No Bad Days For Me!

        News flash: Someone has finally discovered the allusive Parenting Manual!
         It's true. And somewhere, in that unofficial, impossibly hard to find parenting handbook, there is a rule about bad days.
       Apparently, when your a mother of more then one child, your not allowed to have a bad day. Seriously. No bad days ever. Because your a mom. Because you decided to have a child. You signed up for this. This role as mother was a choice, and you made it. More importantly then that, you chose to do it more then once. And if by some chance you forget that rule and have a bad day, the punishment will be that everyone, everywhere will automatically place all blame for your bad mood on your children.
      Proof:
     After a long week of one person after another coming down with the flu (including myself), after the tenth time cleaning up vomit, I allowed myself a bad day. A grumpy, don't get dressed or showered, screw doing the dishes kind of day. As someone randomly stops by for a visit, I hear my punishment being handed down. "Well, this is what you signed up."
      I know, I know. One random event doesn't prove that rule, right?
     As March rolls around, John and I join the millions of Americans, parents and non-parents alike, who begrudgingly start the process of filing tax returns. As I make a simple joke about the groans I hear from John who is working hard on his computer crunching numbers, my punishment comes flying at me out of nowhere, "How bad could it possibly be for you guys at tax time, you have 6 kids?!"
    Stupid me. Obviously I deserved that one.
    8 months after one of our little ones, who was still getting up every 3 hours all night long, I mentioned how worn out I felt. "At this point, you should know what to expect."
    The worst is really that anytime I mention being tired, the blame automatically goes to my kids.
   Why? Why is it automatically assumed that it's because of my kids that I am tired? Can't I be tired because I am coming down with something? Can't I be tired because I have a unnatural amount of weeds growing in my garden and spending a whole day hoeing wears a girl out? Maybe I stayed up too late watching every episode of Merlin available on Netflix? I am married to hot young Italian, maybe he chases me around the house all night long? Those are all reasonable assumptions! Why does it have to be blamed on me being a mom.
         I should be allowed to detest doing laundry. That hate came long before having kids, just ask my mom! It was one of my weekly chores. Quite frankly, as a sister doing her teenage brothers laundry would make any person hate doing the wash! I hated it before kids, I loath it after kids. Not my kids fault. I just don't like stinky drawers.
     If your one of those lucky people who happen to catch me in the grocery store with all my kids (which is always), that face I am making is not their fault. I have RBF. Google it. It's real and I have it.
Resting Bitchy Face.
      Again, not my kids fault. I blame my mom. And my Granny. Heck, I blame my great-grandmother. Great ladies, bitchy faces. It's genetic. We just naturally look pissed. We were born needing Botox and too smart to go get it.
  I could also be making that face because I just got asked for the tenth time that day "Are they all yours?" or the ultra pathetically sympathetic ,"God bless you"  with the head the head shake. Seriously?!
 This lady nailed it. I usually get all of these during one grocery shopping trip.



What kind of face would you make if someone asked you crazy personal and unnecessary questions in the middle of a grocery store?

 



And sometimes, my bad days are because I'm a mom.
   I am not a morning person. Never have been, never will be, and yet, somehow, I have been blessed with two little boys who think 5:30 (no matter the bedtime) is a great time of day.






Sometimes, cleaning up spit-up and poo isn't as exciting as it should be. Sometimes, I should be allowed to complain about having to load the dishwasher for the 3rd time that day, and not get told, "It comes with the territory."
Sometimes teaching long division to one child and the alphabet to to another while trying to ignore Daniel Tiger singing in the background and chasing your 2 year old up to the toilet so he doesn't spray all over the kitchen, and giving fashion advice to your super-sensitive child and giving the evil eye to the four year old for carrying the baby by one arm, and getting pelted in the back of the head with a Nerf gun, all while trying to pour milk into a baby bottle, is a little bit much.
     I'm allowed to have bad days!
Maybe it's just that people have forgotten how to give pep talks. Maybe people have lost their ability to sympathize. Maybe people haven't seen the movie Bambi.

My Two Dads part 2

      It took several years before things worked out and I finally got to meet my little sister. It felt more like several lifetimes, and it kind of was. We change so much throughout our lifetime that by the time I turned 27 years old, I had been several different people. Every experience in my life changed my outlook, changed the way I experienced the things 

that were happening to me and around me, and changed the way that I viewed the world. 

This piece of my life in particular has changed me the most. 

       At times growing up, I felt so lost and unloved and unwanted and broken, and other 

times I felt so strong and confident and so full of love and forgiveness for all the things that 

had happened. There were so many things in my past that I was part of, but had no memory of, no control of. Things that made me who I am today, but things that I felt so disconnected from. I wanted a chance to be able to prove my worth to the people that are my family, but 

who were really strangers to me. It's such a conflicting feeling to know that I have people out there who are part of me or part of my past, and who I want to be part of my future, but 

they are people I had never met. It's one of the most confusing feelings. I am not even sure 

there are words to describe it.

           Because I have two younger brothers that I grew up with, I am lucky to know the joys of being older sister. I love, love, love that role and the closeness that I feel to my brothers 

made it that much harder, knowing that I had a little sister that I was disconnected from. I 

felt robbed that I didn't get to talk to her, share life experiences with her, give her sisterly 

advice, and that I missed out on having all the memories of her growing up, doing the crazy 

things that siblings do together. 

    To top it off I have a father who I have wanted to meet, wanted to get to know, and never had that opportunity. It feels like part of my heart is sitting in a different place than the rest of my heart. There is still love and longing there but it's disconnected from the rest of me. Sometimes I would go through pictures and stare at the picture so hard hoping that there  

would be some kind of memory, or connection made just by seeing their faces, that I would 

know who they really were. I hoped that I would know what they were like, and that all the 

pieces that were missing by not having the time with them would be filled. 

      When things finally looked like I was finally going to get to meet my sister and she was 

heading towards the east coast, part of me started freaking out. I was so excited and I had all these ideas and plans in my head of how I wanted things to turn out, but not knowing what 

she was really like, I didn't know how to figure out what to do together. I knew that my 

father would be the one driving her out to meet me and I knew there was some reservations about how things would turn out. Understandable reservations. All the plans that were made for she and I to get together made sure that it was all about two sisters getting together and getting to know each other. 

        When she was finally on our way to my house she text me and let me know that my 
my father would like to meet me too. Every emotion possible flooded me. I had never felt so petrified in my entire life. I ran upstairs and wanted to scream and cry and yell all at the 

same time. I looked in the mirror, checked my clothes and brushed my hair again. I 

wondered if when he saw me, my home, my children, and my husband,  would he think that I turned out good or that I was a loser  I must have checked the mirror 50 more times 

before they pulled up out front. I felt like I was getting ready for a blind date, when you are wondering if you're good enough for the person stick around or if they're going to cut the 

date short because you were not what they were expecting. I wanted everything about me 

that wasn't good enough when I was a baby, to be enough now, but I didn't really know what it was that was wrong with me, and I had no way of fixing it to make myself  good enough for that moment. 

       I stood in my kitchen, watching out the window as my husband  and my kids went over 

to meet the two of them, shake their hands and bring them to the front door. I am not sure my heart beat a single time as I watched everything happening out front of my house. My 

little sister walks in the door and my heart fired off one hundred beats per second. I had so much love for the stranger standing in my front door, that it took a lot of self-control not 

squeeze her so hard that I'm sure her head would have popped off. Part of me wanted to 

bury my head in her shoulder so I could just enjoy that moment and not have to remember 

that there was another person standing behind her that I was terrified to meet. I wanted to 

just take in the moment and see beautiful she was, how sweet her voice sounded and how 

excited I was to be the big sister to this amazing young woman who walk through my front 

door. 

        I was expecting this huge wave of anxiety to hit me the minute I let go of her and had 
to see him face-to-face, but by some tender mercy, there was a smooth transition from 

letting go of her to being introduced to him and hugging him and somehow, there was not the

awkwardness I expected there to be, hugging a stranger. Every feeling of fear, anger, and  

uncertainty that I had felt for so many years disappeared for that moment, because I felt 

relief, and quite possibly love, from both of them. As we walked up to the living room to go 

sit and talk, I was again surprised at how smoothly things went. Even though they were 

my family, they were strangers. Every time that I was worried there was going to be an 

uncomfortable pause in conversation, I remembered that the two people sitting in front of 

me were the two people that I wanted to know more about then I could possibly fit in one 

day and that there would never be enough time for all the questions and information I was 

hoping to absorb from them. And even though the time together did not last near as long as I hoped for, the peace that I felt when they were with me made it worth it. 

     Through all of this, I have tried my best to be as objective about everything as I can. I 

wanted to go through each experience feeling each feeling and taking in each moment 

without too many expectations. As children we have certain needs and expectations of our 

parents, and every interaction we have together, shapes who we are. My children have been going through this experience with me. I have done my best to be honest without sharing too much and to open without putting their own feelings at risk. I have learned so much about 

parenting through everything that has happened. I have had a million different scenarios run through my head, trying to change what has happened and what might happen, trying to 

feel less pain, trying to cause less pain, and trying to make everything as simple as possible.        But..... Life is not simple. It's painful. It's hard. It's messy. 

     But..... The things that we learn from the pain and the mess can be beautiful.

    I will never stop wanting there to be more. More connection, more interaction, more love, and that will always put me at risk for more pain and hopefully one day, that love. What an 

amazing thing I can teach my children: That life will never be easy but that we KEEP trying, that some people are harder to love and harder to feel love from, but we NEVER stop loving, and that the bravery it takes to do those things not only makes us STRONGER, but makes 

life a worthwhile experience.   

My Two Dads part 1

  In the 5th grade, we were given an assignment to write a short story about ourselves. Mine was titled, "My Two Dads". Although I grew up in a home with a mother and father, my mom had been married before, to my birth father. As an 11 year old, writing  that part of my life story didn't seem like that big of deal. Actually, it felt like the only interesting thing that set me apart from all the other kids in class.  Growing up in the 80's and 90's, divorce was slightly less common then today. In public, this seemed a more private, taboo topic, but at home, my mom had always been completely open and honest with me. Somehow, she had managed to put her feelings on the subject aside and willingly answered all of my many questions, as unbiased as possible. In fact, she had done such a good job of making sure to not bad mouth my birth father, that she made him sound absolutely wonderful. Obviously, since they ended up divorced, there were marriage issues, but she explained everything to me in such an understanding and forgiving way that those problems weren't the ideas that I held on to.
            She told me stories of a fun guy who was incredibly handsome, who made her laugh, who liked to dance, and who drove a little too fast. She told me of being so in love it makes you oblivious and of being so hurt it makes it seem impossible that you will ever recover. She explained why she felt he made his choices and why it wasn't my fault. She explained why I was so lucky to be adopted by my dad and how blessed we were to have this family, most importantly, my little brothers.
            As a child I was taught that we lived in heaven before we came to Earth, that we lived as spirit children of God and that we all knew each other and we chose to come to Earth. Most importantly we knew what we would encounter in this life: love, pain, joy, heartache, growth, and death. We knew every experience we would have and we still chose to experience this life. I was taught that one of the reasons we knew we could survive the trials we were most certainly going to experience, was that we were going to be given the gift of family.
            In my heart, I knew that having "My Two Dads" was just a part of the life that I had wanted so badly before coming to earth. There were very few times growing up, that my knowledge of my birth father had a strong impact on my life. I was very lucky to have a relationship with my biological grandparents and aunts. We weren't incredibly close but long distances and divorces can do that. I knew I had cousins that I wanted so badly to have a stronger relationship with. My grandparents did their best to be as open with me as they could and willingly answered any questions I felt like asking. But as I got older and less selfish, I realized that my questions were like tiny scratches in an old deep wound and that the questions I really wanted to ask, no one had the answers to.
           The first time that this part of my life story caused me pain was when I was visiting my grandparents on a trip up north from my home in Florida. Like always, I was looking at all the pictures on the fridge and taking in all the faces of my cousins, trying to match names with the faces, realizing that they got to see each other often and that I was more of a stranger. I moved on from the fridge to the other pictures on the walls and on shelves until I saw a face I didn't recognize. I looked around to see if she was in any of the other pictures, to see if this was somebody I was supposed to know or recognize, but this was the only one. As I turned to ask my grandmother who the little girl was, I saw her turn and look at my mom. I knew something I was asking was making this awkward feeling, but I just wanted to know who she was. My mom said something along the lines of  "If this is what I think it is, go ahead and tell her."
           As it turns out, my birth father remarried and had a daughter. I had a little sister. A little sister. The one thing I really wanted (I loved my brothers, but there was 2 of them and 1 of me), and I had it...but I didn't. I am sure the next thing I said hurt my grandmother more then I could understand at the time, but it was an honest question in my mind.
"Is he going to keep Her?"
           From that visit on, I thought about my birth father and my half-sister often. Everything that I thought I understood, didn't answer any of the questions I now had. I went through periods of anger and judgment to feeling worthlessness and rejection. Sometimes I would go months without it crossing my mind and other times it consumed my thoughts. My mom even reached out once to try and set up a meeting, but he wasn't ready. I am still not sure how my mom put her own feelings on the matter aside and remained so encouraging. I have had friends whose parents divorced and allowed their own hurt feelings to be pushed on the kids. I know of kids who have had to choose "sides" and I have seen the damage. I am so thankful that she chose to deal with her own feelings instead of pushing them on me
           Being a teenager became just slightly more complicated. I used to think that if I became really great at something, that my birth father would hear about it from my grandmother and he would see I was worth it. Each time we went back up north for a visit, I had this hope of seeing an extra truck in the driveway as we would pull up. It never happened and my heart would break a little knowing that this wouldn't be the year I would meet him. I wrote poetry and put all of my feelings and questions into a little book.
         Then I met my husband. We were only 15 but I knew he was the one. John had every quality in a human being that I needed. He filled in some of the pieces that were missing in me and his family was great. Both sides of his family amazed me. His mother's side was huge and loud and slightly dominating. I loved it because I had grown up with very little extended family around and seeing how much they loved to be around each other made me feel safe. His father's side was smaller but just as close knit and just as loud. Between the birthdays, baby showers, graduations, and sports events, there were family get-togethers almost weekly. It was like a tornado of family that I loved getting sucked into.
       John and I got married and had our first child during our sophmore year of college. It was hard. We had to live in an apartment in my parents basement for the first two years of marriage to make ends meet between paying for college and raising a baby. John worked so hard to get us both through school and nursing school hours were hard with a newborn. I started my first hospital clinicals just 7 days after having our daughter and only 5 months later, I was pregnant again. Our second daughter changed our world. She made a real effort to get to our family as soon as possible and almost showed up 3 1/2 months too early. After a very long hospital stay, she came at 36 weeks.

The first time I held both of my daughters at the same time... It changed me. My daughters loved each other. My oldest would sing her gibberish when her little sister would cry and immediately the crying would stop. Seeing John as a dad made me fall deeper in love with him then I knew possible. He loved his girls. He never complained or resented his role as a parent.When he would call home on his lunch breaks he would ask me all about the girls and then he would talk to them on the phone. No  matter how tired he was from working outside 12 or more hours a day, he would get on the floor and play with the girls.

         Having my kids only raised harder questions in my heart. How could I feel so much love for these babies, how could my husband be so in love with fatherhood, and how could there be someone who didn't feel those things for me? Was I thought of at all? John and I could barely go a few hours without wanting to find out what our kids were up to, how could someone go 22 years with out wanting to find out about me? Every time I would see my grandma I would want so bad to ask whether she ever told Him about me. I wanted to know if He ever asked what I was like or even if He just wanted to know if I turned out okay or if I was happy. But I asked because I knew those questions would cause pain, either for her or for me.
        Around the time I was pregnant with our fourth, I decided to start doing some searching on Facebook. Got to love Facebook. Within a few minutes I was able to find 3 girls who might possibly be my sister. I had an idea about her age was and where she lived. I sent all 3 girls a message trying to find out if they were the person I was looking for.  I don't remember exactly what I wrote, but I was trying to be as kind as possible, not knowing whether or not she knew about me, but at the same time not trying to seem like a creeper on Facebook. I quickly heard back from one of the girls and she wasn't my sister. Two days later I received another message back and it was the girl I was looking for. I found my little sister and better yet, she knew about me!  Just knowing that I wasn't a secret in her life was huge for me. Looking back on it now, if she hadn't known about me.... I am just not sure how well my self esteem would have handled that.
          The night I got her email I practically jumped on my couch and was so terrified to read the message. I had to have John sitting beside me the whole time because I was so scared that at any moment my world would come crashing down. I was waiting to hear that she wasn't allowed to talk to me or that even worse, she didn't want to. I wanted to know what she knew about me and what she thought about everything. I wanted to ask a million questions but knew that I was a 24 year old talking to a 14 year old and that I was the adult who needed to be careful with her feelings. There was this fine line between wanting to know all about her and what she was like growing up and then asking questions that would come across as wanting to know more about him instead of wanting to get to know her. We wrote messages back and forth for weeks trying to find all the things we had in common: a love of orange juice, horses, and Harry Potter, just to name a few. John sat up with  me for many late night as I had to talk through all of my feelings and as I was trying to figure out the healthiest way to form a relationship with this wonderful girl who is my little sister.
        Its been 6 years. 6 years that have flown by and dragged on, all at the same time. Sometimes I feel impatient at having to spend another birthday separated from part of my family, upset that I still don't have the same relationship with my sister, as I do with my brothers. I adore my brothers. I think life would be unbearable with out them and so much better because I do have them.  I get angry that everyone involved can't just choose to be okay and that we can't just be one big happy family. It's hard because there are so many people involved and that means so many different feelings and issues that have to be worked through. It hurts that I have waited this long and hurt this much, and my feelings still aren't the ones that matter.
     We all have families that have different issues and our relationships with family members are some of the most complicated relationships in life. They are the relationships that can heal you with something as simple as a hug and the relationships that can break you with something as simple as words. I know that family is God's greatest blessing to us, even though at moments it can be the cause of some of the worst pain imaginable. I watch families that seem to have it all together and envy them on some level, wondering how they have it all figured out, even though I know that no family is perfect.
      John asked me "What's the point? What is it in this post that will help others or help you?" I first thought that it might help others who have children like me, that were blessed to have "extra" family. Then I thought, maybe it would help others to know how lucky I consider myself to have a mom who was open and honest with me and never made me feel that the path our life had gone, was for a reason. I think that if it had been this big family secret, that maybe I would have felt that I had something to be embarrassed about or that there was something I had done wrong. But as I began writing I realized that it isn't really about the fact that I am a child of divorce or that I have two dads; it's about the fact that we all have relationships in our lives that we need. We all have family members who we have grown apart from or that we haven't taken the time to get to know well enough and we all have relationships that need healing.
         The reason that family relationships are so important, the reason they are our greatest gift no matter how broken they may seem, is that those are the relationships we chose to get us through this journey of life. They teach us what we need to learn in order to be better and stronger. Sometimes we learn what we "should do" and sometimes the lesson we teach each other is what "not to do". Most importantly, family relationships teach us to stop focusing on ourselves. If we spend this earthly existence focusing on ourselves, on our own feelings and on our own problems, then we have wasted a life. If we can take a step back from those family relationships that are causing us pain or discomfort, and try and figure out what we need to learn from it and what we can do to help our family members, we could all avoid so much pain. Our families were meant to have the strongest effects on our heart.
          I guess I have a lot to learn because I was sure blessed with lots of family.

(This post was turning out so be so long I had to write it in sections. Hopefully I can finish it up over the next few weeks.)
     

Weeeeeeeee

   
       Doesn't everyone have a slide in their house? Just kidding..... Kind of. Last winter in the northeast stunk. Full on funky foot odor STUNK. Lots of rain, very little snow, horrible winds, and kids stuck inside. With 5 little ones, that was as close to insanity one can come with out going over the edge. It was horrible. The only good thing we had going was I had installed a swing in our kitchen that fall, in an effort to keep the kids busy while I cooked. Really what I needed was 4 swings, but one will have to do.
     After last winter, I have decided I need more indoor activities. So logical, right? Haha! I had this idea brewing around for several months, but had been unable to get John completely on board. I wanted an indoor slide. I even had the perfect spot. Really, my only problem, besides hubby, was figuring out how to do it. I researched (Pinterest) and Googled and .....nothing usable. I wasn't having concrete poured in the house, I didn't know how to bend metal, and a carved wood spiral slide wasn't affordable.
 
 Of course, after conquering my kitchen table, I figured I was the new Martha Stewart of in-home-construction, and I can totally build a slide!

   



 I totally asked my husband's permission before starting a major construction project......





   
Anyways, we had this random spot, right next to our stairs, that was completely pointless, and strange if you count the built in flower bed thingy. It was perfect for a slide! It was already sloped and covered in ugly paneling. Obviously, it was really meant to be a slide and I was just finishing the job so I didn't really need to discuss it with John first....

Can't you totally see my evil laugh in this picture and isn't it awesome I use a crow bar while wearing a maxi skirt..... Really. That's my work clothes. I had to look cute so hubby wouldn't stay mad long.

So here is our random spot. All I had to was measure a couple more 2X4's to support the bottom half of the slide. 

I probably added way more support then necessary for 50 lb and under kids to be sliding down....but we all know John was going to use it more then anyone so better safe then sorry.

Then I laid down some 2X6's  on top of the angled 2X4's and put way too many screws in it, but again, better safe then sorry.

                     Added on 3/4 plywood and 2X12 boards for a side rail...I even tried to make it look nice by adding on more molding.

Next I had to fill all the holes several times and sand more times then I care to remember. And after 2 coats of primer and 3 coats of high gloss white paint, we had a slide! Obviously, we don't have a good way to get on the slide quite yet, but I am still trying to figure out how to turn our current railing into a swing gate at the top..... And now you know my next project.... along with the fireman's pole that we has to go in my sons' room! 

Surprise Hunny.....

1 Drill, 2 Saws, and a lot of Muscle

I did it! I built a kitchen table! Part of me has no idea how I did it, but I did it! 

    So let me tell you you all the who, what, where, why, and how of it all. 

   First, the Why. We had a perfectly good dining room table. It was in good condition, had enough room for our family, and looked rather nice. But.... It was a dining room table, and I don't have a dining room. I have a mess hall. The house originally had a dining room but the first thing John and I did when we bought the house was knock down the wall between our 10X10 kitchen and dining room to make it one big kitchen, and turned our living room (Where) into an eating area.

   We rearranged the cabinets that were once on the kitchen side of the wall and hung them over on the other side of the old ding room to pull it all together. It was so nice to feel like everyone could come in the kitchen and talk with me while I fixed the food and did dishes.

It also helped the house feel more like my house, instead of my grandparents. The cabinets were in such good shape that all we had to do was replace the counter top, add some handles, and paint.

But back to the table. So we found this great oak dining room table at a resale shop and it included a beautiful hutch, table, table leaf, and 6 chairs for $500. GREAT deal. We broke a chair, bought a bench, I painted the hutch and the table legs blue, had 4 more kids....and it didn't fit us anymore. I mean, it fit US, just no one else, and that's no fun.

Really, my main complaint about the oak table, was the chairs. They had huge claw-foot legs that made them heavy and they bumped into everything (including many toes) and they just were not functional. So I sold the hutch to an interior designer (woo-hoo) and then with John's permission, listed the table on craigslist. It was gone the next day. My brother swears it is because I sold an oak table for so cheap, but I got what I paid for it so I was happy. Poor John came home from work to an empty room and was a little more then surprised (he didn't think it would sell) and very worried because he had clients coming over for dinner in a few days.

    First thing I did was look up how to measure what size table fits what size room. I used EHow. Then i looked up different dining room table that I liked and tried to get an idea of what standard table widths and lengths are. I knew because of the size of our family and because of how much we love to have friends over that I wanted the ends to fit at least 2 people instead of 1. I also knew that if I got skinny chairs I could hopefully fit a 3rd person for holiday gatherings. After I measured all the possibilities out, I taped them out on the floor to see how it would feel. John and I decided that the bigger, the better. Then I recruited some help (Who).

They were thrilled, I swear! Luckily, My awesome sister and law was in town preparing for a move across the country, so naturally she had tons of time to come help me!! I did some research (Pinterest) on how to build a table and found two wonderful tables that I loved. Both were built a little differently but I combined the best parts and created my own design (How). The first table looked the sturdiest but I didn't like how the table apron wrapped around the table legs missmustardseed.com, so I kept looking around and found this one  ourvintagehomelove.blogspot.com  that was the color I loved and the right table legs.

Both of these sites have wonderful instructions that I am not even going to try and repeat. 

I do want to show one nifty trick my mom taught me that wasn't in the instruction. Because of the massive size of my table (60X80) I didn't want small table legs. Unfortuantely, I did all my shopping in one day at Lowe's and there wasn't a great selection for big table legs. (What) My solution....I used railing posts. I had to have them cut down, but they were big and chunky and great! To make sure that they didn't go anywhere I screwed down through the table, into the post, and instead of filling them with wood putty, my mom taught me this:

I also had to do a lot of support for the giant 2X8 and all the weight. When i first finshed everything and flipped it over....the table shook. Shook. I mean, wiggled like crazy. I was so upset. So of course i called my mom, who told me "MORE SCREWS"...and so 75 screws later, no movement!!

I stained the table with Java colored water based stain, sanded some of the stain off, and put 6 coats of water based polyurethane. I also painted the legs and table skirt country white. I love it!

Our last exciting idea was to have all different chairs. We still had our old bench and my brother didn't have room for his hand made bench when he moved (awesome). We collected a bunch of free chairs and each one is being painted a different color. Our table is just as unique, crazy, and colorful as we are!

How we Deal with Food Allergies part 2

    During the first month of our new diet, C's health rapidly improved, but even more amazing was that all of my children got healthier. Our oldest daughter N had been a very fussy baby and since she was our first, we were really unsure of what to do. Things only got worse when I had to switch her to formula at 5 months because my milk had dried up. She had horrible constipation that required weekly suppositories and daily prune juice. Trying to get a 7 month old to drink prune juice is not a fun experience and neither is putting a suppository up their tush. We even spent a few days in the hospital when she started having problems breathing because she was so backed up. When she started kindergarten we had to pack extra clothes with her because she  often had accidents because every time she had to pee we had to get her to a toilet immediately. She wasn't holding it too long or procrastinating going, she just had to go that bad when she had to go. She often complained of stomach pain and that her body ached, really, she just complained often so I would not take it quite as seriously. She also had a rash on the back of her skin called Keratosis Pilaris http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/keratosis-pilaris/DS00769. It is hereditary, but not the way we thought. During the first week of changing our diet to strictly fruit and vegetables, N no longer had to run to the potty in order to make it there on time. By the second week, her stomach aches were gone and by the end of the month, the rash on her arms was almost completely gone.
   Our daughter B had developed eczema when she was 2 years old and by the end of the first month she it was nearly gone off her elbows and knees. J our oldest boy was our biggest ball of energy. He also had the Keratosis Pilaris which was healing up and we even noticed he started listening better. Lastly our baby K's diarrhea took the longest to resolve but by the end of the month everyone was doing better, even hubby and I had noticed changes.  Hubby's Keratosis Pilaris was getting better but wasn't gone, he had lost 25 pounds,  dandruff was better and even his psoriasis was gone. We both noticed that our afternoon "brain fog" was gone and that we needed less sleep to feel well rested. My biggest change was that the severe neck pain that I had for the last 5 years was gone.
   After the first month we new we needed to add in some other foods. Cutting up fruit and vegetables all day long was really hard on me and a dinner of broccoli and potatoes would not cut it with our extended family. The first two foods we added back in was rice and beans. Healthy Mexican food was our new favorite thing. Our next food item was nuts which was wonderful because we discovered we could make "mayonaise" and "sour cream" out of cashews! http://www.savvyvegetarian.com/vegetarian-recipes/cashew-mayonnaise-recipe.php http://www.theglutenfreevegan.com/2011/11/homemade-vegan-sour-cream/
   Everyone stayed healthy we were doing so good that we decided to give some of our old foods a try. C first exposure to dairy led to a mild attack that we were able to handle at home with inhalers and and her nebulizer but her second exposure was almost a trip to the hospital. She had similar reactions to even a small amount of gluten. My opinion is that the two together are what caused such a severe attacks that even her high doses of medications couldn't control. Definitely not worth it.  N had gluten twice and both times was left with urinary urgency and a stomach ache that lasted for two days. Eggs, dairy, and gluten all cause B's eczema to come back. If we have eggs more then once in a week she even reminds me that it hurts her and asks me to find her something else to eat. J bounces off the walls when ever he eats something he shouldn't which is worse for me then him. I did feed baby K a mint chocolate cookie and he broke out in hives from head to toe. So we have all decided gluten and dairy are just off limits for our family.
   There are tons of gluten free and dairy free alternatives out there and even more recipe blogs. My one piece of kitchen equipment that I had to buy was a bread maker. http://www.amazon.com/Cuisinart-CBK-100-2-Pound-Programmable-Breadmaker/dp/B001C2KY7Y/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1375110470&sr=8-2&keywords=bread+maker  As a large family, buying the tiny gluten free bread loaves at $5 for 7 slices of bread just isn't an option and Red Mill brand makes some great dairy free and gluten free bread mixes. I also just bought an ice cream maker because we discovered soy ice cream!! It's not quite the same but every kid needs ice cream, but again, $7 a pint is killer. There is even soy and almond yogurt!
 My last tip is that gluten free and dairy free foods are easy to find and much cheaper on Amazon.
 

How we Deal with Food Allergies Part 1

    My pregnancy with C was pretty normal. We had a scare after my 20 week ultrasound that some of her measurements were off and the doctors thought there was a possibility of Down's syndrome. After several more tests and another ultrasound, we were told everything looked great and we had nothing to worry about. She was born in July with her eyes wide open and made hardly a peep for the next two days. She was a pretty easy baby and did really well while I was breastfeeding her. Unfortunately, I have never been able to breastfeed for more then 5 months and had to switch her to formula. Over the next few months she continued to get up several times a night screaming but would calm down after we fed her a bottle but we went through a ton of formula. We were so happy the day she turned 1 and we could switch to milk instead.
    Shortly after her first birthday, my mom and I decided to take a road trip with all four kids, up to my parents cabin which was a 6 hour drive. I packed the usual snacks: cheerios, bananas, cheeze-its, and a whole gallon of milk to survive the ride. C, like most one year olds was not a fan of being trapped in her car-seat, so we kept refilling her sippy cup with milk and passing out the cheerios. The second day at the cabin C started having diarrhea. It was constant. We were going through 10 or more diapers a day and she was up several times a night crying. She got horrible diaper rash that was so bad her skin was peeling off her. We stayed at the cabin for two weeks and the poor thing had diarrhea the whole time and not normal diarrhea, it was pale and fatty looking and smelled worse then anything I had ever smelled. I called our family doctor on the way home and set an appointment for the next day.
    Fast forward four months and C still has diarrhea. My doctor had run out of tests to run on our daughter and so we were sent to GI specialists at one of the best children's hospitals who told me that since C was still growing it must be Toddlers diarrhea, which basically meant I was giving her too much juice. I tried to explain that she had one glass of juice a day and it was watered down. The doctor reexplained that she was still gaining weight so she was fine and that she would see us in three months. It didn't seem to matter to the doctor that my daughter's backside was missing several layers of skin.
      I also need to add in here because of my personal feeling on the matter, my kids are on a delayed vaccination schedule and since C had been sick her vaccinations were very behind.
     We returned to our family doctor for a check up and C was given two vaccinations to try and get her caught up with the regular vaccination schedule. 24 hours later we were in the ER and C was diagnosed with pneumonia. We never made it back to the GI doctor for our 3 month check-up because C developed breathing problems. Since she was under the age of 3 she was never given the diagnosis of asthma but we spent at least 6 days of every month over the next year in the hospital with severe asthma attacks. C was put on 3 different medications including 2 steroids to try and keeps her attacks under control. Her diarrhea did eventually stop, but now we had a new problem. Every time C received a vaccination, we were in the hospital 24 hours later with pneumonia. Luckily our family doctor saw the pattern and has put all vaccinations on hold. Even without the vaccinations though, every time C got a runny nose we knew an attack was going to be happening soon.
   We were eventually sent to an allergist and had a whole battery of tests run on C to try and figure out what was causing her attacks. Everything came back negative.
   C last major attack was June of 2012. We celebrated my dad's birthday one night with cake and ice cream. By 11 p.m. we had given her every medication we had at home, her inhalers and nebulizer treatments, and C could still barely breath. My husband took her to the E.R. and I sat at home with our other children. An hour later he called me asking about what a tracheotomy was and how bad was it that her O2 level was in the 70's. In the background I heard two people arguing about who had to be the one to give her the tracheotomy when the child couldn't handle anesthesia and who would hold her down while they were cutting.  I wanted to run to the hospital right then but I had 3 other sleeping children at my house. While I was still on the phone I heard what I assume to be a nurse yell that C's O2 stats jumped to 83% and the doctors got quiet. I asked my husband what was happening and he said all the doctors went just outside the room and were talking and he would call me back.
    C was in the hospital for 3 more days and was eventually released with 2 more medications to take every day. When we finally returned the following week to the doctor for our check-up, we were given horrible news. We were told that no one had any idea what was causing her attacks and that if C stayed on these medications she would have kidney failure, but if she continued to have her attacks, she would need that tracheotomy. The doctor mentioned the possibility of celiac's disease but said that she could not be tested because the test would require someone so young to need anesthesia and C would most likely not survive anesthesia.
  We were so lost. The following week our 8 month old baby started with the same smelly strange diarrhea as C. I knew I couldn't watch another child go through the same health challenges, so we made another appointment with our family doctor to see if there was anything else we could do. After reviewing all of Cs tests and lab work from the last year and a half, she suggested we just assume it was a food allergy. She said we had to eliminate everything from her diet. Everything. Just feed her vegetables and lean meats, and see what happened. The only problem was that C was a very sneaky little girl. She would go in the pantry and find food or grab food off her siblings plates when we were doing dishes, so the only way to make sure she did not get any food that would hurt her, the whole family had to eat the same way. We had also decided that because the diet was so strict it would be cruel if C had to watch the rest of us eat food she liked so we were going to do this as a team!
    After our doctor had suggested that we treat her attacks as food allergy reactions, I started researching everything I could about food allergies. Her symptoms eliminated most food allergies except dairy and gluten allergies and because C's lab work had shown that she had a very high level of inflammation, her symptoms matched Celiac's disease. http://www.celiaccenter.org/symptoms.asp  I also noticed that several of my other children had symptoms on the list of gluten sensitivity. http://www.celiaccenter.org/gluten_faq.asp#symptoms
I realized that maybe this team work approach would probably really benefit all of my children and not just C. The other thing I realized was that many of the symptoms of a dairy allergy and a gluten allergy were very similar so we needed to avoid both. I had noticed very early on when C's attacks first started that every time she had milk, she would get a runny nose and she would get discharge coming out of her ears. GROSS.
   Here is a list of some of the other site that I found really helpful:
Dairy Allergy-
http://voices.yahoo.com/dairy-allergy-children-its-not-lactose-intolerance-338392.html
http://www.foodallergy.org/allergens/milk-allergy
http://kidshealth.org/parent/medical/allergies/milk_allergy.html

Gluten Intolerance/Celiac Disease-
http://www.foodallergy.org/allergens/wheat-allergy
http://www.celiaccentral.org/Celiac-Disease/Celiac-Symptoms/32/
http://voices.yahoo.com/8-common-gluten-sensitivity-symptoms-children-3945024.html?cat=25

       I also began watching several documentaries, trying to find out as much information as possible about how food affects our bodies and to see if there was anything else we should be doing to get our daughter healthy and basically save her life. One of the first documentaries we watched was "Forks over Knives". There was so much great information in the documentary but one of the most important piece of information that we needed right then was that the animal protein Casein, was found in anything that came an animals, including meat and dairy products, causes inflammation in our bodies when we consume it. Since inflammation was C's biggest problem we decided to eliminate meat from our diet too. I spent the next week getting rid of just about all of the food in our house. It turns out that dairy is in just about everything. We learned to not only read ingredients in our food better, but that dairy was often not listed in the ingredients and we had to check for the tiny D symbol on the front of packages to know for sure that it was dairy free.
    For a whole month we ate only fresh fruit and vegetables. It was hard and the kids complained and what made it even harder was that even our extended family complained. No one believed that food allergies could cause the problems that C had and that we would starve to death without meat, dairy, and gluten in our diet.  
Here are some of the other documentaries we really loved:
"Fat,Sick,and Nearly Dead"
"Food Inc."
"Vegucated"
"The Gerson Miracle"

  The results we had in just one month was amazing. C was off all medications, no attacks, no runny nose, no ear problems, the swelling in her face went away and she was finally sleeping good! We also saw dramatic improvements in our whole family. I will post about that soon!

 

"A little more water in the soup"

       My Grandpa O was one of the most awesome men you could ever meet. He had tattoos on both his forearms, the shiniest bald head, the loudest sneeze you have ever heard, he was a huge fan of Arby's food, and had a story for every occasion. He had this a amazing ability to walk up to a stranger and talk to them like he had known them for years. It was near impossible to take him into any store for less then an hour, even if you were only buying one item, because he would talk to every person who walked within 5 feet of him. I once took him to visit Grandma O in the hospital. He would smile and nod at each person we passed, maybe say,"Hi", and keep walking along. As we neared the hospital elevators, this guy was walking passed us and Grandpa says," Hi, how ya doin?", and the man replies as he is still walking, "Good. How are you?" and continues on past. Grandpa shouts to the man to stop real quick, and says "Well you didn't give me a chance to tell you how I am doing" and proceeds to tell the man about his day and about grandma being in the hospital. This poor guy keeps looking at me as if to ask, is he serious or crazy.
       Grandpa O was also one of the most honest people you have ever met, which might sound like a good thing, but it wasn't. Why, you ask....Let me explain.
      One day while my grandpa was out grocery shopping, he saw a lady who was nearing the end of her pregnancy. Grandpa watched her for a moment and then was kind enough to ask her if she needed help with anything. She politely said no thank you and and turned to walk away. My grandpa quickly asked if she was going to be having the baby soon and the woman said she had a few weeks left in her pregnancy. My grandpa's response, and I quote, "Sheesh, if you get any bigger you won't have enough skin left to blink your eyes."
      When my grandfather told me this story, he seemed really surprised at the fact that the lady seemed to want to hit him with her purse. When I tried to explain to him that it was very offensive to say that to a pregnant woman, he replied " I figured that out, that's why I am just telling you the story". I was 7 months pregnant.
      The only time I knew my grandpa to lie was when he would say, "Let me tell you something real quick". If he said those words, you knew at least two more stories were going to be told.
     Most of Grandpa O's stories were about the men he used to work at Sun Oil Refinery with. There was one story that I heard many times and really grew to love. It was about this quiet man that grandpa worked with. The man was one of grandpa's best workers and usually kept to himself. The man also had a large family and was very poor. Each time he would come to work and tell Grandpa O that his wife was pregnant again, Grandpa would say, "Your broke! How are you going to feed another kid?", and the man's response was always the same, "Li'l more water in the soup."
    I heard this story each of the 5 times I told my grandpa that I was pregnant. He would ask me if I was happy, if we would be okay, asked if I needed anything, and then tell me the story.
   
     
     

Finding Role Models

                One of a mother's greatest fears is that we don't know what we are doing and that we are going to mess up. We worry that we are the only ones who either didn't get the secret "How to be an Amazing Mom" handbook, or even worse, that there is no handbook, and we are the only ones who have no idea what we are doing. Even after 6 children, I still feel clueless. As if parenthood wasn't hard enough, each child is so different that the parenting tactics that were so effective with one child are suddenly worthless with the next.
    But I found a secret weapon!
            As a teenager, I had a rather grim opinion of motherhood. I figured it was something women just did to be normal. It was just part of life. I wasn't able to see any benefits to motherhood but I could see a ton of negatives.
           There was a woman at my church who had eight children.  I'll call her Mrs. S. Her oldest was my age. With my bleak outlook on parenting as a whole, I had a rather poor opinion of her as a person. I figured that no sane person would purposely have nine children and that she must not have been educated enough to know about birth control. Fast forward four years and I was lost in the throws of motherhood, the only one of my friends married and the first to have a baby. When my daughter was 3 months old, Mrs. S had baby number 9. She called me up out of the blue one day and asked me to come over and give her some advice. Of course, I was very confused as to what advice me, a new mom, could possibly give to someone with so much more experience. When I arrived at her home and we finished oohing and aahing over each others babies, she told me about some problems she was having breastfeeding and wanted to know if I had any ideas.
           Over the last 8 years, Mrs. S has become one of my closest friends and greatest resources. I visit her weekly if possible. Every one of her children are not only well behaved, kind, and successful in their own right, but each one of them knows how much their parents love them.  Our girls have become best friends and even my son has found friendship with her sons. I soak up every bit of advice she has to give and watch her every move. I ask questions about about how and why she does things. I share my experiences with her and see if there is any way to put her parenting tactics to use in my own home. She helps me work through problems by giving me a spectators point of view.
           There are many other mothers in my life that I constantly preen advice from. I question all of them without judgement and take what advice I think will work for my family. I found that that is my secret "How To be an Amazing Mom", handbook: my collections of friends and their advice.
         That day eight years before had been more for my benefit then for Mrs. S. By asking for my help, Mrs. S had given me my first bit of self esteem as a mother. She made me feel that I had something to give, that maybe, just maybe, I might know how to be a mom. I hope to be able to pass on the favor.

           

Breastfeeding moms Kicked out by the mall cops

Local moms Were Harassed by Security for Breastfeeding at the mall
                    When I saw this article appear on  Facebook and that it had happened at my local mall, my first reaction was to get angry. I have never attended a nurse-in and I am not sure I ever would, but I do appreciate the efforts of those who are trying to make nursing more normal. I guess for be its not so much about wanting to nurse in public, but feeding my kid when they are hungry without having to hang out in a bathroom. I prefer to do it in private! But neither of our malls has a nice room where a mom can sit, not next to a toilet, have privacy and not have to leave the mall when they baby cries for food. I would never whip out my boob. I always cover up and look for a private place, but if another mom chooses to feed in a different way I don't think they should be treated like it was a vulgar act.

                   As a mom, I can't just not be able to feed a baby because somebody thinks that breast feeding is offensive. I have seen a lot more offensive things happening in a mall. No one calls the mall cops on the teenage boy with his pants around his knees for no good reason, or the girls with skirts so short I can see they are wearing a thong when they bend over. That is gross and offensive. Even obscene. But it's considered "normal". Breast feeding should be too. I don't know any woman who doesn't prefer a quite private place to put their feet up and nurse, but that's not usually how life works out. A woman shouldn't be punished for choosing to not use a bottle, which is fine to use anywhere. 

                I have ALWAYS kept myself covered up and always put others feelings first when I nursed. I have nursed in tons of bathroom stalls just to keep my nursing private. That's just how I am. I just don't think that a mom nursing a baby is something that should have been handled by cops or that the women should have been asked to leave. Society can't say it bothers them to see it when a mom nurses but it is perfectly fine when they walk out to a food court and see all the half dressed people hanging out there, or walk past Victoria's secret and have to see a 12 foot tall poster of a woman wearing nothing but a thong. 

               I think the real problem is that people can't separate the sexual nature of breast vs. feeding a baby. It's just that. Feeding a baby. It shouldn't be made into anything more. We are really the only country that makes it such a big deal. Like I said, I am always respectful so I don't make anyone else uncomfortable..... Which usually leaves me in very uncomfortable places to feed a baby. Often feeling like I was being punished for nursing. Which is ridiculous. I really shouldn't have to feed a baby in a public bathroom or run out to my car in the middle of shopping, or hide behind bushes at the zoo. I use a cover. That should be good enough. If people were more respectful on both sides it would be a lot easier. No nursing mother should just whip it out. It's still a breast.

The most annoying questions...

I have 5 kids..... yes, 5. I know to most sane people in the world that sounds like a lot, but to me, it's just a number. I have crazy days filled with way more laundry then I care for, weekly grocery store trips, and a dishwasher that never stops running... but doesn't every mom? No matter how many kids you have, your schedule is full of things to do to take care of your family. To me, 5 kids is my normal. So it really bothers me when I am out running my errands and I get asked, at least twice, "Are they all yours?"
Really? Do you really think that I am volunteering to take the neighborhood kids with me to to see my daughter get an x-ray? Maybe your suggesting I am sponsoring an educational field trip to Walmart? Or do you think I am collecting these kids from unfit parents around the store? Possibly you think the mall has a new daycare facility and I am taking the kids for a walk?
Almost worse then the stupid question is the blank stares I get as people stop what they are doing, count my kids and then just look at me.... "Yes....?"
It's 5 people, not 50. 5 well behaved, loveable, and cute kids, and unless I ask you to pay my grocery bill, don't give me the "holy crap" stare.

Cute Modest clothes

So I have a really hard time trying to find clothes I really love and that fit my church's modesty standards. So I have been looking around and most of the girls at church layer their clothes and it looks really great. However, I have a large upper body and the more layers I wear, the more my shoulders look like I have built in shoulder pads. Dresses seem to be the hardest to find. Some of the "dresses" that I see are really just stretched out shirts.
Bathing suits also being an issue, I found http://www.hapari.com/

My Embarassing Moments

     Kids can truly say the darndest things. My kids just haven't developed that filter yet that most of us adults have learned to use. At times it is so funny to hear what they are thinking... and other times I want to hide in a hole. Like the other day, when I was out shopping for feminine products, my daughter B asked, " Are those mommy diapers?" The two men that were standing at the end of the aisle both looked right at me.            Awkward. How in the world do you answer that?
   Then a few days later I took my oldest with me while dress shopping for my friends wedding. In the middle of pulling a dress off over my head, N wants to know, " Why does your tummy look like that?"
    The entire dressing room went completely quiet and still. I am sure everyone wanted to hear my response. After all it was a valid question. I am still wondering why my stomach looks like this too! Luckily or unluckily, not all their comments are about my stretch marks.
    We once saw a man at Walmart who was missing an eye and in the loudest voice possible I hear one of my daughters ask, "Why is there a scary pirate in the store?"
      We have also been through the "Why is that man have such a big belly?", and "Is she having a baby?", to a woman who was clearly too elderly to be pregnant. Usually I just put my head down and walk as fast as I can with 6 kids, in the opposite direction, which usually ends up with my kids repeating the question louder and louder until I answer them.
     One of the hardest things is when my kids are trying to describe people well, so I know just who they are talking about. They describe hair, outfits, ages, heights, etc., whenever they don't know someone's name. Of course this list should also include skin color. When it comes to race, no matter how innocent the comment, it always comes out sounding bad. So the other day we were shopping for a new kitchen stove, this wonderful woman snuck me in the back of the store to the loading docks so I could see more inventory. While the girls and I walked back there, there was a woman's voice over the intercom system. My daughter, who was 4 at the time, said just as loudly as possible, " Was that the black lady?" Of course the wonderful woman assisting us was African American, and she paused in her step for just a second when she heard my daughter question, but then continued walking. I was so shocked/embarrassed that I didn't know how to start the lesson of not describing people by their skin color. Of course my daughter didn't mean it in a bad way, but it is just one of those things that sounds wrong no matter how it is said. I have since banned my kids from using skin color as a way to describe people because I just can not find any way to make it not seem offensive.
    And of course we have all been there when our child announces to the world the they have to poop or that they just went poop or that something smells like a poop. Really, anything that they say that includes the word poop, ends up being cringe worthy.
    Our most resent and favorite laugh has been that C has decided to name her female parts her "Wawa". No idea why, but that is what she calls it. Of course, living in Delaware means that there is a real Wawa on every corner and that any time someone says they are going to Wawa, I have to quickly explain to my daughter why they are not using a potty word. Not to mention the looks we get when she announces that her brother kicked the ball in her Wawa.
   The only time that their embarrassing comments are enjoyable is when they make those comments when they are not with me and I get to hear about them afterward. Like the other day when my wonderful mother-in-law took my youngest son to the store with her.She is an avid shopper and like to take a full tour of every store she visits. Apparently while walking past the women's underwear aisle he announced he really liked "those" (silky lacy undies) and from that point forward he kept asking for a pair of his own.

So I was thinking today about how much kids really change your life. In fact, I realized that they steal your life. They take all the things that you worked so hard to get. They take your money, your sleep, your food, and your freedom. They take your time, your patience, and sometimes even your soul. But... They replace all those things with something words can't describe. All the things I thought I would want, all the things money can buy, no longer have value. I have learned to operate on less then a third of the sleep that I used to need. I get more out of my day, and waste less time in bed. I have learned to enjoy more time in the kitchen and have so much fun baking with my kids. I am no longer free to do whatever I want, when I want, but my day has so much more meaning. I am never alone , but I am cuddled all day long. I have lost my patience more then once but I have gained an appreciation for my mom, that I never would have otherwise. And they have taken my soul and changed everything about me. They made me better then I ever could have been. I have four reasons to try harder every day and make the most out of LIFE.

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Choices

I read this quote the other day that said you become an adult when you realize that you can not only accept the good consequences from your decisions, but all the bad consequences also. I think being adult means you realize that those consequences reach far more people then we realize. Our decions affect everyone around us, no matter how small it may seem. I think all of our adolesence we think "it's my life", "it's my decision", "let me make my own mistakes". But the truth is, we're not just deciding for us. We're deciding for so many other people in our lives. This week there was two young girls that committed suicide together, in our area, by walking out in front of a train. I am sure they realized that it would make their parents and family members sad, but I doubt they realized how many people it would really have an affect on. For one, the train driver. How helpless he had to feel watching these two young children walk out in front of his train and being completely helpless and unable to stop. I am sure that moment has changed his life forever. It will change how he looks at his job, possible how he parents his own children, and how he views life. And that's just one person. How about the students from the girls school. Each of their lives will be different because of it. Maybe it will stop another child from making a similar decision, because they will realize how big of a mistake it is. Maybe some of them will value their own lives more, and maybe others will value life less because of the confusion they feel. In my own life, i never realized how many people would be affected by my decisions. How I choose to treat strangers, may completely change how they go about the rest of their day. Maybe if I smile more and truly mean it, they will go home and treat they're family nicer. When i think of the small things that affect so many people, it makes me realize how important it is to make the right decisions.

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