Shepherds and Sheep

Our family is in a time of great change and to many people, change is scary. I am one of those people. Change is scary for me. It does not matter how strong my faith, it is not a reflection on the people I love and support and support me, it is not any of those things. It is just me being me- and I fear change. I also fear roller coasters, but I still go on them over and over because I love that tingly feeling in my belly. I love that moment where it is ok to not be in control- and change falls in that category, too.

This summer we will experience change. Our oldest will embark on the next stage of her journey. She will be attending a special summer camp to help her deal with her illness. We hope she will come home understanding more about it, about herself, and be ready to face her next challenge and opportunity when she moves to Maryland in August to be part of a special program at the National Institute of Health. This program will help get her moved to medications that have a higher success rate with her symptoms- but the program takes four months. So going from a family with four busy daughters, to three busy daughters will be change. And, change scares me. The fears with this change are many- and mostly they are selfish. I am trying to let them go. Being a parent involves making deeply difficult decisions that are not necessarily in your best interest, but always in the best interest of your child.

Our newest change happened last week. The economic recession hit our family. My husband was laid off. This statement probably would freak a lot of people out. Remarkably, it didn’t freak me out, my husband either. We saw it coming- who couldn’t? It looked as plain as a giant tornado coming down the street. What else would happen to a company that is not bringing on new business? They can’t float payroll forever. Since we had seen it coming, and since we have never taken the approach that “it won’t happen to us”, Phil and I had a plan. We made ourselves have minimal debt, and put our expenses in line with a one paycheck household and stockpiled as much as we could into savings for emergencies, and we finished most of our home improvement projects. So, worst case scenario, we can meet all of our needs and the girls’ needs for a long time. Of course, there won’t be luxuries- and I am considering McDonald’s a luxury, but again, we will be fine. Financially, we are ok and in much better shape than 99% of those facing the same circumstances. But again, change scares me. The layoff actually answered many questions we had been praying about, and so we feel this is all part of God’s plan for us- which leads me to the main point of this blog.

The homily yesterday was based on the bible verse, “I am a shepherd and you are my sheep”, or something close to that. I think most of us are familiar with this symbolism used by Jesus. The Priest was explaining how Jesus was saying that a Shepherd had a vested interest in his sheep, while a hired hand was only interested in the paycheck. Fr. Robert went on to talk about how sometimes a Shepherd even needs to have a vested interest in sheep that are not part of his own flock, because it is the right thing to do. This really made me think, and it made me cry. I questioned myself on whether I am a Shepherd. Do I take care of my own flock as I should? Would I stand up to the wolf for them or would I turn away? Do I take care of sheep that are not my own, because it is the right thing to do? Or do I view those sheep as a paycheck? I realized, this homily was written for me and my family.

One of the questions Phil and I have been praying about is how to do a better job of putting the kids first, to continue the transition into a stable environment for them? How do we rebuild any damaged parts of our relationships with the girls that the turmoil of moving, building a new house, new careers, new schools, etc. may have damaged? Our question was “Have we been taking care of our sheep?” And in honesty, we have been meeting their basic needs, but we could do better. Meeting their basic needs is all you can do when one parent is gone before the kids wake, and too often home after they go to sleep. Meeting their basic needs is all you can do when the other parent is torn between four kids needing four different things, the housework, the insurance questions, the bills, the returning of calls, homework, and their own job. Meeting their basic needs was not good enough for us- but we didn’t know how to get beyond that given Phil’s job.

The next question involved sheep that didn’t belong to our flock- and I thought of my students. Then I thought of all the teachers I know. It is obvious that we do not work for a paycheck- my pay alone qualifies our family for free lunch and other benefits (pretty sad eh?) But do we always tend to these sheep that do not belong to us as if they did? And I had to say no. Do I try, absolutely, I try. But can I do better? Yes. Have there been times I have turned away from a stray sheep for whatever reason, and left them to the wolf? Yes. I also thought of Phil, and by the way he dropped his head, I knew he was asking the same questions of himself, his role as a father, and his performance as an employee, and finding the same answers.

So, while change is scary, I know I need to move forward in a way that improves my role as Shepherd to both my own flock and to sheep that don’t belong to me. In one fell swoop, God answered all of our family’s questions through a layoff and a homily. Kind of ironic isn’t it? Our largest opportunities are coming from something that is so often perceived as bad. So, while change is scary, faith is not. Faith in His plan, and the desire to do what it takes to go where you are led, will lead you to happiness. We know now that His plan for us involves a lot of elbow grease, a lot of love, and the need to strengthen ourselves in God, our children, and each other.

Connections

I have been having an insatiable desire to re-connect with people from my past. I am not sure where this desire is coming from... I can't pinpoint a specific answer to the why. I do know that many of my women friends are going through the same thing right now- so maybe it has something to do with hormones of the 30-40 crowd. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I can actually catch my breath these days. I feel as if the last four years has been a complete whirlwind... the last three being the most fantastically, dizzying times of my life. In that whirlwind, things that were not stapled down, cemented to me, or just plain hanging on for dear life, got inadvertently lost in the blur. The fact is that I miss my old friends. I miss the memories with them, the connection with people who knew me through my innocence, my loss of innocence, and when I was Katie discovering Katie.

At least from my perspective, I don't have enemies from the past, and perhaps I put on my rose-colored glasses when I look backwards, but then, I don't find anything wrong with that. Resentment and anger are pretty heavy burdens to carry. Every person from my past has good qualities (even if I never acknowledged them back then) and I remember these memories with the sunshine of the good and not the shadows of the bad. These people are marks on my pathway of life and I am as interested in discovering who they became as adults as I believe they are in me. I no longer dream about reconnecting with an old flame- that desire was lost 10 years ago, but the old flames helped shape who I have become and hold a part of my past within them. While the flames have died the embers of friendship will always exist and that is how I want them to be a part of my life now- friends. All of my old friends- I want to know that they are well, that they are as happy as I am, and that if something should ever happen to me and my children go in search of the story of my life, these people have my blessing to share every intimate and embarrassing detail.

So friends have started contacting me, and me them. These are old names and faces to me, but to Phil, they are all new. I think it has shaken him a bit- why do I need these people now, is he not providing me with something, is our life together lacking something important? Quite the opposite. I am very proud of being Phil's wife. I think I hit the jackpot with him and consider myself the luckiest woman on Earth. Having that sense of pride in my family and our life together makes my desire to re-connect with the past grow stronger and stronger. Look people, look at how blessed I ended up becoming! Look friends- you were right- I would have a great life, and you always reminded me of it- even when I didn't believe it myself. For those friends still searching, I want to show them what is possible for every human being if the person is just patient.

Bottom line, I am in a place in my life where I am content. Sometimes the routine of life gets annoying, and that is when old friends help me recall a crazier day (which I have no desire to relive by the way- no desire to be stupid again) but it is fun to be mature enough and comfortable enough in my skin to be able to laugh at my old self. I love the place I am in my life. I understand what being a friend is truly about, and God has smacked me with some of the most amazing women and men to be friends with- people I never tell enough or show enough how appreciative I am of their time and talents. I do not wish to replace these people with the old, or completely let go of the old for the new. In my ideal world, I would have a barbecue and every person I care about, past or present would all come together. And every person they care about would be there too- so we could all get to know the stages of one another. Since we are all scattered to the four corners of the Earth, this can never happen- but it is a sweet dream. Except when it comes to the clean-up- that I would hire out!

I am at a crossroads in life- that place where I am who I am and it is finally ok to let my past and present merge together to become my future.

WTF...

Something is going on with my tummy today. It is not very fun. It is that thing that happens when you drink the water in Mexico. Only, wait, I haven't been to Mexico, and quite frankly, I can't remember the last time I drank water- bottle, tap, or otherwise. Have you ever had to deal with the revenge of Mexican water while teaching 6 periods of 7th graders? It's not pretty. It goes something like this:
Teach
tummy gurgle
Ignore tummy gurgle
Teach more
Think about tummy gurgle
Seat shift
Seat squirm
Bell rings- run like H.E. double hockey sticks

Have you ever had to deal with this scenario with the community toilets that never have enough pressure to flush everything on the first try and you are flushing, then re-flushing, then flushing again, finally taking your red grading pen and pushing the toilet paper just a little closer to the drain-thingie so it will finally flush down???? Ooops... maybe that was TMI.

What a wonderful thing on a typhoon Friday in Central Florida. I think I will go get my hair colored after school. I will look good as a blonde.

Am I getting too full of myself?

I have added another blog... a blog of opinions. This is a blog for me to share my opinion on all the products I encounter in my daily life of trying to manage my mini-circus. I have two reviews so far and feel free to check them out...My Opinion and a Quarter Get You a Gumball!

Cheers to Mom

It has taken me over a week to process this blog. After all, how do you describe in words a person who is so fundamentally important to your very being that everything that comes out in words sounds trite or superficial?

My Mom is my mentor, my role model, my hero, essentially, one of the most important people in my life. My Mom shaped the person I am today. Not that Dad didn’t play a role in it, but Dad came in later in the picture- the later in life lessons and understanding. When I was young, it was all about my Mom. I want to share a bit of my Mom with you because Sunday was her birthday. My selfless, loving, non-judgmental Mom is 25 years older than me. Those of you, who know my age, can do the math. The most critical thing I notice about the aging process of my Mom is that the more years pass, the more we resemble sisters rather than Mother/Daughter. I age, she doesn’t.

Mom has to be the smartest person I know. She is that incredible level of smart that I never understood until I became an adult. Mom can finish crossword puzzles- in ink! Mom knows the answers to any version of Trivial Pursuit. Jeopardy? She plays while cooking. Wheel of Fortune- often knows the answer before a single letter is turned. As a child, I took this for granted. I thought every parent was this smart. My Mom finished her Master’s Degree while working full-time, two young kids goofing off in the library while she was studying, and a husband who worked long hours and was constantly traveling for work. I have no clue how she did it- and I try to tell her how amazed I am by what she did- and often. Her reply? You do what you have to do.

As if being brilliant isn’t intimidating enough, my Mom is gorgeous. She is the perfect height, the perfect build, crystal blue eyes and blonde hair. Could I even get one shred of my Mom’s genetics- nope! Even today, walking next to her, I feel like an awkward gangly, girl with the wrong coloring, wrong clothes, and wrong everything. Sorry Dad, but not fair that Chris got the gorgeous genes. Mom always carried herself with confidence, something I still have not acquired. I am not biased here; my college boyfriend once said if I could guarantee I would age like my Mom, he would marry me on the spot. We’re not married. It was creepy to have my college boyfriend hitting on my Mom.

Mom set an example of what a parent should be, although at the time I didn’t realize it. She showed me that a Mom can and should have her own identity and can still be dedicated to her kids. Mom had an amazing career in education. She was well-known, well respected, and admired in her field, but away from school, she was still her own person. She was involved in Junior Women’s Club, Tennis Group, Golf Groups, Bridge Groups, you name it, and she was involved. She was always there to do the business politics with Dad, kept an amazingly clean house (without a cleaning lady and three messy people living with her), was a restaurant quality cook (except for the month of casseroles- sorry Mom, but the casserole phase- I still have nightmares!) and encouraged me and my brother to explore everything, do our best, and be true to ourselves. I can’t remember Mom not allowing us to explore something, and this I took for granted, and for that I will always be sorry.

As a kid, you don’t realize what a parent does without so their child can do something or have something. I loved art, so Mom drove me into Omaha on Saturdays to the museum so I could take art classes. She even found a local artist to give me more lessons. She made sure I got to dance classes (ballet, tap, jazz, and toe) and sewed costumes and bought expensive dance shoes and paid for even more expensive cheerleading uniforms. She didn’t just do these things for me. Chris pursued tennis, running, soap box derby. She was a scout leader for girls and boys and she planned numerous amazing birthday parties. When I got older, she took me shopping every weekend, and now I realize it wasn’t about making sure I had the latest clothes, it was about making time for me, trying to get me to talk to her about things and being a part of my life. She was cool. She taught me to shop sales, find bargains, plan ahead, cook, multi-task, skills I use everyday.

And what did Mom get as a reward for being so awesome? Me, an unappreciative, often embarrassing, rule-breaking, snot-nosed kid. I never said thank you enough, I constantly reminded her of what other kids had and I didn’t, made her feel guilty for not being a Room Mom or making me walk to school because she had to work. I was awful and she did not deserve it. Even now, after all the hell I put her through as a child and as an adult, Mom is my biggest supporter. Mom listens to me complain, tells me she is proud of me, and never seems surprised by an accomplishment. She never shows me any doubt she may feel about my abilities. Mom is a solution gal, so if life is throwing curve balls or lemons, she knows how to make the sweetest lemonade or become a better catcher. When I ask her about this, how she never stops to wallow or cry or be upset, she has the same answer- you do what you have to do.

The only good thing I did for her was give her grandkids. Although I think she feels I overdid it with four of them, she loves them all. She is an amazing Nana. She believes in building individual relationships with her grandchildren and recognizes their own talents. Having four daughters who are often looked at as a group by family and friends, I can never thank my Mom enough for recognizing them as individuals! My girls love to spend time with Nana. They read or do art or play on the computer or play games. She lets them drive the golf cart, takes them swimming, to the movies or shopping and lets them help her cook. She helps me be a better Mom by giving me advice- but in a way only when I am asking for it. She does not force an opinion or herself (although many times I wish she would) on me, my husband, and my kids. We all love her for it.

Happy Birthday Mom. May there be many, many more. Thank you for everything.

Roses and Radishes

Ok... so I know it is a gerbera daisy- but didn't Roses and Radishes sound so much better in the title? I also know that one picture is of corn... I do know my vegetables and flowers, they are in my garden. But again, it was all about the title. Moving on, SPRING HAS SPRUNG! I am so excited- the first successes of my flower and vegetable gardens are appearing. They may be my only successes, but we will see. This is the first radish harvested from my garden. Well, Phil says it is technically the second, because on Sunday we pulled one for our nephew, Jack to show him how radishes grow and he ate it straight from the garden. I wish I had my camera with me, because he was so thoughtful as he chewed on that miniature radish- contemplating the taste and texture. For a minute I thought he was going to hurl, but his eyebrows came together and then apart and he announced "I like it." Then, in typical Jack-style, moved on to a million other questions about this plant or that plant. He finish by proclaiming I needed to add broccoli to the garden and it will be done. Of course, I am now in search of broccoli starter plants for Jack!

After I harvested this radish, four more were ready, so we had our first salad last night with radishes from our own garden. It is becoming quite the family affair. I often find Phil out giving the garden a good soak- of course he has also informed me he has a vested interest- if the economy keeps going to heck in a handbasket- our only food may come from that garden! The corn is now two foot tall, so time to get a nitrogen boost. Carrots sucked this year- they usually do- but the leaves are so pretty that I left them in the garden anyway. This weekend we should be able to have bibb lettuce and radishes from our garden and tomatoes will be coming soon, onions quick to follow, and oh I can't wait for those cucumbers. The girls and I eat cucumbers like there is no tomorrow- I can get them to tell me anything with a cucumber bribe and Molly has an obsession with slicing cucumbers... should I be worried?

The flowers are a little newer to me. Don't get me wrong, I love flowers, but I have learned big, bad Phil loves flowers too. (Oops, there I go again revealing the softer side of Phil) Have I mentioned that my Hubby is a Harley-Riding, Bar Loving, Ready-to-Rumble Redneck designed to drive fear into the heart of everyone he meets? (There Honey- you are redeemed) So moving on, 'The Girls' really love flowers, so I am learning more and planting more so we have continuous color in our yard. SUGGESTIONS WELCOME!!! We are adding huge flower beds in the backyard next to our "Karma is a Bitch" fence (see future blogs for details), so I am busy planning bulbs and flowering bushes, etc.

Anyway, I rambled. I always ramble. But my gardens are a heck of a lot cheaper than a therapist and it is so darn wonderful to be able to say, "I grew that!". Check out the "My Opinion and a Gumball" website for upcoming reviews of products. I must say I found a killer pair of garden gloves- making it possible to get dirty and still have pretty nails!

The Most Amazing Brother Ever

Today is the birthday of the greatest brother whoever walked the Earth- my big, brother Chris. He and I have very different views of him, which I think is pretty common among any two people. Today, Chris is 39 years young, and has already accomplished more in life, with such great success, than I will ever achieve. Besides being tall and gorgeous (I used to love watching the girls fawn over my brother), he is an amazing Dad, fiercely protective of his family, managed to marry a wonderful woman willing to put up with our family's quirks, and is phenomenal at matters of business.

My big brother was not thrilled with me at first. I heard stories of him trying to dump me out of the cradle and push me out of my Mom's arms. As soon as I could move, we transitioned into a pretty common brother/sister relationship. We were best of friends one day and worst enemies the next. Having kids of my own, I understand now how this must have driven my Mother to the brink of insanity. My brother stood up for me to the bully, and included me in explorations of the woods and fun time with his own friends when I had nothing to do. My brother let me sleep with him for weeks when I was terrified and tried to get me to wear jeans on the first day of middle school so I wouldn't look like a dork in my dress... I didn't listen, but gosh I wish I had. My brother used to pick me up from school or drop me at a friend's house when he could drive and I couldn't. He moaned, he groaned, but he did it anyway. My brother taught me 'the rules' of drinking in high school- number 1 rule- don't embarrass him. (I broke rule number 1- a lot!)

Today is the day we celebrate him! His fantastic arrival in this world and his very presence that adds value to everyone he touches. I hope in the next 39 years, my brother learns to value himself as much as others appreciate him. I wish him the confidence in the love of a family who would walk through fire for him. I wish him the success he deserves as he embarks on the scary journey of starting his own business. I wish him the moments to stop and smell the roses (sorry about the cliche), but I wish him the gift of appreciating the moment in the moment, not in hindsight. Jack will only make his first hits once, and Addison will only dress up like a princess for so long, and there may come a time where he and his wife won't be able to dance on the back patio. I wish for him to go exploring like we used to do, build a fort out of an abandoned sheet of plywood left in the woods, build a soapbox derby car, lay on your back and stare at the clouds or the stars, and bring home flowers either picked from the road or picked up as an afterthought at the grocery store. Be as grateful for each breath on this Earth and accept that everyone you touch, is touched forever by your intelligence, sincerity, love, and truth. Thank you for always showing me how to be a better person, and for loving me and accepting me, even though I am a quirky annoyance (aka little sister!)

I love you Chris! Happy Birthday!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patrick's Day. Today I miss Savannah! I miss the town shutting down to join in celebration. I miss the bands in the streets, the kids clammering to see the parade and finding nothing eerie about sitting next to a cemetary. I miss laughing at the college kids stumbling on the cobblestones because they have had too much to drink at 10 AM. I miss holding Phil's hand as we walk and enjoy springtime in Savannah and stealing kisses whenever I want. I miss crazy, expensive St. Patrick's Day t-shirts and buying 25 cent beads for $5. (I still have the beads!)

Those Special Moments...

Shea Austin is growing up! Sometimes it makes me sad because every time I turn around... POOF! Another sign she is growing up. This weekend she donned her social butterfly wings and fluttered around Eustis seeing one friend after another. Friday night she had Ari sleep over at our house, Saturday she had Morgan's 'Fancy Nancy Birthday Soiree' (hence the beautiful get-up) and spent the night Saturday with Elizabeth. Surprisingly, she was not grumpy on Sunday- but did still insist on wearing her Fancy Nancy gear. Shea now talks about things with meaning. She discusses her hair- the long, blond locks she is terribly proud of, but refuses to let anyone near with a pair of scissors. She has informed me that pickles are 'blehhck', and on Sunday we had a long conversation about the injustices of being the baby of the family. Shea is now capable of cleaning her own room and doing other chores. She is interested in gardening and asks me questions about the different plants that are growing. She can TELL TIME, count by 10s and 5s, and can tie her own shoes- even though she is still amazed that Mommy is so much better at it! Next time I turn around, we will be arguing over the same things I argue with Ryley and Casey about- no you can't wear make-up, yes those shorts are too short, and no boyfriends- yet! Right now, I am enjoying the five-year old arguments- who loves who more, why can't I wear my princess shoes on my scooter, and my favorite- plaid and stripes do match Mom! If Shea is growing up this fast for me- I can only imagine what is happening for the rest of you!

You are my Shea-shine- my only Shea-shine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You'll never know dear, how much I love you!

Please don't take my Shea-shine away.

You know that saying about an old woman and cats? Does it apply to men too?

Last Christmas we lost Chubby, Phil's bulldog and longtime companion. Chubby had been through a lot with Phil- lived in Ohio, Georgia, and moved to Florida with us too. Chubby was a messy dog- slobber everywhere (a disgusting mass of goo!), hair everywhere, and finicky as the day was long. All in all, he was a great dog and we have some great memories of him. He is now safely above our refrigerator until Chubby's Garden can be started in the backyard.

My husband has always despised cats. I never heard him say a good word about a cat, and this always saddened me, because I am much more a cat person than a dog person. However, being a Mom of 4 has made me a 'no pet' person and I really understand why my Mom always said no. Anyway, to my shock, Phil came home last spring and asked how I felt about him bringing home a cat. I was really glad I was sitting, or I would have fallen over. Apparently, at his office, several stray cats had started hanging around. Phil became attached to Smokey. "This cat is different," Phil would say. And Phil would also tell me that Smokey was turning white already in the face and paws, so Smokey would be a great 'transition' pet since he had to be old. So, Smokey came home and he has been a wonderful pet for all of us. Phil had a new buddy. To me Smokey meant a stall on the timeline of getting a new bulldog and the agreement was no new pets until Smokey passes. Of course, when I took Smokey to the vet, we discovered that his is not old, he is actually only about 3 and I was also informed that the vet is currently serving a 26 year old cat. This discovery led to a rant-filled phone call to Phil reminding him of our deal and making sure he understood that our grandchildren are going to get to meet Smokey!

Of course I tapered off with the ranting, and we started thinking that maybe Smokey would like to have another cat around to play with while we were gone during the day. We went to the Humane Society to find them kitten-free and added our name to the waiting list. The next week, I was driving home from Lowe's and the friend we hire to help with the yard started yelling. "Mrs. Latta, Mrs. Latta, that guy over there is throwing kittens out the window of his car!" I said, no that he must be mistaken, the car must have stopped for the 'squirrel' I saw running. No, that's what Caleb had thought too until he saw a second kitten being chucked out the window.

I turned the car around and we began to search for the kittens. The white one was easy to spot and we snatched her up quickly. But we couldn't find the brown one. As we went further into the woods, the kitten ran further from us- it seemed hopeless. Of course the girls were ga-ga when we got home with a kitten. She could barely fit in the palm of your hand. Phil was not happy, until he came home from riding and saw how adorable she was and so we named her Bella.

The next morning the temperature had dropped 45 degrees. I was taking Molly to CCD and she was talking about the poor little kitty left in the cold woods. So, we pulled over so Molly could meow, just to see what would happen. We didn't hear anything at first, but as we drove another 15 feet from where we had last seen the kitten, Molly meowed again, and the kitten started screaming back at her. I was able to trample down about 10 feet of brambles to get to the kitten and called Phil, who promptly came and grabbed the kitten. He named her Atilla because she attacked everything in his truck, much like Atilla the Hun.

I had several offers from people to take at least one of the kittens, but who won't let one go? Phil- the anti-cat man! So we went from one transition pet, to a house of three cats. The two new kittens provide hours of endless entertainment, and Smokey has adjusted as well as can be expected. Now, instead of watching my husband grow old with his dog, he will be the Ol' Man with the Cats!

I Got Tagged!

I got Tagged by Becca. Since I am not very involved in the Blogger world, I really do not have anyone to 'tag' after me. But, Becca wanted to see how I have aged and the requirement was a self-portrait. Since I am sitting at school, I really can't shoot a self-portrait, but either Phil or one of the girls took this just a few weeks ago and it will have to do. I still prefer to be behind a camera rather than in front of it- can't you tell? Am I off the hook now Becca?

The Value of a Dream

At Christmas my husband presented the girls and I with tickets to see Taylor Swift on March 1. We were thrilled, excited- especially the girls because Taylor Swift is one of their idols. We carefully put away the tickets and began a large countdown... 2 months until we go to the concert, 1 month.... etc. etc. Somewhere in there, my husband forwarded me an e-mail from Taylor Swift's management company. Somehow, he had gotten us backstage passes. As many of you know from my blogs and our life, my husband can come across as a gruff, tough guy. But let me tell you, he is nothing but a puddle of goo on the inside... this is what he wrote...

PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DELETE. I am sorry for the caps, but I had to try my best to get your attention. If you please take the time to just read my story, I would be appreciative beyond words. I am the step father to 4 of the most incredible little girls one could meet. I married their mother after I had been single for 36 years. I must say I was really set in my ways. The adventure we all embarked on has been one filled with incredible ups and downs. Ten days after getting married, we moved from Savannah, Georgia to Central Florida because I took on a new job. The family moved with me without blinking an eye. This is the first time my new wife or the girls had ever done something of the sort. It was not easy for them to leave their comfort zone, but they did. One year later, my wife and I found a building lot, purchased it, moved again, switched schools=again, and started building our own home. When I say building our own home, I mean, my wife and 4 little girls. That was not anything anyone was ready for. There were a lot of missed activities, late nights, nights without good night kisses, having to deal with a grumpy step dad because I was stressed out from working 40 hours a week and trying to build a house too. But through it all, they remained strong, positive and always supportive and full of love. They would clean up as their mother & I would make the mess. Finally the day came,almost a year later, we moved into the new house, and changed schools AGAIN. This meant new friends, new teachers etc. Through it all, they remained strong, positive optimistic and most of all, full of love. One of the things that helped them get through this is their love for music and their love for Taylor Swift. My 5 year old knows most of the words, and several made up ones, to almost all of her songs, and loves to belt them out whenever she can. They really are awesome kids. I never thought I would be able to learn so much about unconditional love from 4 little girls, but they have taught me more in less than 3 years, than I have ever learned in the previous 36. I won't ramble on any more and get to the point. For Christmas this year, I purchased 5 tickets, (daughters and their mother) for the Florida Strawberry Fest concert on March 1, 2009. I know you probably get a million emails asking this same question, but I would give or do anything to be able for these girls to have a chance to meet Taylor for a quick photo and autograph. They deserve it so much and have asked for so little after giving so much. If there is anything that you might be able to do to help with this, you would make all of the lows over the past couple of years seem so small for these wonderful little girls. They deserve it, and so much more. Thank you for your time, and taking the time to read there story. God Bless, and Merry Christmas. Best Wishes, Phil Latta

Eleven Years and a Day

Yesterday we celebrated the 11th anniversary of the arrival of our first daughter. So today is the first opportunity I have had to catch my breath and reflect on the impact she has made to my life and what the coming years mean. After all, the gift wrap is thrown away, the leftover cake is on the counter (although I am sure there won’t be any left by the time I get home tonight!)

Eleven is double digits. It seems more significant than ten because eleven is heading to middle-school, eleven is discovering puppy love, eleven is wanting a straightening iron for a birthday gift, eleven is wearing junior’s clothes, wanting independence, and POOF- becoming a pre-teen complete with the drama and the attitude.

The past eleven years have gone by so quickly that my head spins. I worry that the moments I captured with the camera in my mind will fade, that they will become dim and I will confuse this magnificent being with one of her sisters. (Goodness knows my Mom still tries to make me believe I was the one who loved mashed potatoes when it was my brother!) The first time she smiled, the look on her face when she was tubing, or driving a go-cart for the first time. Tears when she moved from a friend. The possessiveness of the first time her baby sister came home. The wonder of cooking with her Grandma. The focus of homework, and the pride of a straight A report card. Catching her watch herself in a window- admiring herself for the first time.

I know she struggles with her identity in a family of four girls, and unfortunately, with being the first, we experience firsts along with her. How are we going to respond to sleep-overs, or going to the movies with a friend (without a parent), or spending money, name-brand clothes. Like I said, it makes my head spin! My husband laughs when I share these concerns and just tells me to hang on, that we haven’t seen anything yet- high school is coming up quickly.

I still remember the first time I saw her, this magnificent daughter of mine with her olive skin, dark eyes, and gorgeous auburn hair. I wanted her to look like me. I wanted her to have some outward sign that she was mine. I tried convincing myself for years that I saw this of me, or that of my Mom, but even I had to give up the dream because this precious girl is completely her Dad’s side of the family. I remember not being able to sleep unless she was in my room, then she had to be in my bed. I remember going days without doing laundry or any other household chore because I had to hold her at all times. I didn’t experience that with any of the other girls. My other daughters I could put in the swing or the bouncy chair and leave them be to get this done, or that done.

The road with my daughter has not been easy and in ways unseen to the naked eye, she is exactly like me. She is eager to please others- a little too eager, like me. She cares too much about what other people think- again all me! She would walk through fire to help a friend… this is a trait I am proud of! My daughter has been through a divorce, several moves, and diagnosed with a chronic illness- things that would make adults crumble and many days she came darn close- but she fights. Sometimes she rages against me, and many times I have crumbled in my closet in tears. Sometimes she rages against herself and again, I crumble in my closet in tears.
I worry about this daughter of mine. I worry that she will give up on herself. I worry that she will give up on me. I worry that she will face disappointment that she can’t handle. Of all my girls, she is the one I can see waving good-bye to for college and then only seeing her every other year for the obligatory 2 day visit home. I pray for this daughter of mine. I pray that she enjoys her life, that she really lives her life, that she reaches beyond the stars. With this girl, anything is possible and wherever she goes, a part of me will go with her.

An Old-Fashioned Dose of Testosterone

Have I mentioned how much I love my husband? My husband rocks! He is dedicated to me and the girls, he has a work ethic like no other, he holds himself to the same standards he expects of others, he has a deep faith, a solid sense of order and responsibility, and a FABULOUS sense of humor. I love my husband. I love him more than he will ever understand and more than I could ever express without sounding like a sickingly, sappy Hallmark card. All of these wonderful attributes of my Husband will occassionally go out the window. This usually happens when he is hanging out with the boys (I mean guys... no I think boys is more appropriate) and most often when our friend Mr. Bacardi is present.

Case in point, a few weeks ago we were invited to a friend's home for a family gathering celebrating our friend's birthday. Kids were welcome and present, burgers on the grill, women gabbing in the kitchen, kids running in and out of the house, and boys on the back porch enjoying the moment and a few toddies. The child-size 3 wheeler was brought out for all of the kids to get their adrenaline fix before dinner and then a great meal. Of course with the short days, by the time dinner was finished, it was too dark to get back on the 3 wheeler because of the lack of lights and the potentially dangerous terrain. My Husband did the dutiful, protective Dad routine. "Girls, this is unsafe. You will not ride that thing this late because you could hurt yourselves." I think he even threw out phrases like good choices vs. bad choices- very, very solid parenting. I was proud, the girls understood, moved on to the next fun thing and stopped whining. SCORE ONE FOR DAD!

The night moved on, Mr. Bacardi became very generous, and the poker table came out. The four letter words started slipping more and more and so I thought it was time to round up the kids and head home. I encouraged my dear Husband to stay and enjoy his friends. One even offered to drive him home after the game.

Around 2 AM I get a phone call. I can't really understand what my Husband is trying to tell me... I just understood 'three wheeler', 'ouch' and home. He mercilessly put our friend and the Hostess of the night on the phone and all I heard was "I am so sorry- please don't be mad at me." These words at any time are not good, but combined with the lateness of the hour- spelled disaster. Somehow, the boys (and you will understand now why I have chosen that term) had thought it a great idea for them to take turns riding the child-size three wheeler around the yards. Three men over 6 foot tall- my Husband is 6'4"- felt they could squash their bodies one by one onto a tiny machine and run at full speed. One friend decided to take on the Step By Step Toddler slide- the slide (may it rest in peace) did not stand a chance. My husband decided the best choice was to mow the neighbor's lawn with his face, shoulder and teeth. God Bless testosterone.

Anyway, they threw Hubby-Mine into a cab, which brought him home. The next day he was swollen and bruised and nursing a bit of a hangover. The road rash on his face brought up many questions from the girls. Without missing a beat, Hubby merely responded "You girls kept pestering about riding the three wheeler at night and did not believe me when I said it was dangerous. So, to show you what can happen, I rode the three-wheeler and ended up getting really hurt. I did this all to prove to you that I was right about the danger." Boy, were the kids impressed. On Monday, his shoulder was still really rough, and he went to the ER because we were concerned it had dislocated. Fortunately, it was a severe sprain and he was able to get it to 'pop' back as the day went on.

I teased, but I did hold back. He was, after all, hurt and I did not want him hurt ever. At the same time, I am pretty apathetic when people get hurt from pure stupidity. His face healed, his shoulder became better, and the only memory was the stained-beyond-repair shirt he was wearing that night. I still can't bear to throw it out because our 5 year old picked it out for him for Christmas. (I didn't mean for that touch of guilt to come out- sorry babe!) We hit the point where we can laugh heartily with our friends about the incident- which I am sure will be added to a long list of- Lordy, Did My Husband Really Do That?

As I said, the incident was becoming a distant memory when I received a call from insurance yesterday regarding the Hospital visit. They wanted to know about the nature of the injury. Was it an accident? Did it happen at work? In a car accident? Could the liability be passed off to another insurance company? My answers:

Yes, it was an accident.
No, it did not involve a car.
No, it did not happen at work.
No, there is no other liability.

"Well, Ma'am, what was the accident a result of?"

My answer--- "I hope stupidity is a category in your computer."

Addicted...

I have prided myself on not being addicted to any 'bad' things in life. Yeah, Yeah, I understand that addiction of any kind is wrong, bad, damn me to hell sort of stuff, but I am not addicted to illegal substances or alcohol. (Since I am above- well above- the age of 21, this substance is not illegal but still on that very bad list). I do laugh about my 'addiction' to Dr. Pepper. I honestly cannot go longer than 4 hours without one. I do laugh about my 'addiction' to physical affection- no goodnight kisses from my girls each night can send me in a tailspin. But yesterday I did discover an addiction I did not realize I had.

Is there a meeting for "Technology Addicts"? Let me explain. On Saturday afternoon my phone fried. I mean fried- possessed. It was flipping from one screen to the next, I could see that calls were coming in- but I couldn't answer them. I could try to text people to let them know my phone was fried, but it kept cutting me off after two words and zapping away my message. I cried, I laughed, I got really pissed off! I had never realized how dependent I was on my cell phone. I have many friends who don't even talk on the phone anymore- we just text. A line here, smart aleck comments there. On the weekends, this goes on for hours- on American Idol nights, Phil and I text back and forth with C. and J. for a couple of hours. Phone calls make you miss things, texting allows you to multi-task. Plus, I don't know anyone's phone numbers anymore. They are all plugged safely into my contacts list on my phone. Do you know what happens when you don't have phone numbers? You can't even use the archaic land line because you don't know what number to call.

The frustration was intense, the need for medication was rising. And then, the white knight arrived! Verizon. We had switched to this cell phone provided in October. Phil hated T-mobile, I am apathetic- I think most cell providers suck in one way shape or form. My family is on Verizon, and so are a lot of friends, which makes calls free. So switch we did. Verizon was able to find us local numbers- something T-mobile was unable to accomplish in almost three years. We got great deals on new phones- and they give teachers a discount on everything. But the biggest white knight moment occurred on Sunday.

Phil and I drove over to the store expecting to have to purchase a new phone- $100 not in the budget. So we were bummed, but knowing that the cell phones are our main source of communication with one another- there wasn't another option. I walked in and met Jose. Jose was dealing with a gentleman whose puppy had decided to bite through his Blackberry, and was able to multi-task and help me at the same time. I was amazed I could still stand- after all, customer service is non-existent these days- much less finding someone who could actually handle two customers simultaneously. Jose asked me what happened. I explained that my phone was fried, that I was lost without it, that I had only had the phone since October, that I did not abuse it by throwing it across the room or submerging it in water. I didn't push it past it's limits- hell, I don't even know how half of the functions work! He asked for the phone- which even with it not working, I had a hard time handing it over. Then he left.

I began to panic. The Verizon man took my phone and left. He went behind the security door. I began to sweat, my stomach began to flip in a very bad way. What do I do? The man has my lifeline. After what seemed like an eternity. He came back and handed me a brand new phone. He told me my contacts were switched over, to call customer service to get the ring tones I had downloaded re-downloaded for FREE, and then asked- Is there anything else I can do for you today? Holy crap.... I love Verizon! My addiction is back. I am reconnected to the world. I am happy.