The Saga of a Vacation to Washington DC

When my dad died, he left me $3k. In my family, that’s a lot of money. “Vacation!”, says I. “Save it in a CD for at least a year. Make your money work for you!”, says Mr. Wonderful. “OK”, says I. After all, the kids are 8,7, and 5 at the time, how much would they remember anyway? It’s not like we have $3k extra every year. (Even now, the budget is $2k, the last $1k rolled over into another CD.)

It was a quandry, however. I’ve always wanted to go on a cruise. It scares me how tempted I would be, however, to let the kids run all over the ship whilst I nap by the pool. And if there were just one child-nabbing crazy who ever took a cruise, the damage would be done by the time we found them, so I couldn’t relax and cruise with the kids. Where’s Mr. Wonderful, you ask? He takes his school breaks overseas. Twice a year- once to Italy, once to France. (He speaks the languages, but the kids don’t, so kid-losing puts overseas definitely out of the question.)

Of course, I also wanted to have the credit card paid off, the vehicles paid off, and be a month ahead on the bills, but $2k won’t do all that, and it only spends one way anyway. So, a little splurge, a kid-and-mom vacation.

My kids love “National Treasure”, so I’m thinking D.C., Philly, maybe con an aunt or two to let us stay with them, see my mom for the first time in 3 years. What to do about “The secret lies with Charlotte?” Thomas Jefferson’s home is in Charlottesville, VA, a nice day’s drive from our home and a good overnight-stop on the way to DC. A 9,8, and 6-year-old in a minivan for over 10 hours does not a vacation make.

Upon telling a friend, SW, the above, she exclaims, “Oh, we’ve always wanted to see DC, too!” Her kids and mine are in a local club together. She volunteers with me at that club in the same classroom. We have had them over a couple of times for meals. Her husband is helping mine build a shed (and storing his recent legacy of power tools there!). We do 4th of July together. I could use another adult on the drive, and her girls, ages 12 and 11, will get along well with mine.

So plans begin. My deep desires: National Archives, Lincoln Memorial, Library of Congress (the most beautiful building on the planet, in my opinion). No, actually, those are the kids’ desires. I still haven’t let go of the cruise. Better do that now. SW’s desires: Children’s Museum, Smithsonian. My mom is willing to do the National Zoo with us- she walks, but needs flat surfaces, at age 81.

My budget: $2k. SW’s budget: something less than $1100, since she nixed that when it was the first budget.

Last night I get voicemail from SW, “Hubby says if we talk with our local reps, we may get a nice tour free of Capitol Hill, maybe even the White House! Which day would be good for that?” I grew up in Jersey (surprise!), I’ve toured the Capitol. It’s boring. Politics is boring, history is fun.

I’m already worried how much my 6-year-old, and, frankly, fat 9-year-old, and my own fat self, can take, walking around DC. I’ve already called Mom, and can probably fly 9-year-old to her and meet them at the Zoo the last day, if said 9er doesn’t get in better shape by end of March. I’m not likely to be in better shape by March, but I won’t spend the day whining like 9er will.

Solution: At club tonight, I am turning over all the DC info I’ve collected, a copy of the suggested itinerary I’ve made, and the (frankly) demand that we do the zoo the last day, over to SW. Let her work on the details and budget for a week or two. (A campsite and National Archives both require 6 weeks advance reservation.)

Possible miracle: We do it all, happily, for under $1k.

The Monday Melee

I found this on a friend’s site. Check it out at http://fracas.wordpress.com/read/the-monday-melee/ !!

The Misanthropic: Name something you absolutely hate. Being given vital responsibilites but not the tools to do the job right.

The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent, or bogus. Half of Ted Dekker’s book, “Slumber of Christianity”.

The Malcontent: Name something you are unhappy with. The compromises required for our upcoming vacation to D.C.

The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can. David John Stefan, my dad, who taught me that generous people always end up richer than stingy people.

The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it. I’m brave.

The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for. I wish I could see my dad again.

Ooooh-”Post Options”! So THAT’S why I wasn’t getting comments on my posts!!

Renewed Hope

What is hope, anyway? I’ve always claimed I don’t have any, but surely that can’t be right, ’cause I keep getting up in the morning. Hmmm.

My dad would be 74 tomorrow. He died 2 years ago, just 14 days after moving in with us, from COPD. I miss him a lot. He treated me like a mental grownup from the time I was 6, even during the years when hormones washing through my brain caused me to behave in idiotic ways. Even when I decided that if Mom could divorce him, I should, too- after all, if Mom wears the white hat, Dad must wear the black hat, right? We didn’t talk for 7 years, but he was gracious enough to let me back into his life when I was ready. Yes, I still am very close to Mom. Dad got along well with Mr. Wonderful, and it’s a mircle in both families if you get along well with both spouces.

Dad was the most generous man I’ve ever known. His best gift to me was $250 extra bucks to go to Sea World with the kids, after he had already bought the tickets! “Have a good lunch on me”, he said. No, he wasn’t rich- he was living on retirement from the Navy and a government job in a 1-bedroom apartment and driving an old Escort. But for that day at Sea World, I could be a kid, not counting every penny, not telling the kids to drink water if they were thirsty, but buying sweet lemonade for each one, not having to share. I felt like a princess. God, I will never feel that way again on this earth. I miss my dad, who always made me feel like a princess.

Anyway, if you look back at my blog about the DoG meeting, it’s ironic that one of the DoG’s, a lady I like a lot, went to her mom’s funeral this weekend. I cried for my friend. Her mom had been slipping mentally for a while, but I know, intimately, how my friend hurts. It’s new for me to cry for somebody else. I hope it’s not just a passing thing- I want to be fully human, not just a hard shell.

Money and Time

In our house we say, “You either have plenty of money or plenty of time, you never have both”.

In a previous blog, I said I needed to stop revenge spending. God is helping- we just maxed out our credit card. It equates to having 3 car payments instead of 2, only the 3rd car doesn’t get you anywhere!

Theory is, we’re switching to a credit union to consolidate all payments today. Will post how it goes. Have been leery of credit unions since reading T. Davis Bunn’s The Warning. Highly recommend his stuff.

Mr. Wonderful is making beef burginon (yes, I know it’s not spelled correctly) for 12 for a dinner February 2. Must marinate, you know. House smells of onions. That’s new around here! Babysitter is set, so I get to relax and enjoy the grownups. ‘Course, person who volunteered house just cancelled. Will we end up having it here?….. Continued Feb 3, of course!

Found a great site- Teacuprose. How to invite her here?

Looking for….

I am looking for a friend. A female Christian. Someone who isn’t shocked or offended by my raw blogging- it’s where I dump emotions, sort through the stuff behind the off-the-cuff wave, and remind myself to be better. I didn’t become a Christian until age 25, so it can be rude at times.

I would like a friend who believes everything in the Bible is true, and has spent years studying the Bible so she really knows what it says, not just the parts her pastor has preached on. (Or what seems nice to Americans, so it must be in there somewhere.)

Here’s a litmus test: If you can answer “Why did Jesus come to earth?”, and give a Scripture reference, without looking it up or asking somebody else, I would value your opinion. My head is really mixed up this month, but I know He has the words of life, and that’s what I want. If you have a husband and kids, especially ones you struggle with sometimes, I’ll feel free to open up quicker.

I happen to go to a very good church, but the only time available to sort out my mental garbage is 10-11 p.m., and there’s no lady available at that hour on random days of the week. Thus, the blog. If I had 2-4 p.m. daily free, and the energy to sort and toss trash at that hour, there would be Julie, Kaycee, Sherry, Rebekah, and Angie at least to talk it over with. It’s not that I’m without Christ-following female friends. It’s a too-busy season.

I’m losing my first love of Jesus, and my husband (of 10 years) and I are fighting to move from “roommate” to “friend”, let alone “godly spouse”. I have 3 kids, ages 9, 8, and 6. We homeschool, and I tutor other homeschooled kids 14 hours a week and lead 6 AWANA Cubbies. We live on 3 acres with a cat, rabbit, and 2 chickens (hoping eventually for 4 egg-layers), which is pretty new to me since I grew up in a city in New Jersey.

Surely I’m not the only woman like this!

Unravelling

My kids and I went through various emotional hells today. Time to unravel and regroup.

Started out well- getting close to my youngest daughter still angry deep down, and avoiding the oldest, God help me.

Went to DoG meeting. Last month, a handful of other BoDoGs (Brothers of DoGs) taught mine to play checkers. He NEEDS guy friends, dash it! Mr. Wonderful Wrapped-up-in-Himself (“Whine, nobody else cares about me, I HAVE to pay attention to myself…”) printed an entire article about a loner who self-proclaimed that he ended up gay from lack of guy friends. Did Mr. Wonderful give a split second’s thought to his son, in a house with 3 girls? No, Mr. Wonderful indulged himself in 2 days of self-pity because he’s had thoughts about whether he’s gay. Hello, hasn’t every American been accused or self-accused of it at least once?

Anyway, seems the others were too rowdy last time, so this meeting mine was the only boy there. He wandered around the building alone, head down, three or four times before I lost sight of him as the daughters took over my attention: Respectable lady quietly speaks for 8 minutes about making plans to avoid panicking over lost socks, etc. My two fidget, kick chairs, shoot hatred looks at each other. Every other DoG over the age of 4 sat still. My 2: 8 and 9 years old, thank you.

We were told to bring rulers and scissors. I brought 2 of each, hello, the projects are for the girls to do. Suddenly we’re told to mark the fabric. Three other families settle happily down- “Ooooh, we love to sew!” I pull out a green pen (one fabric is pink and green) and a pencil (one fabric is blue and white) and jump back and forth between daughters, one per table, pulling back muscles to point to where they should be marking fabric, holding the rulers.

Overheard, not adressed to us: “NO!! Don’t use a pencil! It’ll SHOW! NO! Use your fabric pen, like I told you!” (What the heck is a fabric pen?) INSTANT spirit of “We’re not good enough for them, we’re not Little Suzy Homemakers, they think if girls don’t know how to sew a seam, knit, bake a cake and wear dresses ONLY, those girls are Feminists Pigs To Be Shunned” descends on both daughters. And me. Son is alone outside, feeling worthless. Daughters are inside feeling worthless.

Youngest daughter bursts into tears. Oldest daughter starts acting up in a very, very quiet way- backing away from the craft, zoning out instead of measuring fabric, complaining, mumbling.

I hate what those women did. I hate the woman who, after I tried to satisfy 14 fifth-grade brats simultaneously with a craft and lesson, said, “You aren’t from the South, are you?” and it wasn’t until an hour later that I remembered that’s what Southerners ask when you’ve offended their precious sensibilities. It’s what Southerners say instead of “You don’t belong here, scumbag.”

I am tired of women trying to tell me who to be, who to make my children into. I’m sick of women whose kids look down on my kids because they aren’t well enough educated, or home-maker enough, or I haven’t been all quiet and somehow (How do you do it? It’s not like I even remember my mom’s example, except for the belt) simultaneously turned out 3 angels who behave perfectly 24-7.

Like Mr. Wonderful is a help- how can I tell them sitting quietly is the right thing to do when he’s rubbing their arms, playing with their hair, fidgeting. God, the worst decision in my life was to get together with that 37-year-old baby. We’ve had a steady paycheck for the first time in 11 years of marriage, for exactly 3 and 1/2 months now. He comes home Friday with, “I’m sick of this job- it’s too unrewarding. It doesn’t feel like ME.”

Well, he didn’t like being home free with the kids while I worked full time. He didn’t like running his own business and setting his own hours. He doesn’t like working regular 9-5 M-F hours. The Bighead basically doesn’t like to work. Wonder why our oldest daughter is so lazy….

Here is what I want my kids to become: people who know and love God. People who seek Him and His will daily and serve Him wholeheartedly. Why? First, He is worth it. Second, it’s a lot of fun to do that. I know, I’ve been there. Third, it’s the only situation that is eternally rewarded. Fourth, everything else is shallow and ultimately unsatisfying and a waste of time and breath. Hello, “Employee of the Month of DipDunk Factory in Hole-in-the-Wall, New Jersey” or “LifeChanger, Forever Beloved of and Trusted by He Who Created the Universe”? Duh, it’s real and it’s attainable.

Pie on you, DoG moms. It’s not how tiny your stitches are, how many box cakes you bake, how many choruses you sweetly sing of “Blessed Assurance”. Not if the talents God gave you are acting, languages, valor, and passion for LIFE. Keep your homemade icing and perfect recitations of 500 line poems by 11-year-old piano prodigies.

Go home and hug the men who work long days for you to stay home and who build playhouses for the kids in the fenced-in backyards he doesn’t leave for you to mow with a rusted mower. Go home and thank your own mothers, who watch the kids every weekend so you can soak in lavender baths and who shop weekly to match outfits for your kids from the racks at Kohl’s and Burdines. If the result of the grace God has poured out on your family is for you to look down on mine, Pie on you. Yes, I was stupid and married a boy instead of a man. I’ve been paying for it for 11 years, and my kids for 6, 8 and 9 years. We don’t need your Pie accounting trying to make us pay on top of it.

What do I need? What do my kids need? Who do we need to be, who do we need to be with? My son needs to spend time with honest boys. OK, we visit a family with 3 honest boys every Sunday night. They sleep over here about once a season. Lord, please twist my youngest daughter’s ankle so she doesn’t hog the spotlight.

My girls need to learn to love each other. God, help me. You are able, You want love between them even more than I do. How do I teach love? Oldest daughter is getting so sneaky- all nicey-nice to me in the morning and smiling sweetly as she pinches her sister under the table after noon. I really am angry at her.

God, I’m asking it again, and for the first time. If there is a better husband and dad out there, please take this one. Yes, I know it’s me that needs to change. Thanks for the 3 and a half months of steady paychecks.

God, we need You.

Well, at least I am pissed, which will keep me from getting suicidal. Haven’t hit the nail on the head yet, though, emotionally or for a plan. It will come, it always does, and usually within 2 days. Tomorrow is Sunday.

A Personal God

OK, my sister-in-law had a religious experience. Somebody prayed to Jesus at a recent family gathering, and, from what I understand, W. ended up with her head tossed back moaning, “Can we really understand what He did for us?” Many family members were impressed, claimed the whole thing was a Revival, the family is really Coming Around (implied: to Our Way of Thinking).

It’s been a month. What’s changed? W. still lives with someone she’s not married to. W.’s big ambitions in life are to impress people at work and party as hard as she can on the weekends. W. still tries to bring her dog to Mom’s place, even though Mom is allergic. That’s a “Revival”?

Well, I claim I’ve had a religious experience. What’s changed about me? I still get mad at significant others when they don’t give me the attention/respect I want. I don’t plot revenge or work out the plot, though. My current S.O. has no need to worry about water in the gas tank, unlike a past revenge. (I do need to stop attacking the joint checking account when ticked, I see today.)

OK, there’s a change: When I see that I am getting revenge, doing wrong, even in a milder way, I want to abolish the behavior entirely, I don’t justify it or try to hide it.

But, God help me, that’s the 3rd big resolution of the year. No chocolate. No fried French fries (I reserve the right to bake frozen fries at home). No vengeful spending.

Will God help me? Is He a personal God? I see people claim to be Christians. It’s more like they are claiming to be Dodgers fans. You know the Dodgers- you sit on your butt and watch what the Dodgers do on the TV. Sometimes you might yell at them when they don’t do what you want. Sometimes you might learn a stat, or even a bunch of stats. You might buy a cap or shirt that has their name on it. But do you KNOW the Dodgers? Do the Dodgers know you?

Being with God is different. The Dodgers don’t give a flip if you don’t talk with them for 6 months. The Dodgers don’t tell you when they are worried about their kids. God is closer. God is personal. Not because He needs you, oh no. But He wants you. And not just to tell Him all your problems- how long do you think a human friendship would last if you did all the talking?

God doesn’t change. That’s a good thing. It’s not boring. I don’t change, in the basics. Lying is always wrong. Adultery is always wrong. Encouragement of people doing good is always right. Trustworthiness is always right.

OK, you know those things about me. Are you bored with me now? Or can we spend each morning going into it deeper? “I know you gave Maya a present and spent a lot of money on it. Did you do it to do good, or so she would be your friend? Or maybe even to prove you’re more of a Christian that she is? It looked good to some of our friends, but just between you and Me, did you really do good?”

When you get down to the details, it isn’t boring at all- it’s the best adventure ride I’ve ever been on. When you listen closely enough to Hime to give exactly $17.38 to the old lady next door, not the whole $20 in your pocket, it’s a thrill to hear later that her gas tank needed EXACTLY $17.38 to get her to visit the new grandbaby.

It’s moving, even heartstopping, to hear that the encouragement you repeated (once you heard the quiet voice of God, beyond the bells and whistles of Religion) to a young man helped him understand he doesn’t have to stand in his brother’s shadow, and erased the resentment and bitterness you used to see on his face, so now he’s as handsome as a movie star.

I’ve been through times where daily didn’t work- three kids in diapers can unfocus the whole definition of “daily”. My friends understood why my emails went from daily or weekly to monthly. But if the emails had gone to once every year, if I didn’t listen when they called on the phone, if I never accepted their help when I needed it during those long days and longer nights, what kind of friendship would that have been?

So, Jesus fan or Friend of God? “Christian” means “little Christ”, someone trying to grow up into a copy of the Big One, like when your kids put on Daddy’s tie and shoes and say, “I’m going to work”. Don’t call yourself a Christian, please, unless you put on the uniform and go to all the practices and sweat with the team. If you’re a fan, that’s nice. But don’t try to get into the locker room after the win. Everybody can tell who’s really on the team.

Qtips

How is it that Qtips feel so good, but never get rid of the itch? Downloaded games do that. Just found out this week a friend is as addicted as I am. On the other hand, can we define addicted as avoiding housework enough to tick off the roommate, but not enough to lose daily function?

Found out a lot about friends this week, not much of it good. Remembered that my best friend, although she moved further away physically, is FUNNY. And I am in need of funny friends- a sign of depression has come back, amidst the week-long rain.

Found out an acquaintance is not only not funny, but has little sense of humor. And is ADD and a social butterfly. My respect has gone down, but not my affection.

Learned to tell students that this year. “Respect still very high, sympathy dropping.” Like the secret dare in the lunchroom is “Can you get the teacher to believe the dog ate your homework?”

Learned that prejudice is ugly. Making jokes about your nuclear family is ugly. The fat around my stomach and thighs is ugly. Projectors in church are ugly.

Found out a friend is loud, and loud is unseemly.

Found a friend is moving away, emotionally.

What did I find good this year? Mr. Wonderful loves his new job. Mr. Wonderful voluntarily showed respect, without me suggesting anything, to my spiritual parents. A couple of teenage boys over three days can make serious improvements in the yard. Three thin teenage boys, over the past three years, have not done so much.

Hot dogs cooked in sauerkraut is good. Gingerbread is good. Richard Simmons is good. Not great, but good, and that’s what I need this phase. Mom is good. Sister is getting better.

What do I dream for next year? Drop 50 lbs. Advance N’s math by a grade. Enjoy a vacation. (Would the Es really join us for a trip to the zoo? The beach?)

Dream classes: Bible 1, Bible 2, Latin 1, Latin 2, Spanish 1, Spanish 2, Spanish 3. 10 students each language, 5 students each Bible, $25 per student per month languages, Bibles free.

Time to pray. Will let you know what God answers, God willing.