What I Want My Granddaughter To Know

My granddaughter is such a smart and kind young lady. At 12 years old, she is very mature and easy to talk with. Yet I worry about her. Girls her age are so fragile. They are just learning to express themselves. At that age, it seems you learn everything through trial and error. You can't just read a book and have it all figured out.

I hope that she'll be able to recognize and build healthy relationships with her classmates and avoid those who don't respect her or her emotions. I want her to own her mistakes and accept constructive criticism without losing her confidence and ambitions. I'd like her to be a leader rather than a follower.

Let's Get Real (Personal.....)

It seems the older I get, the more strongly I feel about certain issues. As usual, I am already fed up with politics months before the elections are scheduled to take place. I'm especially fed up with those old men who want to tell us what we can and cannot do with our own bodies. The GOP has some very dangerous opinions about health care and when life begins.

Let's start with a "for instance." I'm going to use someone I know pretty well as an example. When she was young, she suffered a burst appendix which left scar tissue on her ovaries, fallopian tubes, and other areas of her internal organs. She was told she would never become pregnant due to these issues. Using this information, she found it unnecessary to use contraceptives and was basically given a license for having unprotected sex. (So far, she and her husband fit perfectly into the ultra-conservative Republican profile.)

Corey, The Amazing Super-Hero of Our Family (Part I)

While it often makes me sad to think of my son and how much I miss him, in honor of his birthday next week, I want to tell you a few stories about him so you can see what made him so special to us.

It all began with an unplanned pregnancy the summer before my senior year of high school. It was 1977, and people had mixed opinions on single mothers back then. Where I lived in rural Minnesota, however, people were mostly conservative and there were those who felt it their duty to enforce a moral code over everyone else. One woman even called my mother to tell her not to allow me out in public for fear of my influencing other young women to follow suit. Even though I'm sure it pained her to have people talking about her and her family, needless to say, my mother told her to mind her own business. I attended classes my senior year with everyone else only because there was no way they could stop me. The high school principal had strongly suggested I seek home schooling or simply drop out as so many had done before me. I refused. I was actually going to attend classes in my "condition" and it caused more than a small amount of commotion. I remember one day in December of that year when sitting in history class, there were more classmates chuckling at the movements of my belly than actually paying attention to the teacher. My friends stuck by me and we all learned from the experience together.

What Ever Happened to Manners and Etiquette?

While people-watching in a local bar last night, I suddenly realized there are no rules anymore. People don't know how to eat with their mouths closed, talk without food in their mouths, how to sit properly, how to hold a knife and fork, or even have basic consideration for the people at the next table.
It's not that I expect things never to change over time, but some things should never be thought "acceptable" as far as I'm concerned. We could blame the media, of course, since television shows and movies over-exaggerate bad behavior to get laughs - but why do kids feel the need to emulate these things - does it make them feel like movie stars or something?

Single-Parent Guilt

Having great kids was something I never felt I could truly take credit for. I was always so proud of them and bragged about how wonderful they were, yet I knew that it wasn't me that made them that way.

When I was 23, I had just gotten a divorce and moved from North Dakota to Minnesota to Arizona to Idaho in a span of just three months, dragging along my 3-year-old daughter and 5-year-old son. In the process, I had changed jobs twice and couldn't afford to move my belongings that were in storage yet in North Dakota. We found an apartment with a fabulous view of Pocatello and were within driving distance of the best of everything: the Grand Tetons, Salt Lake City, the Snake River, and so much more. All I had to do was to get back on my feet.

Growing old? Me? You've got to be kidding, right?

Back in 1996, my son joined the U.S. Coast Guard. It wasn't until I received my first letter from him while he was out at sea that I realized I was anything but just "mom" to him. No, now I was "The Old Lady of the Abode," as the envelope was addressed rather than in my name. I found it humorous, as he was quite the comedian sometimes. In fact, after receiving several letters addressed in this manner, I began to use the title on the return address of my packages to him as well. Obviously, it was just a joke between us, or was it?