Monthly Archives: April 2012

19 Years Ago. And Counting.

19 years ago today a mother-to-be was anxious and nervous and functioning on about 2 hours sleep.

19 years ago today they stopped for dinner at Applebee’s because they didn’t care where they ate and they weren’t really hungry. They poked at their food. They couldn’t concentrate. They just wanted to go already.

19 years ago today they missed the exit and would have been panicked that they would be late but they were already 2 hours early. No worries. Two anxious, about to be first time parents had planned for a wrong turn.

19 years ago today they were not at a hospital. They were at the airport. Because their baby had flown over 24 hours from Seoul, Korea to be a part of their family.

19 years ago today they met an amazing woman, a birthmother who wanted to be part of their homecoming so she could experience the joy she had brought to another family.

19 years ago today people coming off the plane smiled and congratulated the new parents who looked past their heads, trying to get a glimpse of their baby girl. And the passengers waited to see the baby meet her parents for the first time.

19 years ago today two new parents, some of the passengers and one baby cried (for different reasons) and then the passengers clapped, congratulating this new family.

19 years ago today the most precious little bundle of joy was placed in my arms.

And I will never let her go.

Ever.

Happy Gotcha Day, Sweetie! You will always be my sweet, adorable angel!

16 Comments

Filed under Adoption, children, Motherhood

A Very Merry Un-Birthday To YOU! And You! And You!

8 Comments

Filed under Completely Random

You Mean There’s Never Going To Be A Doughnut Diet? Rats. Life Isn’t Worth Living.

Earlier in the week there was breaking news in the diet department.

Apparently there are “10 Despicable Doughnuts!” and an article urging you to “think twice before grabbing one of these fatty sugar bombs.”

I enjoy a doughnut from time to time.  I imbibe every third month or so. And I have fond memories of my more regular doughnut eating days. Weekends when my dad would bring home a dozen from Dunkin’ Donuts or after church, sneaking doughnut holes off the buffet at the meet ‘n greet in the church hall.

Curious as a cat, I clicked the link. Evil doughnuts? Were there any angelic ones? If there are 10 despicable ones then maybe they list the virtuous ones.

Are you curious? Do you want to know who graces the evil top 10?

Starbucks Old Fashioned Glazed Doughnut. Entenmann’s Devil’s Food. Little Debbie Mini Frosted. Dunkin’ Donut’s Chocolate Coconut Glazed. Krispy Kreme’s Vanilla Iced Creme.

Oh. No.

Aren’t these your run of the mill, fun, treat-type doughnuts?

And they’re ALL bad for me?

The article goes on to state “don’t be fooled” by the addition of blueberries to Dunkin’ Donut’s Blueberry Crumb Donut. (I wasn’t.) And here’s the big shocker (not): doughnuts are loaded with calories mainly from sugar and fat.

Horrors!

Who knew?

Uhhmmmm….practically everyone.

Am I right?

Raise your hand if you thought doughnuts were health food.

Hmmm. No one. Well, that’s a sigh of relief.

Is there anyone out there stupid enough to think that a doughnut is the breakfast of champions? That it shouldn’t be a once in a while treat? That maybe, just maybe, they might be packed with empty calories?

(Shaking my head in disbelief at what passes for breaking news these days. It must be a slow news day.

And I suppose, that’s a good thing.

Now go on and have a great, newsworthy day!  Oh, and have a doughnut! I know I will. Because after reading that article, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.)

12 Comments

Filed under Because I'm Curious, Completely Random, Edibles

Theycallmejane. It’s Mine. Now Back Off!

OK. So I’m too cheap (and lazy) to purchase my domain name. Go ahead. Start rattling off the comments telling me how wrong I am. I’m listening. Sort of.  (Because remember, I’m cheap and lazy.)

But while researching another post idea (Yes, I research. Don’t act all surprised.) I stumbled across something weird in my stats. Upon further investigation, I discovered that someone else (whose name is also NOT Jane) is calling her blog…..

…wait for it…..

…wait for it…..

Theycallmejane.

Yep.

Written just like that. All one word.

On another free blog site. But still.

I’m trying to remind myself that imitation is a form of flattery. Or trying to give her the benefit of the doubt that maybe she’s never been here.

But when you started your blog, didn’t you Google the name you wanted, just to make sure no one else had it? I know I did. And just to make sure I’m not buried 17 pages deep when you Google me, I Googled me. There I am. Front and center. Very first thing that pops up.

Is she that lazy?

Now, I know the name of my blog isn’t all that creative. And, in a way, I stole it, too. From the lyrics of a Ting-Tings song.

“They call me Stacy. They call me Jane. That’s not my name. That’s not my name.”

I thought it was funny. You know. Because Jane isn’t my name.

But I like Jane. Jane represents a common voice. A connection to all the other women I was hoping to meet. Jane could be anyone’s thoughts, opinions, feelings. I was just the one who said them. For all of us Janes out there.

I still like Jane. Make that, I love Jane. And I love what she has evolved into. A blog about nothing and everything. And I don’t want to give her up or change her in any way.

And besides. I was here first. Back in August of 2009. Closing in on my third year in Blog World. And this impostor has had her blog, what? All of two months?

Crap.

I’m going to have to bite the bullet and purchase the domain name, aren’t I?

If it isn’t too late.

16 Comments

Filed under Blogging

The Best Age To Explain The Birds And The Bees? It Doesn’t Matter.

(The following post was inspired by one of my favorite bloggers, Christine at Naptime Writing. Read on to make yourself feel better about any successes or failures you may have with “the sex talk.”)

My mother was  a nurse. And she had me in the 60’s. My dad wore a peace sign necklace and fashioned a dove with an olive branch out of coat hanger, wrapped lights around it and hung it in our living room window for the entire length of the Vietnam War.

I saw my parents naked. They didn’t parade around the home but when I slammed into that bathroom, pleading for more sunflower seeds and yogurt, they never covered up. They just told me, “No. You’ll spoil your dinner.”

They were very open about sex. And what it was/is. We never called our vaginas our hoo-hoos. A penis was a penis. My mother proudly  tells the story about the time the babysitter got an earful from her (prodigy) 6 year old daughter of all the proper body parts and what sex really is. (I was nothing, if not a bit precocious.) 

I’ve followed my parents open, free-minded example. I’ve done the same with all of my children. When the ultra-sound technician pointed out my son’s “winkie” on the screen my 10 year old daughter could not fight back the giggles. I was bouncing so much  on the table trying to hold back the laughter, the tech had to stop the exam.

“What?” she asked. No one said a word. My husband and daughter just shrugged.

But in the car, all the way home? “Winkie?!? Doesn’t she know it’s a  PENIS?!? What’s a winkie?!?” my daughter said over and over, cracking herself up every time.

My boys know a penis from a winkie. And they’re not afraid to let me know, either. “Mom? There’s something wrong with my penis!”, “Mom! My penis stands up by itself! Watch!” and “Mom. Did you know that sometimes my penis does stuff that I didn’t even tell it to do?”

But like the story my mother also likes to tell, I’m realizing that truly understanding sex and the significance of our private body parts is wholly dependent on brain development. And maturity. And  5th grade.

“Mom? Is this what sex REALLY is?” I proceed to explain, in fairly graphic detail, the sex act. My mother is surprised.

“Yes, that’s what sex is,” she responds, “We’ve talked to you about this before. And there’s that book we looked at together that explains everything (well, not everything) that we’ve looked through a number of times. Do you want to read it again together?”

“But you and Dad don’t do that, right?” I’m incredulous. I’m completely weirded out. And I remember this moment like it were yesterday.

“Well, when two people love each other…”

Her voice trails off. Because by now, I’ve screamed “Gross!” and run out of the room and slammed my bedroom door.

I couldn’t look my parents in the eye for a week. (My mom always cracks up at this part of the story.)

Just the other day, my youngest son (He’s 8 but so is his brother…for another few weeks, anyway. They’re 10 months apart in age. But that’s another biology lesson. Actually, it involves adoption but it was  a fun tie-in, so work with me here.)….my youngest son is in the bathroom, about to hop in the shower. I set the water temp for him and insist that he hurry up and take off his clothes. We’re wasting water. He slaps his hands over his penis and says, “But you can see my penis. I need my privacy.”

Yes. This is the kid that grabs constantly so that we have to have a code word in public. (“Scratch” and then he’s supposed to bring his hands to his head and scratch behind his ear in order to move his hands away) This is the kid who discovers new things about his penis and has to share them with me, his dad, his brother. Not his sister, though. She put a stop to that early. This is the kid who bounds into the bathroom like clockwork after I have stepped into the shower to ask for: snacks, permission to play xBox or watch TV. Suddenly, HE needs his privacy.

You see? It’s all relative. It all depends on where your child is in his development. You can talk about it from the time they are wee-little ones, on and on. You can wait until they’re 10 and try to explain it then.

And their reaction, when they finally “get” what sex really is, will be the same.

Delayed.

Complete and total shock.

And when you least expect it.


4 Comments

Filed under All In A Day's Work, children, Hey! That Reminds Me!

If Only We Could Wrap Their Hearts In Bubble Wrap

We attempt to protect our children from the weather, illness, accidents and the boogie man. Most of the time we are successful. Sometimes, we are not.

There is one thing that proves to be a fruitless fight.

Meanness.

“Mommy? I had a horrible day today,” #2son says to me over cantaloupe and crackers after school. I settle in for his tale of woe.

It contained the usual. Dropping his jacket in a puddle. He didn’t get to sit in his favorite seat on the bus with his favorite friend. They ran out of pizza at lunch and he had to have chicken drumsticks. Which he loves. But still.

The worst thing that happened? It was during the fire drill. They were all filing outside and a younger kid, a kid in the 1st grade, was walking ahead of #2son. They were to wait under the tree and Mr. 1stgrade moved a branch aside and looked like he was holding it for #2son to pass. But just as #2son got close, as he was smiling and starting to say thank-you, Mr. 1stgrade smiled and let the branch go. Hard. Smacking #2son in the face. And then, Mr. 1stgrade laughed.

“Why would he do that?” my son said with tears starting to fall, “That was so mean.”

The look of innocence in his eyes broke my heart. And he wasn’t crying because of the sting on his face. He was remembering the offense. He was tearing up because of the sting in his heart.

“Why was he smiling? And why did he laugh? It wasn’t funny. Nobody else laughed,” my son implored, trying to make sense of such meanness. “And he was younger than me. I was about to thank him. He doesn’t even know me. Why would he do that?” he asked again.

I had no answer. I hugged him. And said something about sad, angry people and how they lash out at others because they want people to hurt as much as they do. But it was no consolation.

And my son’s innocence was shattered.

How do we protect our children from mean people? And if we could, should we? When our oldest daughter was dealing with some mean-girl shenanigans years ago my husband said, “Better she experience this now, when we can help guide her rather than protect her and then have her experience it when she moves out, when we’re not around to help.” I suppose he’s right. Reluctantly, I agreed with him. But why do we have to experience meanness at all?

I can make him wear his seat belt or his bike helmet. I can feed him Flintstone vitamins and make sure he drinks his milk. I put him to bed at a reasonable hour. I know his friends. I read to him and he reads to me. I do everything I can to make sure he is safe and loved.

But I can’t wrap his heart in bubble wrap.

But oh, how I wish I could.

12 Comments

Filed under All In A Day's Work, children, parenting

Yep. I’d Choose Kind Atheists Over Hateful Christians Every Single Time.

Now THIS is my kind of church!

Amen to that!

13 Comments

Filed under Soapbox

I Fear The Internet Will Burst From The Sheer Weight Of All The Egos

I’m slightly irritated.

And I’m losing my Pollyanna zest for browsing the internet.

Facebook statuses. Blogs. Youtube videos. The 200 word quick clicks provided by the media of the next regular Jane or Joe making the news. The Pin It! buttons popping up on blogs. The thinly veiled and not-so-thinly-veiled shouts of “Look at me! Over here! Look at me!” or “Please! Make me popular! I must fund my fantasy lifestyle!”

It seems everyone out there wants to be noticed and they don’t care how it’s done. Stupid human tricks on video. Filming your children high on nitrous oxide. Pimping for comments or votes for a contest on a blog. (I’m not immune. I admit. I’ve done this, too.) Slow news days with stories about fake lottery winners wanting a bit of the spotlight. Creating a blog around a novel idea (pun intended), not a real blog but one that is supposed to jump start your book/movie pitch/services.

It’s to the point that whenever I click on a new site or read a news story, about three words in I’m wondering: What’s the angle? What do they want? What are they promoting?

Sometimes I think I’m back in high school. Facebook pages with 500+  1500+ friends. (Really? You honestly have 1564 people you need to keep up with on a daily basis? Wow. You must be really popular.)

Can the Internet hold all of the egos? Will it burst from pride and self-glorification?

And how does this shape our views of others? Will it jade us? Will it cause us to approach each other with caution and mistrust?

It seems rare anymore that I stumble onto the kind of blogs I enjoy and love. But YOUR blogs. The dear ones that comment here and check in to see if I caught my son’s flu. (I did. But very mild.) The ones who write because they have to write and share ideas. Real people trying to make real connections. The down-to-earth, sending thoughts and ideas into the internet, hoping to catch the eye of a like-minded, thinking, intelligent individual kind of blogger.

Your blogs are the ones I crave.

16 Comments

Filed under Observations, Soapbox

An Almost Wordless Wednesday. But Worth Reading, Nonetheless.

3 Comments

Filed under Deep Thoughts