A Friend In Deed

Two weeks ago, a dear friend of mine sent me an early morning email that was exactly what I needed. She's one of those friends who has known me long enough to love me anyway, despite the fact that I almost never call and rarely visit. We've been roommates in more than one country, seen each other through boyfriends who turned out not to be husbands, stood together at weddings and a funeral. 

I don't know what I did to deserve her, but I'm so very grateful. In fact, I could never have earned all the wonderful friends that I have -- and thank goodness we don't have to earn them. This particular message was too beautiful to leave in my inbox, so I'm sharing it here with you (names changed to protect her boys). May you all have a friend (or two or twenty) who can show you in small ways that she loves you. 

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Some days you just need someone else to make your coffee. Or tea. Or, Jonah's recommendation, chocolate milk.

I must feel that way often. At least, Starbucks has been keeping track because, to my surprise (though perhaps not my husband's), they sent me a gold card which meant I had visited their fine establishments 30 times last year. I don't know whether to be boast or cringe about my new status. Regardless, there were 30 days last year when I just needed someone else to make my coffee.

Two times had to do with rites of passage. Right after I dropped Cam off to big kid school because the bricks I placed on his head didn't stop him from growing, I drove myself to Starbucks and stood in line behind a mom and dad who had just undergone the very same knife-to-heart ritual. That day called for a Venti, with extra caramel and yes please some whipped cream on top and why don't you stock alcohol here?

Weeks ago, I stood in that same line -- where they now know my name and my usual -- just minutes before picking him up for summer vacation. Not my usual, but it was a Venti day again, somewhat in celebration that Cam and I would be back together for the summer. But mostly because I needed that big of a cup to soothe my insides drained raw from a year of missing him. It was a "Whew, I can't believe I made it. I'll have a Venti."

During these 30 visits over the last year, Jonah became well acquainted with the love of someone else making mama's coffee. The benefit to him was a more aware and relaxed mama. As I market the deal
to my husband, it's cheaper than therapy. And sometimes at these visits, on the whims of mama, Jonah would score a milk, usually vanilla but once in a while, chocolate.

Even if all mama gets is a straight coffee, Jonah likes to be hoisted up in a spot right beside the sugar-in-the-raw cubby where he can peer behind the counter and "watch the magic happen." His word choice has won him many barista friends. Also a dead giveaway that mama saved on therapy 30 times in the last year.

Well today, with your dad having his procedure, I thought you just might need someone else to make your coffee. Or tea. Or I won't tell if you get chocolate milk. I hope it will soothe your insides and let
you know that you all are loved. This Venti's on me*; after all, I need to keep going to maintain my gold card status.

* Starbucks e-card will be coming to your inbox.

***

That afternoon, while my kids were at camp, I left work early and headed for Starbucks. I'm not a coffee girl, so I seriously considered Jonah's chocolate milk recommendation before opting for a fruit smoothie. Dropping into a sunny seat, I savored the sweetness of a rare moment alone to say a quiet prayer for my dad (who is fine, thanks for asking) and one for my friend (who is far too good to me). 

Guest Post: Organization for the Disorganized

When my online friend Evelyn over at Momsicle asked if she could guest blog about organization, I jumped at her offer -- then I realized she wouldn't be coming over to my house to demonstrate and I was a little disappointed (both because I could really use the help and because I'd love to meet her awesome self in person). 

So no, she will not be coming over to your house either. But she's got some great tips here and I'm looking forward to testing them out myself. Because I think we all know I could use the help. Then after you read her post here, be sure to click over to check out her lovely blog (all the way from the WEST COAST!).

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From Evelyn at Momsicle: 

I'm a disorganized mom with many neuroses coping mechanisms. My husband and I have moved with two young kids twice in 2012, so I've put my adaptive behaviors through the pants press of life a couple times--to crisp them up under high heat. If there's anything that tests your organizing skills it's dismantling your house and putting it back together.

For me, when the clutter is tamed it feels like my breathing calms down and I don't shudder every time I look around.

I shudder quite a bit, but after two moves and a lot of stress I've started to rely on a couple of tricks. Maybe you'll find something helpful, and then I'll be happy. Please share your own tips so that I can try them!

Momsicle's tips for improving the organization of a kid-filled house:

1. Label things. Labels bring the logic that lives in your head into the real world. I love labels on kids' bins, garage shelves, linen closets, really anywhere. When many people live in a house and many people come to visit, labels help everyone remember where things go. I did label the kitchen at our last house and my husband thought that went a little too far. I am in love with the removable, printable labels that 3M Post-It makes. Other brands like Avery also have them, and eBay seems to have great deals so you don't have to pay through the nose.

2. Purge. My mom's motto is "When in doubt, throw it out." Do I need ten vases? No. Do I need 8 sweatshirts? No. I probably need three or four. So we purged things in the last moves. And now I have a bin set up in the garage labeled "Goodwill." I can collect things as I come across them, rather than searching later for the things I've forgotten I wanted to give away.

3. Speaking of purging, send your old electronics to Best Buy. (Another idea from Krista.) We were keeping sooooo many old cords and defunct gadgets (not to mention a 6,000-pound stereo system from the '90s). The stuff the kids don't play with all went to Best Buy--including an old air conditioner. If it has a cord, they pretty much take it.

4. Keep some organizing bins handy to tame things that need to go in and out of the house. I have three near the front door for things that we need to discuss and take action on, things that need to be mailed, and things that need to be returned. This idea came from Krista Colvin (see below).

5. Shop at Goodwill for storage containers. I am addicted to storage bins. I haven't met one I can't find a use for, but when you search for organization advice online the first recommendation is DON'T go out and buy all kinds of bins and shelving helpers. C'mon!!! What does a disorganized girl have to live for if I can't at least get some motivational bins. They make me feel whole. But they are expensive and I shudder when paying full price for clear plastic. So head to Goodwill, and for $1-6 a pop, you're set. 

6. Visit Krista Colvin over at Organize the Whole Shebang.  She has great ideas for how to deal with the C word ("clutter"). I don't know her and she's not paying me. A friend saw her speak about family organization and when I stopped by her site I stayed and read five or six posts. That says a lot about a blog.

7. Tame your Tupperware area. You may be able to relate to having a section of your kitchen where plastic leftovers containers are having a permanent anarchy convention. Each time I thought I'd tamed the beast, this conversation would ensue... Husband: "Are you sure we have a lid for this?" Me: "Yes! Yes! Dig deeper!" So we purged all the random plastic containers and are sticking with only one brand that has interchangeable, stackable lids. Space-saving is up and fights are down.

8. Rework the layouts of your rooms to think about HOW you use a room first, then what looks best. We used to have our computer tucked away in an "office" space, but does a hair-brained parent ever sneak away to a sacred spot to work at home? Never. I'm always writing or responding to things while in the middle of feeding someone, burning cooking a meal, or supervising play time. The computer and office stuff are now next to the kitchen. Similarly the file cabinet is now near where I bring the mail in, rather than tucked away in a place where I will never bring things to file.

Guest Post: Support Strollerthon, Support Moms

My name is Suzanne, and I author the blog pretty*swell. I’m so grateful for Cyndi sharing her space today for a cause close to my heart.

The StrollerThon, benefiting Postpartum Education and Support, is this Saturday in Apex, N.C. If you live nearby, it’s not too late to register! We’re also hosting an online raffle of a beautiful Bumbleride stroller. Tickets are only $5, and you don’t need to be present to win.

Proceeds from the raffle and event will allow our organization to keep helping moms beat perinatal mood disorders like postpartum depression and anxiety.

Here is the story of Jodi, one of our warrior moms, in her own words:

I had my breakdown about a year ago. It was a Monday morning, still very clear in my mind, and I was eight weeks postpartum with my second child. My son was sick, again, and I was crying so hard I could barely text my mom to have her come over immediately. I waited anxiously at the door with a screaming, ill child and greeted her by handing over my son, saying, "I can’t do this anymore." She had me call my doctor that morning, and I can’t thank her enough for starting me on the road to accepting and recovering from PPD.

The anxiety and depression were both new to me, and I only experienced mild baby blues with my daughter. My son, N, was a huge Christmas morning surprise to my husband and me (two pink lines? What?), and nine months later my cute little boy was born, unaware of the challenges that awaited him.　

He had a very bumpy first three months and was sick often: N had everything from harlequin color change to dairy intolerance. All of this weighed me down, spending countless hours at doctor appointments, pharmacies and "researching" on the internet. I was overwhelmed. I felt guilty, exhausted, constantly sick to my stomach, and I cried many, many times a day.

I didn’t want to show any sign of weakness.　

My anxiety came in the form of the clock; it was my worst enemy. I would time N’s feedings with a stopwatch, starting the timer before getting him latched on just to add a few extra seconds. I couldn’t help myself, and I knew it was silly, but it’s just what I HAD to do. I had alarms on when to feed him, when to wake him, when I should wake, when I should sleep, and I was basically driving myself over the edge. I didn’t sleep much, and the insomnia was becoming dangerous: I vividly remember driving alone one night and seriously considering crashing my car just so I could get some rest in a hospital.　

My depression surfaced during those long, lonely hours at night. I dreaded the sun going down, because I felt so ALONE, and was I left with my fears and guilt. My husband was fantastic and caring, my parents were helpful, but I just couldn’t shake the darkness that enveloped my life. I felt like I was living in a deep black hole and struggling not to sink deeper. I was scared to be alone with both children, scared to leave the house, and scared to admit that I needed help and wasn’t as strong as I thought.　

Through an online moms forum, I read about Moms Supporting Moms and was willing to give it a chance. After sobbing my way through my introduction and hearing others talk, I felt so comforted knowing that I wasn’t crazy and that there were moms there that *got* my feelings of guilt, anxiety and depression. If it weren’t for the caring and understanding moms I met through Moms Supporting Moms, along with my wonderful family, I wouldn’t have been able to heal like I have.

It’s been a long road, but light and happiness now fill my life, and I say yes, I can beat PPD.　

So can you.

*To register for the StrollerThon or buy raffle tickets for the Bumbleride stroller, click here.*

Note from Cyndi: Thanks to Suzanne and Jodi for their work in support of moms in need! Please check out the links above and help in whatever way you can.

Why Yes, I Am Giving Lessons in Organization

What? Are you surprised? Thought I was too disorganized to have much to offer?

Well, you're wrong. So there.

In fact, because I occasionally nearly always have some mess here and there taking over my house, it turns out I have much to offer on the topic of organization.

Thankfully, my dear friend Julie recognized this wealth of lessons learned the hard way knowledge I have to share and invited me to guest post on her blog. So head on over to Simplify Your Life to learn more about what you should do to get organized BEFORE you start a home renovation project.

And while you're there, be sure to check out some of Julie's great tips about getting organized and staying that way. One of my favorite features is her "Ten in Ten on the Tenth."

In the meantime, I'll be over here writing a new soapbox post about Teaching Fellows and Governor's School and why they matter and how your donation to the GS Foundation can make a difference.
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Guest Post: Budget Slaughter Isn't "Education Reform"

I love my husband all the time. But I especially love him when he writes a letter to the editor like this one, completely on his own and submitted today.

According to the state Constitution, North Carolina is required to provide the state’s children with "a sound basic education." While much work remains to fulfill that mandate, the Republican controlled legislature is destroying a half century of education progress and North Carolina’s public education system in one fell swoop.

In addition to cutting general funding and classroom support across the state, Republican legislators want to slaughter nationally-lauded programs such as More at Four, Teaching Fellows and Governor’s School. These cuts imperil students at an early age, take teachers out of the classroom and the education ecosystem over the long run, and weaken the creative and intellectual fabric of our states’ promising young leaders. Budget cuts also affect things like building maintenance – a broad term suddenly meaningful when there’s no air conditioning in your kid’s elementary school on a 95 degree day.

Education is the bedrock of our state’s future. It’s disingenuous to drastically cut funding and call it reform.

Real reform would focus on school finance models, teacher training and creating high performance cultures in schools. Instead while pound-foolish, tea-partying legislators are busy “taking back” their state, they are crushing public education and taking us back to 1950.
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Guest Post: Love, an Apology, and the End of the World

The world didn't end over the weekend. Thankfully, as I'd hate to be raptured with all this unfolded laundry sitting around.

But on Friday, before we survived the "prophesy," my dear friend wrote a note and posted it to her Facebook page. She's one of the kindest, most beautiful people I know -- and she has a way of talking about God and faith that makes me want to be a better person.

As you might already know, I've wrestled a lot with my religion, my church, my faith. I still don't have any answers -- and I get uncomfortable sometimes about the "Christian" label and all its baggage. So for now, I'll share with you her beautiful words -- when you read it, I suspect you'll wish she were your friend, too.

* * *

From Telling a Good Story

I’m trying to wrap my brain around my feelings about the hub-bub around the idea that the rapture will occur tomorrow (5/21).  Admittedly, I’m kind of a news snob and tend to get my news from NPR, which hasn’t been giving the whole thing a lot of airtime.  I am also (admittedly) a Facebook junkie and all of the sudden, I’m seeing this whole notion all over my newsfeed.  And it makes me sad.

Sad, not because people are making jokes about the second coming of Jesus.  Rather, I’m sad because of what our culture thinks of Christians.  Hear me loud & clear, I’m NOT blaming the culture.  I’m blaming the Christians, of which I am one.

Let me clarify again...  I’m not blaming individual Christians, or ALL Christians, but I can’t help but look at this little circus around “May 21st” and feel like something is horribly amiss.

I find myself wanting to apologize to people who are not Christians.  I want to apologize for the ways that Christianity has let our culture down.  I want to apologize that the idea of Jesus coming again gets translated into billboards and condemning speeches, instead of an opportunity to show people God’s love.  I want to apologize that so many people who are “Christians” have done such a poor job of following Jesus’ two most important directives: to love God with everything they are and to love other people.

I find myself wondering if tomorrow really WAS to be the rapture, why aren’t people running around trying to love each other like crazy?  (And since Jesus says He doesn’t actually even know when then end of the world will be (Matt 24:36), I just don’t buy that some preacher-man has the inside scoop).  Shouldn’t we, as followers of Christ, be loving people *every day* with an intensity as though tomorrow was the end?  Shouldn’t we be loving people with everything we’ve got every day, like it is our opportunity to show how much we (and God) love them?  Isn’t loving people the very root of what Jesus came to do and called us to follow Him into?

I know some really wonderful Christians who show the love of Christ to the people around them.  I know people who take the call to follow Jesus with a sincerity of heart that brings me to tears.  I’ve experienced the love of a community of Christ-followers in the darkest days of my life.  I believe with everything that I am that there are pockets where people are living out love in every way God intends for it to work.

I also know that there are so many people out there for whom the word “Christian” brings an instant sense of nausea.  And I concede that, for many reasons, that reaction can be so well deserved.  I also freely acknowledge that I used to be a person who rolled their eyes and was disgusted when I heard that someone was a Christian.  Because here’s what I thought that would mean: I felt it would mean that person thought they were better than me, that they would judge me for my behavior, that they would not approve of who I was, that they were closed-minded, elitist, and conservative, that they were a hypocrite, and frankly, that they were no.fun.at.all.  

Never in my assessment did I think that this person was in my world to show me, in practical, tangible ways, that God loved me.

Maybe you are reading this and you are thinking, “yep, that is what I think about Christians.”  Maybe you have other icky qualities you’d like to add to the list.  And, in so many cases, you’d be absolutely right.

What I’d like to think is that you are reading this and thinking, “Wait a minute, I have Christian friends/family, and nobody in the world loves me better than them!”  How I pray that is the case.

And that is why I’m sad about this end-of-the-world business.  Because I’m seeing anew that Christians, as a whole, have done a pretty poor job of representing the main point of Jesus, that point being LOVE.

I don’t sit here pretending, at all, that I represent Jesus well, every day, all the time.  I don’t always love you like I wish I did.  I don’t always make loving choices.  I don’t always engage with other people’s needs.  But what I can tell you, is that because of the way that I’ve encountered the love of Jesus and people who love Him, I am a different person than I used to be.  And that change drives me to WANT to be more loving to the people in my world, whether they follow Jesus or not.  It is because I’ve received great love that I’m learning to share great love.

And so, friends, I just want to say I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for the ways that the whole of Christianity has failed and I am sorry for the ways that I, personally, have failed in love.  But I do hope you will continue to give me the opportunity to show you what I believe Jesus is really all about--a deep, deep love for YOU.

Would You Send Your Child to School Wearing This?

One of the unfortunate ironies about blogging is that people with the best stories or the most interesting lives are often too busy living those lives to have time to write down any of those stories.

So today, I bring you a guest post via an email from a friend who is a high school social studies teacher. For the purposes of this post, we'll call her Ms. T (so as not to get her fired because she's an excellent teacher and goodness knows we can't afford to lose her) -- otherwise, the story is relayed here (in italics) as she shared it.

A freshman boy (yes, a 14-year-old) in my 4th period was wearing a t-shirt today that said: “Boobies make me happy.”

I’m not sure what is the worst part of this scenario:

1. That he, and possibly his parents, thought this shirt was appropriate for school.
2. That he got rude with and then yelled at the SRO [school resource officer, basically school police] who spoke with him about the shirt being appropriate after I sent the student to the office.
3. When the student’s administrator was called (after the yelling) and told what the shirt said, the MALE ADMINISTRATOR said to the school secretary, “Well, they do.”

So there you have it. And people wonder why teachers feel under-paid and under-respected.

______________

Note: When I did a Google search to see if I could find the shirt (available from Cafe Press), I also found a series of the same shirt with the breast cancer ribbon included in the background. I'd like to believe that this particular kid was just showing his support for breast cancer survivors, but somehow (call me cynical) I don't think that's really the statement he was trying to make.
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Guest Post: Supporting Postpartum Moms

When Junius was born, it rocked my world -- and not always in a good way. I vividly remember sitting in the rocking chair of my room, sobbing while I held my newborn son because I thought my life might never be okay again. I don't know that I officially had postpartum depression, but I know that I couldn't have made it through that time without a lot of help and support. 


That's why I'm happy to welcome Suzanne from pretty*swell with today's guest post. Suzanne is sharing her story on behalf of Postpartum Education and Support, the umbrella organization of Moms Supporting Moms. PES is hosting its first-ever StrollerThon fundraiser on Oct. 2 at Bond Park in Cary. In addition to the three-mile walk, there will be Tot Trot races, inflatable games, face-painting and fun for the whole family. All are welcome – strollers not required! 


Now, in her own words, here's Suzanne...

______________

When I opened the door to my first Moms Supporting Moms meeting, I wanted to turn on my heel and walk right back out.

I was terrified. And embarrassed. Even though every single woman in that room had been in my shoes.

So I sucked in a deep breath, let go of the handle and sat down. As each person in the circle took a turn introducing herself and sharing her story, relief began to wash over me. I remember thinking: These women are describing exactly how I feel. I’m not alone.

I’m not crazy.

I can’t tell you how validating (and supremely comforting) it was to recognize that I was not the only person on the planet struggling with postpartum depression. That I had nothing to be ashamed of. And, most importantly, that it did not make me a bad mother.

Hopelessness and chronic anxiety, sleeplessness and crying had dominated my frame of mind since my daughter was a few days old. I was terrified to be alone with her, and I dreaded nighttime because I knew it meant that I would not sleep.

Walking to the mailbox was a feat. I did not want to leave my living room.

But when my haven began to feel like a cave swallowing me whole and my fears grew more irrational and the crying did not stop, I decided it was time for help.

I reached out to my family, talked with my next-door neighbor (whose kindness and grace will forever be cemented in my heart), called my doctor and went to Moms Supporting Moms meetings every week.

Quickly, I began to heal.

The women in that group – the new moms like me and the “survivor moms” who facilitated our conversations – helped save me.

If you’re a new mom struggling with postpartum depression or anxiety, please know that you are NOT alone. Ask for the help that you deserve. Check out a Moms Supporting Moms meeting.

And please know that you WILL feel better.

I’m living proof.


*Join us for StrollerThon fundraiser on Oct. 2 at Bond Park in Cary -- good exercise, great fun and an important cause. All are welcome – strollers not required! 

Student Stands Up, Speaks Up for School Diversity

I didn't attend last week's rally and protest by supporters of Wake County's now-eliminated diversity policy. My reasons for not attending were typical and (let's be honest) a little lame -- I had to work and couldn't take the time off while balancing job, kids and my daily life. Because I wasn't there, I'd decided not to write about it -- it's not like you all don't know where I stand on the issues. 

But someone I know was there -- he's 15 and a student in the Wake County Public School System (WCPSS). After the march, he and his mom submitted a letter to the editor about his experience. I don't know if the paper will run the letter or now, but I wanted to be sure it got printed somewhere. Thank you, Seth, for standing up for what you believe in and for trying so hard to be heard when others (like me) were silent. Here's the letter:

I took my 15 year old son to Hillsborough Street at 8:45 this morning. He took a CAT bus to the Convention Center and participated in the march to the Capitol where he stood alongside over a thousand other people, in 95 degree heat to hear all the speakers at the rally. He walked to Pullen Memorial Baptist Church to pray and prepare for the school board meeting. He left there and went to the school board where he waited outside for forty-five minutes, then spent four hours inside trying to obtain a ticket to attend a public meeting where he signed up to speak. After ten hours of working for an opportunity to express his views, he saw the School Board move into “closed session” instead of continuing with the public hearing. Here is what he wanted to say:

“I have spent 11 years in the WCPSS. I am proud to be in a school system recognized across the country as a model for diversity within education. Sadly, this is about to change because of five close-minded board members. I am a product of a school system that taught me to value diversity. I understand that when I graduate, I will enter a diverse world. I will also graduate with the understanding that I can learn something from every person I meet – black, white; rich, poor; conservative, liberal. It is also my responsibility to share what I know with others. And what I know is that a neighborhood school system will segregate schools based on socio-economic status and create unequal opportunities for learning. It will also prohibit current and future students from benefitting from the diversity that was so important and relevant in my education.

“In January, I was honored to be asked to read a litany at a joint service with Pullen Memorial and Martin Street Baptist Churches. I was humbled to read words spoken by Martin Luther King, Jr. On that day, I made a promise to myself that I would take the words that he once spoke and make them resonate in my life, and throughout the world. That is why I will never stop fighting for a diverse, public school system in Wake County.”

Dr. Jill Hinton and Seth Keel

Photo from The News & Observer.

J-Fest 2010: Announcing the Big Day

When Junius was born, his father (being a true PR man) wrote and distributed a hilarious press release announcing the big event. I've changed the names to reflect those used on this blog (in place of our surnamed "company," MCL stands for My Convertible Life), but I couldn't resist posting it here, five years after it's initial release. Apologies for the repeat to those of you who saw it the first time around. Happy birthday, Junius -- we love you!

MCL Settles Labor Dispute; Expands Operations in Raleigh

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
July 10, 2005

Raleigh, N.C. – MCL announced today that it has settled an ongoing labor dispute and expanded operations in Raleigh with the addition of Junius T. Bugg. The settlement resolved a birth delivery conflict between management and labor that peaked on July 8, allowing the firm to immediately expand. Junius is expected to provide the firm with greater depth and expertise in children’s issues, including infant diet and nutrition, sanitation and retail marketing.

“Miracles happen to people everyday in so many different ways. With the help and prayers of our family, friends and exceptional medical professionals, we began to live our own,” said Convertible Girl, partner and co-founder. “Our hearts are overflowing.”

Junius is a healthy baby, currently resembling his father. He weighed 8 pounds and 12 ounces and measured 20.5 inches long at birth. His first name is believed to be a distant family name on both sides and means “God has been gracious.” His middle name means “noble” and is also the name of his father. His official start date is July 8, 2005, at 3:57 p.m. He is the first full-time employee of the firm.

Dr. KB, of the Office of OB-GYN, led mediation efforts and performed all surgical procedures. Ms. S, RN, provided labor and delivery assistance throughout the day.

“This is a water-breaking moment for our firm,” added Spin PhD, partner and co-founder. “We’ll now have more feet and hands on the ground as we grow and explore new opportunities. We are tired, but very excited for the future.”

While the expansion will hit the firm’s balance sheet immediately, management is considering a variety of tax strategies to offset expenses associated with the initial investment. Angel investors have already provided in-kind support through furniture, supplies, clothing and friendship. The firm maintains a very positive long-term outlook for a strong return to original and subsequent investors. There are no immediate plans for additional expansion.

MCL was formed in 2001 through the merger of Convertible Girl and Spin PhD, then located on the campus of UNC Chapel Hill. The addition of staff had been anticipated since October 2004, but the gestation and birth processes and jumbo size of the baby prevented the firm from expanding sooner.

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Friday's 5: Firsts from the Father

Today we bring you a guest post from SpinPhD, also known around our house as "Daddy."

Lately I’ve become acutely aware of firsts -- those milestone events that kick-off a lifetime of activity and life rhythms. In the last post, Convertible Girl wrote about Pippi’s first haircut. We took pictures, celebrated at Chick Fil A, called the grandparents and more. She felt like a celebrity and we couldn't believe how much she looked like a big girl all of a sudden.

I think we make a big deal out of firsts because they are transformative. We are changed after the event. We can never go back. You can’t undo a first, no matter how much you might want to. All that really matters is what happens next.

So today I get to share with you five of Junius’ firsts from the last several weeks:

1. First baseball glove. Having a catch is a time honored father-son tradition and Junius has a major sports bug. We went to the store together, trying on several until he picked out a black leather boy-sized glove. We’ve already had many rounds of catch -- with many more to come. He was even out playing with his PopPop at 7:15 a.m. last week. 
2. First jump off the diving board. Junius has made quantum leaps in his swimming prowess this year, which turned into his first leap off the diving board (see photo). In his excitement, he nearly leaped over me, but splashed down safely and swam to the side with a little help. He was equally delighted and terrified. Then he did it again.
3. First “earned” dollar. This followed his first week of chores – making his bed everyday, helping with the trash twice a week, taking out the recycling and “other duties as assigned.” He was thrilled with his first earned dollar, which included his first lesson in personal finance (also known as Saving for College). Maybe we should frame it and hang it on his wall?
4. First purchase with his own money. Thanks to grandparents and other relatives, he’s saved a few dollars in his piggy bank (but not $21k as he previously thought). His first purchase? A ham biscuit from Biscuitville. Buy one, get one free. I ate the free one.
5. First attempted bike ride without training wheels. He didn’t make it more than a few feet and still needs to remember to hold on to the handle bars all of the time (as opposed to grabbing hold of Dad), but that’s beside the point. He tried. He tried really hard. Although he didn’t ride completely solo, he now knows some things are harder than they look. And that trying means you don’t always succeed. Nonetheless, he’ll be back up again on that bike soon. I just know it…And then he’ll make his first real solo bike ride.

So many more firsts lie ahead. Watch out Neil Armstrong. Here comes Junius T. Bugg….

An Open Letter to WRAL's Meterologist

A friend emailed the following letter last night -- it cracked me up, so I asked him if I could post it on my blog today (in lieu of the usual Friday's Five) as his blog is currently on hiatus. Thankfully he said yes (because he's a lawyer type, I couldn't publish without permission for fear of legal action).

The post is all the funnier because of the big, fluffy white flakes currently falling outside my window. Better luck next time, my friend -- last night, I was sure you'd be right!

________

Dear Greg,

I am on to you. It's a twisted little game you got going on, and I will not let it stand. See, Fishel, we've been down this road before, you and me. And as our former president famously said, "Fool me once, shame on — [pauses] - shame on you. Fool me — You can't get fooled again."

Here is the deal. You played this wintry weather scare game on the night of my wife's baby shower. Your dire warnings of 'frozen precipiatation' scared all my native southern friends from venturing outdoors. You made it sound like a flake of snow was akin to the ebola virus. Your 28 years of experience freaking out the natives might get you some street cred with the bread-buying, beer-hoarding locals, but I am not from here and I am hip to your reindeer games.

So, anyway, on that faithful night two years ago, me and my poor wife were just sitting at friend's house, alone, in the dark. No friends to wish our new arrival well. No cute baby clothes. No silly games we have decided here in the 21st are somehow an acceptable way to wish a couple well. And the worst part? The roads were dry. Bone dry. Yancey County dry. Dry enough for even the most southern of my friends to drive safely on.

So this time, Fishel (if that's your real name), I am choosing to ignore your doppler 5000 and your accuweather predictions.

I am going to the Raleigh Times at 11:55 tomorrow. I am going to enjoy my [monthly lunch group]. And when I hear your dire predictions of wintry weather, I will spitefully laugh and ruefully think of my young son and how he was forced to go without shower presents, all because you couldn't get your shower predictions right.

Yours in accurate forecasting,
Damon

Image from WRAL.com.

Thursday Soapbox: The Myth of Rubbing Shoulders

Today I'm stealing a guest post written earlier this week by a 2007 graduate of Enloe High School regarding the significance of Wake County's diversity policy. For those less familiar with Raleigh, Enloe is a magnet high school that offers the International Baccalaureate program and is focused on humanities, sciences and the arts. Enloe, which regularly makes Newsweek's list of the top 100 high schools, opened in 1962 as the first integrated secondary school in Raleigh.

I love this post for several reasons...

1. This student learned more than the standard curriculum in high school -- he learned about the world, about people, and about the kind of person he wants to be.
2. This student recognized that his high school experience had significance beyond simply getting him a diploma and into college.
3. This student is still connected to his community and paying attention to current events, even though he has graduated and moved away for college.
4. This student took the time to share his experiences in an effort to make a difference for others.

Without further ado, here's Abhiram in his own words:

The Myth of Rubbing Shoulders

[There is a] myth that kids in magnet schools are merely rubbing shoulders and don't learn anything from diversity. I would like to debunk this right here and now with a few examples.

I understand very well that the following examples concern sensitive topics, and my intention is not to inflame emotions about these particular topics, but to address the impact that a diverse environment can bring to discussions concerning these topics.

Having participated in class debates about affirmative action in a diverse classroom, I understand very well the palpable tension that hovered in the air. Looking across the room, I could see very clearly the real impact this debate was having on each person as it related to their academic, social, and racial identity. Being in that diverse environment reminds you that you're not just talking about demographics, but real people on whom your advocated policy impacts. In a diverse classroom, you as a student can no longer ignore that elephant in the room and live in your ideological cave, but must absolutely step out into the open and see the world and the truth that it offers from many different perspectives.

Another example: As religion can be a personal and sensitive topic, it is often avoided as a topic of conversation among peers in ordinary life. However not too long ago, this peaceable state of affairs came to a crashing halt when one Wake County teacher invited a controversial speaker to talk to Enloe students. This speaker crossed the line and attacked and spread falsehoods about a particular minority. Had there not been a diverse enough community to recognize the blatant lies that had been propagated, it is not clear whether the appropriate authorities would have been contacted. In fact, no member of this particular minority was at the talk; the diverse student body confronted the issue and discussed it with their peers and it was only because of that diverse discussion that subsequently a responsible student (who belonged to that minority) alerted the appropriate authorities. [For more background on this incident, click here.]

Also, we take a course on World History in the 10th grade and part of this course includes a discussion of Holocaust and a trip to the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. Can you even imagine how much more poignant each moment becomes when you look at the expression on your Jewish friend’s face who’s family had suffered at Nazi hands?

Another topic we discuss in our World History Class is the Hindu Caste System. Once again the elephant in the room could not be ignored. There are Hindus in the classroom. I can still remember the looks on people’s faces as they glanced at us, perhaps wondering, “Do they really believe that?”, “Does their religion really say that?”, “How could they be so blatantly insensitive?”

And then we have a class discussion; nobody defends the anti-egalitarianism, but we point out mankind’s long tradition of misusing and misinterpreting religion to justify evil, with examples of anti-egalitarianism from other religions and from our own country’s history, when slave-owners would justify “keeping one’s place in society” to their slaves through biblical stories. What diversity brought was not mere, “shoulder rubbing,” rather it functioned as a check and balance on our collective arrogance. It reminded us that we are all human and all come from equally legitimate backgrounds which have all had their fair share of unfairness.

Suddenly, it begins to all tie together. We no longer see only through our own eyes, but through those of our peers as well. We begin to understand not only the men and women with whom we interact, but also what drives them, and why they see the world the way they do.

What diversity brings is not merely the “rubbing of shoulders” between the rich and the poor, or even the one-way transfer of knowledge from one party to another. It brings an understanding between people and of the motivations that drive them. It is an understanding to which “F&R” kids contribute and receive, and one that they deserve as well. It enlightens ALL of us with multiple perspectives on issues so that when we deal with the diverse conflict present on the increasingly international daily theatre, we will not blindly rush forward with single-minded and ignorant views.

________

If you're a registered voter in Wake County and you'd like to sign a petition (started by Enloe students) in support of the district's commitment to ensuring diverse and healthy schools, click here.

Guest Post: There's a Reason They're Smiling

Today we feature a special guest blogger: my husband. May God bless this wonderful man, who fearlessly tackled a most painful chore two nights ago and thus earned the right to rant.

Okay, I confess. I’m a customer service critic. From attitudes and aptitudes to cleanliness and consistency, I want companies to get it right.

Good customer service isn’t that hard….really…unless, you’re Time Warner Cable. They don’t seem to get it. After we discovered that we don’t need or want to pay for 400+ channels (including the home-wrecking channel, the laundry detergent channel or the we-don't-have-a-theme-yet-but-here's-some-bad-programming-anyway channel), I decided to make the call and downgrade our service.

But before I begin, in fairness, I must offer kudos to TWC’s “John” in sales and “Sara” in customer service who were nice, but powerless to do the one thing I wanted. No, that job was reserved for the folks in “retention.”

I’m not exactly sure what they were retaining, but “Jeremy” and “Bridget” had it bad. Jeremy bumbled for 10 minutes looking up my account, couldn’t take a payment and didn’t even try to solve my problem. He passed me to Sara (see kudos above) who could only take a payment and send me back to Bridget for more retaining.

Poor Bridget. Bless her heart, she couldn’t find my account for 20 minutes. She asked for our phone number (which came from TWC and was only ten digits) and couldn’t find it. I gave her my account number (which came from TWC) and she couldn’t find it. I spelled our last name several times and she couldn’t find it. I even tried spelling it louder for her. I gave her my wife’s Verizon cell phone number and then miracle of miracles! It appeared!

I stated what I wanted to do, how much I wanted to pay and why. She said “okay” and over the next 40 minutes dodged any rational discussion about whether or not she could do what I asked. Apparently the "okay" was her way of saying "yeah, right." She proposed meaningless offer after meaningless offer. I debated her logic, berated her company and mandated my request. I was even tempted by a free month of any movie channel. But alas, no.

Then I pulled out the nuclear option. I told her I was ready to cancel all of my services. Right then. Seriously. We could do it. We have more than 30 Sesame Street episodes on our TiVo, plus countless others from Franklin, Bob the Builder and the Biscuit Brothers. And of course, there's always our knight in shining armor -- Netflix!

I restated what I wanted one last time. Finally she said, “Okay, I can do that. I’m sorry, I didn’t know that I could.” There it was -- the magic "okay" and just like that I got what I proposed at the beginning of the call. Total elapsed time: 1 hour 20 minutes. We’ll save $516 over the next year on cable. Not bad for a Pyrrhic victory. I was exhausted when the call ended.

Of course, for every bad experience, there are those good ones. Such as the folks at the N.C. License Plate Agency on Wake Forest Road and the fine folks at the Guilford County Tax Office. That’s right – two government agencies.

The folks I encountered the morning after my TWC-near-death-experience were very nice, smiling and helpful people. They helped me sort out the hanging details of a license plate renewal that fell through the crack of last year’s move. They were patient, polite and personable. I suspect they knew I needed them more than they needed me. But they played along and made me happy about “going legit.” After I paid the back car tax and the renewal fee, I was done. It cost me $257, but I was happy and my faith in humanity was renewed.

Maybe they knew what the TWC folks didn’t. You don’t have to be so brazen about TAKING someone’s money if they’ll gladly GIVE it to you.

Thanks for letting me rant…