tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31545933897047803822024-02-20T11:00:25.760-08:00Moms: Expect the UnexpectedAn open, honest look at all aspects of mothering today.writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-28081592051128351612013-04-16T06:52:00.002-07:002013-04-16T06:52:37.172-07:00My Blog Has a New Home!Thank you for following Expect the Unexpected. I have recently moved my blog to a new site and it has a new name, Unscriptedmom. Please come follow me at http://unscriptedmom.com/. You can also find me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/UnscriptedMom. Hope to see you over there!writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-19856142858240423362013-03-14T13:32:00.000-07:002013-03-14T15:40:32.864-07:00Have You Ever Chased a Bus on the Highway? A Crazy Parenting Moment<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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It was my 10-year-old son’s first day of ski school on a cold, blustery
day in Minnesota. I wasn’t sure if
I was going to send him that day because they were headed to a ski hill that was about an hour
away, and we were scheduled to get a bunch of snow so I was worried about the drive home. But after finding out that a few of his buddies were going, my son decided that he really wanted to go. So, we hurriedly layered him up,
got his ski bag and lunch bag packed and we quickly headed out to catch the
bus.</div>
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We were supposed to meet the bus at a nearby mall parking
lot. I pulled into the lot and there was no sign of the bus or of any other
cars waiting for a bus. I frantically called another mom who told me that her
husband had taken their son and that she thought the bus was on the west side
of the mall. I was on the east side. It was 8:01 a.m. The bus was scheduled to
depart promptly at 8:00. I drove
like a madwoman to the other side of the mall and caught sight of a school bus
pulling a trailer behind it (presumably containing ski equipment) exiting the
mall parking lot and heading toward the freeway. “SHHHIIITTTT!!!!!” I said in
my very outside, non-mommy voice. “Mom,” my son whispered. “Did I miss the
bus?” “NO,” I retorted as I
screeched out of the parking lot, hell-bent on catching that bus. </div>
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“Mom,” said my sweet son, who could sense that I was about
to do something crazy, “It’s okay, we can just go home.” “No honey, you are going
skiing today,"I said. "You want to go with your friends, we've paid for it and you are
going.” “Are you going to drive me all the way to the ski hill,” he asked
tentatively. “Nope, you are taking the bus there,” I said trying to not let him
know that my heart was just about to jump outside of my body as I prepared
myself for the bus chase. “But, mom….” “Honey, I got this, just sit tight.” And
we were off! I raced out of the parking lot and got onto the highway on-ramp.
The bus was in sight. Trying not to kill my son and myself, I accelerated a lot
but resisted pushing the pedal completely to the metal. I maneuvered my car into the lane
directly to the left of the bus. My son sat motionless and speechless with the
oh-no-she-is-not-possibly-doing-what-I-think-she-might-be-doing look on his
face. </div>
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There was no way that I was going to drive an hour and a
half each way to get this kid to ski school today, but there was also no way
that he was not going to go. One small problem, what to do about the bus that I
needed to get my kid on but was traveling at 55 miles an hour on the
freeway? As I cozied up right along
side the bus, I had a direct view of the bus driver. I honked. I honked again. She finally glanced over and I caught her eyes. She looked
at me with a puzzled look. I pointed to my son in the back seat. She looked at
me again with the same perplexed look. I motioned for her to pull over with my right hand. She looked at me in a different way, a way that said, “Are
you out of your frick’n mind?” I nodded and mouthed the word, “Please?” </div>
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Next thing I knew, the bus was exiting the highway. I
quickly followed suit, and pulled up behind the bus where it was slowing to a
stop on the right hand shoulder of a frontage road. “Mom,” squeaked my son from the back seat, “I can’t get on
that bus. This is the most embarrassing thing ever!” “Oh, but you can, honey. I’m sure your buddies are thinking
how cool it is that the bus pulled over for you!” He slowly got out of my car. I grabbed his ski stuff from
the trunk and he and I approached the bus driver. “M’am, that was not very
safe,” she said. “I know but I can’t thank you enough for stopping.” My son slowly, gingerly got on the bus.
I saw his buddies stand up to greet him and give him high-fives.</div>
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The absolutely insane, unimaginable, outlandish things we do
for our kids. It took me several hours and countless deep breaths before I could even
tell this story to my husband who just shook his head in disbelief. It took me more that a year to write it down.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-35021423243440691632013-02-25T22:05:00.002-08:002013-03-03T07:08:19.123-08:00Look Mom! No More Training Wheels!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">For
the past 16 years, I have driven this kid around like a chauffeur. Basketball,
tennis, baseball, school, friends’ houses, camps…a regular taxi service I was.
And I am certain that I complained about it…just a few times. But today that
would all change. The reality of the transition that was about to occur hit me
when I got out of my car and the driver's license examiner got in and said, "We will be
back in 15 minutes." "Okay, I will be here," I responded in a
faint voice. I walked away and felt a surge of emotions: fear, disbelief, nostalgia
all mixed up with excitement and anticipation. I stood frozen and stared at my car
with my son and the tester inside, only to have my trance interrupted by my son
bounding out of the car mumbling expletives, “Mom, you took the car keys!” “Oh
sorry, honey,” I said as I fumbled through my purse and quickly handed them
over. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I
resumed my trance-like state, leaning against the outside of the driver’s
license office building wanting time to stand still for just a moment. Please,
just for a moment, so I can process this, wrap my brain around the idea of my son being able to drive...legally...by himself. But my phone rang and it was my husband, who was out of town, wanting a play-by-play of our son’s driver’s test. Well, the first play I reported was our son
managing to maneuver the car directly over a curb as he pulled out of his parking
spot and made a right hand turn. I wondered if that did him in. But I knew he
wanted this; he wanted this badly, and he had worked hard and practiced and I
believed that he would find a way to turn a rough start into an acceptable
outcome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I
saw a girl get out of a car holding a piece of paper and walking toward her
dad. She was beaming. “Congratulations,” I said as she walked passed me. She smiled and thanked me and proceeded into the
building to fill out paperwork with her dad. I wondered about my son's fate. After 10 long minutes and not much to report to my husband, I saw my son pull the car into a parking spot. I
saw him step out of the car holding a similar looking piece of paper. He had
a grin on his face and immediately gave me a thumbs up. A knot formed in my
throat and I tried not to let the tears well up in my eyes as I got the words, "he passed" out to my husband.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A license to drive is a right of passage, a milestone, a part of the natural progression of our children’s
development and a big step toward their autonomy. It is something to celebrate.
But at the moment when he emerged from my car with the same "I did it" smile that he has given me so many times over his life, I realized that my time with my son just took a huge
hit. He will no longer be forced to spend those minutes or hours in the car
with me transporting him to where he needs to be. He can get there without me.
Should I rejoice in this? Sure. But now that I can feel this time slip away, I clearly see how precious it was. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">On the way home, I told him that I would miss the countless hours we had together in the car, heading to and from his games, practices and social events. I would miss the talking and the not talking…just being in the confined space of my car with him. He was quiet, still reveling in the glory of his accomplishment. I wondered if he would miss that time we had together. Maybe somewhere in the distant future he would remember and be grateful for those times, but for the present moment, I got a very strong sense from him that he couldn't wait to be free!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So,
on those days when you have spent more hours turning your steering wheel than you have doing
anything else, remember that your calling as a chauffeur is only temporary. Try
to cherish some of on-the-road time you have with your children. And definitely buy yourself an awesome chauffeur’s hat!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-77667668700688164582013-01-28T20:50:00.002-08:002013-01-29T12:04:59.713-08:00She's Going to CollegeIt's official, she is going. A few of the colleges she has dreamed of attending wrote her letters and sent her emails saying they'd be thrilled to have her. She screamed! She jumped up and down! She was elated, beyond elated! I screamed and jumped up and down with her. I was elated, but not beyond elated. Because we all know what this really means. Yep, it means that she is <i>really </i>going to leave. She is not sure where she will land...still waiting for letters from a few other potential options. But none of these options are in my zip code or even in my state. She is flying the coop. I pray her wings are strong enough for the flight. I believe that they are but I still pray. I am proud of her, happy for her and yet slightly sad and confused. Elated? For her, maybe. For her that she gets to take those beautiful blue eyes and go out and view the world from a different lens--a lens that is more her own--a lens that she will continue to fine tune, adjust and readjust as she becomes a more aware and conscious adult. Will she know a good thing when she sees it? Will she know danger? Will she follow her heart? Or her head?<br />
<br />
I will know some of her thoughts, her ideas, her feelings, her fears but certainly a lot fewer of them than I do now. I won't be able to see her eyes every day when she comes home from school and instantly be able to determine if she had a good day or that something is weighing on her. She will get to decide if she wants to tell me--or not. I won't necessarily "just know." The protective layer that I have, or at least think I have with her living in my house, will peel away as she exits. And I don't know what it looks like or feels like to not have that layer in tact. And neither does she.<br />
<br />
But once again, I am ahead of myself. The yoga teacher in me says, "Embrace the present. She is still here." The letters arrived and told us she'd been accepted, and she will go, but she is not gone yet. This period of time feels a little bit like a bandaid being pulled off ever so slowly. Ouch! And I don't exactly know what lies beneath the bandaid. My friends and relatives who have older kids who have gone off to college tell me,"It's great. It's like a new chapter and it's cool to develop a more adult to adult type of relationship with your child, which will happen when she leaves." O.k., yes, but I actually really like this chapter. The one in which she lives in my house, and I get to see her and hug her every day. You can't hug via skype or text. Ouch again!<br />
<br />
I know, I can kick and scream all I want about this (well, into my pillow maybe), but there's no turning back, she going. And the funny thing is, this is what I wanted, and deep down do want for her. This is when I am supposed to say to myself, "All the hard work paid off. She's going to college! She did it! You did it!" Maybe when that bandaid is completely off and is no longer uncomfortably pulling at the hairs on my skin, I will be able to say that.<br />
<br />
I will certainly let you know!writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-33674702611961859282012-10-16T22:36:00.000-07:002012-10-25T11:40:07.211-07:00Parking Space 604<br />
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I open the envelope and gently pull out parking sticker 604. My mind races and my heart beat quickens. That space is in the senior lot—the lot that is designated for the “old” kids, the kids who are in their last year of high school, are applying to colleges, getting to close to graduation, and then they are…leaving. Parking space 604 is for someone else’s daughter, not mine. Because my daughter couldn’t be that old, she couldn’t be getting ready to leave. They must have sent us the wrong parking sticker. But they didn’t. It was hers. And all that applies to those older kids, now apply to her. But what does that make me? Kind of a mess. </div>
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She was gone most of the summer. She has been gone for a portion of the summer since she was eight when she let me know that she didn’t want to go to a camp that only had a one week session for her age group, she wanted to go to one that had a two week session. “I don’t care if I don’t know anyone there mom. I’m fine with that.” So she went, and she kept going, and going. And now, she is plotting yet another, more permanent exit strategy. Out of my house, out of her room, out from her spot at the dinner table, out from parking spot 604, and already starting to leave a big, huge, gaping hole in my heart. </div>
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We visit colleges. She loves them all! Each one is her favorite. Each one would work for her escape plan. She is not afraid. She craves adventure, new experiences, new people and new surroundings. And yet I see her looking at her 8-year-old sister more lovingly lately, and studying her, as if she is realizing that Jo will grow up without her big sister living in the house, and that they will miss each other—a lot. She hugs her little sister for a little longer. She tells her how much she loves her. I even heard her whispering to her, “You have to tell mom and dad to get you and iphone so we can face time.” Jo tells her that she will. And her brothers, she is more affectionate with them too, and is much more accepting of the things they do that used to send her ranting about how completely annoying they both are. She knows…she will be communicating with them from afar. She understands that things will be different.</div>
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Sometimes I feel “stuff” welling up inside of me and I not sure what it is. Sometimes I cry at the end of a yoga class when we are resting silently on our mats with our eyes closed and I have the chance to let go of all that I am trying desperately to hold onto. I realize that the stuff that I am so carefully guarding within my chest cavity is pain, sadness and fear that arises (but needs to be contained) when I try to wrap my brain and my heart around the fact that my oldest child, my first born, my oldest daughter will soon leave the nest that I have spent 18 years trying to make comfortable, warm and safe for her. She was the guinea pig. She turned me into a mom and provided me with my first stab at being a parent. In so many ways, she has been my teacher. And now, even though <i>they</i> say, you are not supposed to be friends with your child, she is my friend. Yes, I am still her mom, I set the limits, the expectations and all that a <i>good</i> parent is supposed to do, but I can’t help that I really, really like her; that I find her to be one of the funniest people I know; that I love going into her room at night, flopping down on her bed and talking with her and listening to her—about anything. I like that she is smart and interesting and fun to be around. I like that she is honest, in a no b.s. kind of way, like when she tells me that my hair looks crazy or it’s time to color the grays, or that my shoes are not right for my outfit. She tells me that I take too long to edit her papers and that I am taking way too long to write my book. But she also cheers me on and is supportive of my dreams. She is real, she is kind, she is passionate—the best kind of friend any person would want; how could she NOT be my friend?</div>
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Her exit strategy is working. She is going to be accepted to some of the colleges she applied to and she will pick one, and then...no matter how many tears I shed, she is going to hit the road. Her parking spot in the senior lot will be taken over next year by another child whose mom cannot quite place where the 18 years have gone. And I will move through this transition…somehow, just like all the courageous moms who have raised wonderful children and then set them free. And for the time being I will try and rejoice that her parking sticker says 604; that she is still parking in the big kid lot at the school where my other kids attend. I will continue to smile and exhale when I hear her car pull in our driveway and when she barrels in through the door usually yelling something that I don’t understand. </div>
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Her presence is big in our house and in my heart and I intend to fully cherish it, even after her “operation exit home” is successful.</div>
writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-28677007998061573792012-07-15T09:38:00.000-07:002012-07-16T22:05:18.985-07:00May Madness and the Aftermath<br />
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I do understand that the NCAA coined the term March Madness
for the flurry of college basketball games played throughout the month, however, I
do not think this kind of madness holds a candle to the madness that most
mothers feel in May. For one thing, if you have any campers, the stacks of camp
forms (which include having up-to- date physicals) are due. Spring sports are
in full swing and this year, between my two boys (one of whom was rostered on
four baseball teams, yep four) we were at a field, sometimes two, almost every night of
the week and on weekends. My youngest daughter plays soccer and because
they weren’t going to be able to have a team for her and her buddies if no one
stepped up to coach…well, sure, I will figure out how to make it work. And I
know so much about soccer! Not…never played a day in my life. And it is only two nights a week. What?!
Not really sure how these logistics are going to work. And then if you happen to have high-schoolers
like I do, it is finals prep time (and in my house, finals freak-out time), and
if you happen to have a junior (soon to be a senior) like I do, let’s throw in
the SAT or ACT tests this month as well! </div>
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Then there is a sprint for the finish at our kids’ school
with events that I had never even heard of until enrolling my kids at this school: portfolio day, field day, staff appreciation day, 4<sup>th</sup> grade
graduation, closing ceremonies for lower school, middle school and upper school (all on different days), baccalaureate (where
the first graders—yep, I have one of those too—sing to the outgoing seniors).
And, my daughter’s birthday party was also in the month of May, as well as my mother's 70th birthday. And oh, that Mother's Day in May idea...yeah...sure.</div>
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In addition to the above-mentioned mayhem, which made my head and heart spin on a very regular basis, this May was
especially heart- wrenching for my family. My beloved father-in-law, who fought
a courageous battle with pancreatic cancer for 4 ½ years, passed away on May 12<sup>th</sup>
(his 77<sup>th</sup> birthday). It was a devastating blow to our family and the
community who came out in droves and supported us with love and kindness. </div>
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The madness of May, however, did not
allow much time for the necessary process of grieving. We took time to honor my father-in-law with a beautiful funeral and a three-day shivah (time of mourning when friends and family gather to support the family of the deceased). But before any of us were ready, the kids had to take their finals,
return to their sports, my husband had to return to work, and we all had to return to the plethora of other events sprawled all
over the calendar. And I had to continue to guide the ship, and keep everyone moving in the right direction, which at
this point was getting through the end of the school year, trying to keep their
spirits up but also supporting them in their grief. I had to help them study
for their finals and finish their final projects. And then I had to be there
for my husband, who seemed to be in a state of shock and needed the space and
time to digest all of this. And quite honestly, there were days that I didn't think I could do it all; days that I wanted to run for the hills!</div>
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I felt consumed by grief, my own and everyone’s around me, and in making sure that everyone else was okay. This is when I knew I needed to, in addition to taking care of them and their
needs, I needed to find a way to take care of myself. I went back to teaching the high energy yoga sculpt classes
that I love and to writing the parenting book that has been my passion for the
last two years. Back in January, I
sent a few query letters to agents to see if they would be interested in
helping me get the book published but had not heard anything from any of them. Less
than a week after my father-in-law died, I vented to one of my girlfriends about
my feelings of self-doubt and frustrations with the book and the publishing
process. I hung up from her and
opened my email and in my in-box was a letter from one of the agents saying she
was interested in my work and would I send her some chapters and a full
outline. My eyes filled with tears
and I felt an immediate connection to my father-in-law, who was a real
go-getter, and wasn’t much for taking no for an answer. I saw him working some
magic from up above.</div>
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We all got through the next few weeks and found our way to
the end of the school year. My kids did fine on their finals, they contributed on their sports teams, and we managed to find time to talk about
Papa and how we will miss him. The
last day full of school was Friday, June 1<sup>st </sup> and I felt a certain lightness as May had
turned into June--summer was here and we would all have a little break from the
madness. But this lightness did
not last long. Five of my son’s
friends came home with him from school that day. They
were all playing wiffle ball in the back yard and I asked them if they wanted
to go to the pool. Some said yes,
and some said no. They took a vote. Going to the pool won. The boys, my youngest daughter and I all piled in my
car and drove over to the country club where each one of my kids learned to
swim. They played basketball and
swam. We had been there for about an hour and I was talking to a friend when I heard a whistle
blow three times. Kids scurried out of the pool. My heart stopped as I watched
a lifeguard pull out, what looked to me like a lifeless little body, from the pool. A boy, 6 years old, a kindergartener at my kids' school, attending a
birthday party. The rest of the details still haunt me, and writing them down is just too
painful. But when I settled into my car with my group of kids, we prayed. We
prayed for Nicolas. We prayed for a miracle. But not long after we left, we sadly found out that Nicolas was dead.</div>
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Witnessing the two deaths, one of a loved of and the other, a horrible, tragic death of a child, my
heart exploded into a zillion pieces and I have been working on putting it back
together since. My kids fill me up with so much love and joy, my husband is
slowly smiling a bit more, and thank g-d for my amazing family and
friends. Not long after the pool event, we took an Alaskan cruise
with my side of the family, during which ironically it was rainy, windy and
cold for 90 percent of time. Then, we sent our teenagers off to their amazing camps, and my sister
and I planned and pulled off a surprise 50<sup>th</sup> wedding anniversary for
our parents. As for the book, I did
manage to send the proposal off to the agent for her review. It may take
another five months to hear back from her (as it did the first time), but I
will keep writing. </div>
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It is mid-July now, and I am trying to take it one day at a
time. The days and nights are calmer; the pace is slower, and a lot less
frantic. I am ever so grateful for this time to think, to write, to teach, to
grieve and to let go. Grateful
that I don’t have to rush off to work every day no matter what is going on, as so many moms do. Sometimes
in the midst of those ever-so chaotic times when the world is moving faster
than you feel like you can grasp, when life seems to throw you curve balls that
you are not able to dodge, I would say that as a mother, it can be very
tricky. As you deal with your own
pain and fear, you must deal with your children’s as well. And each child processes life’s curve balls differently, and they don't really tell you what their process is, because most likely they don't know. Some like to talk about how they feel, some internalize, some move to anger, and others want to pretend that everything is fine. As a mother, it can be downright excruciating to try to help navigate your child through their process of grief, as we are not even always sure how to direct ourselves. But in the spirit of yoga,
my advice would be to stay present, be honest with your feelings, take time to heal, and believe in your heart of hearts, and share with your children, that “this too shall pass.” Life can be
complicated, scary and often does not make a whole lot of sense, but hang onto
those you love, and somehow, some way, your world will come back into focus
even though it may look and feel slightly or significantly different.</div>
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<br /></div>writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-25509334006174594572012-04-10T21:00:00.001-07:002012-04-10T21:30:06.210-07:00The Days are Long But the Years are Short<br />
There are those pivotal moments when you see your child transform before your eyes. You realize that every ounce of energy that you have put into raising this child--all the time you spent worrying, all the pep talks you've given, all the times you've listened and advised, or just listened...and all the times you've yelled (you didn't mean to be yelling but you had to make sure she could hear you!)--worked. She is grown up, she is 17, she is beautiful, she is her own person. Her own person who has succeeded beyond your expectations and who has fallen flat on her face...and gotten back up, again and again. You have been there, you have guided her, you have loved her, you have mothered her through all of it.<br />
<br />
And here she stands, my height, with a maturity beyond anything that I was even close to having at 17...well beyond. I love her more than words can say. I am in awe of her person--the person who she has become, independent of me. I love what she brings to this world and to my heart. I love how she makes me laugh, how she lights up a room, how she talks too loud and chomps her food. I even love that she still throws tantrums (I taught her well!) I love it all.<br />
<br />
Talk of the upcoming summer that she will spend away at camp, talk of her being a senior, of her LAST year at home, with me, with us, and talk of her going away to college swirls around me. It is all talk right now. Because to internalize it makes my heart ache too much, and creates a lump in my throat. I know how fast a year goes. I know how fast 17 years has gone. She cried a lot when she was a baby. She bit other kids and she was bossy as a toddler. She drove me insane as an adolescent, and still continues to keep my hair colorist in business with all the grays she has given me as a teenager. But she has always and continues to amaze me with her intelligence, her wit and her zest for life. She has taught me how to live fully and to laugh a whole lot more.<br />
<br />
As I work on the book that I am writing for moms about the trials and tribulations of motherhood, I spend hours reading mothers' accounts of what their joys and challenges have been/are with their children, their spouses and within themselves. It causes me to do a tremendous amount of reflecting on my children's lives and of my transformation as a mother. I am not able to fully articulate how quickly the time goes. When you are in the throws of whatever you are in with your children, it seems like time stands still. And in a way it does. You are in a bubble, the child-rearing bubble. I remember wanting those days to go by a little faster and yearned for more time to myself. But as you start to see your way out of that bubble, it is a little bit scary, and you realize that although there are many challenges within the bubble, it is where you have spent your time with your child. There is comfort there, and popping that bubble is not as easy as it may seem.<br />
<br />
I looked over at my daughter's eyes in the kitchen yesterday. She looked different. She had the seriousness in her eyes that only adults have. But thankfully, her serious, focussed, beautiful blue eyes had a sparkle, not a little girl sparkle but a sparkle that is timeless and ageless--a sparkle that I hope she will never lose. Maybe she has had this look in her eyes for a while and I just didn't notice. Maybe I didn't want to notice. Maybe I don't want her to be grown up...and to leave. But I do. But I don't. But I....It is not up to me. She has grown up. She will leave. But...not quite yet! Thank goodness we have another year!<br />
<br />writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-47725072404592159612012-03-22T21:06:00.003-07:002012-03-23T06:14:19.606-07:00The Toddler Years Revisited – Only Now She Has Her Driver’s License<br />
<i>“Letting go doesn't mean we don't care. Letting go doesn't mean we shut down. Letting go means we stop trying to force outcomes and make people behave. It means we give up resistance to the way things are, for the moment. It means we stop trying to do the impossible--controlling that which we cannot--and instead, focus on what is possible--which usually means taking care of ourselves. And we do this in gentleness, kindness, and love, as much as possible.”</i> Melody Beattie, author and journalist<br />
<br />
Loosening the reigns, tightening the reigns; letting go and trying to exert control=the constant struggle with having a teen. You want to have some kind of control over their choices--where they are going, who they are with, and what they are doing. So many moms I have spoken with about raising a teen seem to have the same kind of post-traumatic stress/fear as I do. We all concur, “My parents had no clue what I was doing at 16, 17, 18, and even when they tried to figure it out, there were no cell phones, no internet. It was whole lot more difficult to find our exact whereabouts than it is now. And quite frankly, I am not quite sure that they even wanted to know what we were up to.” But it is a whole different ball game today. Parents are expected to know where their kids are at all times, and the thing about teens is that they are moving targets. They start out at a high school hockey game, then they go to Noodles to eat, then they head to Bobby’s house to hang out, but then Judy calls and wants them to come over, so they caravan over there. By the time curfew calls (and hopefully they are honoring that), they could have changed locations five times. Do parents need to know about every location change? Do you need to call Bobby’s mom and then Judy’s mom to make sure the parents are home and that they are expecting a group of teens?<br />
<br />
When my 16-year-old got her license. I expected her to text me with every location change, and I was a “caller,” as in I tended to call parents to make sure that they were home and expecting guests. My daughter was absolutely appalled and mortified that I was one of “those moms,” but I was okay with that label. Now, as she is in her second year of driving, I have loosened the reigns a bit. There have been times when I loosened them too much and needed to pull them tight again. And there have been times when my husband and I realized that she needed more space and that it was important for us to give it to her. But the bottom line is that you don’t really know for sure what that balance is. And furthermore, just when you think you are in a good groove with your teen, you have to keep in mind that even the most brilliant of teenagers, make dumb choices. Their brains are simply not capable of making logical connections between actions and consequences. <br />
<br />
In a November 28, 2010, article in the Star Tribune’s Parade section entitled “What’s Really Going on Inside Your Teen’s Head,” the author, Judith Newman reveals “When my friend’s son—a straight-A student and all-around sweetheart—recently ended up in the hospital getting his stomach pumped because he went out drinking with friends for the first time and had now clue how much was too much, that is when I realized: There is just no predicting. Even for the most responsible kids, there is always that combustible combination of youth, opportunity and one bad night.” Newman goes on to explain, “Truth is, the teenage brain is like a Ferrari: It’s sleek, shiny, sexy, fast, and it corners really well. But it also has really crappy brakes.”<br />
<br />
I have realized a lot about myself as a person and as a mother as I am now parenting two teens (as well as two school-aged kids). I have a very hard time letting go. I let my oldest go to summer camp when she was 8 and didn’t know a soul there; I let her travel to many out of town destinations with my parents, she has traveled unaccompanied to visit friends in other cities, and has traveled with a teen group to another country. But putting her behind the wheel of a car, where she is in a position to kill herself or others and sending her off into the world as a responsible, adult-like being was excruciating for me. It was like in the movie Father of the Bride when Steve Martin is looking at his daughter across the table and he sees her as this little girl in pigtails who can barely see over the table and she says in a squeaky voice, “I’m getting married.” That’s how I saw my daughter behind the wheel of the car. How can she drive a car when she can’t even see over the steering wheel?! But I didn't necessary think I would be that way!<br />
<br />
When she was 15 and got her driver’s permit, I thought I would be excited for her and excited to take her out driving. I would be the calm and cool mom sitting shotgun as her daughter drives around town. I would be giving her friendly reminders about signaling her turns and how to speed up and merge onto the freeway. But that was not even close to my reality! I could not even get out of the parking lot with her driving! All was fine when we practiced in the empty parking lot at a shopping mall during off hours on a Sunday. But when it was time for her to get out on the road…..NOOOOO! Stop!!! I couldn’t do it. Why? Because I was terrified. I was terrified that she was going to make a major driving mistake and that she would kill us both. And that couldn’t happen because I have three other children who need me! When I drive her around, I am in control. But having her drive me around was not going to work. I could not give her that control. No way, no how. Of course I wanted her to drive. It would eventually make my life easier. But that fear of letting go was a HUGE roadblock for me.<br />
<br />
Maybe I saw myself in her and that scared me even more. Let’s see, I had three accidents when I was 16. Only one involved another car that I unintentionally cut off and forced the driver to hit me. The woman got out of the car with a very bloody lip and I almost passed out. But as my mother has often told me, “Your daughter is not you, and you have to separate. Her mistakes won't be your mistakes.” Well, I let go enough to turn the driving coach job over to my husband. She learned how to drive. She got her license. She is a fine driver. I say a prayer every morning when she gets into the car with my three other children and drives them to school. “Precious cargo!!” I yell out the door as she pulls out of the driveway. It is scary to let go. Really scary-but necessary.<br />
<br />writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-31085514773261218352011-12-08T08:41:00.001-08:002012-03-12T20:30:41.851-07:00The Lessons in Listening to Our Children<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"While
we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is
all about."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Author:
Angela Schwindt</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Try writing down some lessons your children have taught you. It all starts with listening to our children, not the uh huh, yeah, sure kind of listening but the <i>really listening</i> kind. Do you ever feel like you are already formulating the lecture in your head as you are listening to your child talk about a problem or a concern? Any chance you could let those thoughts go and open up space to fully take in what your child is saying? Take a moment and ask your child how she feels about the situation. What does he think would be a good solution to the problem at hand? And then and only then, ask if she wants your advice. But hopefully he won't need it because he has figured out the problem on his own. And the more she does this, the more adept she will be at problem solving. Because you listened, you respected him, and you allowed her to feel empowered by her own ability to think critically, you were given the gift of learning how your child makes sense of people and the world around him. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"When they were
very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because
of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true </span></div>
<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">selves
because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be." (Author Anna Quindlan)</span></div>
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</b></span>writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-86854551294243005432011-12-07T13:00:00.001-08:002012-03-12T20:25:48.140-07:00Calling All Moms! Can Any of You Relate?<br />
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Mothers
today are riddled with worry and anxiety. I see them in the grocery store, at
the mall, in the halls of my kids’ school. I see them on TV, I hear them
through my cell phone. I see one when I look in the mirror. Every day, the
questions swirl about starting from day one: Am I feeding him the right
formula? Am I horrible for not breastfeeding? My baby has colic, what am I doing wrong? Why is he not
potty-trained yet? Did I cause his ADD?
Should I medicate him? How is sending the kids to daycare going to
effect them long-term? Am I sending my kid to the right school? Should I hold
him back if he has a summer birthday? Is she playing the right sports? Should
he be getting tutored for school? Am I feeding them the right foods? Is she
wearing the right clothes? Am I spoiling him? Am I too tough on her? Is he
hanging out with the right people? Why is she acting so disrespectful? Why do
my kids fight so much? Why do I yell so much? Why do despise my teenager sometimes? Should I complain that
I was in the car for four hours today driving kids to soccer, baseball, tennis
and religious school? Why am I crabby and tired all the time? I hate that I am
15 pounds overweight but can’t find the time to exercise. Is it really terrible
that I haven’t had sex with my husband for months, let alone a conversation
lasting for more than 10 minutes squeezed between meeting the kids’ demands? Do
I even like my husband? My marriage is deteriorating but divorce is "bad" for the
kids. My in-laws are driving me insane.
How are we going to afford to send our kids to college? I should be working because we could use
the income but I feel guilty having my kids in day care. I should be staying
home but we can’t afford for me not to work. I miss my girlfriends. Is there
really such a thing as getting your groove back after becoming a mom? I hardly
remember what my groove is. I am taking care of my kids and my aging parents--0
time for me. I am raising a teenager and going through menopause (or
mental-pause as I like to call it). Yikes! And the list goes on…How can we manage to maintain our sanity given all these pressures? More to come on this in future blogs! </div>writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-67929062855811727322011-12-05T10:43:00.001-08:002011-12-08T09:28:48.055-08:00Adolescence: “What the heck?!” (Do your kids say that all the time? Mine do.)An article I wrote for a parenting magazine:<br />
<br />
As I entered the parenting arena nearly 15 years ago, I
began to hear all sorts of talk about colicky babies, the terrible twos, and
the f-ing fours (sorry, that’s what my friends called it). But I noticed that people started to
clam up a bit as their kids hit the earliest stages of puberty. When I’d
complain about something my toddler was doing, like wetting the bed or throwing
food at the dinner table, people with older kids would respond with a little
chuckle, “Oh yeah, just you wait.”
And that’s about all they would say. But they would be grinning…in an
almost evil kind of way.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Adolescence sneaks up on us and we are almost blindsided by
it. It is a force that takes hold
of our angelic kids and throws them into an internal turmoil, and one that
lasts for years. Adolescents are sweet and kind, they LOVE you; you are the
BEST! And then, with a flip of a switch, they HATE you! They are NEVER going to talk to you
again, they wish they had different parents, they tell you that you are doing
everything wrong, you have no idea how to parent, you do not understand them
and that if only you would listen to them, then things would go smoothly. And for a split second you think that
maybe they are right. You question
yourself as a parent and as a person, “What have I done?!” You wonder if you are indeed qualified
for this job. You know you are
supposed to remain strong but you feel very, very weak--almost overpowered--but
you can’t let them see that. You
cannot show any signs of vulnerability or wavering because you know what they
do with that! They pounce! And your son is on you once again,
explaining with incredible articulation that if he doesn’t get to go to the
concert that ALL his friends are going to without an adult chaperone, his life
will surely fall apart. He will
miss the most important event of his life and will never be invited to another
social gathering throughout junior and senior high. His friends will tease him
that his parents are over-protective and they will never want to come over to
his house to hang out so he just might as well just quit school because he is
not going to have any friends! And P.S., IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is a very strange time, adolescence. It is a time filled with internal
contradictions: A time of independence and neediness; growth and insecurity;
confidence and fear; socialization and loneliness. It seems as though you almost have to be a mental health
professional to understand how to guide your kids through this time. But do you? Are there some basic presiding principles for parents
that can help us to not only survive our kids’ adolescence but to actually do
some good during it? I am not a
professional. I have four kids
from the ages of 14 down to 4, and most of the time, I am learning as I go
(don’t tell my kids). But I will
share some things that I have learned over the years, and then will hand you
over to a real professional who will share her insights and tips on raising
adolescents by having a better understanding of them and what they are going
through. <o:p></o:p></div>
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1) Don’t be afraid to say no. Setting limits and sticking to
them is crucial to getting your kids to understand and respect boundaries.<o:p></o:p></div>
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2) Know your kids’ friends. Know their cell phone numbers.
Look at their Facebook pages (as well as your own kid’s, of course!) Attempt to
know the parents of your kids’ friends. And communicate with them. It takes a
village to keep adolescents on the straight and narrow.<o:p></o:p></div>
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3) Communicate with your adolescent’s advisor or teacher/s.
Find out how she is doing is school (not just academically).<o:p></o:p></div>
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4) Take every opportunity to talk with your child. Ask
questions. Listen. Remember. Check in. And keep doing this. And when they don’t
want to talk, come back later and try again, and again, and again. Do NOT give
up on keeping the lines of communications open.<o:p></o:p></div>
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5) Remember to be the parent, not the buddy. They have
buddies. They need parents to lead, guide, and advise them (even though they
would never admit that). Not that
you shouldn’t have fun with them—au contraire, have a blast! But first and
foremost, be a parent, not a playmate.<o:p></o:p></div>
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6) Stay cool when they “freak out.” They need the comfort of
seeing you stay calm when they are feeling out of control. A parent and adolescent both “freaking
out” simultaneously… NOT a good thing (trust me, I’ve been there).<o:p></o:p></div>
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7) Show them love as much as possible. Even when they are
“hating” you, they still need you to love them. And sometimes love comes in the
form of tough love: “You can go to the concert with your friends under one
condition; I will be sitting in the row behind you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, there’s my stab at pretending like I know something
about parenting adolescents. Who
knows, maybe by the time my 4-year-old gets to be 14, I will look back on this
advice and have a good laugh. But with a 14-year-old girl and a 12-year-old
boy, I am certainly in the throws of trying to figure things out in the
adolescent arena (and yes, still dealing with the fun 4s as well…and then
there’s my 7-year-old who will soon start to sneak toward the big A just as the
older ones, oh please, are through it!). Thank goodness for professionals,
right?! So, here is Katy
McCormick Pearson who has worked with adolescents for the past 20 years as a
special education teacher, Outward Bound Instructor, and currently as the
middle school counselor at the Breck School in Golden Valley. Katy is also the
mother of two emerging female adolescents:<o:p></o:p></div>
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Adolescence can be an exciting, turbulent, time for both
parents and the adolescents themselves.
An adolescent person experiences changes in physical development at the
rate of speed unparalleled since infancy.
An adolescent’s brain is not fully developed until a person is about
20-25 years old. The connections between neurons affecting the emotional and
physical development are incomplete at this stage. Many adolescents have difficulty controlling emotions,
impulses and judgment due to this incomplete yet ongoing brain
development. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The upside of the adolescent brain is that teens are able to
engage in more logical thinking.
They can handle more options and possibilities in this stage of
development and, therefore, can begin to grapple with abstract concepts such as
faith, trust and beliefs. Many
teens become activists during this stage in life and appreciate being taken
seriously. They can be quick to
see discrepancies with adult’s words and actions. There is a strong sense of a need for justice at these
ages. Adults can help by including
adolescents in developing rules and consequences for themselves. It is important to provide
structure for adolescents especially since their judgment/impulse control is
not quite effective and many have a false sense of being invincible when in the
throws of adolescence. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The main task of an adolescent is to establish their
identity. They are in a phase of
life between childhood and adulthood.
They are starting to develop autonomy within relationships, establishing
their sexual identity and learning how to further interact with intimacy in all
of their relationships. An
adolescent’s body is often awkward as different parts align together. Many adolescents are self-conscious and
a bit “me-centered.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Parents can help by encouraging healthy eating habits,
exercise, and allowing time for those growing bodies to have a good night’s
rest. Don’t criticize or compare
your adolescent to others. Patience and understanding is key when living and
loving an adolescent. Parents will
need to be “the bigger person” and not take many interactions with their
son/daughter too personally.
Remember that adolescence is a stage. Enjoy the journey together. Adolescence is a rite of passage and you are the guide.<o:p></o:p></div>writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-53762632762120861282011-08-15T20:53:00.001-07:002012-02-29T20:12:02.931-08:00Not Just Any Teenage RomanceOf course you want to be happy for your teenage daughter when you see the sparkle in her eye. The sparkle that shows that she has felt the stirrings of love, or whatever you call the feelings of a teenage romance. You remember those times not that long ago that you held her as she cried, and told her that she IS pretty and smart and funny, and that a boy WILL want her to be his girlfriend, and he will want to be her boyfriend. And you told her that she shouldn't base how she feels about herself on whether a boy is interested in her. She doesn't need that validation. But you knew she didn't believe you. You actually knew exactly how she felt because it seems like not that long ago that you felt that way too. It seemed that everyone around you had a boyfriend, but it just wasn't your time. And you wondered if it would ever be.<br />
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But now you see her sparkle and you notice her smiling and laughing a lot more, and you know that this is her time. And you are happy for her and you are scared. Scary, unpredictable, tumultuous, passionate teenage love. You want to throw up all the warning signs (and vomit as well): Proceed with caution, go slow, danger ahead, beware of the bumpy road...And you talk to her about some of this, and you try to get something out of her, but you know that she will need to navigate this one on her own, and that she will most likely consult with her friends about it, rather than you. You can talk to her about being safe, making good choices, remind her of her (and your) values and staying true to herself. But you know that teenage love can cause teenagers to lose themselves in the throws of this wonderful newfound feeling of infatuation and lust. You know that you did, or at least you wanted to. You pray that she will use good judgment. How very different and scary it is to be mothering your teenage daughter through this frenzied, unpredictable time. Hold on tight and let go.writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3154593389704780382.post-64059791555937886032011-08-06T10:53:00.000-07:002011-08-06T10:53:11.598-07:00Making MistakesThey all do. Make mistakes, that is. Kids, adolescents, teens make mistakes. They fall down, they hurt themselves, they cry, they get back up and try again. One of the hardest things I have encountered as I parent my four children, is knowing when to leave her/him on the ground for a while, and let her figure out how to pick herself up, or when to run to him right away and be the one to pick him up. When children are younger they obviously need help in getting up from their falls but as they get older, we need to start to resist the urge to come so quickly to their aid. My two older children are 17 and 14 and they have each made their fair share of mistakes. Yes, they have learned from them and yet I realize that they will continue to make them and hopefully continue to learn. But so often the real learning comes from letting your child endure the full consequences of their mistakes, which cannot happen if we quickly try to pick up the pieces for them or cushion their fall.<br />
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One of the most instinctive drives we have as a parent is to protect our children, so the letting them fall strategy can be all but excruciating. And it goes further than that. It is what we do from there. Do we try to clean things up for them, erase their mistakes, cover for them, save them from embarrassment or shame? As an outsider, the answer seems so clear. Of course you don't do that. How will they learn? But I am here to tell you, that as easy as it is to know what to do, the execution of this is not so easy. Why? Because tough love is hard. Because they will ask (beg) for your help. They will feel alone in dealing with the consequences of their mistakes and they will try to pull you in. The boundaries between their hurt and your hurt become clouded. But we know in our heads that we are doing them a disservice by taking on their pain because if they know that mom is going to feel badly about what they do, they are less accountable for their actions, and therefore the real learning will not happen. They will not own their own mistakes. So as they tug at our heartstrings, and our own desire to scoop them up and make it all better kicks in, remind yourself that by resisting the desire to take the fall for them, you are helping them develop their own internal compass, which they desperately need to make good decisions, guide them through their lives, and ultimately to keep them safe.writingforfamilieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17904339218476723627noreply@blogger.com0