2012 Butler Family Christmas Letter by Guest Writer Erik Butler

Greetings once again from the Butlers.  Hopefully you remember or know who we are. Either way, feel free to keep reading.  (Forgiven in advance if you are not up to it after all the other cathartic and timelier Christmas update letters.) This year’s 2012 update is an “outside the box” work in progress as I started the update from my In-Law’s Myrtle Beach home en route to visit the familiar faces and places of Northern Virginia.  As typical, a lot going on as we journey through life in a way that certainly seems to captivate us if no one else.  Looking back, this trip in many ways seemed to reflect what our life is all about and we hope you enjoy being a part of the ride with us.

As we packed up and departed sunny Florida on Friday 12/21, Elizabeth was quick to notice that the “prize” piece of luggage that I had proudly acquired at the Salvation Army was actually a pet carrier.  I was a little curious as to why it had air vents, but reasoned that they would be a great feature to prevent the mildew ever prevalent in Florida. Affirmation came as an older gentleman dropped his dog off using the exact same “luggage” at the vet while we were boarding our sweet Cavalier, Ruby.

First stop was in Gainesville to pick up Ryan, fresh upon his December graduation from University of Florida, and our rental vehicle…A “necessity” to allow us to haul all our “stuff and things” required for Christmas on the road.  Elizabeth was quick to note that the tire pressure light was on so I reasoned that National Rental Car should be responsible. The flustered rental clerk said he could help in 5-10 minutes. Not wanting to give up any of my precious vacation time or spend my own $.75 on air at a gas station (A matter of principle!), we drove into the restricted  rental car service bay to tell them where they could put their air. The same clerk comes flying out saying that we were breaking the law/trespassing and would need to vacate the property. Alas, we got our well earned air and you could simply feel the momentum of a 1,000 mile road trip during Christmas building!

While still traveling Friday on the way to Myrtle Beach, Elizabeth got the word from family that the Gift Exchange Party that they were hosting Christmas Eve Monday would be cancelled due to a raging family wide illness.  Immediately, Elizabeth went into “Plan B” mode to see who would like to “Adopt the Butlers” on Christmas Eve. My thought was to simply show up unannounced at one of our old friend’s homes in Leesburg sort of like Cousin Eddie in the Winnebago from Christmas Vacation. Decorum and common sense prevailed proving again that the Lord has a better plan.

A short but sweet “Pre Christmas” with Elizabeth’s mother Lin and step father Doug was the perfect midpoint. We somehow packaged about a ½ week’s worth of catching up, eating, shopping, unwrapping, and emotional releasing into 36 hours and started back on our journey north…Complete with golf balls that Doug snags from their Tidewater fairway lot and gifts to me so I can simply hit them back into other people’s yards.

Touching into VA soil, the beloved Redskins were kicking off in a game of true playoff significance for the first time in years. The boys and I somehow negotiated rights to listen to the game while Elizabeth drove in a display of diplomacy reminiscent of the Camp David Peace Talks. Alas, while climbing Afton Mountain near Charlottesville, all radio reception and internet connectivity were lost with 1 minute left in the game and the dream crushing Eagles on a drive to steal the game. Panic struck three overanxious fanatics while a patient driver frustrated by listening to fading static and a senile and/or liquored-up Sonny Jurgensen for over an hour finally had enough of us all. A therapeutic trip through the nostalgic JMU campus in Harrisonburg and a table full of chili dogs at the ‘Burg’s iconic Jess’s Quick Lunch brought us back from the abyss. That, and confirmation that the good guys actually won!

Christmas Eve in No.VA was special in ways both meaningful and completely unexpected.  A surprise White Christmas snow fall coated the area beautifully as we finally made it into Leesburg.  We were able to inhale our favorite cheese steaks at the familiar Giovanni’s- still run by the same family since our first days in town. We hit a church service where the Redskin’s spectacular rookie, Robert Griffin III, attends, and were able to share a family prayer and lay flowers at the breathtaking cemetery where my folks are both buried. The night concluded out at the wonderful country home of our dear Christian Life Group friends, Henri and Amanda Fuhrmann.  Amanda makes Martha Stewart look like a character from the Duck Dynasty show, and you would have thought she had 2 months to prepare for the Butlers verses 2 days. Only thing better than the spread was the simple warmth and love still apparent in a special lasting relationship that exceeds any human limits we put on it.

A timely drop in by the amazing Mancini family did nothing but add to the evening’s significance and joy.  A life group that started over 15 years ago as “Carseats to Carpoolers” has evolved into “College Grads and Empty Nesters” with the Lord’s sovereign hand guiding each of us along our way while somehow keeping us still connected. Truly remarkable to have such eternal bonds in the transient world that we live in. We were blessed to be “adopted” that night and I was also glad I hadn’t completely forgotten how to drive in snow.

Christmas Day started in an interesting fashion as gifts were opened in a hotel suite for the first time. A lot to be thankful for including having kids of the age where gift cards compact and small (but pricey) electronics are the rage verses space eating “Some Assembly Required” scooters, Lego castles, and doll houses. The annual Christmas Day gathering at the White Gate II farm of Elizabeth’s father Don and step mother Barbara was like stepping back in time. The characters of character assembled this year and at so many similar gatherings through the decades have influenced us in meaningful and lasting ways. One could virtually feel the presence of those no longer with us, while enjoying the current fellowship and holiday food which Barb traditionally prepares.

Oh well, it was time to start heading back South the day after. Patrick decided to stay behind to help Don drive back to his Florida home with the wishful plan of getting to FedEx Field for the Redskin’s season ender with the dreaded Cowboys. After navigating a wintery mix on the roads, I drove over a large tire tread on I-95 and dislodged a decorative trim piece on the rental. Like any renter, I simply shoved the piece into the cavity of the front bumper, and proceeded to a motel that may want to incorporate the SEO term “Bates” should they ever elect to promote the property via Internet. Seems that they are still a few decades away from that trendy step. The next morning, I invested $.97 in a pack of bolts at Wal-Mart and proceeded to the parking lot to “rig” the trim piece back to the bumper. An elderly couple stumbled upon me and shrieked in terror as if I had been a “Hit and Shop” victim and someone had left me for dead while securing some 75% Off Post Christmas garland. I assured them that I was OK and merely performing a little auto body triage. Too funny! The rest of the trip was made without incident including the rental return.

Ok, here are the personal updates:

Elizabeth – Still the most appreciated art teacher in the land as she is in her 5th year at Bell Shoals Baptist Academy.  Students routinely say “hi” at the grocery store or in town and the number of Christmas and end of school year gifts lavished compensate her in ways beyond what any Christian school could afford. She and Bethany weathered Tropical Storm Isaac at our Gulfport/St Pete Beach home with pizzas and DVDs. She kicked off her  “Living on the Edge” Tour with a couple of trips north this year. One involved a nostalgic train trip to Alexandria, VA with Bethany that included some long overdue culture at the Shakespeare Theater and a rendezvous with her mother and Doug. The second trip offered her a chance to hang with her friend Lisa and see the familiar sights that still have such meaning. She is developing a mini cult following on FaceBook, and continues to keep all of us and our pets Ruby and Katarina on track despite our hygienic, administrative, academic, attitudinal, and emotional challenges.

Ryan - Gator-Boy graduated from UF’s School of Journalism and decided to leave his position as the sports writer for the local Chiefland Citizen.  His talents and aspirations perhaps a bit more than the tiny Citizen can offer at this point. For the moment, he is back with us at home. The main reason is that on a certain level, he does not want to be here. It simply makes sense as he networks and implements his plan. If he actually wanted to be here, I don’t know that we would want him to stay. Either way, we are proud of him and are so excited to see how these next weeks and months shake out. I know that he will read this letter and probably pick it apart. All good!

Patrick – Took the concept of parental job security to new levels as he earned his HS diploma. Elizabeth and I were well equipped to host a church small group study on “‘Raising Teens” as our battle scars have given us authenticity. In a classic story, the school contacted us the day before graduation to say he owed $15 for an overdue book or he would not graduate. Elizabeth fled from her training session cash in hand to eliminate any processing delays. Hilariously, while running woefully late getting Patrick to graduation, the opportunistic Hillsborough County Schools were charging $5 to enter the grounds. Elizabeth had given her last cash for the overdue book and I had nothing either so we temporarily panicked with no cash on us. We agreed to storm the gate but thank goodness Doug saved us from the indignity with a spare Lincoln. In August, our “work in progress” enlisted in the US Navy and was assigned as an RP- “Religious Program Specialist” responsible for administrative support and security for military chaplains and pastors.  We are very proud and ask for your prayers as this purposeful turn in his life plays out.

Bethany- Her stomach ailments during last year’s Christmas lead to a December 28th gall bladder removal. Rather radical for one her age, but we give praise after a year it certainly seemed to be the right call. Bethany enjoyed the train trip up north with Elizabeth and a summer stay in Myrtle with Granna Lin and Doug. One of her dear friends sadly lost her mother to a heart attack and to witness her compassion and support was special. She enters high school next year and appears to be fully equipped in ways that will serve her well.  She is even getting “career focused” as she recently said: “I like animals, but don’t want to be a Vet. I thing that being a teacher would be fun. I am also a good writer. Maybe I can teach animals to write?”.

Erik- The Takeout Butler restaurant delivery service (www.takeoutbutler.com) continues to survive and thrive during challenging times for any small business. Quite simply, people need to eat and we provide a value-oriented and remarkably convenient way to make it happen. In January, we were recognized by the Riverview Chamber of Commerce as the “2011 Business Person of the Year.” Not about me or a popularity contest, but evidence of TOB’s economic impact and commitment to the community. Riverview was just rated by CNN/Money Magazine as the country’s 67th “Best Place to Live.” So, the powers of extrapolation allow me to be considered among the best 67 business owners in the country. That and $5 still just get me a footlong at Subway.  Personal highlights for me include getting reacquainted with a grade school buddy Brian Lewis down in Gulfport in a remarkable story too long for this letter.  I also “won” the first round in the annual golf tourney that my JMU fraternity buddy Jack Coffey holds each winter. Amazingly, I found out that my long term internist who I had to see after pulling muscles while playing golf had actually been married to Jack’s sister for 17 years! Lay me odds on that!

We were able to assist a local food bank and the Riverview Community Services by delivering holiday meals to the needy. The touching stories of what these folks have been through made us all feel how blessed we are.

Ok,  this year’s update was shorter than last by about 2 words. Already accomplishing 2013 goals!

We’re within an hour of 8 Spring Training camps and 1..5 hours from the “Mouse” and Universal so call us if you visit Florida.  Please stay in touch as we covet your prayers and value our long standing relationships. Each of you touches our family in a meaningful way that continuously blesses us.

Air Travel: One Molecule Away from Hell

For those of you who have been living under a rock and haven't had the joy and privilege of "Flying the Friendly Skies" post 911, it ain't what it used to be! The other day in the lunchroom at school, one of the teachers was telling the rest of us not to eat margarine. "Margarine" she says, "is one molecule away from plastic". Now I believe this was a history teacher, so I am not sure "one molecule away..." is an exaggeration or fact, but nonetheless let me make an analogy here. If margarine is one molecule away from plastic, air travel is one molecule away from hell.


When I was a child....a VERY young child, air travel was the most glamorous thing ever! Flight attendants were not invented yet. They were stewardesses. A stewardess was a friendly, beautiful, kind, hostess of the sky. Remember those commercials "I am (insert name) come fly me." "Wow", I thought as a child, you would need to be some sort of beauty pageant winner/model/movie star to be a stewardess (not fully comprehending the connotations of "come fly me"). Such a statement used in 2012 would totally offend me and be  discussed with outrage at many of my women's Bible study groups.


As my mother also reminded me, we used to get dressed up to go on a plane. You would be adorned in a dress with matching purse and shoes. Anything less would be embarrassing. After all you were an air traveler. You could afford to fly the friendly skies. You had to make a good impression on all the other air travelers. In addition as a child, I was able to go "meet the pilot". One Christmas heading to Pittsburgh in the early 70's I was invited to the cockpit and shown all of the amazing pilot stuff by the most handsome, smart, brave pilot ever. Pilots were required to be handsome, brave, and smart.....oh and men. To top that off, every child was entitled to his or her very own set of plastic pilot wings - just like the pilots! I am now wondering if girls got stewardess wings and boys got pilot wings.  


Not only did you get a trip to meet the pilot and official plastic pilot wings, you got a bag! Yes a real bag! Have you ever seen those pictures of the Beatles first arriving in the US? I believe it was George or John who was carrying a Pan Am bag! The Beatles! Not only that, you got a full meal - I think it was even good.


Over the past weekend, my husband and I traveled to Pinehurst, North Carolina for the funeral of my dear great uncle Buzz. I was naive enough to think getting there would be a breeze and even somewhat of a get-away. We have Air Tran points (Air TranS as it is pronounced in Atlanta), so we were able to fly first class. First class on Air Tran is actually a synonym for lame business class. Childhood impressions and expectations are hard to delete from your mind, but I think this experience eliminated any delusions of enjoyable air travel.


Getting through security alone is exhausting and degrading. After be shuffled through the roped off lines with the other cattle, and presenting my boarding pass and i.d., the TSA employee checked my driver's license with a flashlight, looked at me suspiciously, looked back at the i.d., turned the flashlight on again, looked at me again. For heaven's sake man, I am a petite, pale, wimpy looking middle aged woman, do I really look like I am going to blow up a plane???? Next I was directed to place my belongings in a bin. I never know what is supposed to be put in the bin or not. To confuse things even more, they have bins and little mini white tray/bowl things. What goes in the bowl, what goes in the bin, what to we keep on, what do we remove? By this time I am so confused. Shoes and belts are flying off left and right. I am directed to the X-ray machine. I am so not excited. During the process I am thinking, is this one of those naked machines? Are they going to see me naked? If they do see me naked will a female TSA person come? 


I get waved to come forward. I nervously enter the machine wondering if they are going to see me naked. Well it seems that during this whole naked dilemma going on in my mind, I forgot to take off my shoes. The TSA dude was not amused. "Take off your shoes and go to the back of the line!" By this time my purse is going through the machine out of my sight and I am convinced my purse will be stolen - I watch 20/20 you know. So with my head down I put my shoes in a bin (were they supposed to go in the bin or the bowl - I don't know), and head to the back of the line. After waiting my turn and nervously thinking my purse is being stolen and I will be the next identity theft victim, I make it through the machine. By this time I don't even care who sees me naked.


I walk out to the other side. I quickly start looking for my purse. "Mam, is this your suitcase", says another TSA guy holding my suitcase. "Come over here. Put your hands on the table where I can see them". Once again, I am a petite 5'4" middle aged woman, does he think I am going to punch him out?? He then searches through my underwear and cosmetics. "Ah ha, Your toothpaste is too big". He pulls out my brand new Crest complete toothpaste with scope (the kind that costs $4.00!). "Toothpaste can only be 3.4 ounces. You have to buy the travel size. I will need to throw this away". Great. Somehow I had missed the fact that toothpaste was illegal. I knew the liquids rule, but I do not think of toothpaste as liquid. Who knew?


After being examined, searched, scolded and humiliated we head to our gate. "Due to a thunderstorm in Atlanta the flight has been delayed. Don't worry though, all the planes in Atlanta are grounded and you will make your connections".


Oh the prestige of Air Tran first class in 2012! We were assigned "zone 1" and allowed to load the plane seconds before the other common place coach passengers. We were also aloud to lug our carry on luggage over our heads into the storage compartments located above our heads. Despite those valuable extra seconds, our storage compartments were full when we got there??? Did the flight attendants put their stuff there? Who knows. Nonetheless, my husband Erik had to stow our items 5 rows behind us. You can image how that confuses things when you try to get off the plan when you arrive at your destination. 


We are offered drinks. Yipee! Finally the respect and luxury one would expect from traveling first class. Even though I have a bottled water and hot tea from Starbucks I enthusiastically accept an orange juice. Before I am able to take more than 2 sips, our flight attendant with a very heavy accent whom I could not understand, starts pointing at my drink. I was so confused. I had three drinks. She just gave me this drink. I asked her to clarify. She seems very offended by my questions. Now her incomprehensible speech becomes simply louder. I hand over my orange juice and she throws it away. She seems happy with that and walks away. Really? Where is my Miss America, kind hostess of the sky??? I am in First Class - my shoes match my purse!

As you can imagine, despite the promise from our very enthusiastic and reassuring captain, we missed our flight. No problem. When we get off the plane we are instructed to go stand in line to reschedule our flight. "No problem, instead of the 3pm flight to Raleigh Durham, we got you on the 10:30 pm flight". No problem??? I am supposed to meet my parents, and my aunt and uncle whom I have not seen since the 90's for dinner at 7pm. Not to mention the hour and a half drive to Pinehurst. 


Being that it is a loud airport, my husband had gone deaf. He has crowd deafness. It makes date night at loud restaurants a lot of fun by the way. So it is up to me to find a better option. I get them to change our flight so we arrive in Charlotte, NC around 7 pm. This however means we lost our rental car and it will cost an extra $200 to pick a car up at Charlotte and return it in Raleigh. After trying to go online using my deaf husband's computer, we find no good rental car options.


I am at the end of my rope. In the Atlanta airport, in tears, I call my Mom. Luckily she and my wonderful step father are on their way down from Virginia. They agree to come pick us up when we arrive in Charlotte and drive us to Pinehurst. I am blessed. Sometimes you just need your Mommy.


For those of you as old, or older than me who got to experience air travel in the 60's and 70's - cherish those memories.........and if you need to travel, take a train, or car, or subway, or even a bus........just don't go to the airport!

Beauty Disaster Queen

If there were some sort of contest for the person who has had the most "beauty disasters", I think I would have a good chance at winning. I actually think I could possibly be up for the Beauty Disaster Lifetime Achievement Award. 


For some reason: possibly society (always safe to blame society), the way I was raised (sort of doubt it), vanity (who knows).....as long as I can remember, I have been on a quest to improve or change the way I look, not that I am one of those people who thinks she is hideous or is trying to turn myself into the perfect Barbie Doll being. But somehow I am never quite happy with the way I look.


The first beauty disaster I can remember was when I was a young teenager. I just knew I would look so much better if I had blonde hair. Not sure if it was my obsession with wanting to be Farrah Fawcett, or the alleged fact that blondes have more fun.  Anyway, those "Sun-In" ads got me. An average looking young woman on the beach (probably Malibu) with average brown hair (hey just like me!), would be holding a plastic bottle of Sun In and effortlessly spray it into her wind blown hair. Next scene: after being out in the sun for only an hour or more, she was transformed into a beautiful blonde! That could be me, that could be me! 


Except, instead of Malibu Beach, I had the sun from my backyard deck in Sterling, Virginia. And, it wasn't so effortless to spray in. Many precious summer vacation hours were wasted in my 4' x 4' blue shag carpeted bathroom trying to apply this wonder spray. The worst part - that after hours out in the hot Virginia summer sun, I ended up with red hair. My Mom referred to it as "brassy". I didn't know what brassy meant, but I could tell by her inflection, it wasn't a good thing to have. 


Oh, so many beauty disasters in that house in Sterling circa 1978. At that time no one really talked about skin cancer. The longer you could stay out with baby oil slathered all over your body, the better. I was determined. I wasn't going to start slow, first sunny day I endured the heat for over 3 hours. The next day at school I was described as a lobster. I actually wish I looked as good as a lobster. I was bright red ......ugh.


The next thing I wanted to try was leg waxing. Who wants to deal with those pesky razors every day, or worse hairy legs? I went out and spent all of my lunch money on the first leg wax kit I could find. I followed the directions, really I did, but somehow the wax wouldn't come off and it was an Army green color. I spent literally hours trying to get that stuff off. Luckily designer jeans were "in" then and it was my little secret. I honestly don't remember how I ever got that stuff off, but safe to say, I haven't been investing in leg wax since - razors are much less risky and less painful.


Towards the end of high school I started to realize (despite my continuous attempts), that Sun-In just wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I would go for the real deal - a home highlighting kit! I scraped up enough money for the kit, got it home and excitedly tied the plastic cap around my head. The next step was taking this strange little crochet needle and try to pull strands of hair out through the plastic cap. This task was not only nearly impossible to do by yourself, but painful! I figured there must be a better way. I decided to simply apply the white paste-like substance myself.......FAIL! I ended up with the chunkiest streaks of white hair on top of Sun-In red hair, on top of mousy brown hair that you have ever seen.


My first summer home from college, I decided that this quest to be blonde was nearly impossible for a "do it yourself - er " like me. I got together some of my hard earned summer job money and marched myself into Dart Drug (which was eventually bought out by CVS, or Walgreens or some such drug store chain) and bought some brown hair dye. I must of somehow been mislead to think that my original hair color was much darker than it really was, because I ended up with the beauty disaster of all beauty disasters. My previously light brown/sun in red/ home highlighted hair turned black. Yes, black.  Well, at least a very dark brown. I remember exactly what color it was because at the time my then boyfriend is my now husband (Erik), and it was the same color as his!


I went into my summer job the next day and the other employees thought I was a new hire - really. I saw myself in the reflection in the elevator going up to my job and I didn't recognize myself! I was constantly in tears, Erik was sympathetic, my father said, "what happened to your hair?", my step mother recommended I use dish detergent to try and get the color out and pointed out that "at least I have dark eyebrows", and when I went back to college, Erik's friends said, "what happened to Butler's girlfriend's hair?"What a nightmare.


Things didn't get much better when I became an adult. As Erik and I became parents, I was determined to save money and therefore do it yourself beauty became more tempting. I did finally figure out the correct highlighting kit to buy and how to apply it without my hair turning out to look like blonde polka dots on brown hair. I also knew the exact time it took for my streaks to turn the perfect shade of blonde. Despite my new found knowledge, one day I was highlighting my hair figuring I had enough time as my toddler was in front of "Barney" (a good half hour at least). After applying the solution to most of my head, I had a bad feeling. I looked over the railing from our upstairs hallway to the downstairs family room and my toddler was gone! Completely forgetting about my hair, I went running down the stairs. I found him in the other part of the house, behind the living room couch eating an entire bag of Oreos. Not only did he need a bath, there were crumbs all over my living room! The perfect timing of my high lighting process was the last thing on my mind.....which became obvious after I cleaned up the living room. 


Since the highlighting solution was on my head a good half hour longer than it was supposed to be, 3/4 of my hair was VERY blonde...the other parts, not so much. Being an adult did afford me the luxury of calling my hair salon and getting an "emergency" appointment.


Still you may think, she was young, she must have a clue now that she is middle aged....well not really. In the continuous quest for self beautification, I have realized that my skin is way too pale. I know not to go out in the sun, so what is the next best thing? Self-tanners of course. After a number of self tan disasters such as stripes, orange knees, brown palms; I decided to go to a professional spray tan salon. The first few times I left with good results, but last week the door to the vestibule inside the private spray tan room wouldn't close. Instead of notifying the spray tan professional, I was lazy and just went ahead with the spray process with the vestibule door partially open. The next day, to my horror, I discovered a dark brown line starting at my knee and traveling down to my heel. Yikes! I had two awards ceremonies in a few days where I had to present awards in front of an audience of elementary and middle school students and their parents - wearing a dress was a must. Thank goodness for black tights.


So in the future if you see me wearing tights in Florida in the summer, a hat in an inappropriate place, heavy make up to hide a sunburn, or hair parted in an unusual way, just smile and realize I have been the victim of yet another beauty disaster.

The Day is Finally Here.................

My father told me this would happen. I was in denial. After all I am forty cough, cough, years old and it hadn’t happened yet. Well, yesterday was the day. I can no longer see close up.

I have joined the club. I am one of “them”. You know, the people you see looking at restaurant tabs by moving the receipt farther, then closer. The people who have gasp, “reading glasses” and look down through their glasses to see, then look at you over their glasses. The people whose chins keep moving up and down to focus on whatever they happen to be looking at. What’s next? A fake gold chain around my neck with reading glasses dangling at the end?

Sure, I know others in this club. My Mom says she can’t put make up on without her glasses. How does that even work? I don’t think I can do that. I am not coordinated enough. Thank goodness I don’t wear a lot of make up. I could end up looking like a clown with lipstick on my cheeks.

My husband has already joined the club, so when we go out to dinner, I am the one who has to read the bill and add the tip. What is going to happen now? We had a system. In order to avoid looking like a grandma and pulling out the reading glasses, waitresses all over the Brandon area are going to have random tips because I can’t really see how much our meal cost. They always say that old people are poor tippers…….maybe they just have no clue how much the bill is.

There is an upside to this. I do like feeling part of a group. I am now in the over forty far-sighted group. It is certainly a conversation starter and people like to share their stories. It does seem as though people just wake up one day and seeing close up is gone. Our stories of woe bond us. My dear friend’s husband is one of us. My friend says he drives her crazy because he holds small print up really close to his right eye to see. She says he looks ridiculous. Now that is good stuff – you have to be able to laugh at it all.

So as I enter this new era, I am going to have a positive “outlook” (pardon the pun). I am now part of a proud and strong group of people who have over come life’s little limitations. I will proudly look over my glasses to talk to people, I will leave random tips (at the risk of being called cheap), I may even look into a gold-look reading glasses chain necklace to proudly wear around my neck declaring to the world, “I can’t see, and I don’t care who knows it”.

The Only Things that are Certain in Life are Death, Taxes, ( and two I would like to add.)

They say the only things in life that are certain are death and taxes. I would like to add two things to that list: God and Time flying by. For we Christians, Jesus is a given. He is always there for us. He is the almighty, never changing. We can always count on the Bible being the same and therefore His word being there for us as a guidebook.

In addition, as a woman who some may consider "middle aged" (yikes), I can absolutely count on time going way too fast. As a child I thought Christmas would never get here, never. Now it seems to always BE Christmas. Yes it is time to worry about getting those Christmas cards out again, figuring out what to get the kids and how much to spend, who to give gifts to, making cookies, managing Christmas party schedules, getting out the decorations, lights, wrapping, ................any woman knows exactly what I mean. Doesn't it seem like women get the lion's share of the Christmas responsibilities? How did that happen? I would love a Christmas where I could buy no gifts and just go to church and focus on the real meaning of Christmas, but that is a whole other blog subject. The point is that it is that time again and it ALWAYS seems to come around again too fast! How can years be melting away so quickly?

I honestly sometimes feel like I am still college aged. The other night I was watching a biography on Billy Joel. They showed a video clip of "Uptown Girl" - remember Friday Night Videos? That song was popular when I was a college Freshman pledging Delta Gamma. It brought me back to a road trip our pledge class took to Penn State. The video was on during this party we were having with a Fraternity there. I could so clearly remember the layout of the fraternity house, the temperature (cold), the smells (well fraternity houses always smell like beer), the guys (they were all short for some reason), and "Uptown Girl" was on Friday Night Videos. Now wasn't that just yesterday? It seems like it was.

I was transported to a short time ago when Billy Joel (the coolest dude ever) was married to the most beautiful female on the planet, Christy Brinkley. They seemed to be the perfect couple. There was something hopeful and exciting knowing that an uptown girl would marry a downtown guy. Life seemed to have endless possibilities. I still want a life I consider filled with endless possibilities, maybe that is why I can get back to that place, so easily.

Last month I went to my son's fraternity house for parent's weekend. Again, how can this be? Am I actually the parent here? While standing in line for the meal that was served, I felt like I could have been a sorority girl. It's funny how time goes by so quickly, but things never change. Even though we were at the University of Florida, not the college I graduated from, James Madison University in Virginia, it was the same: the smells, the activities (involving beer and ping pong), the deep bonds and friendships between the brothers, the comfortable feeling, the relaxed atmosphere. For a few hours I was back in college - maybe in a different role, but I was back.

Yes, time flies, but there are things you can always count on.

Housecleaning: An Uphill Battle

I don't know if it is just me, but when people walk into my house, I worry about what they think. Will they notice the dog and cat hair that has formed a ball and is floating around my hardwood floors?. If they need to use the restroom, will there be pee or heaven forbid poop stains on the toilet? What about the dirty dishes in the sink, the kitty litter smell, the windows that haven't been washed in years, the dust............what about the dust???

I think that at least some of my friends have this same issue. Many times when I walk into someone's house, they immediately start apologizing for the mess (which I don't even see). The funny thing is, that I honestly don't care what my friends' houses look like. I don't spend nearly enough time with my friends and when I walk into their houses, I am just thinking about how great it is to be there with them. Does this help me and my personal insecurities? Not at all!!!! I really need to get over it.

The sadly ironic part of this whole dilemma is that if my house happens to be dirty, 99.9999999 percent of the time it is not my fault! Why is it that how our house looks always reflects on the wife/mother? I am a very neat person, my beloved family................well not so much. For example, my kids tend to leave drinks all over the house. It is insane. Glasses....cups.......some empty, some full..........in the bedrooms, in the bathroom, upstairs, kitchen, family room, garage.......you name it. You can always tell where they have been. Added to the joy of this is the cat who tends to enjoy knocking these drinks (typically sodas) over! Rug Stain! Once I found a dirty bowl and a spoon in the bathroom cabinet upstairs. I am still not sure what happened there.

No one but a mom can know how much work our beloved pets are. Cat hair, dog hair, kitty litters, hair balls, poop & pee accidents............who do you think takes care of this in most homes? Roseanne once said that the definition of a mother is someone who cleans other people's poop and doesn't get paid for it! I tend to think of that often for some reason.

So what is the point of all of this? I for one, need to get over it! Housewives and moms as a whole need to not judge any other mom\wife on how clean her house is. If you really need to judge, place the blame where the blame is due: pets, kids, and husbands! If we all band together, we can overcome.

Keeping it Real

I have always considered myself a shy person. I feel comfortable not being the center of attention and enjoy observing people and how they act in different situations. When I was a child it always irritated me that adults  could be in a bad mood at home, but when the phone rang they became, what seemed like, very pleasant and friendly.  My grandmother was the beautiful Southern Belle who morphed into a completely different person when other people were around. Her voice, her expressions, her body movements - completely changed when friends were around. As a teenager, I despised this! I couldn't believe how fake she could be!!! (as a side note, I now realize and appreciate who she was and absolutely adore her and her memory. I honestly miss her and her Southern kindness and love every single day). But, at the time, she drove me nuts. I vowed to not be a fake person and try and act the same around my family as I do around friends. This of course is impossible, but I think I am on the "non fake" end of the spectrum.

Anyone who has been around Erik and me for any length of time has probably seen us bicker about things. Anyone who has been in a Bible study or Life Group with me knows I have some personal struggles. I don't hold back or try to give the impression of a person who has no flaws. I like this quality in other people as well.  I can relate to people who aren't perfect. Have you ever gotten one of those Christmas card newsletters and wanted to slit your own throat? Stories of beautiful people with beautiful, smart, athletic, successful and flawless children. I have come away from some of those letter thinking - "wow, in comparison, my life sucks". After a few moments I realize that this letters typically represent families who are trying to convince themselves that they have perfect lives and perfect children. News FLASH - no one does!

In this blog I have been very honest about my struggles to try and be a good parent. I have been honest about the issues my family deals with and my own insecurities. Yesterday I received a seething facebook message about how hurtful my blog must be to my children. This person couldn't seem to hold back the anger towards me anymore. It made me question myself and this blog. The last thing in the world I would want to do is hurt my children. My main goal in life was always to be a mother and I love my kids with all my heart. I would honestly die for each one of them. They have been shown love, respect, care, and kindness in this home. I really don't want to try and defend my parenting, because that is not the point.

The goal of this blog is to "be Real", to reach out to other parents who may have some of the same struggles and issues. I could write a blog about how beautiful, smart, talented and wonderful my children are - and I truly believe they are, but who would learn anything from that or be comforted by that? As I am considering continuing with this blog or not, I would truly appreciate any positive feedback and reluctantly accept any negative feedback (LOL).