Love Changed My Daughter

My oldest daughter, Mary, was a spectacular kid. But when she was young she was…..well….really really greedy. She laughs about it now, we all do, but when she was six, eight, ten, I was a little concerned.

Mary always wanted more. She idolized, adored her older brother Jack. She literally worshiped him.  Jack was her everything, he even tried to fail first grade so he could be held back a year. He thought he should to stay in Mary’s grad and then he could take care and protect her. Still, Mary would steal Jack’s stuff all day long, even if she didn’t really want it.

Every Easter, for at least seven years, Mary woke up early, studied the baskets the Easter Bunny left, then she put all the good stuff, including chocolate, in her basket. And she filled Jack’s with the cheap candy, do-dads and toys she didn’t want.

She did the same thing with the Christmas stocking. Then she’d shrug and say something like, “I don’t know why Santa likes me better.”

Mary was a beautiful, wonderful, selfish, greedy little kid.

But a few years ago, something changed in Mary’s heart. She met Andy and fell in love…. as she’d never fallen before.

The week after Thanksgiving the texts, emails and facebook messages began. She sent me links to things Andy would love for Christmas. There was a pair of brown Aldo loafers she desperately wanted him to have, but couldn’t afford. A week later she called her dad, to tell him about a saw that would make him so happy.

The “suggestions” went on and on. The girl who stole all the chocolate Easter bunnies’ literally didn’t care what she got for Christmas. She only wanted Andy, the man she loves, to be happy.

Mary told me over and over, “don’t worry about me this year, Andy deserves everything.”

Was this my Mary on the phone? Had some kind of a ”body snatchers” thing happened while she was in the basement?

“Big Love”, the kind of love that makes you forget about yourself, is rare. Lots of folks get married and live together for years and years and years but they never stop thinking about themselves.

Mary has crossed that line and grown into a more beautiful person. She loves Andy so much she places his needs above mine, above the families’, above everything. And she fiercely protective.  Now she chooses Andy, her husband and her love. And that’s the way true love and a marriage are supposed to be. I believe God has given both Mary and Andy a higher job order.  Now, they are supposed to take care of each other. That’s the first requirement and these guys have it right.

I love and admire this new woman she has become. And Andy Stanley is a lucky man.

Four Year Olds, Human or Alien?

I found this story today. I wrote it eleven years ago, before I had a blog.  But it’s still true.

Right now Sandor is racing up and down the house dragging a bull whip, which the cat chasing.  He is laughing hysterically. And I’m pretty sure he’ll run into something soon, hurt himself and cry. He’s been doing this for almost twenty minutes.  He is giddy, rowdy, insane and happy.

In the past hour I put him in time out for jumping off the back of the couch and I fussed at him for being disrespectful.

I read him two books but he kept trying to start a pillow fight. I nearly beg him to hold still, for just a few minutes. but he can’t. I’m so tired from work and frustrated by his energy…I want to cry.

When I try to dress him he scootches and wiggles like a squirrel in a pillow case. At dinner he turns his silverware into drumsticks and action figures.

Sandor is not ADD. He’s four years old. Sometimes four year old are unbelievable annoying and usually that means they are normal.

Some children need medication but most normal children are loud, rowdy, sometimes nearly uncontrollable and frustrating. they seemingly have unreasonable amounts of energy to burn off and simply can’t hold still. It doesn’t seem natural. But it is.

Fifty years ago parents let  kids play outside for hours at a time, even four year old. We had lots of space and parents didn’t have to supervise or watch them all the time. The world was a different place. My parents din’t hear from us until we were hungry, it got dark or we were just too tired to play.

When children came home we were exhausted from riding bikes, jumping out of trees and just running around. When my cousins and I were four, five a six we ran wild for hours on end. We didn’t bug our parents cause we weren’t with them. today, parents and kids spend a lot of time together.

Typically, I pick the kids up from school or pre-school, take them to taekwondo , soccer practice or cheer leading for a couple of hours. I watch them work out and play then we go home and they play while I fix dinner. We eat, I help them take baths, get ready for bed and that’s the day.  We are always together.

There’s good news and bad news. I think my kids and I are a lot closer because we spend more time together.  My folks were rarely around. The downside is my kids wear me out and seem absurdly high strung.  But they are not. Years ago when I was with my cousins, there’s no doubt we were constantly moving, loud, crazy and ridiculous. If any adult had spent hours with us no doubt they would have tried to medicate our entire neighborhood.

Kids have fewer recesses today, then many have structured activities after school, adults are always watching. It’s not wonder kids want to blow off some steam.

So, when Sandor spends two hours hopping like a frog, barking like a dog, yelling new words he’s made up and trying to do somersaults off the couch, I know he’s a normal boy.  That’s what we all did years ago, but our parents weren’t around to tell us to “cut it out”

So, don’t assume your child need medication just because he’s driving your crazy. It’s his job.


Author’s note, today Sandor is a awesome 15 year old boy who makes good grades, makes us all proud and still drives us crazy sometimes. Last night we spent a little bit of time with a wonderful 4 year old boy. He did all the stuff Sandor used to do!  All of it! Sandor looked over and said, “I think this kid is my spirit animal.”




Why Girls Don’t Tell

Recently dozens of women across America, have stepped up and admitted to being sexually assaulted, abused or harassed. Most of these women have not said a word for years. And across the country, people are howling “Why didn’t she speak up thirty years ago? Why wait all this time to come forward with sexual misconduct charges?” I know why these women waited and I’m gonna explain it to you.

When I was 12 or 13 years old I went to a pool party with my mother and father, who was an architect. The party was  hosted by a contractor who was building a shopping center my dad designed. They had been working on the project for over a year. There were several other couples there but I was one of only two kids. The other child was a little boy, probably three years old. All the adults sat around the pool with their cocktails while we splashed around in the pool.

At 13, I was skinny and tan with long hair. And on that day I was wearing a purple and gold bikini that I loved. After a while I went inside the contractor’s house to get two glasses of orange juice.

As I opened one of the cabinets for a glass, I felt someone behind me, pushing up against my back and butt. I turned around and it was my dad’s friend, the contractor.

He told me my swimming suit was coming untied and then he started trying to mess with the swim suit strings on the back of my neck. I tried to move away but he blocked me and then started tracing my tan line with his finger tip, from my shoulder down the side of my right breast. When I tried to move away again he  smiled and said, “Don’t you want me to help?”

I ran out of the house and jumped into the sparkling blue pool.

I never told my mom or dad about the incident. I couldn’t understand why a grown-up was acting so weird and gross. And I was afraid if I told anybody I would get in trouble or it would start a fight between my dad and his friend.

I told one girlfriend about the incident, but nobody else. And she didn’t think I should tell anyone either. That’s how important decisions are made when you are 13 years old.

I tried to forget about the incident for the next twenty years. It was nothing, who cared? It was over and nothing really happened. Right?

It wasn’t until I was thirty years old and had a daughter of my own that I thought back and got mad. I got furious! How dare that scum bag put me in that situation. It scared me and made me feel as though I’d done something really bad. If anyone did something like that to my daughter I’d beat the snot out of them.

And if I learned twenty or thrity years later that this creep was running for political office, a position of power, I would spill the story in a heartbeat. I would tell anyone who would listen. But there wouldn’t be any proof and I doubt anyone would believe me, because I was thirteen years old and didn’t knowthe rules. I didn’t know I was supposed to tell when adults did gross, weird stuff, because I was only a child and had no way of understanding adults.