Follow What?

I had a conversation this week with my friend and her mother when I went to meet her sweet 2 week old daughter that was so adorably small that I could just eat her up (not literally, of course, because cannibalism is generally frowned upon in most social circles). We were talking about this tiny child's future and how we as parents can counteract the entitled culture in which we live. Though I'm certain we have different opinions about a lot of things, we hold very similar beliefs in parenting. She began talking about education and respectfulness and then spoke with sarcasm and disdain those 3 little words that I have also grown to detest.

Follow your heart.

"Follow your heart" makes me want to punch someone. It's hands down the worst advice we could ever give someone, especially our children.

Why are we buying into this pop culture's line of crap and encouraging children to follow their hearts? It's essentially saying, "follow your emotions, follow your hormones, follow your whim." Why are we encouraging each other to let our feelings take precedent over our brains?

As my friend stated so eloquently, "Why are we telling hormonally charged middle schoolers to follow their hearts?" Isn't it essentially giving them permission to do whatever they want and take whatever and whomever they want regardless of consequences? This mentality is creating selfish, careless, disrespectful children.

I was at my favorite fro-yo place last Sunday and it happened to be a slow time of day, so it was only my family there. The only employee was a fresh-out-of high-school girl working her way to beauty school. I asked her a couple friendly questions and she began telling me that during busy times, teenagers will enter through the back door, fill up their cups and run out the back door without paying. I was (and still am) appalled at the fact that these kids have not been taught one of the most simple commandments, "Thou shalt not steal."  But, aren't they just following their hearts? Their hearts told them, "I want fro-yo. I want it and I deserve it and the store has so much money so this pocket full of my dad's cash is not necessary."

Just a minute...

Let me pull out my soap box...

Here are 10 better alternatives to "follow your heart."

1.  Follow the rules.  Rules are there for a reason. They make us better citizens, better humans and help us have better relationships. The 10 commandments are here to make life easier. Don't steal, murder, covet, cheat, etc. A moral code that is designed to protect us from unnecessary pain and consequences.

2.  Follow the leader.  A good one. As long as it's not someone like Jim Jones, it's good to follow the leader. Leaders help us grow. They teach us. If it's a good leader, she or he will care about you and your success. A bad leader manipulates and controls. Follow a good leader.

3.  Follow good examples.  We are examples for our children. Though we probably don't really want them to learn the outbursts of emotion and frustration from us, they follow us and learn from us. Our children will follow our example anyway, so start early in living an upright lifestyle.

4.  Follow Jesus.  He's the best example of how to live our lives. Even if you're not a believer in his Diety and his death and resurrection to save mankind from eternal separation from God, no one would deny that he is a great example of how to live and love.

5. Follow the plan.  Plans are good. Though they get disrupted and sometimes it's good to deviate, plans are essentially good. I have an eating and exercise plan. I've actually had one for a long time, it's just that I'm finally following it (for now). It's healthy. I'm healthier.

6.  Follow directions.  There's a reason there is an instruction manual in the box. There's a reason maps and GPS exist. Directions have been thought out and laid out to make life easier. Directions are there to help us get from one place to another. They are there to guide us.

7.  Follow the ball.  My husband played football, basketball, tennis and baseball during high school and college, and he would tell you that the key to many successes in ball sports is following the ball. Keep your eye out. Watch carefully for what's coming your way, so you can get the best out of it.

8. Follow through.  Keep your word. Finish your project. Keep working! So many kids and adults lack the capacity to follow through with much these days. Parents are constantly stepping in to save the day and finish the task,  leaving no consequences to learn from. Yes, as parents, we want to protect our children, but we are not doing our kids any favors not letting them suffer natural consequences of laziness or poor choices. There is a fine balance. I know someone who has not held a steady job his entire adult life and is still living off his parents' credit card at age 43. Apparently, his heart keeps telling him that he's too good for his job.

9. Follow your nose.  Instinct is God's gift to us to help guide us in making decisions. Not to be confused with the heart, the nose can sniff out bad investments of time, friends and money (among others). It can smell danger. Many years ago, my mother followed her nose to take her 6 week old son to the E.R. in the middle of the night instead of waiting until morning. It saved his life. He was in heart failure and the doctor said he would not have made it through the night.

10. Follow my blog.  For the occasional snark, tutorial or my latest rant about parenting or rush hour traffic,  click the "follow" tab.

Following your heart is different than following your dreams. Dreams and goals aren't bad, but you'll notice I didn't include that in my list. Dreams are good. Life happens. Dreams change and morph. Dreams are shattered. Some people are blessed enough to live out their childhood dreams, others don't get the opportunity. He dreamed of marriage and an active life; he was in an accident that left him a quadriplegic. She dreamed of a family that loves Jesus; her husband left her for someone else. He dreamed of a good stable job; the company downsized. She dreamed of a big family; she couldn't have children. He dreamed of paying off his house early; he married a woman who loves to shop (sorry, Honey! Your wife doesn't love to follow the budget). If we hold on to our dreams too tightly, we can miss out on enjoying the life we have or we can become bitter when those dreams die. So, sure. Follow your dreams...but hold to them loosely.

You can follow lots of good things. Just please don't follow your heart. Your heart lies to you. It tells you that grass is greener. It tells you that your wants are needs. Your heart tells you that "just this once will be fine." It tells you you won't get caught. Your heart tells you that you deserve. It tells you that you are at the center of the universe.

The prophet Jeremiah so eloquently said it this way:

"The heart is more deceitful than all else, and desperately sick.  Who can understand it?" (Jer. 17:9)

Who indeed can understand how wicked the heart is?  You wouldn't follow someone capable of cheating, swindling and lying, would you?  Then don't follow your heart.

Just. don't. do. it.

dabble in dance?

I want to admit to the world how perfect I really am.  I know you're all terribly jealous of my endless talent and size 0 post-baby body (notice I have not updated my photo in many many years).

I joined the YMCA recently because, well, I love Body Pump.  And by "love" I mean "hate." And by "hate" I mean "it's my favorite way to get and stay in shape, even though I hate working out."  I decided, after 10 long months of seeing the scale move up 2, down 2, up 3, down 4, up 1, etc., that I should maybe do something besides starve myself.  And by "starve" I mean eat potato chips, ice cream, cookies and pasta.  Those extra 25 lbs. aren't going to maintain themselves!

Are you following my code?  Good.

I would like to tell you all about my amazing dancing talent by describing my latest experience with Zumba.  (And by amazing, I mean...)  Zumba is SO very cool for those of the human race who were blessed enough to receive the gift of coordination.  I'll give you a window to my world of mad skills.

I enter the class at 10:05 and it is filled with ladies of all ages, shapes and sizes along with one middle aged man.  I think to myself, how hard can this be?  The lady behind me has got to be at least 90.  I find my friend, stand by her, and the instructor asks if anyone is new.  I do not raise my hand.  Normally, I'd love to draw attention to myself, but not this particular Thursday morning.  My friend informs me that the instructor is a sub and that the regular girl who is super fun and cute was the one she really wanted me to meet.

The music starts. Step touch, step touch.  Hey this isn't so bad! I've actually done this step touch thing before when I took a community ed tap dancing class 12 years ago.

Now she adds arms.  Up and out, and other arm, up and out.  Whoa, hold on. I'm just getting into this step touch thing.

As soon as I feel confident enough in my feet, I attempt to add the arms, a good 16 beats behind the rest of the class.

And suddenly...change everything!  Step kick and slide and kick. And one arm up and bend and flick and turn and belly roll and thrust and jump.

I find myself standing still while the older lady behind me is following along perfectly and dancing her adorable heart out in perfect rhythm.  Maybe if I watch the Italian (or Greek or other exotic ethnic) beauty in the front row, I can copy her graceful moves and catch on better.  Hey, yeah!  That's totally working!  I'm not so bad after all!  Here we go! I'm totally gaining some confidence now.  I've got this!

Then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realize I'm only swaying to the music.  Crap.

End of first song.  I grab some water, not because I'm thirsty, winded or even warm, but because everyone else is doing it and it's something to which I actually can follow along.

And that's the first 6 minutes.  I only have to repeat this process for the next 54 minutes.  Oh joy.  This is like a bad dance audition, except at dance auditions, I'm sweating more because I'm so stressed out that people are watching and judging (instead of watching and laughing). I suffer through the next song, then the next, then only 5 more while I watch the clock go more slowly than ever.

And the instructor thanks us all for coming while I laugh at myself and invite my friend to join me in making fun of my mad skills.

Though I'm not really sweating or winded at all since it was more a spectator sport for me, I did get a great ab workout from laughing so hard!

they just keep having birthdays

My newly-turned-seven daughter loves to wait until the last minute to decide on her birthday.  This year, she couldn't figure out if she wanted a friends party or an extended family party.  Finally 3 days before her birthday, she decided that she wanted to invite friends.  

So, we had an extended family party.

She finally decided that she wanted a tea party.

We had a cookout.

But I did make her a tea party cake.  She wanted a 2 tiered cake, even though I knew we'd never eat all the cake.

She loves "Pink Teddy" and she loves her sister, so on the cake was her "Pink Teddy" and her sister's "Hippy" bunny having a tea party on her polkadot blanket.

She was pretty thrilled and I even let the girls put some of the decorations on.  I never do that, so their "Mommy, you make the best cakes in the whole world!" and "Only God makes better cakes than you!" comments did well for them.

Here's the tea party.  Happy Birthday, my sweet 7 year old!

boys will be boys

Me: I need to write a blog
Him (barely listening): OK...
Me: I haven't written anything funny lately.
Him: uh huh...OK
Me: Are you listening? What can I write about that's funny?
Him: Write about farts. Farts are funny.

Growing up with 3 sisters and a brother, we did not talk about...no...we did not acknowledge bodily functions. Someone left the bathroom smelling nasty, we ignored it. Someone passed gas, it didn't really happen. If one of us tried to comment on the smelly butt, that was the one that got the look of shame, not the one with the gas problem. "Nice girls don't say that word."

It was what it was. I thought every family was that way.

Then I met my husband.

He is from a family of all boys. His mother is the sole woman in the family of 6, bless her heart. Every time he and his brothers get together, they regress into their boyish discussions about gas and poop. I'm pretty sure that not a family function has gone by where my husband and his brothers are not bent over with their sides splitting of laughter about gas or poop. I like to think I'm somewhat amusing, but has he ever laughed uncontrollably when I say something funny? Nope. But when his brother farts, he can't contain himself. It's rather distressing to me that this is the only thing he finds hilarious, but boys will be boys, no matter what age they are.  I guess there are worse things.

So, there you are. Clearly I am grasping at straws for subject matter. Inspired by my husband, I blogged about farts.

Nice.

Snug as a Bug

I have an irrational fear. I'm not sure I know very many people who are also afraid of ladybugs. I also hate animal crackers, so yes, I realize I'm weird. I suppose I could go to therapy for it, but after this many years, I've come to accept it as one of my little quirks. It makes me that much more endearing, right? I know, I'm a freak, but, it's better than being afraid of socks or pencils.

My dear friend had a baby shower last week and I got to make the cupcakes. Guess what the theme of the party was?  I chuckled inside and went to work. I have to say that despite my fear, I was rather excited when I got the invitation.

stock photo from tinyprints.com

There's something that gets me very emotional when people tell me that they're expecting a girl. I think it's because I always wanted a girl to pass down my love for working with my hands. As my husband is from a family of all boys, I didn't think my odds were very good to even get one, but I am blessed with two...and they both LOVE baking, music and art. Mommy-to-be is a dancer and choreographer and I know her little girl will be wearing a tutu and tap shoes the minute she takes her first steps (if not earlier), and I'm so excited for her.

So, enough about babies. Let's talk more about me! and the cupcakes...

Here they are. Buttery yellow cupcakes with raspberry cream filling and buttercream frosting, topped with some frightening little creatures!

It's a Rocky Road!

I'm sitting here with a baby boy on my lap who has just discovered the keyboard. It's rather challenging to type n , jmn n hjk nhj  nhj     n  mn  n

I was browsing the internet early this morning. And when I say early morning browsing, I mean your basic 2am insomniatic browsing.  I came across some stunningly gorgeous "Alice in Wonderland" theme cupcakes on Flickr.  I started browsing all the cupcakes from this particular artist and discovered one that looked particularly delicious: Rocky Road. It had it all: chocolate, peanut sprinkles, marshmallows and it was topped off with a generous drizzle of caramel sauce. YUM!  s I looked further at this artist's photos, I discovered that all of the cupcakes were 100% fake. No wonder this person put so much detail into every cupcake! They'll last forever, why not?

Despite the trickery, I decided to practice the Rocky Road cupcakes for my husband's birthday next week. They look so yummy, do they not? Ok, maybe not as yummy as the fake ones, but unlike those that had the perfect caramel drizzle, these actually TASTE yummy too, complete with a filling of marshmallow goodness.

While shopping for ingredients, I came across something I'd never seen before. I found, in the coffee isle near the hot chocolate mix, this little hidden treasure of fun. 02io55n.054p
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(Sorry, more baby babble.)

Apparently, they've been around for more than a year. I'm not sure why I haven't come across them before today, but they're little crunchy bits of deliciousness just like you'd find in marshmallow cocoa mix. Brilliant! When I was a kid, I never thought there were nearly enough in the packets.

So, a new menu item and a new find equals a successful day.

NOW, he falls asleep!

Jim

When I was a kid, I had a forever best friend. Shanna. It seemed that I couldn't spend too much time with her. I think I was at her house all the time, running up and down her very cool 80's spiral staircase, ice-skating, swimming in her pond or spying on her older brother, Chris. I loved going to her house because she had real Barbies. She was funny and fun and I think she thought the same of me. I made fun of her for putting ketchup on her mac and cheese and she made fun of me for putting milk on mine. I still think she was weirder. I'm guessing our parents must have grown weary of hearing the same series of questions after church every Sunday:

"Can I go to Shanna's (Jill's) house?"
"Can Shanna (Jill) come over?"

Shanna and me in our matching "jams" shorts

(and Misty the cat)

Our parents were good friends as well. Our moms spent time together and that suited us kids perfectly. Donna (Shanna's mom) was a color fashion consultant at the time and my mom was (and still is) fascinated by what colors we can and should wear. (Remember when we all had our "colors" done?) Shanna and her mom were always out in front of the fashion trends (well...for Nebraska), so when Shanna got her girl mullet, I had to copy her and get one too.

Inevitably my family moved away when I was 10 and though I viewed moving to Florida as a grand adventure, I knew I would miss my friend. And I did. There were many tears of a sad heart in my new home. We wrote letters back and forth and exchanged birthday and Christmas gifts for years. Eventually the letters became fewer until we finally lost touch after college. I had heard that her parents moved to Kansas. Life moves on.

Shanna and her family visited us a few years after we moved

I remember the summer day in 1998 my father told me that Jim, Shanna's dad had passed away. Jim and his younger brother Stanley were flying the company Sabreliner home from a job and the plane crashed in the flint hills of Kansas. Their wives were waiting for them at the airport. My heart hurt for my long lost friend and her family. I remember my parents being very sad and shocked. I know there is never any easy way to lose someone you love so much, but I can't imagine how hard it is when you don't get to say goodbye. To this day my father still talks about Jim with amazing respect, "He was such a solid, cool guy and he loved the Lord."

Once upon a time, due to the blessing and curse of social media, Shanna and I found each other again. Over time, as we became reacquainted, I began to realize why we were such good friends as kids. I began to understand why our parents were good friends. Each time we converse, she has my side aching from laughter. We still have the same sense of humor; we both love cake; we both love art. We both love to claim the "mother of the year" award when we've had an epic fail. We share our joys and sorrows with each other and we pray for each other and our families.

Shanna emailed me a few weeks ago and asked me to make her an apron. I've made her aprons before, but this was a special apron request. She found a dress shirt that belonged to her father tucked away in her closet and decided she wanted an apron made from it. The request put tears in my eyes. What a beautiful idea to remember her dad!

"My dad was extremely creative and a tremendous artist. I always prided myself with the fact that I got all my creative genes from my dad. Three to four years ago, I started this cake business. I know he'd be my biggest fan. His two loves were art and sweets...fitting, huh? Now every time I make a cake and wear the apron, it'll be like a little piece of him is with me."

"My husband never met him...he died four years before we met, but I talk about him so much that it's as if he did know him. My boys all talk about Papa Jim like they saw him yesterday. They know everything about him and yell, 'HI PAPA JIM!' every time we drive by a cemetery. Makes me laugh and smile every time. I just think it's so important to keep those memories alive."

As soon as I got Shanna's shirt in the mail, I couldn't wait to start on it. She mentioned that she didn't have any half aprons, but I liked the idea of using the front and collar to make sure it maintained the shirt look. I decided to make the top half removable so she can choose which way she wants to wear it.

Shanna said that she wishes I had been able to know her dad more. Having my parents talk about Jim and Donna with such respect and love gives me a little insight into the incredible man he was and the kind of life he led. As a kid, I saw him pretty much as my friend's dad. I guess, when you think about it, that says it all. He is my good friend's dad, and she's pretty amazing. I look forward to meeting up with him in heaven some day to thank him for the incredible opportunity of knowing his daughter.

______________________________________________________________

some of Jim's artwork

Jim and his beautiful family

James Donnell Roth

Jan 3, 1943 - July 18, 1998