Collecting Pieces of the Past- Bullies

Occasionally God wants to really hammer something home for me, and the issue comes up over and over and over until I deal with it. I do the same thing to/ for my children, when they are struggling with something: help them work on it until it's under control.

My issue (or one of them) is "guarding." I guard my issues, my past, my testimony, my daily messes. It's a tradition that we passed down in my family, generation through generation; similar to "saving face," or preserving your reputation. I believe that when we (my sisters and I) witnessed family members staying mum about issues, we indirectly learned that being open meant inviting judgment. We wouldn't be safe. No one meant to teach those things...and I know a lot of it came from a generation that just behaved and believed differently. I'm not placing blame.

Recently a friend posted this great article on secrets. Read it, if you like, it might stir you the same way it did me.

And so, I started thinking about our family's "secrets," my own issues from the past, and even the current things (minor and major) that I keep behind locked doors. It's so ingrained in me that I don't always realize I'm doing it. Until I see other, more transparent people. Part of it is personality, part is upbringing, and a lot of it is simply that these people want to help others and they put themselves out there to do it. They share because sharing helps. They make the choice to reveal themselves, regardless of what anyone else thinks. I respect and admire that.

Because I plan to slowly but surely learn some transparency (God's doing some work, I tell ya!) I'll start with some clarification up front.

I don't believe every private detail of life should be shouted from the rooftops. Nor do I believe that it's okay to share someone's story for them. My sister wrote an amazing post about pornography, but it's not something I would have presumed to share about her life, if she wasn't open about it. My family reads this blog, from time to time, and I don't anyone to be nervous that I'll leak personal information about them. If I want to write about something that involves you, I'll ask first, promise!
Now that the preliminaries are out of the way, I'll get started.

Bullying. (some offensive material below...)

Yeah, it's not something I talk about often, but it's a daily issue for thousands of kids. I've been hearing about all of these teen & college suicides because of bullying. Then, on Wednesday, our local newspaper in Small Townville had an article on the front page about a sixth grader who was making life-threatening comments to a female fellow student, via facebook. At one point, he said that if she wouldn't perform oral sex for him, he would kill her. People, I'm talking about 6th graders in my town. That's 11- and 12-year olds. My daughter is 11-years old.

The boy was expelled for 5 days. Which-- I'll be honest-- I consider a slap on the wrist. I'm sure the school is taking this seriously, and doing all that they can. But, let's face it, teachers are already responsible for the education of 20+ students. They can't monitor students 24/7. They can't be everywhere. They can't protect your child everywhere s/he goes.

But let me get to my own story.

When I was little, I was very shy. I had some good friends, and just stuck to my little group. I made good grades and behaved well, and became good friends with several of my elementary school teachers. I really enjoyed school! Then, around 3rd or 4th grade, a few students started to pick on me. One boy in particular would taunt me every day on the playground, calling me "big lips" or "fuzz hair." Then a girl chimed in, saying I had bad nails, and echoing the "big lips" nickname. I was so ashamed. My body image crashed. At first, I just tried to avoid him, or hide. Then I started dreading school, and actually feeling ill in the mornings. It was "minor" bullying, but it was mean and effective. Kids can be cruel.

The next year got better. That kid wasn't in my 5th grade class, and I could relax and enjoy school again. I'm sure he simply found someone new to pick on. My 6th grade year was fine. Not very memorable. But 7th grade was a whole new ballgame. We were in the junior high, suddenly walking between buildings... lots of kids everywhere without much supervision. There were bullies everywhere. If they weren't bullying me, then I was witnessing it happening to others. I hated that year. The girls were the worst. It's as if they all grew claws.

My family was close, and my parents always spent a lot of time with us. I had no reason to hide my feelings, except that I felt ashamed. I never told my parents about the early bullying incidents... still haven't told them.

Thankfully, my parents asked us if we wanted to be homeschooled that next year, which was my 8th grade year. I jumped at the opportunity, and had one of the BEST years of my childhood. It was fantastic-- so much time with my family and good friends. I woke up early and started my work on my own, often working outside. Dad had all of our lesson plans written out in the book, and I'd just check things off as I completed them. Mom would help, if I needed her to, and Dad would grade our papers in the evening. I clearly remember laying outside in my backyard one day, reading my history. Suddenly I stopped and just looked around. Birds were chirping, the breeze was blowing, I could smell bread baking. And, at that moment, I almost cried because I was so happy, felt so safe and secure and loved. Every morning my mom made blender drinks for breakfast and we had chef salads for lunch. My parents took us to art galleries, on hikes... so many family activities all the time. Family Game Night was a weekly event in our house. We took walks almost every evening, and had family devotions often. Wish life had just stayed like that.

Then my family moved to South Carolina the following summer. I decided to try public school, so I could make new friends in our new city. That was one of the worst mistakes of my life. And, really, at this point, I don't plan to give my own kids that option. My parents couldn't have known how bad that year would be for me. My life went into a spiral for the next 3 years.

I was thrust into a new world of fighting, drugs, sex. The high school was a 3-story building, with 30 trailers behind it to deal with overcrowding. When the bell rang to change classes, students filed out and packed into the halls like sardines. There were fights every day over the rebel flag. Students were searched all the time for drugs. There were two student suicides and one homicide during the year I was there. Kids were caught having sex in the science lab.

I had a few good friends, but wasn't able to see them often. I was sad and alone, and figured out pretty quickly that I had better find a group, to stay safe.

Oh my. This is getting long, and I haven't even gotten to the real stuff. More soon about my own experience. I will share.

For now, I'll jump to the point: don't let it continue. If you suspect that your child is being bullied, find out! (Actually, I advise just point-blank asking often! And don't just use the word "bullying." Get information!) If the school can't put an end to it, then YOU deal with it. Pull your child out. Find another school. Try virtual school, charter school, or homeschool. Please Don't assume it's just something kids need to get through; some kind of insane rite of passage or something. It's not okay. It doesn't go away if you ignore it. It escalates and often leads to rape or other physical abuse, or suicide. Read the research. There are literally thousands of articles on this, and stories from victims of bullying.

Even if it seems mild, the effects are long-lasting. Don't sit by. Don't let it continue. Do whatever-- whatever-- you can, even if it means moving away. Does that sound extreme? I'm sure the parents of the children who committed suicide wouldn't think so.

Here's one family's story.

And here is a link to volume 1 of the Bully Chronicles written by a dear friend of mine. To read more about her experiences, look down on the right hand sidebar of her blog. It's important stuff. Not pleasant to hear, but important to know about, if we're going to change things.

I hope this helps someone to feel like they're not alone. I hope it prompts parents to get more information and stand up for their kids. I hope it helps a teacher realize the seriousness of the situation. I hope it encourages the friend of a victim to report the situation. I just hope it helps.

More later.

Painting for painting's sake

Sometimes we study artists, periods, styles...

and sometimes we paint just for painting's sake. Don't you love my Wendy's cup??
I'll tell you, my personal artwork picks up when I'm processing things. And lately I've had a lot to process. Just articles I've been reading...decisions... some confusion... (sigh)

Things are going well with school. Fred starts night shift tomorrow, which I'm not exactly thrilled about.

We're going to have some adjusting to do this week.

I trust that the job will work out.

I believe that God will help me process the things I'm mulling over.

Stenciled Skirt

I bought this awesome gray t-shirt fabric skirt at a yard sale, even though it was two sizes too big. Wish I'd taken a before picture.
I cut the strips shorter, so it would fall just below my knee, tightened up the waist band, and decided to stencil black leaf patterns on the fabric folds.

Love, love it. It works with heels or knee-high black boots. I'm afraid I would look much too short wearing this style with flats.
Proof that you can stencil almost anything!

Yep, just wearing knee-high black flowered socks in this picture.
Pictures courtesy of my 9-year old NatureMan. Thanks, kid.

Fall Picture Sampling

We decided to scout out the area where we'll take our "official" fall pictures later this month, for Christmas cards.

Love, love the old buildings, peeling paint, ancient doors, bridges...

Papaw, with four of his great-grandchildren!

I'm telling you, I think he has almost as much energy as they do!

To the tracks we go

TheArtist is not only an artist, but also an extremely obsessed-with-horses little girl. From birth. Some kids might as well have just popped right out on a saddle.

When she was tiny and called everything "hosey," I thought it was just a cute little stage that all toddlers go through. Little did I know that, at age 11, she still points out every horse as we drive by. And draws horses, collects Breyers, daydreams about "her farm," reads horse novels, and writes horse novels. Yes, truly obsessed and proud of it.

We've been super blessed to receive weekly horseback riding lessons, as a free gift, from a friend. Oh, my, it's been amazing. Fred and I are also looking for other ways to nurture this little girl's dream.

Today we drove to Will Rogers Downs in Claremore, to see the horse races. So, yes, we took our kids to the tracks. On a Sunday, no less.

TheArtist had never been to one before, and she LOVED it.

I'd say it was a great experience for all of the kids.

Each time we'd guess which horse would win.

Mine consistently lost. I'm not a "lucky" person.

NatureMan and TheArtist took turns winning.

LittleLad and Dash watched, whined about concessions, and rolled around on the grass.

Very neat. I don't know how the jockeys can stand to have their legs up so high!

Then we headed home-- bleh. Fussy kids, and Fred & I were both tired. We stopped for some food, and there was a BUG in my salad. No thank you.

I got my money back, and decided to go hungry, rather than order something else. ;/

So, back in the van.

I usually bring some kind of sewing or sketch pad with me (unable to just sit still.) Today I only had a mini-notebook in my purse.

So I drew my shoe, for lack of a better subject. Sketching with the pen laying on my middle finger is completely new to me. Try swapping around your grip, and you'll see.

I'm adjusting.

Accidents, in 3s

Thursday- attempted to move heavy furniture by myself and fell, right as my 3-year old accidentally knocked the room divider over, on top of me. If my feet had been grounded, I could have braced myself and caught it. Unfortunately, I was already going down, and it hit me hard, smashing my right arm, and ripping the fingernail off of my ring finger. Actually, it split the nail in half, and ripped the side clear off, leaving a jagged dangling edge. Yeah, it was bad. I screamed, cried, vomited. Bad, bad, bad. Lots of pain meds, and some deep breathing, and I managed to regain composure. Didn't sleep well that night, though.

By Friday I was functioning, with a finger brace. Went to the Right Choices Corn Maze with Fred and the kids, my sister and her kids, Papaw, and about 100 other folks from our homeschool group. It was great, great fun!
Corn Maze, Cow Train, Hay Bale Jumping, Hay House, Drain Slides, Hayride, farm animals to pet, and nice picnic areas all around.

We bought some mini-pumpkins and gourds, and a large one to carve. NatureMan decided that he really really wanted his mini-pumpkin carved into a "monster pumpkin." Being the awesome Mom that I am, I grabbed a knife and attempted to carve out the design he had drawn. Of course, my grip wasn't great, seeing as how I had the finger brace on. So, my knife slipped and I slashed the middle finger of my left hand. Ow. It won't need stitches, but it's sore and bandaged.

So, this morning, I decided to do some safer things, like yard saling. TheArtist Child and I left the house at 7am...

and got into a fender bender.

Like, immediately. (sigh)

If bad things really happen in 3s, then I should be totally done now, for at least for awhile!

We had great luck at a friend's preschool yard sale... puppet show curtain for $2, huge costume tub with drawers (that included a chef hat and two aprons, two full body boy outfits, etc) for $1, black leather game chair for $2, firetruck rug 50 cents. Can't beat these prices! I'm all about yard saling or thrift store shopping. No sense in paying 10x as much for the exact same thing, at the mall!

So, anyway, typing is a bit hard. Drawing and painting is, too, but I'm up for the challenge. I've always held my pen/pencil on my ring finger, which is impossible for me now. We'll see how it affects my art. ;)

Hope your weekend has been SAFE and fun!

I have about a thousand activities to catch you up on. Plus, I rearranged the playroom, rewrote the chore charts, and let my art center explode with color. Stay tuned. :)

Being Married to an Incompatible Person

If you've read this blog for very long as all, you know that I don't make a habit of writing about very personal things. I'm a rather private person about my marriage, past, and my opinions on *almost everything. I'm -much- more comfortable playing the role of encourager: "Try this!" or "Visit this place" and "Have fun. Spend time with your kids!"
(*yeah, okay, occasionally I'm vocal!)

But a recent conversation with a couple of friends made me realize that people don't necessarily realize I struggle. I'm only showing the good (well, except for those dirty dishes pictures a few days ago!) And sometimes, when I'm trying to encourage others, it can be discouraging, if you think I'm running around happy all the time, lining up the next craft and project, never fighting with my husband, never yelling at my kids.

The truth is that our marriage has been a struggle from the Get-Go. When I "tease", telling my friends that our marriage is a daily miracle, it's no joke.

My husband and I were not childhood sweethearts. We'd never even seen each other until a blind date, set up by our best friends, in August of 1997. We had so much fun together! We all went to see some terrible movie (which he loved,) and then walked around the park, went out to eat... right away, I could tell that we were "incompatible."

I love to read, and he didn't see the point.

I really can't stand tv, and he had grown up with it on 24/7. In every room.

I could live on fruits and veggies (and was actually a vegetarian for years,) and Fred has never- to this day- eaten a salad. I'm not even joking.

I'm not an "animal person," and he has unbelievable animal magnetism. Cats just come out of the woodwork.

Fred has an amazing voice, and I can't sing at all. At all.

Fred was brought up going to rodeos, and I was brought up visiting art galleries and museums.

Our backgrounds were utterly different.

We disagreed about movies, food, life outlook, careers, education, you name it. We were both Christians, but neither of us were strong in our faith at that point, and we didn't agree on many major theological points. In fact, I don't think he'd ever even questioned his theology. Or heard the word. Okay, now I'm kidding. ;)

The point is that we were, in all ways, opposites. And you know what they say about opposites. We were drawn to each other like sick little bugs to a light. We had -fun- together. We enjoyed being with each other. I could see his GOOD heart inside. When I met him, his youngest brother was only 3-years old. Fred loved that kid; took him everywhere, played with him, read him stories. Fred sang to me, wrote to me, enjoyed doing anything with me, as long as we were together. I know that can describe a lot of young romances, but I fell in -love- with that man.

And we married 3 months later. Yes, gasp. Shake your head. I'll even repeat it: We met on a blind date in August and got married in November of the same year.

And, let me tell you, that first year was kind-of hellish. We were young and naive, and the "lovey dovey" feelings ended pretty quickly when real-life set in. Plus we had a miscarriage almost immediately. That didn't help.

We struggled and fought. We yelled and cursed. We almost didn't make it.

Then something started to happen, slowly but surely. I started to love my husband. Mind you, I didn't say "fall back into love." No, I started to LOVE him, as a choice. And it became a daily choice... some days were/are better than others. For a long time, I still felt gypped; like I had married a big kid and I was "entitled" to better. Ah, entitlement. Such a stupid hurtful trap.

Little by little, I began to realize what an idiot I was; how many times I screwed up; how undeserving I was. And, through a lot of prayer, I also started to see all of the amazing things about my husband...all of the things that I first fell in love with, plus a lot of new qualities that I had missed noticing in those first few years.

Our marriage has come through a lot, been redirected more than once, and has gone off course on a number of occasions. We've had some high highs and low lows. But every year has gotten better. We used to fight like cats and dogs... now an argument is fairly rare, and we have the growth and prayer on our side, to work it all out.

That said, I'm still living with my opposite, which can make life interesting. In nearly 13 years, we've both come closer to the middle. I watch movies with him often, and sometimes they're even ridiculously stupid and I laugh anyway. He escorts me to art museums, when I want to go. And I think he is starting to enjoy it! I root for his football team (even though I personally have NO interest at all in sports.) He has switched to a semi-healthy lifestyle for me. Think wheat bread instead of white, skim milk instead of whole, bagels instead of ding dongs. I'm saving this man's life, I tell you!

There are a LOT of things we can do together that we both enjoy now, like outdoor activities with the kids, playing games, etc. But there are also a LOT of hobbies and activities that we don't share an interest for. And some things that are a downright source of contention for us.

Now (as if this post isn't long enough already), there are a few important things I've learned:

No marriage is really 50/50. Some things are 90/10. Some 30/70. It all balances out but never assume it’s 50/50. When it looks like he’s getting the bigger/ better/ less-work-share, I have to remember that I also get the bigger share sometimes. Besides, in this marriage, we put in very little of our own percentages; God most certainly did the work, as soon as we were willing. In my own power, this marriage would not have held up. Just speaking the truth. When you get to the end of your rope, then change what you're holding onto!

No one person can/should be your everything. There’s no way for one person to fill every potential need you may have. I was relying on Fred to BE everything that I needed. And, really, even though I wasn't a "tv person" I will still blame this, at least partly, on the media. I've actually heard women say, in all seriousness,"Man, I wish my husband was more like -(insert fictional character)-"

This is real-life. Your husband might not run outside, in a blizzard, to buy you ice-cream when you're pregnant. He might not desire to suck your blood (I'm sorry, I had to throw that in there. Twilight fans, your man won't/ can't/ and shouldn't be like a vampire!) That doesn't mean he's not a fabulous husband. Real-life people have real-life issues. And NO real man, no matter how wonderful, can fill every need you have.

For starters, I needed God in an up-close and personal way.

I promise I won't write all night...

There are certainly things I appreciate about a not-so-easy marriage to a not-so-compatible-husband:

1. He's not a "deep thinker."

Like most women, I can over-think things.

But, with Fred, there is NO hidden agenda or weird games. What you see is what you get. He speaks the truth plainly, and never over-analyzes anything. How refreshing!!

2. He's not a tidy person.

Which means he truly doesn't care if I'm a tidy person. Now this drove me NUTS for years. Still does, at times. I could not understand how someone could just not care if the dishes were done, or if dirty laundry was on the floor. Now I've learned to embrace that about him: He doesn't care, so there is no pressure. That doesn't mean that I don't want a clean home, but it DOES mean that I never -ever- have to worry about leaving the dishes if I want to go spend the afternoon out with the kids, on an impromptu field trip. Fred won't even notice, much less be upset, about anything clean-related.

3. He dislikes most foods that I love.

Which leaves more for me! I love, love avocadoes, and he refuses to even try something that looks that gross. I could live on berries, and he only eats them on shortcake with whipped cream. I love salsa, and he won't touch it. Of course, the same rule benefits him. He loves bacon, and I rarely munch it. He practically needs a Mountain Dew drip going, and I've never finished a Mountain Dew in my life.

4. He's unemotional about the things that totally rile me up. And vice versa.

It's always good to have a level-headed person on board. He gets easily frustrated by crazy drivers, appliances that won't work right, or lost remotes. None of that bothers me much... I get frustrated by people and ideas. We can help each other, as long as one of us stays sane at all times.

5. He's a spendthrift.

It's nice to have a man who doesn't micromanage every cent, and he doesn't question how much I spend on groceries... not that he would need to, tightwad that I am. His spending tendencies have gotten WAY better, although he'll still blow Christmas money from his family before he can even deposit it. If the stores are closed, he'll spend it online that night. Drives me nuts.

BUT he is a good provider, works hard, and has not ever put us in debt. I can go overboard the other direction, insisting that we buy everything second-hand-- car, clothes, shoes, underwear. No, no, I don't really go THAT far. But I am uptight about spending more than we need to, and spending money on things we don't need. I've gotten better in this area, and so has he. It's a balancing act.

That's a good start.

It's still not *easy*. Sometimes it's like we're rubbing each other with sandpaper... but eventually that seems to just smooth us & fit us back together, more snuggly. The differences have balanced, enriched, and strengthened us. Easy or not, this is right. We belong together, differences and all. During church this past Sunday (the man had to work, and wasn't there with me,) I had this mental image of Fred and I hugging in front of the cross, bound snuggly together with rope to each other, and to the cross itself. A strand of three, unbreakable. We can't be our own foundation; we need the strength and support of something much greater, much stronger and more enduring. Because God can make anything work. He has, and continues to, change our incompatible selfish and petty little selves into greatness.

So, yeah. We fight. We kiss and make up. And our marriage may have gone through more spats and spills than most. Don't think it's perfect over here. We're still working on this thing, every. single. day.

Bonus: If you are still up for reading, try We All Married the Wrong Person.