putting things together was more his forte but that wouldn't satisfy his innate need to save the world.  However, the Marine Corps embodied all that Elih found appealing, the few the proud, the brave...and free college!

He just graduated USMC boot camp and is finishing up his MOS training.  In a few weeks he will be stationed somewhere on the globe, far away from family but his heart will always be at home, with me.  He still asks his ol' mom for advice and he cares what I think. He still calls me 'mommy' and saves those big alligator tears for me to wipe away. I still lecture him and he still doesn't tell me everything so he can 'protect' me. And now that he's Mr. Moneybags, he likes to treat me to lunch, buy me candy bars and expensive Christmas gifts--that he feels he must constantly remind me of.

He recently forbade me to get a nose ring or tattoo and insists I'm going through a mid life crisis because I got my eyebrows done and started wearing bikinis, I worry him. Ha! I think what he actually sees is his mom as a real-life person and it weirds him out. He'll get used to it and one day we will share a real drink together. Baby steps. For now I am happy to let him buy me a latte while he slurps on his mocha java freezie with extra choco-locolate to drown out that yucky coffee taste.

The military has been good for my manchild. I'm having doubts whether they will ever be able to cut the umbilical cord between us but I am so, so proud of my son and the man he is becoming.


I have plenty more tales to tell about my grown daughter from another mother in a future post. Just never doubt the 6th sense God placed inside you to raise your children up in the way they should go. The rewards are bountiful and I am so excited to see how my other ones turn out.

Burnt Pork

I burned the dinner. Normally, I wouldn't admit it but my neighbor slash blogger friend next door, inspired me to write about food. The more she raves about her magical cooking pot, the more it makes me want to tell the world what I'm cookin' up. It just so happens to be my luck that last night I incinerated what was meant to be pulled-pork. A disaster still noteworthy, nonetheless.

It's actually my friend's fault. I blame her for enticing me to whip out my electronic slow cooking french-oven. With all this 'set it and forget it' business she keeps blabbering, somehow I got caught up in her enthusiasm, lost touch with my inner chef and really did forget I was cooking at all. Now my pig taste gross and it looks like poo.

But this disgusting cremation wasn't all for nothing. I learned that teryaki marinade turns somewhere in the 4th hour of simmering. My house stinks now.

After the children and husband gagged down their single blackened pork biscuit (and to my further embarrassment) our lovely friend, Yuliya, dropped in unexpectedly. Our friend is so hospitable. She swore up and down that our house smelled just like chocolate chip cookies!...eh? Well, Yuliya is European, their culture must make them think chocolate chip cookies smell like burnt teryaki butt.

Anyway, I must go and dispose of my shredded chocolate chip carcass (that Jeff accidentally on purpose left out all night). So, no serious blogging today. For that you will have to visit my witty friend, 'Christina the Southerner's' page. She is funny. I'm funnier in real life than in writing. Especially at night. She should blog about that.

25 Random Things About Ms. Frey

As previously posted in Facebook Notes, January 26, 2009:


1.I don’t like background noise & I cant think with music playing unless it relates to the song

2. I’ve learned how to gain weight even on vegetables :(

3. I hate the smell of unbathed dogs

4. I bite my nails sometimes...I know its gross, don’t lecture me

5. Broccoli hurts my stomach but I love broccoli

6. I am learning to play the piano

7. I spend HOURS writing using a real pen and paper a few nights every week

8. If I didn’t get old & fat & had a buncha money I would have more babies, lots more

9. my favorite gifts are accessories and eating out

10. I'm going to get a BA in liberal arts/speech & communication someday. Maybe. 

11. Before I die I will learn to speak Spanish & Russian. I hope.

12. I want to adopt more kids, just don’t tell Jeff. I’m gonna spring it on him when we're old

13. I love cats but don’t have any cuz I’m allergic

14. I can jerry-rig almost anything if its broke; I can also cook, sew, draw, & cut hair very well but I don't enjoy any of it.

15. I’m running 10-15 minutes behind life and that offends a lot of people

16. I’m terrified to speak in public but I know its destined for my my near future

17. I am an average singer

18. I wear most of my perfumes at once cuz I cant decide on one

19. I like blood and gore except my own blood, especially from a deep cut, triggers a vasovagal response in me at a subconscious level

20. We own and we use 2 washers and 2 dryers daily to keep up with the ridiculous amount of laundry 4 kids and 2 adults generate

21. I hide massive quantities of chocolate in my closet and behind my bed

22. Fast food is my drug of choice and there is no rehab

23. When I get overwhelmed I wont answer my phone

24. I keep my phone on vibrate so the ringer doesn’t make me mad

25. I hate all my clothes