The Power of Prayer

When people meet me, they don't look at me and think, "That's one deeply religious woman." I guess my bold personality comes across as fitting a different stereotype. I am not a fall-down-on-your-knees-throw-your-hands-up-and-shout-it-out kind of prayer person, more a "Hey God, It's Me ... [Alicia]" kind of person. Some people may call this meditation. Others simple contemplation in moments of solitude. I call it prayer.

I generally do not ask for specific things. Mostly because of Mark Twain's The War Prayer...

If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon your neighbor at the same time. If you pray for a blessing of rain on your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse on some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

Instead, I often request the strength to get through a tough time or the courage to accept the outcomes I may encounter. I ask this for others also because as highlighted in Twain's poem, sometimes what we ask for is in complete contradiction to what another asks of God. Who am I to feel more deserving than another?

Recently I found myself in quite a predicament: the eve of an incredibly important presentation, I discovered my jump drive was missing. The jump drive with confidential client files and highly personal information was not where I left it. Initially I panicked, and had this happened about 2 or 3 years ago, I would have melted down... freaked my freak as a friend once said. I'm not sure if it was hitting my 30s and achieving a maturity closer to self-actualization, or perhaps, simply not being knee-deep in the school year's stresses, but within about 10 minutes I had calmed down. I quickly accepted that the jump drive would not be available for the presentation and went about finding another solution. Happily most of the documents I needed were, in some form or another, on my hard drive or other removable disks. I figured out how to proceed, and the meeting went very well.

But... I still did not have a hugely important item. My concern loomed over the information contained on the drive and how potentially harmful it could be in another's hands. When I realized there was no way I had left it outside of my own house, I chalked it up to God or the baby and figured, eventually, it would be found. Still there was this gnawing on my inside: where the hell did that thing go?

After much remembering, I narrowed it down to two locations in my house. Again, I self-soothed: when able, I would do a complete clean sweep of those areas. If it was still MIA, I could safely assume my naively helpful child attempted to clean out Mommy's purse and threw it away. I felt better knowing that some evil superpower was not in possession of my jump drive, using it to accomplish their dirty, dastardly deeds... but still, where the hell was it?

I prayed. Aloud and silently. I began daily prayers to St. Anthony, "St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please look around. Something is lost and cannot be found." I racked my brain, tried new places, and then prayed more.

Nay-sayers will claim I would have found it eventually, but what does it matter? I eventually stopped looking and focused only on my novena, if you would call it that, to St. Anthony. I hoped, if nothing else, for the memory of where I left it. As I was about to sort my laundry... shamefully, the 2nd time in only 10 days... a thought crossed my mind, "Wouldn't it be funny, if it was in my laundry basket?" I shook my head and rolled my eyes and got to sorting. Absurd. With about 2 items left to pull out, there it was: my jump drive. Sitting there as if this was its home. Waiting for me to discover it. Strewn in with my dirty clothing. It either fell off my bedside table and into the basket or was accidentally pulled along with the clothing during a bed sweep.

However it came to be, it was found. Thank you, St. Anthony. And thank you, good Lord in heaven, for keeping me calm and sane... mostly.

So, forgive me, readers, for being soap-boxy. But take a moment when you can for you. Call it prayer or meditation or deep thought or internal discussions with your multiple personalities or just a simple moment of silence. It doesn't matter the title, just do it. You may not realize the full import of this quick pause until you face an adversity so troublesome, you have no idea what to do that it really is easier to not do at all. You will find the strength to continue, whatever its source.

And hopefully, you've realized, it's about more than a jump drive.

A Really Good Cause!

Via Twitter I follow a woman who is running 13.1 miles in her combat boots to raise money for the American Cancer Society via Team Determination.

In order to raise a lot of money quickly, she's organized a pretty sweet raffle full of incredibly desirable running goodies. You can get raffle tickets by donating money! Visit her blog for more information and/or to donate. It's an excellent cause by an extraordinary woman.

Her raffle ends July 15, 2011, so do it quickly!

And if you are on twitter, follow her: @amileinmyboots & me:@BabyMakesChaos

40 Before 40 Checklist

If you read the post from last year, you'll learn I don't really make resolutions. I set goals, which some people would argue is exactly what a resolution is. However, I'd like to think of a goal as having an end date, a moment in time when you can check the item off the list and say, "Done." Resolutions are often ways people try to make themselves healthier, wealthier, or wiser but tend to be vague, such as "Go to the gym more." Maybe it's my profession, but I want these things to be measurable!

Last year, I put a big priority on weight loss, and I am pleased to say I lost 20 POUNDS! My BMI is slightly above 25%. I finally found my happy pace, and it's about 1 - 1.5 minutes quicker than a year ago. I can fit in almost all of my pre-baby clothes, and what could not be salvaged was donated to my sister-in-law. So, it's time to set my sights on other things. Having crossed the age barrier and entered the 30s, I've decided to make this more of a 40 before 40 list. That means, when next year rolls around, don't complain; some of these items will be checked off in future years.

Here goes:

1. Run Broad Street with Frank.

2. Learn more about my new camera, including reading a book or taking a class, so that I can use the aperture.

3. Bake a flavored cake from scratch (forget vanilla or chocolate, my sights are set on bigger and better things!).

4. Take Liv on a plane.

5. Buy a new-to-me car.

6. Baby numero dos.

7. Lose 10 more pounds and be below 25% BMI.

8. Blog more than 35 times per year (shame on me for 2010!).

9. Buy a new computer (which will help #8).

10. Get my insurance fitness reimbursement AGAIN!

11. Run the Disney World Princess Half-Marathon. In a tutu. And a tiara.

12. Learn to knit. Make a scarf.

13. Renovate our kitchen.

14. Renovate our bathroom.

15. Buy a single family home with 4 bedrooms and a driveway.

16. Unpack the office.

17. Go to San Francisco.

18. Buy a coffee from the first Starbucks in Seattle.

19. Take a piano lesson. Or two.

20. Consign any clothes that our child(ren) have outgrown at least once.

21. Take a baking class.

22. Take another cake decorating class.

23. Repaint the living/dining room.

24. Replace the hardware on all the doors in our entire house.

25. Write a letter to the editor.

26. Grow an herb(s?) which is then used in our family's cooking.

27. Baby numero tres?

28. Move to any of the following towns: HT/HF, Na, or WW.

29. Run a mile with Olivia, who will also be running.

30. Volunteer with Olivia once per year.

31. Run 500 miles in one calendar year.

32. Make a speech at an event.

33. Read a "classic" novel.

34. Learn and then do some DIY home project that would usually involve paying someone.

35. Sew or make a school costume for Olivia (or any other future child).

36. Pay off a credit card or debt (note: just one, not all).

37. Swim for fitness (meaning go to the gym with the sole intent of "swimming laps" or whatever that means).

38. Have dinner at a 5 star restaurant.

39. Go to Europe.

40. Write a chapter of a novel.

Priorities

In my early to mid-twenties, I sat with my best girlfriends and created a "30 Before 30" list of things I wanted to achieve before turning 30. It was full of short and long-term goals, some crazy and lofty, others benign and mundane. I can happily say that most of the items on the list were crossed off before the big three-oh. Lose weight and keep it off. Check. Travel to Ireland. Check. Run a 5K -- ha ha, quadruple check! Go to the grand opening of a supermarket - wait, what?

Ok, so that last item wasn't on the official list. But sure enough, today I found myself excited to be at the grocery recently built close to home with a large organic section! Olivia and I roamed the aisles, oohing and aaahing over the product selection and delighting in the free samples. When I left and called my husband to gloat, I had an epiphany. Did I really just become giddy over this? So I reflected. I started keeping a running tally of things that I've done that would never, ever have made that list. Or any list. Not even a Bucket List.

For instance, I recently wore - to a night out with my best girlfriends nonetheless (same ones noted above in case anyone is keeping tabs) - a pair of pants that became marred by strawberries. In a flash, out came the Tide-To-Go pen and whoosh, gone went the red blotch. Former Me would have gone home, sprayed the spot with Shout, and dumped the pants in the washbin. New Me set them aside on a dresser, too lazy and tired to even fold them... and then wore them again. I am ashamed to admit that I wore those pants TWICE MORE! In fact, on one excursion, some spots of blood rubbed off from Liv's scraped knee during a Mommy's-kisses-make-it-better moment (thank you again, Tide-To-Go). And I wore them again! I continued wearing them after chalk marks and dirty footprints (another snuggle moment), until finally, while shopping at Target, I realized the pants needed to be washed. Desperately.

Which brings up another did-I-really-just-do-that moment! I took my 16 month old daughter to Target... at 8:30pm. She blissfully ran around the toy section while I, laden with a box of Pampers, organic cookies, and two more sippy cups, followed behind praying that she would lose steam and go to bed without screaming. How? How did I get to this point? How did I become one of those moms? The ones that take their kids out shopping at bizarre hours; the ones you look at and silently think, "My kid will be in bed by 9pm on a weeknight!" Well, I'll tell you! You become her when your child decides she is anything but tired between the hours of 7pm and 9pm, and when you go to lay her down, she screams bloody murder, but your windows are open because for the first time in what feels like forever, it isn't 100 degrees and you don't have to run the air conditioning, so everyone in your new neighborhood can hear her tears piercing the residential nighttime quiet. That's how. That's why you take your alert toddler to run around the large aisles and expend energy trying to get a large ball from a tightly packed rack. And that's why you stop caring if your pants are clean. Apparently God also had a message for me because my arms were too full to splurge on the new Jennifer Weiner book. Sigh. But success! She fell asleep sans misery.

And did I mention that I haven't had a hair cut or color in over 3 months? Somewhere my 21 year old self is hiding her head in shame, silently screaming. Poor thing.

Good thing the 30 year old me told her to shut up and deal with it.

ABA

The second A is for Analysis.

Do Over?

Why the last 48 hours have sucked and I am formally requesting a do over from God:

Yesterday I got to work early enough to buy hot cocoa -- my ubermost fave thing to have in the morning. Go me. Good day projected.

Then, while working in a middle school, my most feared event [circa high school] occurred. I go home in order to partake in the bambino's school's Winter Gala (starring the infant rooms as snowflakes or snowmen or snowsomethings) and whilest changing my clothes, receive a phone call 35 mins before I'm to be at the school stating that my daughter has thrown up twice and needs to be picked up immediately. No Gala for me.

I arrive at Infant Room A, 20 minutes before showtime, and find all babies in their snowthing outfits (all white home-sent couture with black knit hats). For the first time EVER, Olivia does not get upset that I haven't picked her up as soon as I walked into the room. In fact, she is looking around at all the other Flakemen & smiling and babbling. She then makes eye contact with me and smiles more, as if to say, "Look, Mommy, we are going to put on a show!" She looked adorablely cute as a snowwhatever, and my heart broke. Although, I'm not sure it broke because she was missing out or because I was missing out and didn't have my blackberry [to take photo proof of her stunningness]. I vaguely remember Ms. Teacher saying something about messy, vomit-covered items but am so enamoured by my daughter's hugably cute Snowgirl outfit, I hear only the guilt-ridden, sadness of my inner-voice. And due to the 24 hour no-vomit policy of daycare, Liv can't go back until Friday.

We go home to meet Daddy and head to the doc's so that they can inevitably take our $15 and tell us that our child does not have a life-threatening illness. Fast forward one hour, and we are home having heard just that. On the plus side, I was able to schedule h1n1 shot #2. I start to sift through the two loads (hers and mine) of stained laundry that needs to be done. I discover what was once a white shirt that is currently coated in pea-green (guess what we had for lunch) vomit. My hand cramps from using the spray bottle of Dreft. After putting in the first load of laundry, I decide to head to the gym.

I stop feeling my arms & lose the ability to speak about 20 minutes into the hour-long endeavor called "Core Conditioning & Dance Aerobics." We do moves that remind me of The Chorus Line, and the fact that the instructor is wearing a midriff bearing top does nothing to dispute this. I dance my heart out... literally... but am pretty sure I didn't make the final cut because when I am finished I am too tired to speak to anyone. Silently, I congratulated myself on making it to class, and secretly, I sang "One" and imagined myself in sequins.

I get home and am greeted by the second pile of laundry and prepping for Liv's day with Mom Mom so Frank and I can both go to work and not lose anymore moula. I decide that God made Chinese food leftovers & half a Cherry Coke Zero for moments just like these. I block out the dance instructor's booming voice about squeezing muscles with the whirring of the microwave heating up my sesame chicken & rice.

Only one of our horribly stained loads of laundry came clean... Mommy will now be spending her treasured Christmas gift card on a new pair of khakis. Lovely.

I then spend most of the evening getting ready for today and not going to sleep until midnight, causing me to oversleep by 20 minutes. A precious 20 minutes when I need to leave exactly 30 minutes earlier than usual AND explain to Mom Mom how the schedule goes.

I leave my house at 6:50am, drive to Rebekah's house, and we proceed to travel the one and three-quarters hour to Harrisburg. I sit in a small room for 7 hours to hear people "instruct" me on how to do my job. I get home at 6pm, just in time to nurse Liv and put her to bed.

Do over, please?

Listen, are you going to have those TPS reports for us this afternoon? No.

Snowed in!

For those of you living in a box, the East Coast got slammed with a huge snowstorm this past Saturday. Our area got about 17 inches of snow! It reminded me of my childhood, except no one knows what how to drive or clean off their sidewalks and cars. We've been stuck inside for a bit because of it, but I thought I'd post the pictures I took. And just so everyone knows, I cleaned off my car - not Frank. Thank you very much. I also shoveled our porch (yes, our porch!) and most of the sidewalk. It took me two shifts and over 2 hours, but I did it on my own. Who needs a man?!?!

These two photos were taken from our front door before I even went outside. In hindsight, I should have taken a picture of all the snow on the porch (probably around 2 - 3 inches) but you'll see the aftermath of my shoveling below. And yes, there is a road behind the cars...

This as the porch after I shoveled and swept it.

This is the alleyway between our house and the neighbor's. We share the walkway. Eventually Frank shoveled it because we keep the trash cans behind the house. The unfortunate thing is that the melting snow will cause this alleyway to become a huge sheet of ice. You can see it starting in this picture. Luckily, my husband minored in the application of rock salt in college.


This is a shot of one of the cars for a guy who lives on the street. To be fair, this was more a snow drift/plow pile than a result of the snowfall, but still, it's pretty impressive.

And here is what I had to do to get to my car. FYI, there was a ginormous pile of snow (see the above picture) in between Frank's car and mine which I shoveled... and carried to our yard so as not to dump the snow into the street... which an a-hole up the road was doing. Are you sensing my anger?

This is the road-side of my car which I had started to shovel out. I ended up taking a break at this point simply because I was exhuasted. Yes, my tire was covered. Yes, eventually I had to shovel the plowed snow away from car so that it could hope of getting to the road.

And here is the front of our house. Normally there are small bushes and grass, and yes, the pile of snow created from shoveling and car-cleaning was pretty much as high as the fence.

My car hasn't moved still because after spending all that time cleaning it off, I don't want to lose my space! Thank goodness, my school closed today!

Ruminations

In keeping with my get-out-and-move attitude, I went mall walking, Liv in tow, both yesterday and today despite Rebekah and Avery's absence. The solitude was somewhat of a welcome change given some recent events, but I'll be honest in that we didn't walk nearly as far as when our counterparts join us. And, well, we both missed the company.

There is beauty in the mall just before it opens. We arrived at different times each day. While I'd like to say that this was done intentionally (to stray from routine in case some demented psychopath is stalking me), truth be told, we just couldn't get ourselves out the door. It's interesting how quickly I can get us moving when there is a set meeting time with another person. Even if Liv throws up half her breakfast, we are in the car by a certain time and at the mall within 10 - 15 minutes of the agreed upon hour. Yesterday we had to get there early due to a cable appointment conveniently scheduled for 11am - 1pm, and today there was no rush so when Olivia spit up most of her breakfast, I didn't care that I had to change her nor did I rush.

Seeing the mall at these two times made the walks different. It's intriguing how much difference an hour makes. The stores don't open until 10am, so with an 8:15am arrival, it's much more placid, verging on eerie. Without the friendly discourse, I am forced to pay attention to the subtle nuances -- employees arriving, stores preparing for the day, fellow walkers, and even a retiree social club. I noticed that there are two types of music that pipe through the speakers. In the high end section of the mall, light, classical music plays, but in the more heavily traveled area of the mall, there is an adult contemporary sound. The shift occurs quickly and most likely goes unnoticed by most. I consider this as a bell chimes in the background; I had never noticed that one marked every quarter of the hour. The quiet of the building allowed me to ponder how things had been going: Liv getting her cast off and adjusting to the orthopedic brace, all the things I needed to buy (clothes for work, office supplies, wine, Chick-fil-A -- I didn't say that my purchases were absolutely necessary), which led me to consider my return to work after Labor Day. Olivia will be headed to day care; the transition is both exciting and nerve-wrecking. Being alone with just my thoughts created this refreshing stream of consciousness. After 45 minutes we jetted back to the car, sticking to the original schedule so that we could be home to greet the cable guys.

Today we arrived about 1 hour after yesterday's time, and the atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the day before. The mood was lighter with more electricity in the air. I found myself walking faster without trying. The smells even seemed to be bolder. This proved problematic since I had $3 on me and was trying not to spend it on food. (Chick-fil-A makes these incredible chicken biscuit mini-sandwiches...) The stores are on the verge of opening, and the energy was exciting. I thought more about the clothes I needed to buy, staring at the windows, mentally salivating at the designs, trends, and colors for the season. I consider what I should spend and what fit I should gravitate toward. Just the day before, I flipped through Frank's J. Crew catalogue but set it down exclaiming, "Mmm, these styles just don't look good in fat." There is still so much more weight that I would like to lose, so it doesn't make sense to spend a lot of money on clothes that I hope will fall off me in the near future. To me it's a conundrum; the more money I spend, the better the variety, fit and/or quality of clothing, but I may only wear the clothes for a month (if all goes as planned). At that point I will need more clothes. It's cyclic until I reach my goal weight and frustrating. For some reason, I am reminded of a woman I met the day before who told me that she named her newborn daughter so that the initials spelled J.E.M. My thought: as in And The Holograms?

This leads me to the pondering that stuck with me as the day went on; it occurred as the Clover Hill Wine Outlet was opening: I wonder how early they do tastings...

Don't worry, I didn't go in. This time.

Livie's Social Views

We sat down tonight to ask Olivia what she thought of a few current events. Here's what she had to say.

First Topic: Michael Vick -- Bad newz or bird newz?



Second Topic: Universal Healthcare -- Death panel or panel of hope?



Third Topic: Sarah Palin -- 15 minutes are up or future GOP presidential nom?

Erin Cooks & the Gastrokid

Ok, so Rebekah and I have been talking about cooking and cooking for kids lately. She posted a link to a blog called Erin Cooks which I've been following ever since. The blog includes many recipes and tips as well as yummy looking pictures. Sometimes I enjoy just looking at the delicious pictures... lol, I do love food!

Anyway, Erin, the blogger, has posted a contest for a cookbook called The Gastrokid Cookbook. Essentially, she writes that the goal of the cookbook is to encourage cooking sophisticated and nutritious meals that are also appealing to kids. You can read more about it by clicking here. I'm totally in love with this idea because I'd like to raise Olivia to appreciate food the way Frank and I do (well-portioned, healthy, complex flavors, yummy and easy to do!). So, if you post a reply on her blog post (can you follow that?), you are "entered" to win a free copy of the book. Check it out and check out the rest of her blog... unless you're hungry. You may want to eat a snack first. ;-)

Michael Vick?

I couldn't help it; I know I don't normally post about this but I'm really irked that the Eagles signed Michael Vick. Really?! Vick?! The man who was convicted of dogfighting and conspiracy charges?!

I can't cheer for them this season. I love dogs. And justice. But mostly dogs.

Letter to the Editor

The August 2009 issue of Parents magazine contained an article entitled, "It's Pottytime!" (pp 117 - 118) by Suzanne Schlosberg. In this article was advice from "experts" (only 3 were mentioned, a Ph.D., an M.D., and an author... sounds like a bad joke, I know) on effectively toilet training a toddler. As a behavior analyst, I try to shy away from articles like these. I find the advice to be eye roll worthy or watered-down. Unfortunately, with this topic, I couldn't resist. Of the many things in the article that upset me, when I read the small box on pg. 118, I became infuriated. You can ask any of my co-workers who received 3 minute long rants on their voicemails. The box contained the following statements:

The Bottom Line of Bathroom Bribery

Though countless parents have lured their kids to the potty
with the promise of a few small candy-coated chocolates, the experts I talked to
hated the idea. "It may work in the short run, but using food to reward your
child for a natural physical event is a slippery slope," says Dr. Peter
Stavinoha. "Ask yourself: Would you give your child candy for walking or
bathing?" he says. Parents may swear by it. "But giving prizes means taking away
the opportunity for kids to feel proud about what they've achieved,"says Deb
Lonzer, M.D., a pediatrician in Cleveland.

After about a month of talking to my peers in the field of Applied Behavior Analysis (and well, let's be honest, living a life with a 4 month old in a spica cast), I wrote a letter to the editor. I have to thank Rebekah for her honest and helpful information on writing a letter to the editor. While there were many things that I felt needed to be addressed (parents do reward bathing -- with bath toys, bubbles, and other fun things!!!), here is what I wrote to them (fyi, if anyone else feels compelled to contact them regarding this after reading the article of course, emails go to mailbag@parents.com):

To the Editor,

As a parent and professional working in the field of Applied
Behavior Analysis, I wanted to express my displeasure over your August 2009
article, "It's Pottytime!," by Suzanne Schlosberg. She called the use of
"candy-coated chocolates" bribery; in fact, this is reinforcement, more
specifically positive reinforcement. By definition reinforcement increases the future likelihood that a behavior will occur; it
is vital in teaching new behaviors (toileting included). In the article, the
expert suggested that praise and high-fives may be all a parent needs for a
people-pleasing child; this is also reinforcement. Additionally, on page 140 of
the same issue, in "The Give-It-Up Guide," the magazine suggests, "Do use
rewards... they [kids] do want to ... get prizes!" The type (candy, praise,
tickles, etc.) of reinforcement used depends on the learner. Just as with
adults, children enjoy different things. In order to effectively teach any
behavior, we need to identify what those items are and use them. This concept is
based on science and research and has been discussed in such forums for over 50
years. Additionally, Ms. Schlosberg mentioned that it takes 4 - 6 months to
toilet train a child. I invite her to read "Toilet Training in Less Than a Day"
by Drs. Azrin and Foxx. Again, the techniques identified in the book are based
on science and research. As distributors of a magazine read by many parents,
methods based on research should be a priority when recommending something as difficult as a toilet training program(s). I noted that Dr. Stavinoha, the
expert interviewed in the article, did not reference any research when
suggesting "Naked Time" and would be interested in viewing the data showing its
efficacy.

Thank you for your time,

Alicia Richards, M.S., Ed., BCBA

Growing up Gosselin

Quotes from people during tonight's viewing of Jon and Kate Plus 8.

This is like the moon landing. You'll know exactly where you were when you saw this. ~ Paul

Jon or Kate Plus 8. You heard it here first. ~Frank on the new title of the show

I gotta go, the show's back on!! ... Ok, I choose my brother. ~ Alicia while talking to her brother on the phone and interrupting a very important conversation.

Growing Up Gosselin ~ ok, this was a comment Alicia made while on a walk with Frank and Liv before the show actually aired. It's the title of the reality series of the Gosselin children years from now when they are all in therapy.

A quickie

Lyrics from a country song that I heard on the radio today and thought, "How oddly appropo..."

God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy.

Aaahhh the masters of country music have done it again.