The Thrill of the Hunt

As mentioned in previous posts, my hubby and I have been married for 20+ years and dated for three years before that (beginning in high school). Over the years one of his hobbies that ultimately became his obsession is hunting. He begins in the summer months with the "scouting" process -- hiking the woods where he will hunt, beginning in September, to find traces of his quarry in order to have his stand (see pic) in the "right" spot.

Summers also means going through the mounds of gear to see what is needed -- does the camouflage clothing still fit, do we have scent-free toiletries (I kid you not), how much ammo is left from last year, do the various calls that mimic animal sounds all still work (love those when I'm having a migraine), etc. Then the only type of shopping he does, beyond the Christmas eve mad dash for my gift, is to buy whatever gear is needed. Actually, now that I think about it, I could even say that shopping begins in the spring as he lovingly browses the mountain of catalogs he receives touting the gear he will decide he cannot live without the next season.

His final step of preparation is honing his skills on the weapons that go along with each season. When we were newly married he only hunted what is called general gun, the last season that doesn't begin until November if memory serves. Now he's added on archery (aka bow and arrow) the earliest season and muzzle loading (aka black powder -- picture revolutionary war style gun with powder and ball and long stick that shoves it all into the barrel) which comes before general gun but after archery. In other words, season officially opens in September and ends in January. However, he has also added spring turkey to his repertoire which adds in the month of March.

Through all of this over the years, my enthusiasm and support have waxed and waned with the seasons of life I had been going through. For example, while I was in college full-time and working full-time, I was relieved to have him out of the house while I concentrated on homework. But one thing I have never understood is what the typical outdoorsman refers to as the "thrill of the hunt" -- that is until now.

Some fellow moms have introduced me to the wonderful world of garage saling. Now I too know the thrill of the hunt. A caravan of us went to Celebration, Florida Saturday for their semi-annual community-wide garage/yard sale. I went with several items on my wish list, some of which I found, and other treasures I would have never dreamed of owning.

One treasure we went home with was this bouncing toy, called a Rody Pony, that I personally found tacky-looking but my toddler fell in love with at first sight. She cried, not the annoying I didn't get my way tears of frustration (which I got later over a juice box), but true heart-breaking tears for this toy not understanding that I had purchased it for her but was going to walk her in her stroller with our other purchases back to the car and drive back to retrieve the pony and a wished for table.

It turns out that what to me looked like a funny-looking, even somewhat ugly plastic inflatable toy retails for $50 (my more experienced friends recognized the treasure for what it was), and I paid $5 for it. Same went for the wood table I had been dreaming of so my toddler would have a place of her own to color and do other artsy projects. Most sets of tables with two chairs have run at least $50 retail, and I will have spent $10 for the same set up gently used.

Now I am totally hooked. Though I began my bargain-shopping, frugal mom life using Craig's List, which has netted us some good deals, I have found the ultimate hunting thrill -- a local garage sale.

Decision-making Anxiety --- aka Mommy Guilt

Back when I was a high school teacher, Bryssy who still teaches and the rest of you who once did will be able to relate, I had students who literally suffered from test-taking anxiety. They were often bright, attentive students who for whatever reason feared taking tests and usually bombed them even when they knew the information being tested.

While I tried to empathize with these teens I couldn't really relate as I had been the youngster who played school (my role was teacher) before ever leaving elementary school, the classic type-A overachiever who would have loved being a full-time student for the rest of my life (I'm not joking) had someone paid me to do so.

I never really faced clinical anxiety until I survived a life-altering car accident back in August of 2002. I can say from experience that PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) exists and panic attacks are extremely frightening.

But perhaps the biggest anxiety I now face is what I term "decision-making" anxiety. It began the first day I stepped into the large medical clinic that housed the specialty OB doctor I had to see for my "high risk" pregnancy. Before I even met the doc, as part of the intake process, I was asked if I planned to breast or bottle feed. Say what!!??? First of all, it felt like a highly personal question for someone that was not a licensed medical professional to ask me. Secondly, I was still reeling from the news that I was 17 weeks pregnant at nearly 40 years old and after almost 20 years of marriage. I had not thought that far ahead yet. However, I found out that this was the first of MANY critical decisions I would have to make as a mom.

Decisions since then have included: cloth or disposable diapers, co-sleeping or separate sleeping, which foods to introduce first, which pediatrician to use, whether or not to use a pacifier or other comfort item. The list is endless. I even face future decisions like whether to send our child to preschool or not, whether to send her to public school or to home school, etc.

Some of these decisions have been easier than others to make, but each one comes with the moment of "mommy guilt" about whether or not I have make the "right" decision and the "what ifs" that plague me when I'm not so sure.

As a Christian mom, I have to get past the anxiety and guilt and put my trust in the One who gifted me with this child -- the One who trusted me enough to make me a mom, even though I've often questioned His judgement in that area. I am human enough to forget that He is my ultimate source for guidance in how to "train up" my daughter. That's why I am grateful to be surrounded by like-minded women, older and younger, who can remind me of these truths, pray for me during tough times, share their wisdom with me, and love me through it all.

Silver and Gold

During a very brief period in my childhood, I was privileged to become a member of the Girl Scouts. I began in Brownies and transitioned up to full blown Girls Scouts. Though I have a few pictures of some of the activities we did, including the one pictured below that looks like marshmallow roasting, my memories of the specifics are a bit blurred. I have a vague recollection of the uniforms and the requisite sashes on which each girl could proudly display the badges she'd earned. Unfortunately, my brief foray into this exciting world was cut short by my parent's divorce.

However, one thing I remember with crystal clarity is a song we learned about friendships (which was sung around like "Row, row, row your boat"):

Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver

And the other gold

I think of this song often these days as I treasure my golden friends -- many who are older, yet wiser women of faith -- and my newer silver friends that I've met through our local MOPS group, generally younger women of faith who are in the life stage of mothering preschoolers.

When I first found out I was expecting our daughter, my golden friends were my cheerleaders through what was often a difficult pregnancy. They nurtured me and loved my child before they even knew her. WOW!!

Once I became a mom, I gravitated towards finding other women in this life stage of early parenting. I incorrectly assumed that my golden friends, who are mostly grandparents and great-grandparents, wouldn't remember or understand what I was going through. I truly did them a disservice in that assumption. Motherhood is a univeral language and experience for all who have gone through it, no matter what calendar year it was and how things have changed.

So, I enthusiastically embraced MOPS and made several terrifically shiny silver friends, many of whom have more than one child already and had lots of wit and wisdom of their recent experiences to share. I am so grateful to be going through this stage of my life with such talented and insightful young women.

Finally now the pendulum of these relationships has found its center again --- I'm reconnecting with my golden friends while maintaining connections with the silver ones. I have been blessed with the best of both worlds.

My advice is to do the same by making connections in both worlds. Don't assume falsely that the "older" generation of women in your church, workplace, or neighborhood have nothing to offer you as a mom. They have time, experience and wisdom. They too will benefit from your energy, enthusiasm and spirit.

Keeping Childhood Memories Alive

Having grown up "up North" as Floridians refer to it (Bridgeport and Chesire Connecticut to be specific), I had the awesome pleasure of experiencing all four seasons. While I realize that older folks who transplant here permanently or even seasonly do so to avoid the harshness of winter, I have only a child's memories of making snow angels, trying to catch an elusive snow flake on my tongue, being warned of the dangers of eating "yellow snow" (too gross to explain), and flying down a hill on my flexible flyer (sled).

Though I have lived in Florida since age 13, married a native Floridian, can eat fried okra and make buttermilk biscuits from scratch with the best of them, I still become melancholy at this time each year as I yearn for the beauty of autumn -- so much so, that last week I dug out my fall decorations and have them up throughout (read in almost every nook and cranny of) the house already. Though he doesn't say much about this, my husband did question my sanity a bit as I did this on September 1st and Autumn doesn't officially begin until September 22nd.

I still have a now yellowed article I had clipped from the October 15-17 1999's USA Weekend on my office bulletin board that gives websites (back when I was completely new to the internet) for fall foliage hotlines and live foliage webcams. We only had dial-up for the longest, so the live webcams were not too great then, but now that we finally upgraded to high speed, I'm looking forward to seeing the magnificent show God produces for us to enjoy.

Having these bits and pieces of the season I miss the most helps me to keep my childhood memories alive -- like picking out our pumpkin at a place that made fresh apple cider with an old fashioned press that you could watch, raking leaves into piles to jump in, and making our very own scarecrow using those raked leaves and our dad's old clothes. Now that I am a mom myself, I have someone to share these treasured memories with.

Labor Day

According the the Department of Labor's website, the celebration of Labor Day, "a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country," dates back to the late 1800's.

As I read this site to glean some historical perspective of this holiday, I thought back to my own history with it. As a child, the meaning of it was an extra day with daddy home to play with me. As a school-aged girl, it marked the end of summer vacation and the beginning of the new school year (I grew up in Connecticut and school began after Labor Day). My family used to watch the Jerry Lewis MDA telethon that weekend, so our special treat was being able to stay up "all night" -- my sister and I would drag our pillows and blankets to the living room (back in the dark ages when we only had one TV per househould) and bunk there. That brought back some great memories for me.

I wonder what memories our daughter will associate with Labor Day as she grows up and looks back on it and what memories you may have. Whatever they are, enjoy the day with those you love.

Which hat are you wearing today?

One of the traditions I fondly remember from my childhood was getting a complete ensemble for Easter each year, including the pretty dress, matching hat, white gloves, and white patent leather shoes. I have enjoyed dressing up with hats ever since. For a brief period, too quick to recall when exactly, hats made a comeback in my teen years. I don't mean baseball caps which always seem to be in season, nor do I mean the floppy wide-brimmed hat that is a prerequisite for being outdoors in sunny Florida, but the fancy, lady-like hats of bygone eras -- the kind we sometimes see older ladies wear to church. There is an elegance and gentility to these hats that I long for in this "modern" era.

As women, we wear many "hats" each day. We may be moms, wives, sisters, daughters, employees, bosses, etc. As a homemaker, I often wear a chef's hat while cooking, the bargain hunter's hat while clipping coupons from Sunday's paper, the vet tech's hat while cleaning my cocker spaniel's floppy ears, the disciplinarian's hat while teaching my toddler not to pull the dog's floppy ears (nor his stubby tail), the maid's hat while cleaning up after the toddler, dog and husband, etc. Sometimes we have so many hats we are trying to keep up with on a daily basis that we can have an identity crisis or two.

Maybe that's why I yearn for an opportunity to play dress up, don an elegant hat and feel like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady. How about you? Which hat are you wearing today?

My Surreal Life

Though I confess to "borrowing" the title of a VH1 television show, which by way of disclaimer I will say I don't watch but know the basic premise, I feel that living with a toddler creates a surreal life.

Prior to being parents, the hubby and I used to enjoy the occasional steak dinner. He would marinate the steaks overnight and fire up real charcoal to grill them. I would make a salad, baked potatoes, and some sauteed mushrooms to complete the meal. We had this down to a science after twenty plus years of marriage (not that we could afford steaks in the early, lean "tube steak" years), and enjoyed the teamwork of bringing this meal together.

Now, with the spiked prices on gas and groceries, and another mouth to feed (actually she doesn't eat much it's covering the other end of her digestive tract that costs the real money these days), plus our essentially one-income budget, the occasional steak dinner is now a rarity (pun intended).

Recently on a splurge when steaks were on sale, we attempted to have our bbp (before becoming parents) steak dinner. But the meal was decidedly different. For one, as most moms can relate to, your own meal grows cold as you feed the toddler and assist her in feeding herself. Then as she eats less and more quickly than we do, she was ready to get down from the high chair long before we were done eating. To preserve some semblance of a meal together, our daughter was lovingly placed in the pack and play (new fangled term for playpen of olde) with toys and her sippy cup, positioned where she could see the television and we could see her. To keep her mollified, I put on the cable channel Noggin.

While we were trying to enjoy our bbp steak dinner, she was "watching" Max and Ruby (for the unenlightened -- a show about a brother and sister bunny). My husband's dining seat faces the TV, so he began watching it and I listened. At one point I even asked him if his older sisters had treated him the way Ruby was treating her younger brother Max. As the meal continued, I abruptly laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. My husband shot me a look and defensively explained why he was watching the show ---- he was not amused by my laughter and didn't get what was so funny. But here sat two forty-something first-time parents becoming absorbed by a preschooler's cartoon while trying to recapture our bbp days.

I guess you had to be there -- but for me this new life is certainly surreal at times.

Dry dog food -- the next Tickle Me Elmo?

Do any of you remember a movie from the 80's starring Tom Hanks entitled Big? He's a tween boy who wishes to become "big" and ends up in an adult body with the mind and experiences of his real age? Anyway, in his "big" body he ends up working in New York City in market research and development for a toy company. Sound vaguely familiar?

I've decided, based on my limited experience as a first-time parent, which gives me great credibility (grin), that I should try to market dry dog food as the next must have toy for toddlers. Seriously!! We have been given some great, fancy, battery-requiring toys for our toddler, but few have kept her occupied as long and with such great concentration and interest as our dog's dry kibble.

Here's how it works: the child removes the lid from the 5 gallon bucket containing the dry dog food, reaches inside and removes the premeasured scooping cup (I got ours from the dog's vet to be sure I fed him less, so the dog would lose weight) setting it several feet from the original container. Next, the child returns to the bucket, reaches in and grabs a fistful of food, and carefully places it into the scooping cup.

Fun ensues when the household dog decides to join in the game. The toddler scrambles to pick up any dropped pieces of kibble and place it into the small scooping cup before the pampered pooch can scarf it up into his mouth.

I have it from a reliable source (a mom of two preschoolers with more experience than I) that transferring objects is a major milestone for tots this age. So, this could be marketed as an educational toy that teaches fine motor skills (picking up individual pieces dropped during the transfer), gross motor skills (walking from bucket to cup), problem solving skills (how to remove the lid from the 5 gallon bucket), math skills (you could have child count the pieces once the cup is full), and advanced skills like evasive manuevering (keeping the food away from the dog).

The advanced model could be sold the following year with a bungee cord included to increase the difficulty of removing the bucket's lid and a decorating kit for sprucing up the 5 gallon bucket so it will fit in with any decor.

Sounds like a winner to me -- and -- as an added bonus, this toy requires no batteries and no assembly.

Eating My Own Words

During the first twenty years of our marriage, when we were not parents yet, my husband and I witnessed the parenting styles of our various family members and friends. Some spanked, some didn't. Some were strict, others were not. We wisely kept our opinions to ourselves, but often commented to each other: "if that was our child, I would have done ..." or "when we have kids, we will ...".

Through a variety of circumstances and the passing of years, we opted not to have children, so we didn't really tune in anymore to those opportunities to consider how we would do things. But in the back of my mind, I guess I stored up those opinions.

Now that we have our 16 mos. old daughter, I find myself having to eat my own words:
**I was never going to give in to whining -- I have done it far too often when I thought my head would explode if the noise didn't stop!
** I was never going to plunk my kids down in front of the TV -- but putting her in the Pack'n' Play and turning on Baby Einstein and Praise Baby have allowed me moments to do crazy things like take a shower or allow the dog his dinner without her interference.
**I was never going to yell at my child or use harsh words -- boy have I failed that one miserably!

The list could go on forever and will likely get even longer the older she gets. Once she starts really talking, I'm likely to blurt out the one we all say we will never do -- say "because I said so."

The point is we have to watch what we say, for we one day will have to eat our own words. Bon appetit!

Mullet Mom - a.k.a. Cindy

Here goes nothing -- my first foray into the world of blogging. My own blog moniker is now Mullet Mom, based on the fact that I am a proud product of the 1980s (the decade of conspicuous consumption) from my once mullet cut hair to my love for 80s music, fashion, and fads. They obviously created the VH1 shows "I Love the 80s" for mullet moms like me.

As a motley mullet mom, I am surrounded by other mothers of preschoolers in our local "clique" that were barely out of the diaper stage themselves when I was dying my hair to look like John Taylor of Duran Duran (and ended up with a skunk stripe) and not so secretly lusting over Adam Ant (I can hear you laughing aloud "young-uns" as my secret is now out). Those days will be a constant source of amusement for my own toddler once she hits her teen years I feel sure. Like my teenaged niece and nephew now I will have to show her what a vinyl record was (yes, I have a huge collection and a turntable to play them on) and what a cassette tape was as by the time my daughter is a teen those will probably be obsolete as well.

I'll also have to sheepishly admit to having attended a number of rock concerts in venues before indoor smoking was banned and how you could get a contact high from the various types of smoke filling the air. That is one thing I don't miss now when I attend the reunion tours of the band I loved as a teen; instead, now that they are largely held in sporting arenas, we have folks sitting down (no standing or dancing allowed it seems) who make frequent trips to buy beer throughout the shows, forcing everyone near them to re-situate themselves as they climb across you to get back to their seats.

But while I may not share similar trips down memory lane with the other motley moms on this blog, I do share a faith in and love for Christ as well as the joy of friendship we share as we learn to parent our preschool children. I was wisely advised by Donna that age is not as relevant as the stage of life you are in. She was so right!!! We share this life stage, and I am proud to be a part of this motley crew.