O Little Christmas Tree

Remember Charlie Brown's Christmas with the sad little tree? That was my real life painful memory two years ago. By the time I dragged that tree into position, half the needles fell off. And, nobody cared about that blasted tree. I decorated it and we forgot it in the rec room at back of the house. It was months after Christmas before I could work up the energy to take the blasted thing down and discard it.

Last year, I did not get a tree. I got a live Christmas wreath instead and hung it on the front door. (I can still hear my sister's cackle when I told her about my wreath!) While it assuaged the dread of the tree and was nice in it's own right, something still felt unsettled.

Ever since my divorce, Christmas trees have been a kind of trigger for me. It painfully reminds me that the family that used to go to the local fire station to get a tree, then get hot cocoa and donuts and go home to decorate the tree was no more. I hated the idea that I "had" to get a tree because their dad was getting one. And nobody wanted to help me decorate the tree. So, while I was able to Marie Kondo the joyless tree last year, something was still amiss and I couldn't put my finger on it.

I grew up with a fake tree, so getting a real tree when I got married was a kind of novelty. We started getting a real tree when we had kids, because otherwise, we traveled back home for Christmas and there was no point in having a tree sitting in an empty house on Christmas Day. Once we split up, that tradition, like many other things, could not be easily split up into neat parcels.

The first year, I got a gorgeous artificial tall tree with all the trimmings from Freecycle. It seemed like a great provision. It was a generic tree with garlands, trimmings and ornaments in a color scheme and such. I used it for three years (and only had to put it up twice because one year I just left it up *all year*). Since it already had everything needed, I didn't open my family ornaments for three years. I just did not have the bandwidth to deal with those memories.

Year 4, I went through my treasure of ornaments, and threw out the stupid golf ball ornaments and all the other things I just never really liked. I was left with the cute school projects and sentimental ornaments that meant something. My generic tree now became more personalized, but I dreaded putting the darn thing away in the 8 boxes it came in. And again, because of its size, the tree was relegated to the back room, where it was forgotten again.

So, while remnants of the fake tree hang around in my basement, I made up my mind to not use it anymore. It was a reminder of things cast off, just like my marriage. So, I circled back to the idea of a real tree and the Charlie Brown trigger effect.

This year, I thought about getting a ceramic tree but that was just meh. I glumly decided that there would be no tree. My kids have outgrown Santa and it was a joyless experience dealing with a tree. The whole saga was renting too much space in my brain and ruining Christmas. I was really starting to get depressed about the holidays. That is, until a dear friend told me about her tabletop tree. Two to three feet max. Fake, lit, and done. On a table.

That idea was inspiring! The clouds began to part. This was exactly what I needed to hear. Why did I need a big tree? I could have a small tree, with the lights and space for presents. It could do everything I needed with a regular tree with none of the fuss. And my friend did me one better. She GOT me a tree. She saw a prelit job on Amazon and just got it!

I kid you not, you literally get it out of the box, bend the branches downward, install the legs, plug it in and voila!

The tree was small enough that I decided to put it in the dining room, where we would see it and enjoy it every day. It's even near a window, so you can see the lights from outside. This was just the kick I needed to inspire the Christmas spirit. I put out a Christmas village that I keep for my Single Moms ministry (we use it once a year for a brunch and it otherwise stays in a bin all year long). And, drumroll please, I pulled out my Nativity set that I kept forgetting to put out each year! 

This is the same Nativity Set that I kept in the kitchen in my herb window and resulted in a huge fight because my ex hated it there.

This little tree is like a balm to my soul. It fits. It resolves all those doubts and fears in my head about my inadequacy. It's MY tree. MY tradition. Something that I started for my intact family of four. It's particularly poignant that the tree was given to me. It wasn't a hand me down or an attempt to keep an old tarnished tradition. It was its own gift, with the lights that give me so much joy and time to reflect on the holiday itself. Christmas is not about pasting a smile on your face and pretending everything is just sparkly and great. Christmas is a light that shines in a bleak, hopeless and hurting world. My little tree is a gift that reminds me that Christmas itself is indeed a gift of unspeakable joy, mystery and profound hope in the dark.

---

In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. - John 1:4-5

The Magic of Coffee

As the only adult in the house for a while, I have opted for instant coffee because I only need 1-2 cups of coffee a day, which I drink in the afternoon. So why am I dusting off a coffee maker now? Well, because I have a 17 year old and after many years of not letting my kids have coffee, he has made the cut.

Coffee is my social drink of choice. Some people go to bars or drink liquor to relax. I drink coffee. To relax. You heard it right. My mother can't settle down and sleep without a cup of coffee before bed. For a Puerto Rican especially, café con leche is a celebration unto itself. If a Puerto Rican host does NOT offer you a café con leche (even at 9 o'clock at night), that is their polite way of telling you the party is over and you need to take the hint. Coffee enjoyment may be in our Puerto Rican blood, but for me, an important ingredient is ADHD.

I noticed the calming effects of coffee for me when I was home raising my little ones. Once they were down for naps, I'd settle in for a cup of coffee and just take a few minutes to ponder the day. If I didn't get that naptime in, I was on edge for the day. Anxiety skyrocketed and my patience was nowhere to be found. (I was also sleep deprived for the first 7 years of my parenting, so all these symptoms were exaggerated). 

However, looking back, I noticed something else. It wasn't the lack of naps that put me on edge. It was that I didn't have that pause with a cup of coffee to center me on those no-nap days. I noticed this because when they were older, even if the kids did not nap, if I had that cup of coffee (reheated a few times in the microwave probably), a feeling of general goodwill came over me. I really can't describe it to the neurotypical mind, but I literally would feel myself relax and it's like I could hear someone saying, "It's going to be OK. You got this." I was also able to focus a lot better and get things done.

That general feeling of goodwill and a sort of calming down of the brain is the EXACT effect that stimulants have on the ADHD brain. ADHD brains are constantly searching for a dopamine hit, which is why our brains wander and we move a lot. It's hard to focus if something is really boring, because we don't have as much dopamine as everyone else running around in our brains. THIS is why stimulants work for an ADHD brain. They have the opposite effect of what a stimulant does, which, for a neurotypical mind, is to boost your energy and make you excitable. For us, we get the dopamine hit we crave and our brains are content. We can stop the searching and now, we can relax and focus on just one or two things. Yes, it is counterintuitive, and seems like an excuse, but it's real. It's why I can drink a cup of coffee at 8pm and drift right off to bed an hour later! 

For me, the effect of coffee will eventually stack up. I can't just go around drinking 3-4 cups a day. But that first cup is like gold for my brain, which brings me back to my boy.

After spending a year and half not having to sit in a classroom and being able to go to school online, my boy was in his element. He was in control of his own schooling destiny, for the most part, and while socially, it was depressing since he missed his friends, school wise, he didn't need meds to get him through the day.

The structure of classes now that we are back to in-person learning has been grating on him. He has anxiety with coursework, boring classes, college applications, tests and a part time job. He naps during the day and sleeps fitfully at night. I proposed that he try the meds again to see if that would help. It helped him focus but he didn't feel like himself and it got depressing for him. The meds might be too strong and he has way better impulse control than when he was in fourth grade. Enter coffee! It's the magical over the counter elixir that continues to work for me. You don't need a script and while it can be addictive, is easier to stop. He's old enough now that I don't have concerns about the effects on his heart rate or growth due to the caffeine (which is why I don't let my young kids drink coffee).

So we'll see how this goes. In typical Millennial fashion, my boy prefers oatmilk in his coffee. (Atta boy, black coffee is like blasphemy!) And, I'm enjoying a cup of real brewed coffee again, at home. 

Beets, Bear Hugs, Battlestar Galactica

It was a small, incidental moment, but it changed me in a profound way. I'm blogging about it so that I make sure this little moment is not forgotten. It's too important not to remember.

As I was shopping at ALDI, a little boy approached me and my cart and started to move my cart away. I thought for sure that the little boy was mistaken and thought he was taking back his own cart. But, alas, that was not it. 

He wordlessly moved the cart out of the way to get to me. And, he practically climbed on me and gave me a fierce full body hug. He clung to me. I wish I could say I knew this kid, but I had never seen him before. I was surprised, but hugged him back and looked around for a parent, when his dad sheepishly said, "Oh yeah, he likes to give folks hugs." I assured him that in this post-COVID, mask wearing world, it was fine. I figured the kid had to be about 5 years old, so it was understandable that he might not be able to control an impulse, even in this guarded, no-contact world we now live in. As his dad took him and walked away, I waved and said, "Thank you!", as a way of letting them both know that this show of affection, while surprising, was fine by me. I didn't even get a name. It just happened so fast.

There was something in how that kid clung to me that was endearing. As a little black boy, hugging a complete stranger, it dawned on me that there was also a sense of urgency that was not lost on me. It was as if he was trying to "fix" all the problems of his world. He was trying to show other adults that did not look like him that he is good. He is nice. He is part of the solution.

And that's when I lost it. I was thankful that I was wearing a mask so nobody could see the tears, but my heart broke for that kid and for humanity because of his need to "fix" things. I've seen it before. When my black colleagues smile a little extra and go above and beyond to show their white peers that they are "nice" and "trustworthy". When the glad-handing and handshaking and greetings take on an almost exaggerated affair because first impressions last and first impressions are biased against them even before they get a chance to open their mouths.

As a Jersey Girl and Newark native, I've also had to do that dance. The "I don't bite, let me be a filtered, softer, nicer, less loud" version of myself so I can "pass". This built-in reserve was already built into this little kid. He already had to "prove things" and "fix problems", mostly, because adults have been too self-absorbed to notice that the little kids around us see the crazy that is going on. The stability that we as grown ups are supposed to provide for them is like shifting sand and this is the world they are trying to navigate.

I'll never forget that kid's fierce hug. That need to share, the passion for life. I can only hope and pray that he never loses that passion and the hope that keeps him moving in the right direction. He will experience tragedy, loss, rejection and despair. And I can only hope that love, that desire to chase after and fix things, will remain. Until then, we can take a lesson from my affectionate friend. Are we chasing after the wind with our proclamations and opinions? Or are we taking time to take stock of our world and what we can do to make it better? Are we going to dig our heels in and wallow in shallow victories, or will we roll up our sleeves and painstakingly invest in others that are not like us so that we can all be richer for it. I'm betting on the kid. I wanna be like him when I grow up.

---

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” - Matthew 19:14

Sleep 101 License Purchase

The Christmas Generosity Game

I don't have any extremely horrible or crazy memories of Christmases past, (well except that one Christmas when the fish tank broke, spewed water overnight and got into the red tree stand cover which made our living room look like a bloodbath for a hot minute) but I could never put my finger on why I didn't like listening to Christmas carols on the radio during this time of year. Honestly, they always made me kind of sad and I couldn't figure out why.

This year though, I think I have stumbled upon why. As I struggle with my unwillingness to buy my daughter a $150 robot dog toy, I've drawn closer to what I have always struggled with during Christmas - the generosity game. As a young adult, Christmas almost always seemed about who could outdo one another with gift giving and I was never comfortable with that.

I'm cheap. I'm frugal. And, gift giving is NOT my strong suit. It genuinely makes me feel uncomfortable that if I spend $200 on a gift for you, I must think really highly of you, but it makes me feel like a show off. But, if I only spend $20 on you, then I'm some kind of Scrooge and maybe everybody knows it. So, there it is. In full disclosure: not because the economy is hard, not because I don't have enough this year - I NEVER like spending a lot of money on gifts.

Don't get me wrong. You need help? I'm there. I wouldn't bat an eye to help someone financially if there was a need because I always save money for a rainy day. But, I've never been unflinchingly generous when it comes to just giving a gift. I've battled this, every Christmas, for years, while other folks knock each other over for Christmas stuff on Black Friday.

For me, Christmas carols just seem to crystallize this idea that for 3-4 weeks, everyone is "in great spirits and extra generous" and as soon as Christmas 26th rolls around, it's back to the usual. I think I see fakeness in just plastering music and gifts and not carrying that spirit over for the rest of the year. And, I see an inner condemnation of myself, that maybe I'm not as generous as I should be. That maybe I am a terrible person, because I cannot, will not, get somebody a $150 gift, unless it was something that was practical and needed anyway (and, yes, on sale).

Folks have always complained about Christmas being so expensive and stressful. I always spent well within a budget and did not get really ostentatious gifts. Safe and boring, perhaps, but I didn't break the bank to fit the image of what Christmas should be. Many folks even define Christmas by how their funding for Christmas is going to be. It's going to be a "bad Christmas" if you got laid off or a pay cut. It's going to be a "good Christmas" if you got a raise or a promotion. Not only that, you have the generosity game that you have to play. Did you get a gift for everyone? Did you think about the mailman and your co-workers? Me? Yes, but not in terms of gift shopping. A "Merry Christmas" greeting should suffice, and no, I'm not getting a bunch of people presents because I'm "supposed" to. So there it is: I'm kind of like a Grinch in this worldly Christmas society. The Christmas carols remind me that the generosity game is starting again and I have to be strong enough not to compete.

Why do we get people gifts in the first place? Is it because Christmas reminds us of a gift that we have the chance to receive that is better than anything we can imagine? Is it because the generosity of God's own son Jesus makes everyone so thankful that they have to celebrate with gifts? Perhaps. But if people don't see Jesus, then the gift giving seems like a shallow waste of time to me.

Jesus came as a baby, to become our deliverer. That is the Christmas story. He came as a baby, lived a sinless life, then died to pay for our sins. If we believe in Him, we have the opportunity to spend eternity with Him in heaven. Why did He have to die and why did I need to be forgiven? Because none of us is righteous. We've all done something evil, whether it was lying, stealing or even having hatred in our hearts. And we are all guilty. God is so pure and holy, that He can't have anything to do with us in this state. Based on whether we've all lived a good life, we are all condemned. And, that is why the greatest gift, Jesus, came. He died for our sins, so that in Him, God would see us and see the goodness and purity of Jesus instead of our convicted hearts. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

So, for me, whether I give you a $150 toy or a $10 box of chocolates, the real Christmas story is the same. That is the most important gift I can share, that Jesus loved all of us so much that anyone who trusts in Him will have eternal life in Heaven. And, no, I am not getting that $150 dollar toy. She'll get the $40 cat, which is cuddly, purrs and only does 3 tricks instead of 30. She'll be disappointed that she didn't get the "expensive" gift. And, she'll learn, hopefully from me, that the most important gift anyone could get, was born in a manger more than two thousand years ago.

Good Grief - A Pathway to Hope

Scene from Pixar's UP

Everything worked out amazingly well - or at least, way better than I expected.  We had reached a fair and equitable settlement agreement, and avoided a lengthy trial in a matter that should have brought tremendous relief.  But when I saw my lawyer's email, with the subject line of "Congratulations!", I was overwhelmed with an almost suffocating sadness.

It surprised and shocked me how sad I was.  The last 18 months, going through a separation and divorce, culminated in a way that left me fairly intact, independent and thankful.  So why was I sad?  I did not want to get remarried.  I started a great job and though my finances took a severe beating, I was left with the ability to re-title and retain the home my children and I currently lived in.  I certainly wouldn't be leading a lavish lifestyle, but my needs were taken care of. Given the circumstances, I felt blessed.

As the theme of Up reverberated in my head, ("Things We Did" would end up playing in my head, nonstop, for at least three days....), the only word I could come up with was: Grief.  It didn't seem to make sense though.  I processed all my grief at my DivorceCare sessions.  I worked through all my challenges and stayed strong.  Initially, I figured it was still nerves at having to still appear before a judge the next day to formalize things.

But after the half-hour court appearance drew to a close, the sadness didn't dissipate. As I shared a time of camraderie with my lawyer and my witness (and my BFF) afterward, I was internally nostalgic.  It was almost like when Catcher in the Rye's Holden Caulfield starting missing the bouncer, Maurice, who beat him up, when Holden left private school.  Instead of feeling better after the trial, the grief was still there, its tentacles wrapping around my heart.

The next morning, I realized what I didn't have time to process before.  I was so busy taking care of the externals, making sure the kids were OK, giving them time to transition and grieve, finding a job, holding down the fort, grappling with new responsibilities and keeping strong that I never really processed my emotions for all the junk I went through. I wasn't able to "go there" because I needed to stay focused and take care of business.

Now it seemed, my subconscious was telling me that now that the externals are fixed, it's time to take care of the inside.  And it would not let go.  I was a walking basket case, crying in sudden fits and unable to contain myself. I was so grief-stricken and unable to concentrate that I met with my boss that morning, explained that I was in a grieving process now that my divorce was finalized and that I needed some personal time (half-days off work for the next two days, until the weekend), so I could have time to process.  I knew "everything was going to be OK", but I needed time and space to grieve.  I needed to be able to cry my eyes out, without anybody whispering platitudes or feeling sorry for me.

A typical project manager, I scheduled my grief.  I worked half days for the rest of the week, so I could accomplish a few tasks, then go off and fall apart in private.  I didn't trust myself to take whole days off, lest I fall into an abyss and not be able to recover.  It seemed kind of nutty, but it was really clear how much I needed that space.  By allowing myself to acknowledge that it's going to be emotionally hard for a while and that it's OK to feel that way, it brought me out of total despair.

Isn't it ironic?  The only way to get rid of the grief is to process it head on.  Instead of stoically soldiering on with a "stiff upper lip" pretending it doesn't hurt, the strongest, wisest thing to do when in despair is to acknowledge it and allow yourself to experience it.  I call this good grief.

The weekend after my emotional breakdown, I just spent a lot of time listening to music, talking to myself and God and embracing the pain of the things I lost and maybe never had.  I spent a lot of time wandering through a small town across the bridge so I wouldn't have to run into folks I knew and "explain things".  I didn't have to pretend everything was OK and I spent a lot of time alone so I could process all the junk in my heart.  I also avoided making any big decisions, well except the refinancing of my house, which prompted the visit to the small tourist town in the first place.

I must be clear that this is not a pity party.  This is not a time to wallow in hopelessness and cry out "Why me?"  It's a temporary time to express your pain and allow yourself to feel sad about something and to be OK with "this hurts!".

The grief will still be there, in drips and drabs.  But, at least having some space clears your mind to focus on recovery and other things when you are good and ready.  It is really important to re-engage with life slowly.  Check in with a friend or have an accountability partner that you feel comfortable talking to.  Avoid making drastic changes if you can avoid it.  Reduce any extra activities and hold off on taking on more commitments.

The only grief that is insurmountable is the grief we refuse to acknowledge.  Getting in touch with the pain helps it start to go away.

---

"... provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair."
- Isaiah 61:3a (NIV)

The Men in My Life

It's Valentine's Day, and as a freshly minted single person, the typical niceties of this holiday will not fly by my radar this year.  As tempting as it could be to be sad, bitter and resentful, I just can't do it.

Even though I won't get a box of chocolates or another sweet surprise from a "significant other", I am thankful for the men in my life.  Over the past year, these "Mr. Rights" have proven time and again, that there are some good fish in the sea.  Men are not all jerks, and I have to give credit where it is due.  It has been really striking to me to see the number of men that have graciously rallied their support for me and my kids during the last year and I know it's no coincidence.

So, this Valentine's Day, I just want to commemorate the fabulous men that God has placed in my life, for the express purpose of validating the hope I have.  There are some amazing men out there that prove that chivalry is not dead, so I figure I'd recognize them on this holiday.  (Especially since I won't be out on a date anywhere!)  And, so as not to embarrass anyone too terribly, I won't get into full names.

Matt is my financial advisor.  I've been with him since 2003, when I applied for a "dream job" that I didn't get.  While the job didn't pan out (good thing, because I became a mom a year later...) Matt's wise financial counsel has helped me make the adjustment from dual income no kids, to 3 kids, to riding the storm of being a single, unemployed mom.  We just had a conversation the other day, which waxed philosophical, because we share similar beliefs.  And, he's from the old school of proactively watching his accounts instead of just collecting more and more clients.  He's moved from one place to another, but I'll go wherever he goes, because his advice has always been rock solid.

Thomas is my lawyer.  And, yes, while it is awful that I even need a lawyer, you'll never find a more personable, authentic advocate.  In Spanish, the word for lawyer is abogado - "advocate" and Thomas has done it in spades.  Since he was a teacher before he was a lawyer, he makes sure to explain things in a way that you can understand it.  His empathy is enough to get you going, but does not cloud his professional judgement, which is based on a strong sense of ethics.

Brian is one of my Pastors.  He's also a diehard Yankees fan living in Maryland, so he immediately has both my camraderie and sympathy as a kindred spirit.  Brian led me through the very painful process of confronting conflict through peacemaking and it was not easy.  He was able to work with me to assess my areas of accountability and keep me focused on Christ and not anger.  Relatively speaking, Brian is a "younger pastor", but he's lived through enough trials on his own that reveal to me his great faith and ability to empathize with others.

Skip is my boss.  Before you accuse me of trying to flatter for personal gain, I'll just tell you why, in just a short time, I know he's one of the best bosses I've ever had.  In my interview (mind you, I'd been a stay at home mom for the last nine years), I told the interview panel that my family is my first priority and that might affect my availability during odd hours and such.  He was visibly affected during the interview.  He didn't say it then, and the tell was but a glimpse, but I saw that he got it.  Afterward, he encouraged me to establish a good work/life balance so my family could come first.  On my first day, he gave me a tour.  He couldn't tell you where we went or which parts of the building I saw (my job is to manage the buildings), but he made a point of introducing me to everyone he saw.  A true people person who is passionate about his organization - right up my alley.

Patrick is my best friend's hubby.  While he does his best to portray a very irritated obnoxious bully, his actions betray him.  He's always been willing to lend a hand, fixed my sump pump and let me borrow tools.  And while he'll nag me and pester me to return his things, I know, that without him admitting it, he's got my back.  He's one of the few of my friends' husbands that will actually chill out with us and join our conversations. 

Bill is another one of my Pastors.  Each quarter, our church has adult Sunday School.  There are three to four classes that you can pick from and it's great to go to Sunday School before church.  No doubt, the other classes are very informative and enriching, but I just go to "Bill's class", regardless of the topic.  It's one of the few classes that has a time of heartfelt sharing and prayer among participants (and coffee and donuts)!  Bill's heart for everyone around him is contagious.  There is no condemnation or judgement, but love and understanding as he shares about the Great Hope he has.

Carl is the Chief Ranger for the Christian Service Brigade, a group for boys to learn about being Godly leaders.  Carl graciously brings my oldest son home every week after their Stockade meeting and takes him along with his boys for an evening jaunt to McD's on the way home.  My son is getting the benefit of seeing a Christian role model who genuinely enjoys my son's zany humor, gazillion questions and amazing intellect.  An esteemed scientist and director of a data mining company, Carl thought it was awesome that my son could intuitively ascertain the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence on a napkin without prompting.  Who knew!?

Glenn is my third Pastor.  Certainly not the least in the bunch, he is the Senior Pastor and works with my other two pastors.  (I'm blessed with three awesome Pastors!)  A confirmed agnostic who found Christ in college, Glenn has a great way of presenting his teachings in a visual way and lifting out amazing nuggets of truth in the Bible.  He is proof that you don't have to check your brains at the door to have faith. 

This is certainly not an all inclusive list, but I have to stop somewhere.  It's awesome to have so many men in my life that have been there for me even though I'm single.  God has shown me in a very touching way that I am not defined by my social status.  I don't have to wait until I "find someone" to be complete.  And, He's guiding me through, with a few angels by my side.

---

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." - Jeremiah 29:11

The Human Trinity

Easter is a time to celebrate the resurrection of Christ.

It's also a time to remember the human trinity:

I am Judas.
Did my own thing and went my own way.
Handed Christ over on a very dark day.

I am Barabbas.
Imprisoned and guilty, that was me.
Christ took my place and set me free.

I am Simon of Cyrene.
It wasn't my plan but I carried the cross
As I walked, I labored and shared in the loss


A sinner I am and my fate is quite bleak,
Unless I rely on a Savior, I'm weak.
I've been given a gift that I don't deserve,
So Christ must come first, He's the one I will serve.

I am indebted to Christ, who gave up His life on earth so I could share mine with Him in heaven.  I am also inspired by Pastor Bill Evans, who shared how these characters in the Passion Story two thousand years ago are living parables for us today.

---

For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. - John 3:16

Real Democracy For the People

Today was a momentous day in my small, fledgling foray into the world of politics.  On Maryland Day, Start School Later witnessed history, with legislation successfully passing the House of Representatives to start the conversation on the long-standing problem of early school start times in public high schools.

I could go on and on about how thrilled I am about the Bill passing and moving onto the Senate.  But, really, what I'm really inspired about is the fact that anyone, with hard work, tenacity, and a bit of know-how, can get started and influence decision-makers in this country to enact laws.

I was able to witness the House in Session, and being a political rube, I found the whole process fascinating.  Aside from the common perception that government is slow and ineffective, I really was able to observe a very methodical approach to lawmaking that allows for checks and balances.  While much of the proceedings may not have completely held my interest, there were some particularly moving aspects for me that I would never have appreciated if I wasn't there.

Imagine my surprise when the bell rang, the Session was called to order and over 100 people stood to pledge allegiance to the flag.  Of course, I promptly stood up and followed suit, happy that there was a flag in my line of sight that I could salute to. But, having not really done that since grammar school, it was amazing to see the pledge in action, with everyone, regardless of belief, position or background, affirming a common allegiance to our country.  Unlike a baseball game, where a song is played, every delegate stated the allegiance and it was quite moving to hear it and see it coming from adults and not children.  I was particularly captivated by a number of delegates who added a fervent "Amen!"  There was a certain reverence, not unlike the prayers Christians begin with to set the tone for church meetings.

The delegates were a mixed lot.  Young and old, from many ethnic backgrounds, from all walks of life.  These people were indeed our representatives, delegated to the task of representing their districts with the issues their constituents care about.  They were regular people, just doing their jobs.  It was particularly moving to me that the oldest running legislative building in our country is not far from the Market Place, the first stopping point of the transport of slaves from Africa in the 1700's.  Steeped in history and tradition, Annapolis harkens to a cruel time of the past, and while it's certainly far from perfect, a glimpse into how far we've come forward.

The fact that I, as a common citizen, can be privy to these proceedings, either by sitting in the gallery, or listening through a live online audio feed, makes governance that much more transparent.  During the announcements in the beginning of each Session, homage was paid to the holidays of Passover and Easter.  In Session I, the story of the Israelites getting safe passage out of Egypt and the LORD's protection was recounted and commemorated.  In Session II, the announcer commemorated the Christian observance of Easter and the hope for Messiah by reciting the Virgin Mary's prayer.

This reverence for the spiritual tradition of the law reminded me that public service is a civic responsibility to care for others.  This is real democracy in action.  I'm not naive enough to think that there are no flaws in our system of government.  But, compared to other countries, where people do not have a say about how laws are enacted, or who gets assigned to help shape the laws in the first place, our democracy is something that can be grasped and experienced.  I treasure it as a gift that our insightful forefathers blessed us with.

---

Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keeps the law, happy is he. 
- Proverbs 29:18
 

The Cow Conspiracy

Those who have known me since I was a child will find what I am about to write hard to believe.  As a kid, I was nicknamed "The Cow" because I was always the one caught drinking the last bit of milk.  While I maintained that in a family of seven, I just got the last dregs, or was "just finishing off the gallon", I was nonetheless accused of drinking all the milk, hence the name.

Reputation not withstanding, I have decided to cut cow's milk from my daily consumption.  Rest assured, I have not fallen and hit my head.  It's true.  Perhaps it was the cabin fever of too many sick kids for too long a time (at least one person was sick for a three week stretch this February) that gave me pause to think about this.  However, even though I didn't conduct any scientific, clinical trials, it occurred to me that this winter was particularly rough for my brood with ear infections, a near brush with pneumonia and a funky stomach bug that seemingly plagued the whole state of Maryland all at once.

Last year, my kids were hardly sick at all.  This year was tough and it was also the year my younger two went back on yogurt.  Last year, they all lost interest in it, so I stopped buying it.  This year, my younger two wanted it again, so we started again with a daily smoothie that they've had since they were weaned from breastmilk.  I would've considered it a coincidence.  But, then my childhood came back to me.  I suffered from chronic ear infections and asthma as a kid and was the only one in my family that did.  And last year, aside from a few small colds and fevers, my kids were healthy.

The common denominator in all this is milk consumption.  My oldest stopped drinking yogurt, and while he is the healthiest of the bunch and loves milk, he had less dairy than his younger siblings. 

Now, think about it.  What other species do you know of that drinks the milk from another species?  You got it - none of them.  Humans are the only species that process the milk of other animals for their own consumption.  If you think too much about it, it shoud start to creep you out.

Guess what else?  The largest consumer of antibiotics are.... livestock and poultry.  Ewwwwww.
In the food documentary, Forks Over Knives, they explained the impact of an animal based diet.  They also went on to explain that while cows eat grass by design, they are typically fed corn because it plumps them up and it's fairly cheap filler food.  When corn prices go up, cows have been fed any number of odd things, such as leftover chips, scraps and other things mixed into a slurry.
 
Cows have a hard time digesting that stuff, so they give them hormones and antibiotics as well.  Which is most assuredly being passed into the meat we eat and the milk we drink.  I'm officially freaked out now.

I noticed after I lost weight and had kids that my seasonal allergies abated and I can count the times I've used my inhaler on two hands in 8 years, with the exception of when I had bronchitis, an allergic trigger to pets or pneumonia, since then.  (And, yes, I've had bronchitis every time I had a very young baby, got a cold and was severely sleep deprived).  I was relatively healthy, so I've always thought it was some kind of motherhood immunity.  But, now I realized that I also cut down my milk consumption, simply because it was too calorie rich for my weight loss goals.

This is the cow conspiracy.  We've been lulled into thinking that ear infections, respiratory ailments and allergies are a rite of passage for youth.  Antibiotics are a necessary evil.  And, now, the first question you get asked when your kid gets sick is, "Did you get the flu shot?"  The medicalization of our health is now expected, reasonable and customary.  Really? This is how it's supposed to be?  Allergy rates for common foods (milk, peanuts, eggs) are skyrocketing.  Are you connecting the dots yet?

We are undergoing a massive autoimmune deficiency response to these foods.  Our bodies are rejecting these foods and rebelling.  Now, I'm not going to say I can totally go vegan or plant powered immediately.  There will be no dramatic dumping of all these terrible foods, at least not just yet.

But for now, I am cutting yogurt and cow's milk from our family's diet.  I have not had milk in two weeks and I don't miss it.  Almond milk is becoming more widely available and has a good taste and texture.  It's also loaded with protein, calcium, vitamin E and antioxidants.  It is more expensive, but I don't plan on chugging lots of the stuff, just a cup or two a day.  Even diluted with a bit of water, I could conceivably stretch it out and make it comparable cost wise to cow's milk.  But, for now, the health benefits of switching make it a worthy investment.

Maribel Ibrahim, The Frugal Writer, created www.StartSchoolLater.net and is the Director of Strategic Planning for Start School Later, Inc., a grassroots non-profit organization dedicated to ensuring that the health, safety and equity of children are protected when determining school start times.  Start School Later now has 11 local chapters, working in communities across the country to protect the sleep needs of public school students.   Follow Maribel on Twitter at @TheFrugalWriter or connect with her on LinkedIn.

Asleep at the Wheel

I had every intention of writing a post to update our audience on what's going on with Start School Later.  However, what came crashing through my driveway Wednesday, literally, has compelled me yet again to stop in my tracks and make an urgent plea: 

When are we going to wake up? 

When are we going to stop this roller coaster life long enough to realize that we need to stop putting our heads in the sand and wish away our problems?

When are we going to stop accepting that how we live is normal and that we shouldn't expect better?

When are we going to start putting health and safety first instead of wrestling with budget line items and the inconveniences of modern life spinning wildly out of control?

The picture I posted is what I took this morning, next to my mailbox.  If that car chose to lose control an hour earlier, twenty minutes earlier or an hour later, this would be a different post and the news would be much worse.

My insides are still tense at the thought, and I am thankful that while the front of my house is literally surrounded by live wires, we are all safe (and I'm at the Starbucks, waiting to pick up my kids from school...).

This is the third accident in as many months.  In December, some poor soul plowed into my tree, barely missing the utility pole, because he had to swerve away from an oncoming car that lost control.  This past fall, my next door neighbor's utility pole took a hit when an out of control car hit it, knocking out everyone's power in the next 5 miles for most of the day.

While I'm thankful there were no fatalities in all these wrecks, it wasn't because the accidents were fender benders.  It's because, thankfully, no one happened to be out in at the exact time of impact.  We are playing roulette with this road.

B&A Blvd is a state road (Route 648), which has a speed limit of 45 MPH and zero traffic lights from Lower Magothy Bridge Road all the way to Ritchie Highway.  The road is packed during peak hours (I can set my watch to the standstill of cars at 5:30pm every week day).  And, some folks may not realize, that this highway is also a RESIDENTIAL road.  People reside right on Baltimore Annapolis Boulevard.  I live right there - not  tucked away in a cul de sac or community development.

I cannot tell you how many times I see and hear the bus drivers, frantically leaning on their horns to get cars to slow down because the buses are coming to a stop and attempting to pick up school children.  My children.  Your children.

With the recesssion, there have been more pedestrians (not to mention runners and bikers) on this road than ever before. 

The solution is to put in a traffic light on B&A and Willet Road and slow down the speed limit. (The speed limit of a residential road is 25 MPH).  The fact that there is no traffic light on this curved stretch of open road with a high speed limit encourages fast driving.  Couple that with the fact there are no sidewalks and it is a recipe for disaster. 

I will be requesting a traffic light and a lowered speed limit on this road and will keep you updated on my progress.  When I mentioned this on Facebook, a friend, posted, "They won't do anything unless there are fatalities."  Sadly, it didn't take me long to pull up a fatality on this same stretch of road.

We are a nation asleep at the wheel.  The state of sleep deprivation is so rampant that hardly anyone can get on without a few cups of coffee.  Step into the Walgreen's and you'll see two aisles dedicated to energy drinks, energy shots, pills, and gums, all of which are available to minors.

Sleepy's Mattress stores are multiplying like rabbits and the problem isn't our mattresses, it's that we have been lulled into thinking that 24 hour access to everything is a necessity and we can't rest.  It's no wonder we're busy getting addicted to sleep drugs like ambien and now have access to ZzzQuil instead of NyQuil, JUST to go to sleep.

It's no wonder that we tell our students they should just "suck it up" and take this kind of abuse, because they'll have to learn to cope with it as adults.  We save a few dollars and tell our students by our actions that they are just about as important as the recycling we leave on the curb during predawn hours.

I cannot leave well enough alone.  Just as I will campaign for traffic safety on my own street, I will continue to beat the drum for later school starts.  It's high time that we stop putting athletic programs, convenience and budget line items ahead of the health and safety of our students.

I shudder to think that while all four of the accidents I documented here happened during daylight hours, there are many that have happened during predawn hours across the country, as students figure out a way to get to school in the dark.

For a listing of accidents and fatalities involving school students during predawn hours, look here.

If we invested $800,000 in transportation costs, that would be the equivalent of just under $11 per student in our system of 74,795 students.

With $11 per student, we could reduce sleep deprivation, which would then reduce obesity, depression, suicidal ideation, risky behaviors such as underage drinking and illegal drug use and crime.  Eleven dollars.  Are we going to continue to sit down and say that eliminating the cause of endangering our youth and restricting their ability to get the sleep they need is not feasible?

It's time to wake up.  Our kids deserve better.  We all deserve better. And, we are smart enough, inventive enough and more than able to work together as a community to fix this.

Maribel Ibrahim, The Frugal Writer, created www.StartSchoolLater.net and is the Director of Strategic Planning for Start School Later, Inc., a grassroots non-profit organization dedicated to ensuring that the health, safety and equity of children are protected when determining school start times.  Start School Later now has 11 local chapters, working in communities across the country to protect the sleep needs of public school students.  Most recently, the Howard County Chapter joined the effort to combat unhealthy school start times. 

Homespun Christmas Spirit

Sometimes, we find things far off the beaten path, but in this case, I wanted to share something that is right in front of our faces, in the middle of city traffic.

Park the car and take a peek, or you might miss this gem of Christmas spirit.

I heard about this one through a friend's Facebook post, checked it out for myself and felt compelled to share it here.  It's no Lighthouse on the Bay, but then again, I didn't have to shell out $20 and view something loaded with corporate sponsorships.

What I saw instead touched my heart and filled me with the real joy of Christmas.  And, yes, it's worth the trip.  The show is at a private residence in Brooklyn, MD (yes, Maryland, not New York!) along a bustling thoroughfare called Ritchie Highway.

My YouTube video is also homespun.  I literally sat in my car and recorded it on my phone.  I only recorded 6 minutes of it, because I thought it would be worth it for anyone anywhere to see it.  If you want to see more, get in the car and go already!

If you want to see the full length of the 25 minute show, just drive over to Advance Auto Parts, park your car facing the street and check out the magic.  Full instructions and details about the show are included right here ------------------ >

Placement of the show is pure genius.  Across the street from the home is a large parking lot for a large strip mall.  The masses could converge, drive through style, turn on their radios and enjoy the show.  Just be sure to turn off your headlights.

What I loved most about this show is that the traffic is whizzing by as the show progresses.  If you are in one of those cars, you might notice house lights blinking furiously, but miss the whole thing entirely.  If you take the time to stop, park, look and listen, you get to see Christmas cheer unfold in the hustle and bustle of life.

The show starts at 6:00pm sharp.  But, you don't have to worry.  Get there when you can.  The show runs through for 25 minutes and cycles again until 10:00pm, so you can see the show when it suits you.  Thankfully, the light show runs nightly until January 6th, so you can still have a little Christmas well into the New Year.

Even in the midst of unspeakable tragedy in Newtown and elsewhere, amid the muck and mire of ordinary life, there is light.  The Saunders Light Show demonstrates that there is compassion and generosity, and yes, hope for us all.

---

  
“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord." 
- Luke 9-11

Dyslexia: To Be or Not To Be?

Young Reader, Credit: Kriss Szkurlatowski; 12frames.eu

I was recently outraged at a recent post regarding the possibility of dyslexia being "unclassified" as an official learning disability.  If it's not an official "problem", then all the kid has to do is try harder. That's like telling a nearsighted person to see better (Thank you for that analogy, Dr. Ned Hallowell!).

This issue very closely parallels ADHD. A child that has ADHD or is at least struggling to sit still in a school environment and deal with a lot of distractions will not get any accommodations in a public school setting unless he has a diagnosis.

Many boys struggle with being able to sit still for long periods of time and write as much as these schools want them to. Schools are designed for the way girls learn, not boys, so boys will struggle. I'm almost thankful that my son has ADHD, so he can get accommodations that every boy his age should have.

Plenty of schools (mine included) will say they have individualized plans to help every child, but they are not held accountable to implement anything unless there is a 504 or IEP in place. Even then, only the boldest of parents, that are willing to tirelessly bird-dog the schools, will see action.

Then we wonder why doctors overprescribe ADHD meds so easily?  It's an injustice, especially because many people think ADHD is a joke at best, or at worst, an excuse. ADHD is a real condition that is really debilitating for many people that actually have it.

When a kid's brain flips letters around with dyslexia, and they need to remap their whole approach to reading, it's despicable to say it's not a "problem". Oh, and hold the phone.... ADHD and dyslexia are two conditions that are frequently co-morbid (or for us lay folks, they frequently occur together).

I hope you'll join me and sign the Yale Center petition decrying this change to the DSM-5, the upcoming edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, published by the American Psychiatric Association (APA).  Just because we can't "monetize" dyslexia and prescribe medication for it does not mean that it is not a valid medical diagnosis.

My Political Party - A Deuteronocrat

Credit: Chase Anderton http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1282859

I registered as a Republican many years ago because I wanted to be able to vote in my Christian candidates in the primaries.  I have since removed that designation because the current Republican Party is out of touch with most of the middle and lower class.

I can’t go Democrat, because they are too liberal for me, but frankly, if you examine the heart of these issues, and the fact that the Democrats are looking at how they would like to be treated, they genuinely want more compassion for others, even if it is misguided. The democrats do not depend on a higher power, they just think everyone should be treated fairly. The Republicans throw the name of Jesus around as an excuse to say “God helps those who help themselves” (which is NOT a verse in the Bible!)

Now, what I find repugnant is when the Republican Party uses all kinds of words like “pro-life” and “family values” to rope in the uninformed Christian voter. Then, they refuse to acknowledge that there will always be the poor, widowed and fatherless among us. They presume that everyone has to take individual responsibility, when clearly, many among us cannot.

As Christians, we are called to take care of the poor, widowed, fatherless and foreigner (Deut 10:18), regardless of whether they “deserve it” or not. Jesus even said, "The poor you will have with you." (Matthew 26:11) The true heart of the current Republican Party is cold and rife with self-determination and crass “forgetfulness” that we are beholden to the unrepresented in our communities.

The Republican Party stopped at nothing to launch personal attacks on an incumbent President. They refuse to accept that many people, while not fully agreeing with the Democratic party, cannot buy into the fact that the Republican Party, with it’s arms-dealing, oil baron influencing, conflict of interest dallying, is NOT a trustworthy or acceptable alternative.  This is why they lost the election and sadly, they are still licking their wounds instead of congratulating the person who got the people's vote.

What we all really need to do is roll up our sleeves and start a dialogue on how we can start to fix problems and reach across the aisles despite our differences. As a Christian, it doesn’t matter who is in office now. I need to pray for them and ask God for real solutions and wisdom. And, for the record, I am proudly NONAFFILIATED!

---

He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigners residing among you, giving them food and clothing. - Deuteronomy 10:18

Baseball's Secret Weapon: Maribel Magic

I am not a superstitious person.  At least, not anymore.  However, given the current state of affairs with Postseason Baseball, it's time to 'fess up about my childhood obsession, watching the Yankees.

I am a huge, huge baseball fan.  I grew up in Jersey and only dreamed of going to Yankee Stadium.  I had a crush on Bucky Dent, loved fellow Brick City native Rick Cerone and saw Goose Gossage shut it down many times before Mariano even signed on with the Yankees.

It almost horrifies me to say it, but I never did get to the old Yankee Stadium in my lifetime and I haven't been to a live home game in New York yet.  Purists may argue that I'm not a real fan, since I've never been to a real home game.  (I did watch the boys in Camden Yards though, but I know that doesn't count.)

Yet, the thing that gives me cred with the Yanks, at least in my humble opinion, is my passion for watching the game.  My passion for watching matches their passion for winning, which is huge.  While it may have been highly coincidental, and has most certainly never been statistically verified, I observed very early on in my watching career as a kid that if I did not watch the game to the end, the Yanks would lose.  More importantly, if I watched the game, no matter how far behind the Yankees were, they would have a famous Yankee rally and go on to win the game.  I've recently dubbed this phenomenon Maribel Magic. 

I recall many nights on the couch, watching intently while the boys would come alive with two outs in the ninth inning and rack up over 5 runs to tie a game and send it to extra innings, or just clinch it right there.  Those rallies were just amazing to witness and are the reason I will always hold the Yankees close to my heart.  Payrolls and personalities aside, there has always been something transformational about their will to win, even when they struggled with weak pitching or hurt players from the 70's all the way to today.

Baseball fans are generally a superstitious lot, and I began to feel the pressure to watch my boys.  I would feel a twinge of guilt when I fell asleep and the boys lost.  I really felt remorseful when they lost a lead in my absence when I was growing up.   Now, as a full-time mom, I can't watch a lot of baseball games and I don't live in Jersey anymore.  But the Yankees have given me the pleasure of watching many Postseason contentions, even while here in Baltimore.  So, while I don't believe Maribel Magic wields some actual, real power over Yankee wins, it's fun to think that if I can will it enough, the Yankees will take it all the way to another World Series title.  And, it just seems to happen more often than not.  When I watch the games, they win.  When I don't?  Oh boy....

Chatter Brain, Motor Mouth

It has taken me a while to figure out that my brain, which only shuts off when I go to sleep (and even then, not so much) is not typical.  Many people have quiet, silent spaces between their thoughts.  I have no idea what that is like.

When I've asked people, "What are you thinking about?" I'd occasionally get "nothing".  Nothing?  Really?  The mind is always processing something, isn't it?   The chatter in my brain, which I've always taken for granted, is not common, apparently.  Whoops...

Since that revelation, I've gone on to get an assessment for Adult ADHD.  Medically, this is a growing development where adults are finally finding out that they have ADHD.  It is not adult onset ADHD.  The patient always had ADHD, it was just never diagnosed when they were kids.

For me, this is particularly telling, since I was diagnosed with ADHD without hyperactivity (formerly known as ADD).  In fact, most girls with ADHD are often undiagnosed, because they are not swinging from chandeliers or rappelling off bannisters when they are little.  They "behave" nicely in school and seldom get "in trouble". 

But it makes a lot of sense.

It's the reason that I will forget the groceries if they are in the back of the car.  Out of sight, out of mind, baby.  I have even walked in the house, talked to family members about my purchases and STILL forget to unload the van if the purchases are not on the passenger seat.

It's why I will get lost, or at the very least, make about 2 U-turns when I go to your house.  And, yes, I realize I've been there 5 times.  I actually factor in a U-turn allowance for trips.  And, yes, the GPS, one of the best Christmas presents I have ever received, is used daily to get to church, friends' houses and anyplace else.

It's why anytime I do ask for directions, after the second or third step, I have drifted off in my mind like a deer in the headlights and will not hear anything else.  (I've been known to stop and ask for directions five times when they are very complicated directions).

At a 3 minute stoplight, my brain has been firing thoughts nonstop.  It could seem like 20 minutes and when I snap out of it, I have a mild freak because for about 2 milliseconds, I forget where I am and where I'm going.

I will interrupt you and talk alot about myself.  It's not that I don't care about you.  Au contraire, I'm very interested, but I know I will forget what I was going to say if I don't just say it right then.

I do my best thinking when I'm in motion - working out, driving, etc.  Some of my best ideas come when I am in the shower or during a yoga class.  I guess these are the few times that there is only one conversation going on, the one in my head.  So yes, when I'm talking with you, I'm having two conversations.  This is also why interrupting just comes naturally to me.

In Russell Barkley's "Taking Charge of Your Child's ADHD", I was reading a case study to learn more about ADHD for my son.  It was amazing, because the little girl who talked nonstop could have been me.  That case study was me in grade school, exactly!  In fact, my nickname in school was "Motormouth Maribel".

I can do the work of 10 when it comes to productivity, but will eventually crash and burn with lethargy.  I've been able to get away with this, especially with work, because while I'm still vegging out, my counterparts are just starting to catch up again.

ADHD is also why there are some unexplained times why it will take an eternity for me to write a simple email, why I find myself researching the mysteries of reverse mortgages instead of paying the bills and why some very simple things can really take me a long time to do.

For me, ADHD has been more of a nuisance and a frustration.  For some, it is very debilitating trying to manage a brain that is firing out of control. While I am not taking any medication for it, the need for medication in many cases is very legitimate and very effective.  I can joke and laugh about it because I have unwittingly built up many coping strategies and support systems that allow me to be effective.

Knowing about ADHD allows me to finally acknowledge that I am not undisciplined or uncaring, I just have trouble filtering things out when I need to.  In getting a diagnosis as an adult, I have been able to be more forgiving of myself.  Instead of berating myself for getting lost yet again and wondering why "I can never seem to figure it out", I understand that this is just how I am wired.  Now, I know that I will peter out if I continue at a rapid-fire pace, so I consciously try to set boundaries, commit to less things and simplify wherever possible. 

I am a work in progress and still bite off more than I can chew.  But, now, at least I can start being more effective with the strengths I have instead of letting my weaknesses drag me down.

Maribel Ibrahim, The Frugal Writer, created www.StartSchoolLater.net and is a Co-Founder of Start School Later, Inc., a grassroots coalition dedicated to ensuring that the health, safety and equity of children are protected when determining school start times.  In fine ADHD style, she just made the cut and wrote this post in honor of September being ADHD Awareness Month.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

 

We’ve been back in school for a month.  As fall rolls in, so does the sleep deprived stupor that many of our public school students face as they grapple with early school start times.

There are some unsettling things we’ve found in our quest to educate the public about the need for healthier school start times.

At Start School Later,  we are dedicated to letting the general public know about the need to establish healthy school start times that do not conflict with the biological needs of students.  We’ve met with legislators, public officials, community members, parents and anyone else that will listen to our message. 

Ironically, a 7:17am start time does not seem to resonate with most folks that do not have high schoolers.  The impression is that this is the time students WAKE UP for school.  It doesn’t seem so bad to wake up in the seven o’clock hour, since most adults do it.

Our kids need to wake up at 5:30am or 6:00am to get ready and be AT school by 7:17am.  This is the eye-opener that most people do not understand about this problem.  

Most students get more sleep by sacrificing breakfast, passing up a shower or getting a ride instead of walking or catching a bus.  (They can’t go to bed earlier if they are getting home from sports events later than 9:00pm with homework waiting to be done).

As a sophisticated industrialized nation, we are sacrificing the basic needs of children to save a fast buck and maintain a system we are loathe to change.  What about the students that don’t have access to a car?  What about the students that have no choice but to walk to school in the dark, sometimes on busy, dark streets with no sidewalk and lots of traffic?

Most adults would not choose to stand outside on a pre-dawn corner to get a ride to work.  Yet, we ride by in our cozy cars and vans, passing many of our children who have to “report to work” earlier than most adults.

Somehow, we can jump through hoops when schools mandate early dismissals or sports schedules change, but we are not willing to consider collaborating in our communities for the long-term health, safety and equity of all of our public school students.

Hold on, there’s more.  Our magnet students face an even larger burden.  Because most of them are going to schools outside of their normal jurisdiction, they face longer bus rides.  And, ironically, instead of magnet programs starting on a different schedule, they start at 7:17am, forcing students to get to a centralized bus stop (which might require a longer walk, prior bus trip or car ride) even EARLIER than their mainstream counterparts.

In Anne Arundel County, MD, the #727 and #747 buses both make their first stop at 6:00am in order to service students that are in the Performing and Visual Arts High School program.  Bus #543 starts at 5:45am in order to service West County.  Bus #144, which serves the South County High STEM students, starts at 6:15am.  Bus #130 starts at 6:10am.

So, if you are a motivated individual excelling in school, you have to get there even earlier and travel farther than your sleepy “regular” contemporaries.  No good deed goes unpunished. 

Here’s the other kicker.  More economically advantaged students would just go to a private school or other specialty school outside of the public school system to hone their skills or prepare for their career. 

Many of our public school magnet students are coming from economically disadvantaged locations. They don’t have their own cars and may have to walk a mile to get to the bus stop.  Their parents are most likely to both have to work, leaving the student to fend for themselves without a convenient ride to school.  Is this the message that we want to send to our motivated students that want to excel?  That to work hard and perform well, you have to endure an even more demandingly sleepless schedule than your peers?

There is something severely broken in this system, when we continue to turn a blind eye to the basic health and safety needs of our youth and couch them as “character building” for when they “grow up”.  Let’s open our eyes and wake up to what we are really asking our youth to do.

Chime in below and tell us of your early morning sojourns.  How do the students in your family get to school?  Let’s get the conversation started, so we can get our heads out of the sand and start getting real.

Maribel Ibrahim, The Frugal Writer, created www.StartSchoolLater.net and is a Co-Founder of Start School Later, a grassroots coalition dedicated to ensuring that the health, safety and equity of children are protected when determining school start times.  Maribel’s Patch blog has recently been ranked in the Top 100 out of over 22,000 bloggers in the Patch network.

Movie Review: Happy Feet

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0366548/

I'll admit, I don't get out much.  Adult movies are not on the radar for me, and I'm too cheap to spring for first-run movies for my kids.  So the freebie summer screenings are just my bag.  That being said, I got to see a real gem of a movie this summer, only four years after it's release.  It was one of those typical animation movies for kids, with enough adult humor to give parents the patience to see it through.

I think I enjoyed this movie a bit more than my kids did, because it had a wonderful message, with a great mix of realism and idealism.

(SPOILER ALERT:  Stop reading here if you don't want me to give away the plot).

It starts out oddly enough, with Mumbles, a funny little penguin who is born with shifting, moving feet and an inability to fit in like the rest of his penguin colony.  This kid is different and struggles to find a balance.  How does he fit in without completely stifling his own personality?  This was particularly poignant for me because I see my ADHD son (and myself!) with those same struggles.  We are who we are, and we can't change certain things, but we need to find a way to fit in a society that doesn't operate the way we do.

What I loved about this movie is that Mumbles, internally, accepts himself, even when others don't.  He struggles because he can't fit in the way others expect him to.  His father tells him to keep still and "fake it" to fit in.  His mother loves him, but can't seem to shield him from the ostracizing public.  He even has to venture off and abandon his love interest because he knows he will never be able to live up to her standards.  He needs his space.

When Mumbles finds his rhythm with tap dancing, it is his way of expressing himself.  It's not accepted at first because in the movie, penguins learn to sing and share their heartsong.  A crew of outcast penguins give Mumbles acceptance, a first glimpse of community that Mumbles has desperately longed for.  In the end, Mumbles is able to share his heartsong through his dancing feet, influencing a positive change and a fresh new way of doing things.  He does not have to abandon who he is but is able to use his strengths to counterbalance his weaknesses.

How glorious would it be, if we could embrace each other, and show compassion for those who are different?  Instead of ridiculing and mocking those that don't fit our typical mold, why not look for the gifts that they bring outside of the mold?  In the end, as Mumbles gains acceptance, he does not have to change himself or conform to standards he can't attain.  He blesses his colony with the gift of dance and everyone is all the better for it.

Why I'm ODDly ADDing

Being a mom to three hyper kids has always been an adventure.  Having a ramped up personality myself, I figured my apples didn't fall far from the tree.

But as my oldest son grew older, things that should have gotten easier got harder.  My enthusiastic, lovable, adventurous little man grew argumentative, angry and generally unhappy, and I couldn't put my finger on why.  He had a hard time controlling himself, hated school and had outbursts that were more typical of preschoolers.

We started clamping down and disciplining him for misbehaviors and willfullness.  We even canceled his 7th birthday party.  One evening at dinner, he was punished for misbehavior and was not allowed to play with his father's iPad, a usual evening ritual.  The next thing that happened gave me chills.  Unfazed, my son very politely asked for paper, scissors and markers.  He wasn't upset over the punishment, but was very intent on getting something done.  When I inquired why he wanted these things, he very happily said, "I'm going to make my own iPad, so I can play it."

What gave me chills was that he was comfortable with shifting from reality to fantasy as a coping mechanism.  He was so chipper that it was eerie.  While this incident, in and of itself, was not a huge problem, I saw a dangerous future, where my son would easily be able to distort reality in order to cope with an undesirable situation.

I talked with a good friend with a counseling background and the words Oppositional Defiance came up.  I read more about Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD) and found that my son exhibited all six of the symptoms of ODD.  The symptoms were like a playbook of my son's recent behaviors.  While he wasn't busy destroying property or kicking people, I could see that his frustrations, left unchecked, would get worse.  Oh, and get this, punishment and negative discipline is the WORST thing you can do for an oppositional child.  So, while I prided myself on positive parenting, I was falling into the trap of ramping up consequences and shifting into a more negative way of parenting. (That's a whole new post, more on that later....)

A year later, and my son has been officially diagnosed with ADHD.  In fine fashion, my boy hit the double jackpot, Attention Deficit with Hyperactivty and Impulsivity.  Ironically, I never would have entertained the idea of ADHD without first discovering ODD.  I just assumed my son was strong-willed and hyper.  When he was interested in something, he had laser focus, not an attention deficit!  However, that hyperfocus is actually a trait of ADHD.  Go figure.

So now, parenting techniques that may work for neurotypical children will NOT work for my little man.  It is an odd thing that enforcing more punishment just breeds more misbehavior and frustration in our home.  This shift, a new strategy, is why I am now ODDly ADDing.  As a result, my son is getting the help he needs, tapping into his emotions and getting boundaries established in a way that is encouraging and effective, even if it isn't easy.