622 ANNIE BECOMES MOM OF TWO Chapter 3

So, it's a hot, sunny day at the park, and I'm sitting on the bench, wondering how to solve a problem that I don't understand.  I don't realize that understanding the problem is tantamount to seeking a viable solution.

This being a neighborhood park finds me sitting next to a neighbor whom I hardly know.  Even so, confusion has risen so high that it doesn't take much for my mouth to open wide enough for waves of frustration to pour out.  All I need to hear is ...

"Annie, whenever I see you, you're cheerful, smiling, kidding around.  Today, you're so quiet, and you look unhappy.  What's wrong?"

That's all it took.  Place the right key in the lock, watch an army of suppressed frustration march out of the fortress as fast as the draw bridge descends ...

"I'm a teacher, who loved other people's children so much, I couldn't wait to have my own.  I was the happiest pregnant woman this world has ever known. I'd sit on the floor and insist that my husband's enthusiasm match my sense of joy while watching our child's gymnastics roll around in my womb.  With each pregnancy, love for my unborn babe bloomed in direct proportion to the extent that my abdomen stretched outward bound.  I'd picture our happy little family swinging on swings, splashing in warm bubble baths, snuggling up, reading picture books in the wicker rocker, baking chocolate chip cookies, and though we actually enjoyed all of that, a lot … I never expected to feel so frustrated so much of the time …"

Deep sigh ...

(It's not as if I knew myself to be the mother of the decade, carrying the child of the century inside me ... I'd simply sensed that would be true.  I mean, with so much love to give, how could I go wrong?)

"Wow, Annie.  You sound really disillusioned to me."

And just like that, another pipe dream popped, because my neighbor's simple perception had hit the nail on the head, piercing my wall of denial as quick as a pin pops a balloon.  It's not that I loved my kids more in the womb; it's just that no one in the know had told me to expect that the real labor of love begins after birth.

Truthfully I loved my children so much that I wanted them to be raised by the best mom I could be.  And in my mind's eye, the best of moms had some clue as to how to get their kids dressed and fed without wanting to yell "Hold still, RIGHT now!  Open up, chew and swallow!  I couldn't wait to see you stand up and hear you talk!  Now, I'm begging you not to stamp your feet, to say okay instead of "NO!", to lie still while I'm dressing you, and to sit still when I'm feeding you!!!!!  Oy vey!!!  Someone help me save my sanity … pleeease!

One day, while my dad was watching his grown daughter cajoling (fighting a losing battle with) an independent two year old, Grandpa had the 'nerve' (good sense?) to say, "Annie, I think you're afraid of him.  If you can't control a two year old, what will you do when he's sixteen?"  Double Oy Gevalt!

So here I am, sitting on that bench in the park, mind spinning, shoulders slumping, smile flagging, spirit sagging, tongue wagging, revealing my frustration to an almost stranger ... "I'd no clue that as an expectant mom, my expectations of motherhood had soared over the moon."

As much as I loved my boys, aged more than two and less than one, I felt utterly perplexed as to how to get my teeth to stop gnashing, every morning, before my little energizers were changed, dressed and fed.

You see—just as when I'd changed schools at the age of ten and expected to be ring master with a new group of fifth graders —it was the 'kiddles', not me, who were running the show, and that did not portend well for our future because, as Dad had so piercingly pointed out, I was supposed to be the adult in charge and my little guys were supposed to cheerfully follow my lead ... right?

Ha!  Fat chance of any adult being in charge of a two year old mind!

Mind you, this was many years ago ... Doctor Spock was our parenting authority, meaning that the teachings of Dr. Rudolph Dreikurs' logical consequences had barely begun to be whispered, here or there.  Thank goodness, I was inclined to open my mind as well as my ear ... because ... solving problems with tykes by way of logic is not what had transpired in our apartment, as of yet.  Actually if asked what enabled me to sleep soundly, most nights, I'd respond ... shear exhaustion.

If you're a parent with a memory, I need offer no examples of this battle of wills that proves classic, universal and timeless between parents and offspring.  However in case you're contemplating kids and I'm scaring you off from what proved to be one of the most enriching experiences of my life, let me entertain you with what took place when #l turned two-and-a-half and a mom with two babes in cloth diapers was ready for her first born to pull up big boy pants, meaning that I had determined that he would choose to use the potty and leave babyhood to his chief rival—that being an adorable, cooing, six month old little charmer, whose innocent smile, could do no wrong—unless the two year old expressed another point of view: 

When number two made his debut, it's likely that number one said to himself, "Huh!  Will you take a look at that little kid … whoever he is … he's having far too much fun with MY mom!  I sure hope he's not planning to stick around, stealing my sun for too long!  Hey!  Go find your own lap!  That one's mine!"

621 ANNIE BECOMES MOM OF TWO Chapter 2

I am whisking you back to sometime in June of 1971
I am 27 years old
I am wearing a red tee and dark jeans—what else!
I am living in a major metropolis in the midwest
I am at the park
I am glad to be in the park
I am glad the sun is out and the air balmy, at last!
I am sick of rainy days
I am sick of so much rain that we are inside, week after week
I am sitting on a sun drenched, wooden bench, painted forest green
I am not alone
I am a young woman amongst young women
I am a young wife amongst young wives
I am a young mother amongst young mothers
I am of a time when mothers are at home playing (?) with children
I am of a time when dads are at work
I am not yet wondering why homemaking and child raising aren't admired
I am not yet wondering about that, but here's why I will ...
I am on my way to making family communications my life's work
I am, presently, sitting on a bench in the park with educated women
I am conversing with one woman in particular
I am opening up as never before about adventuring into motherhood
I am speaking, seriously, from my heart
I am aware of feeling confused, frustrated ... sad
I am unawarely looking for astute advice
I get it :)
I take it! :)
I am forever glad that I did, because as soon as I listen up ...
I am empowered to take charge of this aspect of my life—my work
I am forever grateful for having opened up :)
I am grateful for having listened to astute advice :)
I am grateful for intuiting astute advice from that which is not :)
I am grateful for having been attentive to intuition ...
I was a confused child
I was a confused teen
I was a confused college student
I am a self confident teacher
I am a published writer
I am a facilitator at professional conferences
I am a facilitator and key note speaker
I am a woman—like most others
I am a woman who is, at times, confused
I am a woman who is, at times, self confident
I am a woman whose curiosity surpasses the cat's
I am a teacher who questions non stop
I am a teacher whose thirst for answers is never quenched
I am a mother, who combined good natured imagination with discipline
I am grateful for working to develop a positively focused mind
I am aware that positive focus does not develop on its own
I am grateful for the bent of my mind, whispering in my ear, day and night
I am eager to show you how ... by listening with an open mind ...
I changed from confused, frustrated, sad to direct, enthusiastic, joyful
I feel self directed, enthusiastic, joyful much more often than not
I am excited to see my blog turning toward an upbeat chapter
I am happy to say that much of what has been heavy is lightening up
I enjoy my life's work—that being raising my family, creatively
I can't wait to relate that life changing conversation in the park in 1971 ...
I am your friend, Annie ... and ...
I love offering each chapter of my life like an open book, because ...
I have lots to say about loving openly rather than defensively, and ...
I love telling the true story of my life to you!  :)

620 ANNIE BECOMES MOM OF TWO Chapter 1

By the time of my strike, I'd spent years retraining my natural bent from solving problems reactively toward solving problems calmly and proactively with compassion intact, and as I'd consciously considered the feelings of others I'd hoped they'd offer the same to me.  I'd also made it my business (literally) to learn to take the cognition of children's minds to heart, meaning that the intelligent side of my mind was accustomed to brainstorming solutions in a simplistic, child like manner.

As calm, compassionate, simplistic patterns of thought became habitual, I'd breathed new life into the wondrous, childlike side of my brain, where creativity knows no bounds.  Once this bent toward calm, creative, compassionate, simplistic, creative solution seekIng rooted deeply into my mind, I felt less challenged to maintain my sense of equilibrium when conflicts arose ... internal conflicts as well as conflicts with others.  On the other hand ...

Each time my thought processor felt confused to the point of indecisive angst, I'd make good use of time out to think deep in hopes that while gathering pertinent facts, a bigger picture would emerge, clarifying which decision seemed most inclusive of all concerned.  Since this mode of thinking encouraged my thought processing patterns to mature, here is what I found to be true ... while making effective use of my thought processor to expand and deepen the thinking skills of young minds, I'd experimented with deepening and expanding my own ...

Now that I've clarified the importance of changing my attitude, it may be best to place my strike to one side and sweep you off to the park, where you can get a bird's eye view of a life-changing conversation that ensued between myself and a neighbor whose words inspired my sagging spirit to accompany her to by-monthly parenting sessions, facilitated by social workers, schooled in Adlerian psychology, which subscribes to the theory of positive discipline, fathered by Dr. Rudolph Dreikurs ... and so with thoughts of win-win in mind, please buckle your seat belt and hold on tight, because once my gears shift into reverse, we'll shoot, quick as a bullet, from 1980 into the hot, sunny, emotionally stormy summer of 1971:)

619 ON STRIKE! 1980 CHAPTER 8 (A taste test of five simple tools) :)

Since the success of my strike depended upon my bent toward positive focus, I'd like to begin to explain how and why The Five Tools shaped up inside my mind:

As an instructor of family communications, I'd spend several hours, each week, describing time-tested problem-solving techniques, published by parenting authorities, which had proven effective for me.  With great enthusiasm, I'd describe to parents, whose children were younger than mine, how I'd challenge myself to employ the creative portion of my mind to conjure up logical consequences when natural consequences proved too dangerous, painful, or advanced for a preschooler's undeveloped thought processor to absorb.  For example, I didn't want my children to stop running into the street to fetch a ball, because they'd been hit by passing cars ...

Though I'd focus upon encouraging folks in my classes to believe that their minds could conjure up consequences as creative (even humorous) as mine, most attempts to brainstorm in class met with—silent blank stares.  Over time, I invented five tools that empowered class participants to dive deep enough into their own think tanks to come up with logical consequences, which resolved conflicts at home that made them feel so crazy as to believe that yelling achieved positive results.

Here's an insight that encouraged class participants to challenge themselves to resolve conflicts with creativity:  If a baby mimics a parent waving bye-bye then guess what yelling 'instructs' your child to do?  Time and again, I challenged my think tank to stimulate a room full of think tanks by shooting off success stories that combined common knowledge and common sense.


For example ... if common knowledge suggests that basic instincts are innate, meaning that certain reactions develop naturally within the womb, and if common sense suggests that reactions may be acquired, environmentally, most importantly during the first five years of life, then it's wise to differentiate innate reactions, common to most, from acquired reactions written environmentally upon the Neo cortex ( i.e. the think tank, slate, thirsty sponge,  thought processor) of the brain.

Though the human brain is composed of many compartments, which function interactively, it's my aim to target two ... the first being the thought processor, which is influenced by those who wield the chalk on the slate that determines the bent of a child's reactions.  Next, let's consider the Limbic System, where innate (spontaneous) emotional reactions, like a new born's startle reflex, originate within the brain stem.  Just as new borns may be expected to react similarly to like stimuli, children are known to mimic reactions acquired by watching one parent or the other.  More about adopting parental traits, later.

Though many role models serve as a child's thought processing 'programmers', it's generally thought that the two most significant role models are one's parents.  Generally speaking, the more limbic the parent, the more limbic the child.  Now, before you get your dander up, please remember that that last sentence began with 'generally speaking'.  You see, like all body parts, the brain is made up of DNA.  In addition to inherited DNA, every brain has glitches.  Some more than others.  Though some glitches develop within the womb, others develop after birth.  For instance, a child who's undergone trauma will commonly, develop a set of interrelated traits that swing away from the mainstream of natural development.  When describing limbic reactions, a wide spectrum exists, extending from full blown temper tantrums on one side to stone walling on the other.  It is this spectrum of reactiveness that is in need of time out to plug into common sense as seen in folks of both sexes at all ages.  As plugging emotion into common sense proves a difficult task for both genders at all ages, it's helpful to have a set of simple tools at your beck and call when making that shift—on the spot.

In keeping with comparing the Neo cortex to a writing slate, a child's think tank thirsts for knowledge in that curiosity absorbs whatever is seen and heard as quickly as a sponge sops up water, juice, soda or beer.  Once it dawned on me that I was one of my children's primary role models, I held my think tank and tongue responsible for spilling out more life sustaining water and juice than pop and beer.  In short, I began to back up my words with actions, consciously, meaning that if my children were to sponge up high principled values, I had to live up to those values rather than shouting them aloud.  So here's where those five simple, much needed, tools come in.  I invented them to retune my temper, because, in truth, my innate reaction to repetitive misbehavior was frustration, and my adopted response to frustration was to stamp my foot and yell out loud as much as anyone else.  Uhhh, let me qualify that last statement by saying that I didn't yell in school where I respected other people's children.  I saved my adult tantrums for times when, letting it all hang out, I was alone and unseen (???) by anyone except for my kids.  Though that's not easy to bare, publicly, humility is one of the virtues that valuing highly, I've worked to embrace.

As future posts unfold you'll see why, as a primary role model, it seemed logical to consciously imprint high principled values more deeply into my brain in hopes that my offspring, who'd mimicked me (monkey see, monkey do), might choose to adopt while learning to control their basic instincts, too.  As my children moved from one stage of human development—beginning with infancy, toward the terrible two's, into childhood and through adolescence—they watched me choosing to retrain my think tank, while I observed them choosing to mimic my choice to maintain self control.  By the way—need I say that consequences were employed at those times when,, rather than mimicking me my 'audience' remained unruly ...

Though each fetus shapes up into a unique individual within the womb, one portion of the brain proves to be a blank slate, capable of being trained to tame the savage beast that stamps its two year old feet,  beats its four year old breast, gnashes its six year old teeth and yells with the best at sixteen.  If asked why I consider the five tools a 'godsend', I'd reply:  The most challenging test that I must pass, repeatedly, is to consciously readjust my brain patterns in hopes of balancing my needs with those of men, women, and children, whose thought patterns and habits differ from my own.  In order to effectively expand my horizons, my thinking instrument is in need of retuning from time to time (you know, the same way we retune musical instruments and cars).  Thus, when life is less than harmonic and my mind is in need of a tune up, it's time to choose from amongst these five tools:

THE THREE MINUTE MIRACLE
THE LINE OF CONTROL
THE THREE STEP SANITY SAVING PROBLEM SOLVING PLAN
THE COOPERATION GAME
THE FACES WE WEAR

By way of these tools, so simple that a three year old can grasp each one, a family, which is a microcosm of society, can work to create a cooperative environment in which everyone's needs feel heard, respected and met.  As you may remember, the reasons for my strike were aired at a family meeting where healthy snacks energized hungry bodies and minds, as well.

It's oft been said that the brain is the last frontier, meaning that we're only beginning to fathom why one person maintains emotional balance to one degree while another person's brain may feel more edgy and thrown off balance, more quickly—depending upon specific circumstances that arise ...

While raising my family, I knew nothing about the limbic system where instinctive emotional reactions are spontaneously triggered.  I did not know how closely related limbic reactions were to memories associated with subconscious trauma, meaning that the trauma remains unhealed.  I think it's important to note that over reactions are known to arise when elements of a current experience simulate a trauma that remains unresolved.

Decades ago, we knew very little about that which is written upon the Neo cortex of our brains.  When my adventure into Parentland began, all I knew was this:  A woman, who'd loved teaching other people's children, respectfully, felt responsible for raising and teaching her own—without yelling.  On the other hand in my defense, other people's children went home at 3:00, while mine stayed for dinner and slept at my house, every night.  As this proved true of each child for eighteen years, I decided to enjoy raising my offspring as much as I'd enjoyed teaching the offspring of others.  Upon employing creativity, I figured out how to enjoy my children the same way that older adults are known to enjoy their children's children.  :)

As being respectful of the feelings of others, most especially loved ones, meant learning to solve problems without losing my temper, I had a lot to learn.  The fact that I was a teacher, who was beginning to yell at little peeps at home, filled my mind with so much frustration that I found myself opening up to other parents, sitting next to me on benches at parks while our children were grabbing each other's toys, followed by throwing sand in each other's eyes. To this day, I give thanks for having the humility to expose my vulnerability, which led me toward listening to a neighbor's suggestion to accompany her to a place of learning where common sense suggested that I choose a fork in the road less taken.  And by choosing that road less taken, many of my mind sets found sound reason to change.  Rather than closing my eyes to new ideas, concerning disciplining my children's misbehaviors, I opened my ears and my mind in hopes of soaking in information that inspired me to discipline—myself.

As years passed, one thing led to another and a positive chain of events ensued that inspired the creative center of this blogger's mind to conjure up those FIVE TOOLS, which solve every problem that raises its classic, little head in homes where fireworks seem ready to explode over what looks like nothing much on the surface—meaning that I'll bet most of my family's conflicts were not unlike your own—and as that belief still rings true, today, you now know why I feel inspired to write a new post, concerning self discovery upon awakening, almost every day ... :)

Sooo, now that you know a little more about what motivates me to reach out in an attempt to hand these five tools to you, let's get back to the ranch and see me rustle up some cooperation, which had been illusive until Annie Oakley got off her high horse, holstered her gun and picked up a sign, upon which she'd chosen to draw a big, bright, positively focused smiley face after deciding to stop striking out! :)

618 ON STRIKE! 1980 CHAPTER 7

Remember science class?
Remember learning that energy does not disappear?
Funny, isn't it, how often we forget to remember
That energy is constantly in a state of flux
Meaning that ...
It doesn't take much for one kind of energy to change into another...

Each time my energy turns toward creative (productive) thinking
Less energy is available to feed frustration or fear ...
Since frustration and fear have a tendency to spike
With less provocation than most tend to think
It's good to know that positively focused support calms spikes of emotion
Which tend to simmer 'neath the surface of conscious awareness

If asked why my spirit perked up, so quickly ...
During my strike, I'd reply ...
While watching the members of my family
Doing their best to pull together to captain our sinking ship
The frustrated side of my mind had good reason to smile
Once I felt smiley and perky all of me re-energized, naturally

As these next few chapters unfold
I'll offer up examples of doings that caused
My spirit to actually laugh out loud ... repeatedly ...
So, get ready to watch light hearted laughter producing ...
Endorphins, which catalyzed my sense of well being
To feel well fed ...

With endorphins intertwining with rest
I felt so revitalized
As to naturally jump off that bench
Where, for good reason
I'd chosen to retire
All aspects of my exhausted self, until ...

A sparkling sense of enthusiasm renewed itself ...
Naturally ...
And as positive focus had had reason to strengthen ...
Naturally ...
I was able to cheer my team on without feeling the need to
Reclaim a lick of work ... as of yet :)

If at this point
You ask me to choose an insight
Which led to a new awareness
That stood heads above the rest
I'd reply:
It made no sense to expect others to respect me more than I'd respected myself

617 ON STRIKE! 1980 CHAPTER 6 :)

Upon awakening, today, another thought, concerning 'mind over matter', popped out of my head ...

Just as bible stories suggest that there are two sides to everything (turn the other cheek vs an eye for an eye), I try to remember that two experiences, which appear similar on the surface, may differ greatly once we remember to think deep.  Once we see how circumstances differ, we can see why mind over matter may work in one instance (bend mind set toward positive focus and headache lessens) but not another (upchuck in bed).

As I came to see how often unlike events are misperceived as the same, I became aware of questioning before allowing my mind to leap to snap judgments.  Upon judging others less harshly, I did the same for myself.  Each time I let up on myself, my mind feels free to swing for the fences without fearing that by swinging from one choice to another, I might miss three times and strike out.

At this point, while working toward achieving each next rung up on the ladder of success, I remind myself that, unlike baseball, I can brainstorm, strike three times and go for a fourth.  With that reasoning in mind, my tendency to put myself down after taking a step back lessens, considerably.  At times when an experiment fails, I offer myself a pep talk, insuring that I don't turn in my uniform and take myself out of the game, permanently, especially when the name of the game is;
EMBRACING AN OPEN-MINDED APPROACH LIFE AND LOVE

Though from time to time, you may see me bench myself to catch my breath, rest my mind, change my mind or nurse an unhealed wound, still empowered to hurt my heart, please remember, my friends, that those reactions are natural to the human condition.  Rather than worrying about spontaneous reactions, which defy comprehension, I remind myself to remember thIS :  Each time I move through another stage-of-personal-growth, I can trust in the fact that my Neo cortex has been training my defense system to forge a path where positively focused thought patterns serve to recharge my tired spirit.  Once my spirit feels recharged, my mind feels inclined to dive ever more deeply into my think tank in hopes of figuring out what to do that's not yet been tried, though a frustrating problem has raised its head, again and again.  You see, the deeper we dive, the more apt we are to find hiding places where innate strengths felt reason to clam up.  So, okay ... knowing me to be corny, you must know what's coming next ...

The more clams I open, the more apt I am to find pearls of wisdom tunneling through my mind, falling out of my mouth :)  All kidding aside, often times, no one is more surprised by the insights that fall out of my mouth than—me.

In recent years, my brain does its best thinking when I drop my defenses and let much of what I'm thinking float out of my mouth, through the air, directly into your open ear.  Guess the art of communications encourages the thought processing center of our brains to learn how to distinguish when it's best to muzzle one's thoughts, filter thoughts or let them fly free of restraint.  In short, with growth in discretion, my quest to make headway in conquering my fear of rocking boats continues to pay off. 

As this story, concerning a woman on a mission, takes on an ever widening scope, you'll watch the knowledgeable coach inside me encouraging my inner cheer squad to offer up pep talks, all around, in hopes that during this strike, the deeper meaning of cooperation will ignite positively focused mind shifts within the thought processors of everyone in my family.  And as positive change lifts my spirit, that lift will motivate my engine to lift my buns off the bench.  Then, once my body, mind, heart and spirit are up and humming, running smoothly as one, you'll see a renewed sense of inner strength step up to the plate and swing enthusiastically for the fences in innings to come—you know—like Babe, who, I'll bet, proved to be a team player, just like me :)

616 ON STRIKE! 1980 CHAPTER 5 :)

While explaining what going on strike meant to me, here is what I said to my family:

"Going on strike means striking in a friendly manner, suggesting that, in addition to enjoying your company, I'll continue to smile warmly at each of you while refraining from doing anything on this list." ...

"But Mom, who's going to do everything if you don't?"

"Hmmm ... Good question.  Guess while my mind is resting, you'll pull together, like teammates, and figure out a game plan for yourselves."

Right from the get go, I loved where my positively focused thus 'bright' idea was going :)

Since my heart, mind and gut agreed that my reaction to exhaustion had been addressed in a respectful, loving, logical and wholesome manner rather than one that proved resentful, defensive, and conflicted, I found myself on the receiving end of reactions, proving to be as respectful, loving, logical and wholesome as my own.  That does not mean to say that every emotional reaction, which ensued in the aftermath of our family meeting, was cool, calm and connected to logic.  In fact, posts describing family life during my strike is where the laughs begin, and if, upon reflection, the truth be told, I'm tickled to say that the person whose good natured laughter rang out most often, during this time when my strike kicked off positive change, was ... my own :)

Ahhh, tis good when a well-thought out plan, considering the welfare of all, meets with success when put to the test!

615 ON STRIKE! 1980 CHAPTER 4 (five tools) :)

Here are the names of five time-tested, trusty, home made, problem-solving tools found in my tool box:

THE THREE MINUTE MIRACLE

THE THREE STEP SANITY SAVING PROBLEM-SOLVING PLAN

THE LINE OF CONTROL

THE COOPERATION GAME

THE FACES WE WEAR

More about each tool in posts to come ... :)

Please note that I did not sit down, one day, to find these tools popping, like popcorn, out of my head.  Pop corn pops when pressure cookers heat up.  Tools, forged to last, are fully cast after the fire cools down.

I lived through the same frustrations that all parents do ... with this difference ...

Though no parent wants to yell at their kids ... one day—

I chose to open a door in my brain where creative productivity was chomping at the bit to figure out how to replace yelling with alternatives, which—in addition to being more effective than yelling—proved to be respectful and humorous, as well—meaning that imparting life's lessons took on a tone of being kid-friendly in every way ... and as our home life embraced this kid-friendly quality, day after day, each of my kids fell sleep feeling deeply loved, every night.  As for me, the fact that I never tired of employing the creative side my noggin allowed my mind to drift toward sleep, most nights, feeling relaxed while thoughts of my job-well-done danced through my head ... you see, rather than feeling constantly challenged by my kids, I turned the tables and challenged myself to lead this pack of cubs by turning myself into a respectful, knowledgable coach, who inspired the concept of teamwork to circle the bases until the space we shared actually felt like 'home sweet home'.

It's no doubt that my having been a teacher of other people's children was definitely a plus.  I mean, why would I treat other people's children with more respect than these three, whom I'd loved most of all?  The answer to that question points to this awareness:  Whereas other people's children left me to enjoy my peace by 3pm, mine stuck around till bedtime, and as bedtime got later, each year, it made sense for the leader of the pack, tired or not, to behave the same way that I wanted my cubs, tired or not, to mimic back :) ...  So—just as a teacher, who yells in class, may expect to be taken to task by a higher power within the school system, I had to seek out that higher power within myself in order to muzzle the yeller in me to pipe down at home.  I mean—seriously people, how fast would you march into the principal's office, demanding a change, if you learned that a teacher was brow-beating one of your kids?  Since a parent is a child's most important teacher, I took myself to task ...

Bottom line:  Each time I wanted to see positive change in my cubs, guess who had to lead the way in terms of retraining emotional reactiveness, which, truthfully, had a tendency to burst out of me ...

All too often, we see and remember that which the other person did while memory vaults over those times when we forget to remember fault, bursting forth from within pockets of resentment, which, upon catching fire, flares out of our baser selves ... in short we be kettles, boiling over while pointing our spouts at little tea pots that over heat, tip over and stamp their feet ...  And thus did I learn to train the savage beast within before motivating my children to follow suit.

In hopes of cooling down, all around, my thought processor fashioned five tools, each so simple that kids, ranging from three to infinity, are able to put them to good use as soon as frustration fires up.  As these tools shaped up inside my mind over a number of years, none had names until my cubs were fully grown.  During the years of my children's childhood, I just kept cranking out consequences, which proved effective, and while describing success stories to my classes, each embryonic tool continued to evolve until my heart, mind and spirit breathed life into all five, and once my labor had passed and I witnessed that which my thought processor had managed to give birth to, that's when I gave these new born quintuplets names :)

If you'd like to know why I lump defensive reactions of adults in with kids, well ... I came to see that no matter our age, as soon as we're tired, hungry, frustrated, ill, under pressure, fearful, angry, confused or under the weather in any way, everyone's sense of logic gives way to—defensiveness.  Once a defensive stance controls the brain, mature adults regress and react in churlish, childish ways, pretty much like little kids—just like that!  Though some adults throw tantrums, right out loud, others make use of passive aggressive ways to induce others to meet their needs ...  and in a post down the road, we'll see why I focused upon retraining the churlishly childish portion of my adult mind not to slip out and then slither back in while embracing my mind's fully spirited, childlike, ever wondrous side in hopes of ensuring a heartfelt connection to feeling youthful as I age :)

At this point if I find myself problem-solving with an adult whose mind has, for any number of reasons, morphed, unwittingly, into that of a defensive kid, you'll watch me place my defensive reactions in time out, quick as a wink, in hopes that a thinking cap, filled with compassionate brotherhood, may leap out of my tool box and land solidly, logically on top of the thought processing part of my head.  With time, you'll see how five simple, home made, time tested, trusty tools, which I employ to calm my mind, cut the possibilities of my engaging in tug of war in half :)

614 ON STRIKE! 1980 CHAPTER 3

As I'm feeling better, today ... :)
Let's move directly to where we left off, yesterday ...
I was on a mission to improve communications, concerning, cooperation ...
And having been a Girl Scout, who takes what I've learned to heart, I prepare myself to talk to my family, thoughtfully, with positive focus intact.  First off, I set a time for a family meeting when everyone is available.  Next, I prepare a good natured strategy in hopes of opening ears that classically tune me out whenever these words leave my mouth:  How many times do I have to ask you to ... blah, blah blah—again ...  Then, I remind myself to behave with my family in such a respectful manner as to show each one that which I hope to receive in return ... you know how that goes—do un to others ...

Make no mistake.  My family is made up of exceptional individuals (if I say so myself), each of whom I love deeply and enjoy thoroughly, for good reason.  However, if the truth be told, experience suggests that most everyone I know will let the other guy shoulder the crux of the load if given half a chance to do less.  By keeping that thought in mind, my frustration lines up with reality in that I don't wallow in thoughts of poor me.  I just know that something has to change, and nothing changes till the person most in need of change takes the lead, and in this case that person is me.  So, in the interest of creating change in record time, I cast aside all thoughts of throwing myself a pity party and challenge the problem solving side of my brain to brainstorm toward a solution that will lead my people into the promised land.

As this meeting will take place around the kitchen table, I arrange for simple snacks, nothing fancy.  Gosh, I think, if my family liked milk and honey, that's what I'd serve in hopes that they'd get my drift in a flash ... as it is, I decide on fresh veggies and dip.  Though as a group, they tend to pass on veggies at dinner, too often, I've watched the ravenous nature of growing boys munch on a carrot if a flavorful dip is placed, near by—and nothing else is offered up.  I'd thought that moms were meant to be loving; then, having become a loving mom, I learned how often loving and woman's wiles go hand in hand.

On the day of our meeting and in hopes of gaining everyone's attention, I start out by saying something that no one has heard me say, before.  As soon as Papa Bear and all the cubs are seated round the kitchen table, here is pretty much what I remember floating through the air:

"I've asked for this meeting, because it's come to my attention that there's something I'd forgotten about myself.  I am more than a wife and mother.  Just like you, I'm a person with feelings, who deserves respect.  And lately, I think my feelings and self respect have experienced neglect.  Though all of you love me, I feel taken advantage of and that has to stop.  I ask for smiles attached to helpful attitudes but am answered by frowns and dragging feet.  I think that happens, because everyone in our family leads a busy, productive life.  I think that happens, because there's so much on your minds that my words get lost in the mix.  I think none of you knows how much of my time is spent making family life in our home zip along like a well balanced top.  I think I'm tuned out, because while doing, organizing and solving, I keep smiling instead of yelling, which is why none of you realizes how tired I've become.  So, here's what I decided to do.  I placed a pencil and spiral pad of paper in my pocket and spent the last week writing down every single thing that I do for each of you that keeps me running from dawn to—dawn, and this Timex has run down."

Now, while the kids are scratching their heads (Timex?), I lay the list on the kitchen table and read it aloud.  This proves to be a really long list, so by the time I come to the end, everyone looks chagrin.  Wow, Mom, you really do a lot!  Though I take that comment to mean ... Thank you ... and though I appreciate the heartfelt sentiment in the murmurings now circling the table, instinct suggests that feeling heard is not what I'm after, so, I hear myself reply:  "Most times I let you know what kind of consequence to expect before it is applied.  This time, I feel you need to find out what it might feel like if I was not here to do everything that makes our family hum harmonically.  So, I'm going on strike."  As jaws drop, I continue ... Here's what going on strike means to me ..."

Though ordinarily it had been my habit to inform my family about a consequence before implementing it, exhaustion called for immediate measures.  And since everyone was accustomed to my following through with consistency whenever consequences proved necessary, no one called my bluff, meaning that power struggles did not raise their ornery little heads, and no one played tug of war.  Instead, this is what took place:  On my end, I pulled five homemade tools out of my tool box (my brain) and put each one to good use in hopes of retuning our household's routine :)  On their end ... well ... as posts continue to pop up on your screen, you'll see how both ends of the rope, mine and theirs, eventually meet in the middle, creating a circle of cooperation, where consideration for everyone's needs, mine included, shapes into a good natured loop rather than a noose :)

Stay tuned if you'd like to hear why I got to say:  Don'tcha just love it when a plan comes together and meets with success, all around! :)

613 ON STRIKE! 1980 ... CHAPTER 2

When last we met,  I'd promised to show you how actions, speaking louder than words, are likely to change who-is-responsible-for-what once a lucky, plucky, contemplative woman goes on strike.  Then, I suggested that what you're about to see is sure to tickle your funny bone for this reason:  Consequences, laced with a good natured sense of fun, prove more effective than punitive measures when cooperation is the name of the game.

I've heard it said that nothing proves as power packed as the mind of a woman on a mission.  And each time my energy wears thin, woman-on-mission is what I become—for example, I've been on a mission since writing post number one of my blog.

If asked what my mission targets while writing a post, I'd reply:  My mission targets any mind, looking to achieve a goal, which, for some mysterious reason, seems beyond one's reach.  I'm on a quest to knock on doors in minds where negative mind sets limit horizons.  Each time I sit down to write, I'm aiming to open your mind to consider where your thought processes may be limited, negatively focused or unaware of having closed up shop.

Now, before you get defensive and your mind starts nailing every nook and cranny, door and shutter shut, please pause on neutral just long enough to consider this fact:  Right from the start, I've opened my vulnerabilities to you while hoping that you may feel free to do the same with me.  And though I've offered to address consequences, flowing with good natured creativity, the serious nature of my mission grabs hold of my mind upon sitting down to write.  Having learned to let instinct guide my path, I've decided to follow the natural bent of my mind in hopes that you'll place your faith in the fact that with patience, laughs will come.  How do I know laughs will come in good time?  Laughing while learning is my forte.  You see, I learned how funny these consequences prove to be by listening to the laughter of thousands of participants, who've enrolled in my classes over the past 35 years.

For a long while, my mind was so bent on sharing vital information and tricks of the trade that I missed hearing how much laughter ensued in the aftermath of whatever I'd said.  So, how, you might ask, did laughter finally penetrate my awareness?  Well, one day while driving home from the college, I had a flat and called AAA.  While waiting for roadside assistance to rescue this damsel in distress, my mind got bored.  As I was in the habit of taping my classes, workshops and seminars for posterity and in hopes of taming boredom, I popped that day's tape into the tape deck and got a huge surprise.  I'd talk; they'd listen and laugh.  I'd talk; they'd listen and laugh.  I'd talk; they'd listen and laugh.  And so it went from beginning to end—two hours of talking, listening, laughing, no bathroom breaks, yawning or zzzz's.  WOW!  I thought, as awareness packed its punch ... I'M FUNNY!  While doing my best to disseminate serious information, I'm conveying the humor with which I imprint high principled values into the minds of my kids.  Fancy that!

So here I am, sitting in my car, listening to myself as never before and while this new sense of self awareness soaks into my mind, my spirit is stoked, so my wait for AAA flies by.  By the time I got home, my energy source is soaring, and from that time on, having learned something about myself, known to others but unseen by me, I'd walk into every class and auditorium, knowing full well that within a couple of minutes my audience will be eating information out of my hand in the same way that my kids respond favorably whenever I employ the creative, positively focused, funny side of my brain, which figures out how to motivate closed minds to WANT to do what is NEEDED in order that sanity prevails over lethargy or craziness, all around.  Gosh!  I thought!  Millions of people need to learn how to inject humor into situations fraught with frustration, and I'm the Pied Piper who can lead them into the promised land!  Please do not mistake that for ego boasting.  That was the spirit of sages, like Socrates and Shakespeare, whispering self confidence into my ear.  And when the goal is to grab hold of and pry open and pour new ideas into millions of minds, tons of self confidence is what this woman on a mission had need of most.  :)

In short,  please don't mistake that which I've written above as my having become manipulative in a negative or selfish way.  When facing down a dilemma in need of astute resolution, I make good use of humor in hopes of ensuring that every brain involved readies itself to focus upon brainstorming toward solutions that ease life for everyone concerned.  Simply put, this philosophical methodology is called Win-Win.

With discretion as my guide, I allow my vulnerability to hang out for certain people to see.  Here's an example of how that combination of discretion and vulnerability works for me:  Once, when at a total loss as to how to keep a two year old in bed, I threw up my hands and openly declared my inability to control the mind of this independent, little guy.  At that, my two year old tyke offered up an effective consequence that I'd never have agreed to without his permission.  Since he'd 'thunk' up this consequence on his own, defensiveness did not arise, which is why this consequence of his own making worked like a charm!

Hopefully, I've wet your appetite to know how that scenario played out.  And as that example is merely one sample of so of many yet to be described in detail within the posts of my blog, perhaps the point I'm trying to set up, today, is coming clear.  When one wants to solve a problem that continues to raise it's ornery little head and just won't quit, it's vital to remember the parts played by tone of voice, word choice, patience and timing.  In three words:  attitude is everything.  And thus, when a problem pops up, again and again, my first consideration is to question which aspect of my attitude may need to be altered in ways that I've yet to comprehend.  As of today, I take solace in the fact that by way of combining knowledge, humor and self confidence, I've become an instrumental link in opening the minds of thousands, who've enrolled in my classes or read articles, written and published.  And as long as I keep those facts in the forefront of my mind, this woman on a mission awakens each morning, geared up to influence the minds of ... millions ... 76 nations, so far, and counting— :)

WOW!  Guess what I just realized?
When I sat down to write, today, my head was hurting, and now it hurts less!
What was hurting my head?
A pounding head ache from Shingles.
In fact, when I sat down, I didn't know if I could write anything, at all.

In addition to the itch and burning associated with this viral infection that lays dormant for years, I'm sensitive to medication, meaning something that's good for me makes me feel awful before better—you know, like prying your mind open to hearing something you'd rather not know about yourself that you need to know before some aspect of your life that's stuck inside a narrow place may begin to move forward and expand :) ...

While searching for an open door into another person's mind, I'm not looking for weakness;  I'm not looking to pounce on some area of vulnerability.  All I aim to do is to encourage you to question ways in which emotion bends the path of your thoughts.  You see, as soon as strong emotion enters the arena, logic thins out, and when logic thins out it's easy to lose sight of one's path ...

Yesterday, I'd decided to employ mind over matter in hopes that my condition (itching, burning, headache) would improve.  I'd determined that this Shingles thing would not pull rank on the strength of my spirit and get me down.  Having forgotten my sensitivity to medication, I'd dismissed my body's historical inability to tolerate the invasion of drugs, needed to fight illness that compromises my good health.  Boy!  Was I disappointed in myself when itching, burning, head ache, nausea, dizziness, and upset stomach pinned my spirit to the mat.

When yesterday felt awful, guess what I chose to do, today.  Open my mind.  Re-evaluate my stance.  Change my mind set by accepting the fact that upon redirecting my attitude, I can free my spirit while my body's reactions to meds remains unchanged.  And guess what happened upon redirecting my mind to acknowledge my resistance not only to illness but to the cure?  I stopped hurtling negative judgment upon myself, and as soon as I stopped judging myself, my head ache lessened, thus freeing my spirit to lighten, automatically.  Upon rethinking my original stance, I turned a negative chain reaction toward the positive, and in that instance, mind over matter worked, at least to some degree.  On the other hand, here's an example of mind over matter not working at all ...

Thirty-seven years ago my phone rings.  It's early in the morning.  My sister, Lauren's on the line.  She's newly pregnant, feeling nauseous.  She's decided to will nausea away.  I've had two pregnancies, by now.  I'm listening to a rookie, thinking ... good luck.  A half hour later my phone rings.  Mind over matter had lost.  Lauren, determined to stay put and beat this thing, just threw up—in bed.  Being Lauren's older, more experienced sister, I muster compassion and commiserate until she decides to clean up and strip the bed.  Upon hanging up, I can't help the fact that my delayed reaction bursts forth, because—we laugh at the truth.

I always want to believe I'm so strong, when truthfully, at times I'm as vulnerable to life as anyone else.  Each time I accept the vulnerable side of human nature, I ease up on myself.  The easier I am on myself, the easier I am on others.  Upon easing up on judgment, in general, life gets easier, all around.  Once this story, concerning a woman on a mission who goes on strike, picks up steam, you'll see examples of how that easing-up-line-of-reasoning, creates open pathways of communication, amongst people of both genders, at all ages, at home and beyond.  Time and again, it's been my experience that as soon as judgment lessens, emotional environments, pulsing with high wired tension, become safe havens where words, flowing with compassion, sooth fears and frustrations, which tend to ooze out of yesteryear's unhealed wounds.

By the way, upon opening my present vulnerability to friends, guess what just happened?  The phone rang, and chicken soup is on its way.  Though I'll enjoy the soup, more important is the open flow of love I feel for the generous soul, whose thoughtfulness has lifted my spirit.

Funny how we'll open up about physical vulnerabilities while narrow mindsets block us from exposing emotional vulnerabilities—even to ourselves.  Why is that true?  In order not to scare ourselves half to death, Mother Nature preprogrammed our defense systems to block our conscious minds from seeing too deeply into subconscious fears.  To some degree or another, we fear being judged lacking in sensitivity, passion, humor, logic or whatever, and that makes me ask:  What's logical about blocking one's mind to any vulnerability in need of strengthening ... I mean, seriously people, what's up with that!

If you ask why today's thoughts precede my showering you with funny consequences, as promised, I'd reply:  I think you're receiving the serious side of my nature because I feel unwell.  Interestingly, my horoscope says:  You'll be driven to express yourself, assert your rights and validate your curiosity, today.  :)

By the way, can you guess what happened when I stopped trying to control a reaction that's beyond my control—specifically—my body's physical sensitivity to medication?  Upon easing up on seeing myself as weak, which disappointed me, my frustration lessened, and though nothing has improved, except my attitude, one thing has changed, dramatically:  Upon accepting what proves to be classic for me, my spirit feels a bit lighter, today than yesterday—thus imprinting, once again, that along with patience, openness,  and thoughtfulness, the attitude with which we accept or reject human vulnerably is everything :)

At this point, I'd like to quote Dr. Brene Brown of the University of Houston:  "Vulnerability ... is a willingness to show up, be seen, and take chances ..."  Dr. Brown goes on to say that " ... the hidden secret to success is vulnerability ...".

Let's consider my vulnerability:  Each time I offer you another glimpse into me, I hope you'll see my mind, heart and spirit welcoming your mind, heart and spirit to feel so safe as to allow me to see clearly into whatever you feel or fear.  I hope you'll recognize how thoughtfully I wait to accept and soothe your vulnerabilities as well as admiring your cultivated strengths.  As you shall see, embracing vulnerability allows each of us to experiment with risking failure.  Once we learn the reasons why something seems to fail repeatedly, we tend to achieve a heartfelt goal.  And thus in the long run, as Dr. Brown suggests, "... with risk comes great reward".  Take Babe for example.  Though known far and wide for hitting homers, Babe Ruth struck out more often than not.  Even so, he never stopped swinging for the fences.  And in the long run, success was his :)

Dr. Brown has authored a book titled:  DARING GREATLY:  HOW THE COURAGE TO BE VULNERABLE TRANSFORMS THE WAY WE LIVE, LOVE, PARENT AND LEAD

I read another horoscope in today's paper that states:  Much depends on how you speak.  State exactly what you'd like to see happen.  (Risk showing what you really feel ...)

Though taking action is important, words and tones used to express our innermost feelings and thoughts may determine that which we'll receive in return from loved ones and colleagues.  When words prove not enough to achieve heartfelt goals, action must follow.

Lots of people, who think to know me well, suggest that I alter thought patterns, resembling Pollyana's.  My response?  A Mona Lisa smile.  Once I, like Babe, embrace a heartfelt goal, it's highly unlikely that I'll give up on working toward achieving success. :)

At this point, let's hope that I'll start to feel so much better that you'll find a funny chapter when next we meet.  Though that's my plan, I'll admit to the unpredictable nature of my mind and not repeat yesterday's mistake.  Though I can't promise what my mind will write, next, I can safely promise you this:  Once my heart cares, it cares forever.  How do I know this to be true?  One look at my history suggests that this woman's most trustworthy trait proves to be the steadfast nature of my heart—and that's the truth  :)

612 ON STRIKE! 1980 ... CHAPTER 1

One Sunday, in 1980, while catching up after a week of:  teaching, meeting a writing deadline, stuffing hundreds of neighborhood children in car pools, driving to thousands of schools, sports practices and games on fields all over town ... after helping with homework ... after preparing, serving and cleaning up homemade meals for an army of young men, whose athletic appetites grew as fast as their heights shot up toward vaulted ceilings ... after accomplishing everything on my daily things-to-do lists, like making appointments and driving and waiting in doctors' dentists' orthodontists' not to forget their father's orthopaedic office, because due to our active attack upon life, one of us always seemed injured ... I spent this day of rest playing tennis ... NOT ... because, along with every other tightly scheduled activity, competitive leagues convened during the week, same with riding my favorite horse, Granny, Tuesdays and Thursdays from the canal to the top of the mountain behind my house, which of course made it 'my' mountain, where upon reaching the peak, my smile delighted in the expansive view of my little corner of the world, sprawling out so far below this height, which I'd somehow miraculously managed to claim as my own.

As to Sunday, the day of rest, well, my time was spent whistling while working at food shopping, separating piles of whites from colors in need of spraying, washing, drying, folding, preparing meals to freeze for next week, baking toll house recipes with extra chocolate chips ... after flipping pancakes for my trio and all of their endlessly hungry friends, warmly welcomed to consider our home their weekend retreat, and in these ways did I choose to exhaust what little was left of my gargantuan storehouse of energy, every Sunday,  the day biblically reserved for ... family and rest ... which I think is an oxymoron.  (love that word ... oxy/moron, because life is crazy!).

After working hard, playing hard, and winding down by reading voraciously, I slept soundly.  Where I found time to sit on school boards and volunteer on the youth group board, as well, I have no clue.  Somehow, 500 puzzle pieces came together, every week, creating a kaleidoscopic picture of family life that fit me as smoothly as slipping my busy hands into a pair of cashmere lined, soft kid gloves, stitched specifically for me.  I didn't work at any task from the standpoint of necessity.  As I loved my work, both professionally and personally, common sense sought ways to keep all aspects of my life humming, harmonically.  And as heartfelt laughter spilled out of my spirit, naturally, our family loaded up on tons of fun.  No wonder why all the kids, who stayed over every weekend, considered themselves family ... when positivity plays follow-the-leader, every day feels like party day.  Don't even get me started, describing holiday and birthday surprises ... as for Halloween ... well let's put it this way, now that my sons run that show, there's never less than 200 at their annual bash ... all costumed to the max, of course!  When people love people, it shows.

You see, it's a well known fact that a complex machine, such as family life proves to be, is in need of a well tuned engine, so unknowingly, I turned myself into the little engine that could by acting very much like the eighth in a line of seven dwarfs, whistling while I worked from dawn to dusk and ... after personally tucking each of my three sons into their beds ... and after bedtime stories had been read and after each had enjoyed an uninterrupted, one-to-one, Three Minute Miracle time, alone in their rooms, with Yours Truly ... deep into the dark of night, I'd highlight a new parenting text before dropping off to sleep at midnight only to awaken at 6am to more of the same.

Once, after a ten day stay, my mother-in-law exclaimed, I don't know how you do it, Annie.  Watching how fast you move exhausts me.  Is your washing machine broken?  No, I replied, why do you ask?  It's not running.  It's always running!  And so was I.

Sooo ... by the time late afternoon on Sunday rolled around, you can see as to how appreciative I'd felt when Life offered up a moment of peaceful respite where I'd curl up with the entertainment section of the newspaper on two, colorfully over-stuffed floor pillows, plumped up against the white tiles of our living room fireplace, as was my habit—until something changed—and here it comes ... the short end of the straw ...

Upon the winds of change, Pop Warner blew into our lives.  And with this additional activity, let's call it—the last straw—Super Mom's last few moments of relaxation blew out of my life—but not for long :)

At this point, late in the day on Sunday saw me doing more laundry.  And as resting less and less became the norm a rest/less change took place in me.  Though my good humored demeanor wrestled with this undefined sense of restless dismay for quite some time, over time, this change developed a name.  A first name and a last.   If the first name of my change was ... Frustration, my second change was named ... Resentment ... both of which were new to the little engine that could until she experienced too little down time for herself.  How cliche of me!

Once my ever increasing mountain of tasks-taken-on loomed too high to climb over on my own, an over-taxed frame of mind caused my heartfelt smile to shrink.  And rather than watching my spirit greet each day by leaping out of bed, delighting in life, the little engine that could awakened tired.  As it takes quite a lot for Happy to simulate Grumpy, this petite powerhouse, who'd always called herself Lucky, shrugged off frustration and resentment and whistled for as long as she could ...

If at this point your curiosity would like to ask what changes might a sinking attitude and a shrinking smile bring to the idyllic family life, created by the contemplative brain of this super-duper mothering machine (who having gone unheard, knew better than to shriek her resentment out loud), well, I'd reply ... if one change leads to the next, then two changes lead to many more, and as this story is just beginning to unfold ... and as my mind is presently in need of a rest, I'll ask you to rustle up a bit of patience, because you'll soon see how actions that speak louder than words are about to change who-is-responsible-for-what in this happy home after a plucky, lucky, contemplative woman, who speaks up but goes unheard, goes on strike.  As for now, I have no doubt that what you are about to see is sure to tickle your funny bone, when chapter two of this story pops up on your screen, because it seems to me that peeps of all ages enjoy coming home when consequences, concerning cooperation, are laced with a sense of fun .  And with that, Lucky, who is nursing a mild case of shingles (so much for vaccinations) is about to grab a nutritious snack and a much needed, well deserved rest from... writing :)

Sent from my iPad

611 DIGNITY UNDER FIRE WHILE LEADING MY FIRST PARENT'S NIGHT IN 1966

By jove!  I've finally got it!  I've figured out why I can tell you stories about my life before high school and after high school, but not during high school, which proves curious for this reason:  Lots of funny high school stories line up inside my mind.  This suggests that my mental block against telling high school stories must rooted in some dark experience locked inside my subconscious, and here comes the reason why I can't write around it:  That experience, so fearsome as to have been banished from my conscious mind, might sneak out and attack my state of well being as subconscious fear has been wont to do while I'm sitting here writing innocently about other things.  And thus in fear of unresolved trauma grabbing hold of my mind, my defense system blocks my thought processor from opening that entire block of time until I muster the courage to steady my conscious mind to unlock the door to a haunted room in my memory bank and withdraw the ghoulish ghost that's played hide and seek with my self trust for most of my life.

As instinct suggests we leave that dead weight inside my mind to rest in peace at least for now, let's high tail it back to September of 1966, where we can imagine a twenty-two year old woman, standing before a black board, facing a group of adults, seated in child sized desks, who, being older than me by at least a decade, need not do much of anything to intimidate the self confident stance of their children's fifth grade teacher, on this, my very first parents' night ...

Having worked to achieve my share of Girl Scout badges, I am every bit as prepared to lead this group of parents as I prepare lesson plans in a well organized fashion, day after day.  On the other hand, this is my very first time leading a room filled with accomplished adults, who hang on my every word, so I am praying that all goes well.  And as all does go well, I am close to being off the hook until it's time to ask for questions, and one father raises his hand...

Upon seeing a hand in the air, I direct a friendly, authoritative nod toward this thirty-something year old guy, and when my smile signals him to ask away ... ask away he does:

So ... some of us are wondering if your maiden name is Howard? 

As this question swerves off the beaten track, the rookie is taken aback, kind of thrown off her game.  I mean, why in the world does so-and-so's father care to know my maiden name?

Uh ... no, responds the rookie, as curiosity, spilling out of my mind, takes a swing and a miss at the ball.

At this point, instinct suggests that the rookie shorten up on the bat to steady her aim in case her mind has to keep swinging at curves, because Mr. Frick has just asked, Then what is your maiden name?

Though curiosity muddies my mind with confusion and I can't for the life of me fathom why I feel as though we are duking something out ... in retrospect, I felt baited, because tension has hot wired every brain in the room ...

Ummm ... I'm a bit confused ... can you tell me why we're discussing my maiden name?

Thank goodness, Mr. Frick's wife, who occupies the desk next to her husband's, shoots him a dark look, and as father number one clams up, father number two, who proves bolder by far, picks up the baton ...

Well, with your dark hair and blue eyes, some of us have been wondering whether you might be Ann Howard.

So here it comes, the moment when I chomp down on the bait and fall into the trap ... Who is Ann Howard?

With tongue in cheek Mr. Frack replies:  Ann Howard is a Playboy Centerfold ...

At this, the power of suggestion grabs hold of every mind in the room, including mine, and I go from teacher to stripper in a flash.  Though steeling myself to look Frack straight in the eye, every atom inside me is dying to look down to reassure myself that my clothes have not dropped to the floor along with my jaw.  I mean really—what in the world can this room full of people be thinking of me???  That I teach by day and pole dance by night???

When it comes to jaw dropping contests it's safe to say that no jaw has ever hit the floor as fast as mine did on that evening when this rookie was pitched a fast curve as hot as that one proved to be.  Even so, while blood surges through me so hotly that my mind is blown senseless, my composure is seemingly maintained.  Within seconds, I hear light-hearted laughter, breaking through the pregnant pause electrifying the air, and as that sprinkle of laughter is my own, I create a comfort zone, which invites everyone's sense of humor to join in.

 In truth, I am so light headed as to be unable to catch my breath, and as shock knocks memory out of the ball park, I can't fathom how I'd managed to segue toward the rest of my presentation ... though segue toward regaining control is exactly what ensued.  With no clue that good natured, leadership skills had instinctively saved this rookie from striking out, my self confident stance was secretly shaking, right down to my core when I respond ...

If you think a Playboy Playmate is teaching your kids, please think again  ...

Well ... counters Mr Frack, still looking like the cat that ate the canary, just asking ... and thank goodness—that's the end of that!

On the up side, I had no need to entertain this room filled with my students' parents, because two clowns had managed to turn our evening into a three ring circus, early on.  And looking back, it's great to know that this rookie, wearing a ring master's hat, did not bomb.

Upon deeper reflection, Frick and Frack did a twenty-two year old, dark haired, blue eyed, fledgling woman a huge favor:  You see, in the aftermath of that stunning encounter, which challenged an inexperienced rookie to hold her own under fire, no one—throughout the years of my teaching and speaking career—has ever tossed out a question that I couldn't handle with aplomb :)

PS  Once again, all names have been changed to protect the not so innocent :)

610 A STORY ABOUT LEARNING ... NATURALLY

When it came to choosing a profession, I was born to inspire 'love of learning' in people of all ages.  Though I had no clue of that at the beginning of my career, upon reflecting back, there's no doubt about it.

Let's take children for example.  When it came to encouraging the young to enjoy each morsel of knowledge that would, in some way, enrich their lives, I was a natural.  Once settled into my classroom, the mind of each child got caught up in the sense that this year would prove unlike any other for this reason ... Instinct suggested that their teacher's state of wonderment matched their own.  As boredom was never an option, young minds opened to learning as eagerly as mine.  To illustrate the validity of this point, here is one thing I learned that delighted me to no end ...

The year was 1968.  It was the day after Labor Day, which proved to be the first day of my second year teaching fifth grade in an affluent, midwestern suburb.  At a quarter before nine, the first school bell rang, clearly announcing to teachers and children, alike, the brand new start of another academic year.  And just as the energy of the sun warmed the bright blue sky above, my heart surged with the warmth that energized my smile, which would welcome twenty-five young minds to connect with my own.  Upon hearing the first bell, I cast one last glance around the classroom and surmised that every bulletin board had been as colorfully readied to kick off the new year as I'd felt prepared to energize 25 youngsters to absorb the three R's with a flare for fun that never failed to surprise ... not just the kids but their pied piper, as well.  :)

Interestingly, my energetic approach to imparting knowledge had not consciously occurred to me.  In retrospect, I simply injected this element of enthusiastic delight into teaching as openly as I'd shared my delight in every new aspect of life.  Simply put, curbing enthusiasm did not work for me.  Never did.  Never will.

So anyway while the early bell is ringing, my classroom is looking ready to party; my daily lesson plan is set; the blackboard, being freshly washed, is so black as to show my name written in cursive, every bit as bright as I expect to extract brightness from every head that's sure to snap to attention while I am reciting twenty-five names, aloud.  You see, I've got something up my sleeve that these children do not suspect.  I know more than their names.  Before laying eyes on them. I can match each name with a face. :)

I have spent my last week of summer matching and memorizing a class list of alphabetized names with photos of faces, found in their files.  And though we'll mix up the seating arrangement before the end of this first week, these 25 minds, which I'm charged with controlling, will be seated in alphabetized order for this reason.  Right from the start, I want them to learn who is in charge and who is not.  :)

Immediately after these children file into my classroom and while they remain in a tidy line against the wall, each boy and girl will be instructed to sit down as their natural leader calls out the roll.  And thus in this orderly fashion, my small but significant physical presence will captain a shipshape, academic arena in which an environment, humming with mutual enrichment, rules the day.  Simply stated, that is my plan.  And my plan works like a charm for this reason. There is nothing more inspiring to a group of unruly children than a leader's self confident approach toward ... Leadership, combined with mutual respect.  As it is rare for a teacher to match names and faces before twenty five children file in, I'll attract the attention of every brain in my class as soon as the first child takes a seat.

So let's imagine twenty-five wiggling ten year olds, lined up against the wall in single file.  Next, let's imagine my smiling presence, glancing down at a list of names, starting with the letter A.  Imagine me walking right up to a specific child, my smile, beaming with recognition while reciting that child's first and last name, aloud.  Imagine me 'commanding' the attention of the class as a whole.  Imagine me welcoming each child by softly placing a gentle hand on each surprised shoulder, while the friendly twinkle in my eye sends this message ...

I am The Child Whisperer.  I be The Child Whisperer, because a child whisperer is what i'd needed when life scared me senseless at the age of three.  You are safe with me ...

In retrospect, I've yet to encounter a problem with any child that could not be soothed, over time, with the nurturing hand of love.  Somehow, my love is conveyed so naturally that children instinctively place their trust in the fact that our heartfelt connection will remain intact, no matter what comes to pass ...

I guess you might say there's an innocence about me that adults might see as naive while children sense a permeable vulnerability that delights in experimenting with personal growth.  Teaching creatively came so naturally to me that I didn't think of myself as the adult in charge.  I just dived in, took charge and smiled, laughed, listened and taught the way I'd wished others would have spoken to me.  Though well prepared, I did not teach as carefully as I taught 'caringly', remembering, first and foremost, that people have ears, and ears are passageways toward deeper feelings, which may go unseen.  The fact that I chose my words with care and proved a sensitive listener does not suggest my being a perfect teacher.  (Stories of human imperfection to come.)

Anyway right from the start on that first day of school, my class learned to respect the fact that a creature as small as me proved a powerful presence in each of their lives.  As to what this small creature learned in return?  I learned that a classroom of children could trust and love me before I'd ever given them reason to respect me.  And here's how that went ...

Our school had a first-day tradition, which continued throughout the year and worked like this:   When the early bell rang, every child on the playground assembled into his or her designated class line.  As letters had been sent to each child's home, every child knew where to line up.  While hundreds of children were falling into formation, teachers left their classrooms and walked outside, each to stand at the head of his or her class.  On the first day of school, each child knew which line to stand in, but no child knew which teacher would walk up to the head of that line and lead that specific class into the school.  Though reputations are known to precede introductions, I had no clue that four lines of fifth graders were holding their breath as a quartet of fifth grade teachers walked out of the school, onto the playground.  So okay, here's where I'm about to learn something new that's going to delight me to the max ... Here's an example of action speaking louder than words ...

Upon stopping at the head of the line that proved to be my class, decorum became pandemonium as that line broke into ten year olds, jumping with joy, cheering aloud, while three other lines, slumping slightly, filed quietly into the school.  While quieting the delight of my heart and my class, I thought OMG, they love me without even knowing what's actually in store for them once I get them inside my room and begin to entertain their brains with learning as never before!  This year is going to be the best!  We're going to have even more fun than I'd ever imagined!  And as attitude is everything, I was right on the mark!

As our attitudes were positively focused, one and all, our heartfelt eagerness to learn couldn't be beat!  At the end of that year while extending a tearful hug to each my beloved children,  their very pregnant teacher/friend said ... I took home so many funny stories about all of you, this year, that my family laughed and laughed.  At that, one ten year old, named Amy, piped up with, Well ... we took home lots of funny stories about you, too!

I hope never to lose the sense of childlike wonder that admits openly to fear, one minute, and then in the next, recoups my sense of logic so quickly as to laugh in a self effacing way at myself.  As certain fears persist for good reason, showing them to you, from time to time, does not embarrass me.  On the other hand, when given the opportunity to laugh a fear out of my mind, even temporarily, I'll grab on to any positively focused line that you may choose to send to me via the comment box ... And as post by post, you watch me discover, confront and resolve deep seated fears, perhaps my openness will inspire you to look into your own ...

When next we meet, I'll tell you a funny story that took place on parents' night when I was a first year teacher ...  I mean, it's one thing to gain the respect of children, it's quite another to maintain the respect of one's peers ...