For Everything Else, There’s Mastercard

11th row tickets to Bon Jovi’s Nashville show:  $330

Parking in Downtown Nashville:  $10

Breathing the same air as Jon Bon Jovi:  Priceless

38th row tickets to Bon Jovi’s Chicago show:  $330

Train tickets to and around Chicago:  $160

Being at Bon Jovi’s final show of The Circle tour surrounded by 60,000 people who, “get it”:  Priceless

 

Deep Thoughts

Gay Marriage:  When discussing gay marriage with other straight people here in the Bible belt, my support of the topic is usually unpopular.   Often, people will say, “I have a gay friend, (or brother, or brother-in-law, or cousin…..or whatever), and I love him/her…………..BUT, I don’t condone their lifestyle or think they should be able to marry.”  Of course they use  Christianity and the Bible to back their views.  You may remember that my cousin said it, and I’ve heard others say nearly the same thing.   

My deep thought is this:  Isn’t someone saying they have, “lots of gay friends” but openly campaigning against their freedom alot like the leader of the KKK saying, “I have lots of African American friends”? 

Belief Isn’t Enough:  The following is paraphrased from last Sunday’s sermon: Some people like to say it is enough just to say you believe, that’s all you have to do and you’ll go straight to heaven.  Well, satan believes in God and Christ.  He knows they’re real.  Still think belief is enough?

The Clothespin Nazi

Karate Boy’s school uses a color coded method for behavior.  In their system, green is good, black is bad, and in between there’s yellow, blue, and red, in that order.  Each child has a clothespin with their name on it, and when they misbehave they have to move it down a color.  Last year Karate Boy’s clothespin sayted on green, pretty much all year.  He had one red, and a few yellows, but not over 5 days all year off of green.  He was crowned, “Student of the Month” the second month of school, and at every conference his teacher had nothing but positive things to say.  At the first one, she told me, “I wish I had a classroom full of Karate Boy’s”, and I teared up.  It was what every parent wanted to hear.    He loved school, and I thought we were in for smooth sailing for the next few years. 

Back to school night we found out that there were only a handfull of kids from his kindergarten class in his first grade class, and nobody he was really close to.  However, I knew he would’t have any trouble finding his niche.  First grade started 3 weeks ago, and since that time his daily behavior chart has became more colorful.  The first week found the greens peppered with just as many yellows.   The problem seemed to be talking, which he gets honestly.    When I asked questions, such as who he was talking to and if they also got in trouble, Karate Boy always told me the others never got in trouble, only him.   Not wanting to be one of, “those” parents, who think that every teacher is picking on their kid, I convinced myself that KB, in his quest to make new friends, was always initiating conversation at innaproporiate times. 

The next week found us having the same problem.  There was an incident involving the decibal level of Karate Boy’s whisper.  His teacher said,  ”If I can hear you, it’s not a whisper.”  before directing him to move his clothespin.  The next day there was another involving him talking to someone in the bathroom.  Apparently there is no talking in the bathroom, even if the someone you are talking to is a former classmate and your best friend, who’s first grade teacher does allow talking in the bathroom.  “What’s next”  I thought, and laughed inwardly at the mental visualization of his teacher saying, “If the person in the next stall hears you pass gas, it’s too loud, and you will have to move your clothespin* ”.  By the end of the week KB’s behavior chart had more colors than a gay pride bumper sticker. 

Friday he came home and his square for the day was colored green, with blue over it.  I was confused and prodded KB for information, and what I found out made me very angry.  They had computers, then recess last thing that day, so they colored their squares right before computers.  After coloring their squares they were asked to put their chairs on top of the table, as they wouldn’t be in the classroom any more that day.  KB saw his classmate Claire struggling to get her chair on top of the table beside him.  He asked her if she needed help, and because this task was supposed to be done silently, he was reprimanded for talking.  As a reward for his chilvary, he was forced to move his clothespin straight to blue and miss part of his recess.  An action some teachers might have praised or even rewarded, his punished him for. 

Now I can’t help but be one of, “those” parents, and since speaking to some of KB’s other teachers, I’m convinced of the possibility that KB is being picked on.  I don’t want him to be wrongfully labeled a “problem child” in our small school, with it’s close knit teachers, that label could follow him for the rest of his school years.  I also don’t want him to stop liking school.  That could make the next 11 years miserable for us all.    Therefore, after spending the weekend brooding over the events, J and I planned to set up a meeting  to talk to The Clothespin Nazi soon. 

This week is starting off much better, with 2 greens in as many days.  Maybe a face to face meeting won’t be necessary.

* Editors note:  As I was typing this post, Liz, who commented first on this post, posted a status update on facebook that her first grader got in trouble, and moved to blue, for “passing gas”.

Who Says You Can’t Go Home?

“Sandy Jones is in a relationship”, my facebook updates read. 

“Holy Crap?  , What?, Omigod, With who?”, My mind raced.  I’ve known Sandy all my life, as we have attended church together.  She is 5 years my senior, and we’ve always been good friends.  Sandy can best be described as introverted, kind, sweet, good with children, shy.  Too shy.  So shy that in the 31 years that I have known her, I have never known her to be, “in a relationship”.

A few days prior to reading about Sandy’s new status, we had chatted on facebook about my state of unrest at our church.  She offered her support, and was willing to lend an ear her eyes and fingers to console me.  She told me she missed us, she offered to take over some of my responsibilities until I made a decision about my future.  My children have always been special to her, and she often helps me out in a babysitting bind when she is available.  When we logged off of chat that night she asked me to hug my boys for her, and it hurt me to read that.  Up to that point I had been thinking of my unrest, and unhappiness as something that affected only me, and that by leaving I would be making my life better, not about how I would be hurting other people.  For the first time I felt a huge tug to come back, but I still held so much resentment. 

Days later, as I sat at my desktop, reading the 3 little words that Sandy was now using to describe herself, “in a relationship”, I thought of all the things had missed and I would continue to miss.  Sure, I realized in the beginning that I would miss some people, but I was so miserable that I really didn’t care.  As I checked out Sandy’s new boyfriend’s profile, giving him my seal of approval, as if it mattered, I knew what to do for the first time in months.  There were no tears, just the knowledge that I had to go back, and soon.  For the first time in months there was peace in my heart.  There was no more resentment, no more being uptight upon thinking about stepping foot in my church, no more desire to see if the grass is truly greener.  Only guilt for some remarks I made to a prospective visitor. 

The next Sunday, one week ago today, we went back, and it really and truly felt good.  We said goodbye to our former pastor and welcomed our new one, both of whom I adore.  I have been fortunate enough to spend time with our new pastor’s family over the past week and it has been nothing short of wonderful.  Our kids really enjoy each other’s company, as do the adults.  I have came to the realization that I have made the right decision, without a doubt, and it blows my mind to think that I could’ve missed the opportunity to get to know this wonderful family, (and to get the dirt on Sandy’s new boyfriend.)

I’m Baaaaack…….

Apparently, the way to turn your neglected blog into a sorely neglected one is to concoct a plan to encourage posting.    It’ll keep you away like the plague, or the swine flu, or something like that.

The church issue is still the hotbed topic around these parts.  After making my decision to try something new, I did just that, only my something new has been staying away from church altogether.  It’s been nice, not having to go anywhere, do anything, sleeping in.  I’m enjoying my only day off of the week, with complete freedom. 

The thing is, I don’t feel comfortable going back to “my” church, and I’m way too chicken shit aprehensive to take that step.  The step that puts me in unfamiliar territory, with unfamiliar people, where I may or may not be accepted, where I may not be, “good enough”. 

To compound those fears, I sometimes feel something pulling me back to “my” church.  I have recieved support from many of my church friends, making me long to go back.  I have also recieved  some that drone on about history and roots, that imply, that I will be letting my ancestors down by leaving.  I know the senders mean well, and they love me, but it bothers me that they imply that my decision to do what is best for me and my family is disapointing a bunch of people in a graveyard. 

The past few weeks have gone like this:  Get letter of support, from a person that I really miss:  Decide to go back.  Get “guilt trip” letter:  Get pissed:  Remember why I decided to leave in the first place:  Vow to quit being chicken shit and try new church next Sunday:  Sunday comes and I sleep in.  In short, I’m still seeing signs leaading me in both directions, and I don’t know which ones are the ones for me. 

One of the biggest signs has been some new songs by my second favorite artist, Brad Cotter.  One is called, “I’m Looking For A Church” and is about finding somewhere that you can worship, and be happy.  The other, entitled, “Let Me Believe” is about having faith in something bigger than yourself in an uncertain world, and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps when the need be.  I plan on posting the lyrics soon. 

The boys have been going to some children’s activities at, “our” church, and when I go to pick them up, I’m uncomfortable, and bitter, and tense, and even angry, and I can’t get out of there fast enough.  Weeks have gone by without spiritual fulfilment, leading me to feel empty inside.  I still have no idea what to do.  I’m still asking for a sign, only now I would request that it be of the flashing neon variety, one that says:  “Alyson, do this: (insert specific directions here), Love, God”

Church: An Update

The first Sunday of my newfound freedom didn’t go as planned.  We ended up going to J’s sister’s church.  They were having a special graduate recognition dinner and our neice was involved.  We decided to try again this past Sunday, when our boys would be at J’s sister’s house. 

You know what they say about good intentions……..Sunday morning we took advantage of not having kids in the house and not having anywhere to have to go and we slept…….until 10:30.  This coming Sunday we have other plans, so I have no idea when or if we will actually check out other churches. 

To make things harder, I’ve been getting emails and cards from church, making me a bit homesick.  Karate boy has made comments about, “our church”, and we recently met our new pastor and his family and it was a wonderful experience.  Our kids played together and had a wonderful time.  In short, I’m mega-confused.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere There’s Signs: Here’s Yours

I have struggled with my church alot lately.  First here.   Then again here , and again so many times that there is not enought time to post them all. 

I have been unhappy, and haven’t been spiritually fed for years, nevertheless, I have stayed for many reasons.  I have been at this church all my life.  I have built friendships and relationships there that can never be replaced.  31 years of history is there, including many fond childhood memories. 

I’ve stayed because of my anxiety.  Will I be accepted somewhere else?  Will I be, “good enough”?  Quite frankly, I am scared as hell of walking into another church as the “new guy”.  I’ve never been the new guy. 

I’ve stayed because of my family.  My husband hasn’t wanted to leave when I’ve broached the subject with him, which is strange considering that I’m the one with the history there.  The kids know it there, they’re happy there, they have friends there.  None of my guys are anxious to leave.   Furthermore, my dad was raised there, and on one occasion when my sis and I have talked about leaving he has made it very clear that he would not approve. 

I’ve stayed because of other people.  Many of my friends there are also unhappy and I feel that I would be abandoning them if I leave.  Many of the members have treated our current pastor horribly, and I felt like I will be letting him down if I go. 

I’ve stayed because of my pride.  Because I’ve wanted to stay and fight for “my” church.  Because I want to be more assertive and not let Christians treat each other, and the pastor, like crap.  I’ve stayed because I didn’t want “them” to think that the pastor ran me off, and give them more fuel for their fire. 

In staying I have become very bitter about my church.  I don’t really like going there.  I come home in tears nearly every Sunday.  For over 5 years, I have cried about church almost weekly, and thought about leaving a hundred times a day. 

In my unrest I have asked God for signs, that I was doing the right thing by staying.  He’s given me signs, signs that I should leave, and I’ve argued.  I’ve said, ”Ya know what God, I’m not sure that was a sign, if you really mean it, send me another one”.  And he does.  And I reply, “I’m still not sure, send me another one”.   And we’ve gone on like that, God and I, for over 5 years.  And then, in my stupidity, thinking that I know more than God, I have concluded, “well, God keeps keeping me here, so this must be where he wants me”.   

Sunday before last was typical.  More unrest, petty Sunday school drama, me coming home crying.  I saw then that I needed to leave, but opted to give it another try the next week because my sister was starting a new class for Karate Boy’s age. 

After my sis spent the week preparing a lesson and activities for the 5 plus kids she would have in class that week, she eventually wound up with only 2 of the 5 that were there in that age group.   Several of the parents wouldn’t send their kids, opting instead to keep them in the preschool class because they want their kids to be with their siblings and the teacher they have grown accustomed to.  This teacher has as teenage assistant that has treated several adults and children very badly.  Sunday she came into my sisters class and led some of the kids out of there, the ones that are her pets.  When sis tried to talk to her, the teenager shut the door in her face.  My sister left before worship in tears, vowing to never come back.

Our pastor saw her, and tried unsuccessfully to find out the reason behind her tears.  During prayer concerns, he mentioned running into her, and encouraged anyone that thinks they may have done something to hurt her feelings to talk to her, adding that, he could see no reason that someone should leave a place of worship, surrounded by other Christians, crying tears of sadness.  His words were like a ton of bricks.  “He’s absolutely right, there is no reason.  I’ve cried tears of sadness because of church nearly every week for the last five years and I’m done”, I thought.  In that moment, I knew that I probably wouldn’t be back.   I could no longer be in denial.  There was my sign, the final message that I should leave, directly from the mouth of my pastor.  I giggled inside as I thought about God saying, “here’s your sign” in the style of redneck commedian Bill Engvall. 

Once I had made up my own mind, I had to broach the subject with my loved ones.  My husband said, “you know I’ll support you whatever you want to do?”…….”ummm….no, I didn’t know.  But now that I do know, let’s try something new”, I said.  He was still uncertain, but I told him that there was no harm in trying other places, and that we could always go back if we felt led to.  During our conversation my sister called to tell me that she had talked with our dad about her leaving and his reply was that he would support it.  “I’m not even sure how much longer we’ll be there either”, he said, as he has recently been hurt by a myraid of petty occurrances.   “Signs, signs, everywhere there’s signs”, I thought, as I watched two of my excuses that have held me back for so long go down in flames. 

With the support of my family, the next step was finding out where to start attending.  I have felt God leading me to a particular church in our area for a while.  We attended the fall festival there, many of karate boy’s school friends attend there, and it’s where the boys have gone for the Wednesday night kid’s program for the last 7 months or so, and they have learned so much more than in the 6 years at our church.   J and I agreed that this church should be our starting point, and I decided to find out what time services start next Sunday.  From the church’s website, I found the information I needed, along with much more.  Whilst reading some of the church’s history, I recognized a name of a former pastor.  I asked J where I knew the name from, and he reminded me that it was the name of one of his father’s good friends, whom his father attended pastoral school with.  It turns out at J’s father’s funeral, this man had told us that he was the pastor there years ago.  We had both forgotten.  J was raised over 50 miles from here, in another state, and the church we are talking about is in a tiny town.  Call me crazy, but I see this conicidence as another sign from above. 

Upon further investigation of the church’s website I discovered many things that peaked my interest.  The offering of a children’s church program lead me to wonder how I would act being able to finally hear a sermon.  And a cooking ministry?  Wow.  Cooking for people is my talent.  It’s what I do.  It’s what I love.  Another sign, which was followed by many more that I won’t bore you with .  Just know, the signs have been raining down from the heavens this week. 

Our current church is divided, much like everthing, into haves and have-not’s.  The have’s do very little, mainly put money in the collection plate and delegate how it’s spent, or not.  One of my biggest issues lately with our church is money.  We have nearly 40 grand in the bank, and we’re a small church.  I firmly believe that if we were doing our job as a church, we wouldn’t, espically considering our economic climate.  The have-not’s do the legwork on whatever project the have’s think is approporiate, usually something to do with beautifying the church.  The have not’s, including myself, are tired of doing everything, and subsequently, nobody cares anymore.  Beyond Sunday mornings, there is very little going on.  I am excited to go somewhere where I can be involved as much, or as little as I want. 

Since last Sunday word of my sister’s leaving has spread like wildfire via facebook.  Many have tried to talk her out of it.  One middle-aged man even commented, “if you leave, “they” win”, and whilst I know where he’s coming from, and I’m guilty of doing so myself, the fact that we have resorted to an “us” and “them” mentality, is disturbing.  I pondered his comment for a few minutes before deciding to let, “them” ”win”.  Currently, I leave church bitter and hateful, emotions that benefit no one.  If I go somewhere else, and I’m happy, we both win.  They may “win” the battle, but the war is mine.   Although I have dropped hints, I don’t think many people know of my decision to also leave the church.  Their potential reactions scare me, and I can only hope and pray that in the end they are happy for me.  

On paper, the church we are planning on visiting next Sunday seems like the obvious choice.  However, from the Wednesday night program I have found the people to be hard to warm up to.  Additionally, it’s out of my comfort zone, denomonation wise, and I venhemently disagree with some of their stances and beliefs.  I don’t know where we will end up.  For all I know we may find out that the grass isn’t greener on the other church lawn.  I do know that I want to give this a try, even though I’m scared as hell.

Blogland Idol

I’m totally stealing this from moonbeam, but I mentally write posts all day in my head, most of which never make it to the screen.  Hell, hardly anything makes it to this screen anymore, which is why I’m instituting Blogland Idol, in an effort to make some of those posts actually make it to the small screen.  Vote for your favorite, and I’ll make an attempt to post it soon.

1. I Hear Soft Drinks
2. That’s Going To Leave A Mark:  Getting Ink’d The Mail Carrier Way
3. Dear Fat:
4. A yet to be named post which is a fictional story using as many Bon Jovi song titles as possible
5. Put That Back:  What Karate Boy Pulled Out Of My Purse At The Most Inconvenient Time

I Think It’s Love

Since having kids, and consequently no money, vehicles have became something that I could care less about.  As long as it has 4 wheels and gets me where I’m going, I couldn’t care less about outward appearances.  Well….a CD player is a must, as is air conditioning, but besides that, I really don’t care.  My current ride is a 2000 silver Dodge Caravan, which I have been driving for the past 7 years.  It now has nearly 170,000 miles, makes a really bad squeking noise, has exterior parts that are held on with zip ties, you can’t roll the drivers side window down, or it will get stuck, and an inaccurate clock.  (ok, that last one is entirely operator error, but I can never remember how to set the damn thing).  Despite all these things that are wrong, it does have a few things that are right.  It’s paid for, and the CD player and air conditioning work. 

J keeps talking about replacing the minivan, and asking what I want to get next, wanting to go on test drives.  I keep putting it off.  I’m in no hurry, or at least I wasn’t.  I hate making decisions.  I also hate wasting time, and as I planned to drive the van until it died, I saw no point in wasting my time, or the time of a car salesman.  I didn’t know what I want, with the kids growing up and running around with friends, I was even considering another minivan, or a gas-saving sedan.  It seemed there are too many choices and nothing that really stood out. 

That all changed Satruday while I was at work, when I met Blue Chevy, last name  Trailblazer, freshly bathed and pulling out of a car wash.  It was love at first sight. 

Isn’t he handsome? 

One look was all it took, and I was hooked.  I knew what I wanted next time around.  Looks aren’t everything though, and Chevy fails to live up to my budget or gas mileage standards, also with a 5 person capacity I don’t know if he will meet my needs in the immediate future.  However, all hope is not lost, as my brother in law is a Chevy salesman. 

I still plan on putting off my decision for as long as possible, and I hope the silver mom-mobile will stay with us for at least the next year and a half or so.  After that time Sir-Sweats-Alot will be in school and our budget will see some relief from childcare expenses.  However, when it does bite the dust, I have a better idea of what will take it’s place on my side of the carport.

A Bully Of A Different Sort

When I think of schoolyard bully’s, I think of big, burly kids who resort to violence to get their way, much like this kid.  However, in the last several months since karate boy has started public schooling, it’s a different sort of bully that has proven to be problematic for us. 

When karate boy started kindergarten, he quickly made friends with a boy named Ryan, and I was estatic.  As parents we want to see our kids be popular, and well liked, and all the things that we associate with success.  Living in small town America,I knew Ryan’s parents to have been popular, upstanding members of our community for as long as I can remember.  It appeared that he was on, what I thought was the right track.  But, we all know appearances can be decieving. 

It wasn’t long before Karate Boy started coming home telling me tales of Ryan’s antics.  Apparently, one of Ryan’s tactics to get his way is to tell the other kids, “I won’t be your friend if you don’t”……..or do, or whatever fits the bill for what he desires.  I call it emotional bullying.  I soon found my little Karate Boy asking me to pack his lunch, because if he ate cafeteria food that day Ryan wouldn’t be his friend.  He professed to not eating green beans because if he did, Ryan, “wouldn’t be his friend”.  He came home in tears more than once because Ryan chose to alienate him from the group that day at recess because Karate Boy didn’t want to play Star Wars.  He came home upset that his choice  for that day’s show-and-tell didn’t meet Ryan’s expectations.  The list goes on and on…………..and on. 

I gave my advice to Karate boy and told him what I thought was the right thing to do, what I would do now, in my infinite adult wisdom.   “There are plenty of other kids you can be friends with”, I told him.  “You do what you want, not what Ryan wants”.  “If he doesn’t want to be friends with you it’s truly his loss”…………..Basically, I was trying to say, “Tell Ryan to Bugg off”. 

Last winter Ryan came to Karate Boy’s birthday party (sans RSVP’ing, a major pet peeve of mine).  Karate boy got duplicates of one of his presents, and Ryan told him, “Good, you can give the other one to me”.  Karate Boy handed it right over, and I had to be the bad guy, taking it back.  Anything to please Ryan, Karate Boy does.  So much so that the day Karate Boy puked at school all over his desk, and I found out that Ryan’s reaction was, “That was cool……do it again”.  My response was, “You didn’t, did you?”.  It honestly wouldn’t have surprised me if Karate Boy would’ve forced himself to puke just to make Ryan happy.

At the school’s family reading night parents were supposed to be reading to their children individually.  As I attempted to read to karate boy Ryan was running amock amidst all the parents and children, while his mom sat back, not even attempting to control him, or keep him from distrubing the other participants.  I tried to make the most of it, attempting to interest the two of them in our book, but understandably, our book choice didn’t live up to Ryan’s standards, and in the end, very little reading was accomplished.

I knew that Ryan’s mom and dad had divorced a few years ago, and since then he’s been coddled by his mom.  His actions are probably habit for him, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, even though he was beginning to get on my nerves. 

My feelings of sympathy turned to feelings of anger last week.  Spring pictures were delivered recently, and Karate Boy took several of his for exchanging, whilst coming home empty-handed.  With some prodding, he admited that some of his classmates had given him pictures of them, but Ryan wanted them, and of course, wouldn’t be his friend if he didn’t hand them over.  Later that week, on chicken nugget day, I asked Karate Boy about his lunch choice, commenting that I knew what he got, because nuggets are his favorite.  He professed to getting a “snack pack” (cold sandwich, chips and fruit) because Ryan told him that he wouldn’t be his friend if he didn’t get a snack pack like him. 

I’m not alone in this either, I’ve talked to several other moms who have had the same problem with Ryan.  One mother told me that she chaperoned a recent field trip and was really frustrated by the way Ryan acted the entire time, pushing himself in betweek Karate boy and her son, who are also good friends, and green with envy every time their full attention wasn’t on him.  One mother professsed to me that her son asked specifically for Ryan not to be invited to his birthday party last winter, saying that he would just cry and act like a baby and ruin the party for everyone. 

The problem that me and the other mothers involved have is that our kids continue to give in to Ryan’s antics.  They want to be accepted so bad by Ryan that they do whatever it takes, including eating cold sandwiches when they want chicken nuggets.  I don’t know what to do about this situation.  I suppose I’ll just wait it out, and hope that one day Karate Boy realizes that Ryan is not the kind of friend he needs. 

There is a possible silver lining to the Ryan situation.  Last night, while he was running around minimally supervised at the local carnival, he told us that he may be moving, and going to a different school in the district next year.  Although I hate to see Karate Boy lose one of his “friends”, and I know that the last thing Ryan needs is more upheaval in his life, I couldn’t help but think, “we could be so lucky”.   Even if we’re not so lucky, we will at the very least be free of Ryan and his poor nutritional influences for a few months this summer.