Category: Life

The only time I listen to “regular” radio is when I’m taxiing kids to and from school/events (well, I listen to talk radio in the afternoons, but that’s a different post) and I always enjoy Thursdays because our local station has a pretty prominent and popular attorney slash judge on their show giving out free legal advice.

I always love listening to what he has to say and then try and give out my own “legal” advice to the caller.

And I mean “legal” in the loosest term. (I used to aspire to be a paralegal way back when – actually, I would STILL love to be a paralegal, truth be known).

This morning, I turned it on in time to hear a mother calling in concerned about her 19-year old son dating a 15-year old girl. She was concerned because she was afraid that at some point this girl might call “foul” and accuse her son of rape or some other inappropriate behavior and considering she’s a minor and her son wants to go to college to become a teacher, any sort of accusation at this point in his life could, well, ruin his life.

It was as if I had called in to that show. Not that my sons are dating a 15-year old girl, or any girl for that matter (as far as I know – Ack, let’s not go there, kay?), but I’ve often wondered what I would do or how I would react in a similar situation.

I mean, what could you do? The boy/man is 19 and legal – parental rights have expired – at least on the “you do what I say or else” level.

But don’t you wonder what the parents of the 15-year old girl is thinking? I mean, I don’t have girls (thank the GOOD LORD above), but I’m pretty sure if my 15-year old daughter was dating a 19-year old boy, I’d have something to say about it.

And at the very least, working to make sure that she’s never alone with him.

But let’s be realistic – we can’t be with our kids 24/7 (even though some of us try – and you know I’m talking about YOU). And there would come a time when they were alone and … uh … things might happen (i.e. sex for those that haven’t had their morning coffee yet) and then what? I mean, I really feel for the boy here because let’s go down that what if road, shall we?

What if they have sex. And then afterwards the boy does something, or says something, to make the girl angry and because this is what girls/women do whenever they feel like they’ve been “scorned” she seeks revenge by spouting off something about being date raped or whatever and *POW*, the boy is in serious dog doo.

OR, let’s say the “kids” have sex and she becomes pregnant. Even though she consented, she’s now embarrassed and the parents are angry and she changes her story to the sex was NOT consensual in order to shift the blame and hopefully dilute her humiliation and *POW*, the boy is up to his neck in dog doo.

Really, the boys/men can’t win here, don’t you think? And I would think this even if I didn’t have boys. Actually, I’ve always thought this, even when I was a teenager. (Because yes, I really think like that. I’m old beyond my years, I guess).

In essence, the lawyer told the woman there really wasn’t any legal action to take. Her son was considered an adult and though he advised her to talk to the girl’s parents and caution them on the precarious relationship, there wasn’t much she could do. He did urge her to talk to her son and warn him of the possible dangers of dating an underage girl, that even a hint of uncouth behavior could ruin his chances of becoming a teacher but … ?

Even though I agree with him, and I hear him, the whole situation frustrates the control freak in me. Though I pray (dear God, I pray) nothing like this ever happens to my boys – young “love” happens. You remember how everything is so DRAMATIC and URGENT and PASSIONATE at that age, right? Anything you tell kids in the throes of young love goes in one ear and out the other.

Situations like this keep me up at night.

The boys, of course, heard all of this exchange with me in the car. And of course, I used this as an opportunity to talk to them about finding themselves trapped in the same situation. It was all “hypothetical” of course, but I hope that my boys caught my inference and realized that they could find themselves in a similar situation.

The solution? Don’t date girls under eighteen.

Sounds easy, right?

I wish.

At any rate, I hope they were listening because this stuff? Is pretty serious and speaking as a woman who used to be a young, hormonal, dramatic teenager? Can happen all too easily.

I don’t think girls, women at large, truly understand how much power we hold in our hands. We have the power to ruin someone’s life with just a few (false) accusations.

I don’t want to scare my boys off women in general, just dating girls under eighteen.

More from Write From Karen

• Wordy Wednesday: Tree-Climbing Grandma
• My Dumb Smart Phone
• You’re Being Manipulated – By Language
• Wordy Wednesday: Mop Show
• Book Review: A Life Unraveled

Actually, the only thing in our air right now is tile dust, but I digress.

So, how was your Valentine’s Day? We? Did absolutely nothing.

And I’m absolutely okay with that. Not to sound cliché or sickeningly sweet, but every day is Valentine’s Day in my marriage. And that’s mainly because we MAKE it that way. It’s a conscious decision and most times, it’s hard work, but it has paid off in spades over the years.

We’re still together (nearly 20 years) and going strong, so we must be doing something right. Which is sort of funny considering neither one of us has a clue what we’re doing. 😀

Kevin and I woke up yesterday, kissed, said “I love you,” and went about our day. That was the extent of our Valentine’s Day to each other. Actually, we do that every day and that’s my point – we show each other we love each other every day. We not only say it, we SHOW it.

Did you know that love is not just a feeling? It’s “an unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another.” And when you love someone, it’s important to SHOW them how much you love them.

Personally, I think the whole concept of love has been diluted over the years. The concept of love has been thrown around so much that people have become immune to what it really means.

“I LOVE her hair.”

Well actually, you don’t. You LIKE her hair, a lot.

“I LOVE chocolate.”

Really? Don’t you mean you LIKE chocolate more than many other kinds of sweets?

“I LOVE winter.”

How can you love a season? Don’t you mean you LIKE winter perhaps more than the other seasons?

“I LOVE my car.”

Does your car LOVE you back? (If you answered yes, then you might seek professional help). Don’t you really mean, you LIKE the car you’re driving more than the other cars you’ve driven in the past?

Love is in relationships, not things. When people say they love someTHING, it actually demeans the meaning of pure LOVE. I know it’s just a saying, but the more we hear how people LOVE things, the more we become desensitized to what love really IS.

Here’s a video that says what I’m trying to say:

Vodpod videos no longer available.

(RSS readers – I had to input this using VodPod and it doesn’t show up in readers. Please visit my blog to view video. Sorry for the inconvenience).

I was lurking on Twitter yesterday, just idly watching people update their statuses, and it truly bothered me the number of women who were all, “What did you GET for Valentine’s Day?” And then they went about comparing the material value of such-and-such gift.

Or worse, the women who bemoaned the fact that they didn’t GET anything, or what they GOT was ONLY such-and-such.

Have we really reduced love to material things? Do we really equate the dollar value of a gift to how much someone loves us?

I find that incredibly sad.

Now granted, some complained because their husbands (wives?) didn’t even acknowledge Valentine’s Day and yes, that’s sad and aggravating. But I’d like to pose a question to those that complained – did THEY themselves acknowledge the day with their spouse? You have to give love to receive love.

What’s that famous quote by Tolstoy?

Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.

If you want to be treated a certain way, then you must treat the people around you the same way. And that goes doubly for your spouse.

This lesson has taken me YEARS to learn. I used to get so irritated with Kevin when he didn’t make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. Like I expected him to stuff that one day with every possible feeling of love he’s ever had for me in the past year to the point where his feelings would nearly explode from the pressure. Somehow THAT would prove to me that he loved me.

When in fact, he had been showing me the other 364 days of the year that he loved me, I was just too stupid and clueless to see it. He showed me by mowing the grass, by cooking dinner, by loading the dishwasher, by taking me to lunch, by listening to me, by giving me the last bite of cake, by …

You get the picture. Love is about SO MUCH MORE than feelings, it’s about DOING.

I think my marital expectations changed whenever I learned that valuable little nugget.

Oh sure, it’s great to have that ONE day to show your loved one how much you love them, but I think we all need to adjust our expectations and only view it as a reminder, a gentle nudge not to take each other for granted, an excuse to go out to dinner and enjoy each others company as opposed to the be-all-end-all definition of how one feels for each other.

And it’s certainly about so much more than flowers and/or fancy gifts and then bragging about the monetary value.

I think, and this is just my opinion of course, that some people are so bitter about Valentine’s Day because they truly don’t understand what love really is.

Love is a VERB.

Think about it.

Make it a goal to turn every day into Valentine’s Day in your relationship. You’ll LOVE the results, trust me.

The boys and I spent a good three hours working on their school schedules for next year yesterday …

Oh wait, that was last year. This year, it took us all of thirty minutes.

The counselors had a meeting with the kids this past week and discussed their schedules with them. They took them in groups, so even though the boys sort of knew what to do, they didn’t have one-on-one instruction.

Which worked out fine, because judging by their selections? They did just fine on their own.

Dude and I really struggled with his schedule last year. And it was mainly because he simply didn’t want to schedule himself for the classes that he HAD to take, let alone any extras. And the extras he wanted to take? Well, there weren’t any. He wanted to take classes that didn’t require any brain thought, at all. He just wanted to show up, maybe turn in a paper or two that AT MOST took him five minutes to complete and call it a day.

So, to say we went round and round on his classes would be putting it mildly. He wasn’t interested, he didn’t care and he kept asking me what I thought, which I refused to tell him because I was simply there to guide him, I wasn’t there to tell him what direction to take his future.

He would have to eventually figure that out on his own.

It was a struggle and neither one of us enjoyed the experience. By the time we had “agreed” on a schedule, we were both pretty raw and on edge.

But this year? Totally and completely different.

Dude already had his schedule done by the time he brought it home to show me for approval.

I didn’t change one class. I thought he did a really nice job of rounding out his choices between practical, required and desired courses.

Here’s what he ended up taking his senior year:

P.E. (which is really a weight-lifting class)
English IV
Lit of the Bible
Integrated Algebra II
Environmental Chemistry
Earth/Space Science
Astronomy
The Holocaust
Economics
Accounting I
Web Design

His two backup classes? (In case his primary choice is not available)

Meteorology
Physics I

The only class he was required to take was English IV. Everything else? Icing on the cake. And he picked all of these classes – I simply approved his choices. I was going to comment that I was specially pleased by the Lit of the Bible course, but quite honestly? I’m pleased with all of his selections. I think it’s a well-rounded choice of interesting subjects and they obviously interest Dude since he picked them.

I did question him about the Integrated Algebra II selection for you see, he’s done with math. He has met all of his requirements. But he chose that class because the Algebra II class he had this past semester, well, he didn’t do very well in it. And I think he’s a bit disappointed with himself, if you want the truth. He said he wanted to try again, only take a slightly easier class, perform better, get a better grade and hopefully sort of negate the grade he got for Algebra II. He said he didn’t feel like he learned a lot about the subject and he knew that would eventually hurt him when he went to college.

I can’t tell you how proud I was to hear him say that. Granted, he might have been saying all of that stuff because he felt like it was something we WANTED to hear, but it really doesn’t matter what his motives are, the fact that he thought them through and was willing to put himself through yet another grueling math class (math has always been so hard for him) was a true sign of maturity and I couldn’t be more proud of him.

So. Dude is set for his senior year. I keep telling him that next year will be HIS year. I just really want his senior year to be special, fun and something he looks back on with fond memories.

Jazz’s schedule was a bit more challenging. And again, he had already filled it out before he showed it to me so there wasn’t a lot to do. I did have to take off the Accounting course and put on a Science course (the Science course is required, the Accounting class is an elective and he can always take that later), but overall, again, I didn’t have to do much.

Since Jazz wants to schedule for Advanced Marching Band, Advanced Band and Jazz Band his remaining three high school years, it’s sort of a challenge to find room for all of the other courses he has to take and for the ones he wants to take. After thinking it through, it looks like he’ll end up taking Driver’s Ed this summer. Which works out better anyway since it’s an easy class and he’ll get it over with quickly.

I was also impressed with Jazz’s forethought. He is thinking he might like to go to college and major in accounting (like his father), so he’s already leaning more toward business classes. He wants to take Business Math his junior year and of course, the accounting class at some point.

I know Kevin will be tickled by his choices.

So, Jazz’s schedule for next year looks like this:

Advanced Marching Band
Advanced Band
Jazz Band
P.E.
English II
Integrated Algebra II
General Biology
World History
Foods / Nutrition

And his two backups:
Digital Communications
Business Principles / Management

Again, I did not pick these classes out. I simply read them the descriptions of the classes to ensure that they sounded like something the boys wanted to do.

The boys brought their transcripts home along with their scheduling paperwork and I must confess, okay, I must brag on them, they look pretty good. Dude does have that one, erhm, undesirable grade that is sort of a blemish on an otherwise nice transcript, but I think if he ends up taking this other math class and gets a decent grade in it, that will show anyone taking a look at his transcript that he didn’t give up, he rolled his sleeves back up and tried again.

I don’t know what I’ve done to be so blessed with such awesome children, but THANK YOU GOD. I just pray we continue on this path for the remaining high school years.

Ninety-eight point seven percent of women are dissatisfied with the way their bodies look. (I just made that number up, but I bet I’m close!)

I’m CERTAINLY no exception. I have a linebacker torso (which sort of works to my advantage because it makes my waist look smaller) and my birthing hips are so wide I have to turn sideways and sidestep my way through doorways.

Okay I’m exaggerating on the hips – but only slightly.

My face is crooked.

My nose is huge – and crooked.

I have a poochy belly that WON’T GO AWAY.

And the stretch marks on my butt? Have stretch marks.

And yet …

I think I’ve reached a point in my life where I’m finally, FINALLY okay with the way I look. I actually feel pretty comfortable with myself. Sure, I could improve and I will work on improving, but generally speaking, I’m FINALLY comfortable in my own skin.

But this level of comfort doesn’t come easily. In fact, I daresay, it really, truly doesn’t come until you reach, er, middle age.

Like me.

I think there comes a point in every woman’s life where you just say – EFF IT. You’ve struggled with your weight your entire life by either starving yourself, exercising your ass off, or sucking in your gut so hard you actually see stars.

(Maybe that last one is just me).

Clothes shopping becomes the number two most dreaded activity that any woman can voluntarily participate in (number one being the ole trip to the OB/GYN). And what woman hasn’t felt compelled to either scribble out, or CUT out, the size tag from her clothing all in the name of not breaking the significant others’ illusion bubble that she’s STILL a size six.

(Okay, maybe that one is all me, too).

When I got married, back before the dinosaur age (or commonly referred to as 1990), I was a size eight. A tight size eight. And I had maintained that size by basically not eating, exercising every waking moment and walking around with a semi-permanent constipated look on my face because I was too busy concentrating on making sure I had sucked my stomach in as far as my gut muscles would allow. (My gut muscles WERE pretty strong back then, now that I think about it).

In short, I was not comfortable with myself, at all. Even though I was skinny, I had Debra Messing boobs and I thought I was way too tall to be that skinny and just didn’t feel attractive at all.

I didn’t have a shape, I was a walking toothpick.

How exactly is that sexy?

I remember OBSESSING about what I ate every conscious moment for years. And because I deprived myself of the simple pleasures, like a piece of chocolate, my cravings would claw my insides to shreds so that when it came time that I couldn’t handle it anymore, I would binge like you wouldn’t believe. I didn’t have an eating disorder, per se, but my guilt pretty much killed me so that life? Was not fun. I could never fully relax because *GASP*, I might get fat.

So, it shouldn’t come as any big shock to know that after I got pregnant with Dude? I went WILD. Finally, FINALLY, I could EAT! I had an excuse! It was for the baby!

And EAT, I did. I went so berserk that I ended up gaining a whole whopping 60 pounds with my first son AND he was eight weeks premature, so there’s no telling how much I might have ended up weighing if he had been full-term.

I was now at the other end of the spectrum – I was too fat. And once again, I HATED myself.

However, two positive things came out of my fat misery, my beautiful baby boy and … boobs. Oh yes. My pregnant boobs never really went away, even after my milk dried up.

And, since Dude was premature, I had a lot of stress worrying about him. And because I was stressed, I lost weight (I lose my appetite when I get stressed). So it really didn’t take me very long to lose a lot of that baby weight.

Twenty-eight months later, I had Jazz. But I was more careful with my weight the second go-around. I still gained about 40 pounds, but it was nothing like the crazy weight I had gained with Dude.

I went to work at Wal-Mart when Jazz was six months old. (Long story short – mainly because being a stay-at-home mom and my husband were driving me nuts. Yes. Selfish reasons, but there you go). And while I worked at Wal-Mart, sitting on my butt, in the cash office, keying in deposits, I ate.

A lot.

As in, WHOLE BAGS OF CANDY IN ONE SHIFT.

So naturally, I gained weight.

And here’s where I went wrong – I made the mistake of buying bigger-sized clothes in order to accommodate my widening girth.

Don’t do that. Ever. It only encourages you to continue eating. Because those new, bigger clothes? Are loose. And comfy. So it fools you into thinking it’s okay to continue your poor eating habits. And then you get bigger. And you are forced to buy bigger clothes. And the cycle goes on forever until one day, you wake up and you’re a size SIXTEEN.

Like I was at the low point in my physical life.

It was when my size 16 clothes were starting to feel tight and I was seriously contemplating buying size 18 pants that I finally woke the hell up. “Wait a tick,” I thought to myself, “I’m seriously going to be a size 18?! What the … ???”

Though I was conscious of what was going on, I hadn’t reached the motivation level to actually DO anything about it yet.

It wasn’t until we went on our first beach vacation in Florida, arrived home and started looking through vacation pictures that I saw THIS picture (ignore the cute little boy – that’s Jazz):

That it hit me: Good Lord, I need to do something about myself. That’s nasty.

I learned several things about myself from this picture.

First of all, what the HELL was I thinking wearing short overalls like that. Overalls don’t flatter ANY figure, but I wore them because they were loose and I THOUGHT actually hid my body when in fact, they only served to accentuate the parts I was trying to hide.

I will work my butt off to look halfway decent for future vacation pictures because vacation pictures? Are forever. They never go away. And I will be forced to look upon my whale body for years, and years, and years …

I will consciously work on improving my wardrobe and wear clothes that actually flatter me.

And I will consciously think about my posture whenever the camera is out. Slouching forward only draws attention to my back ROLLS.

Nasty.

So yes. Whenever I start getting lazy about my body, all I have to do is LOOK at this picture and *POOF*, I’m suddenly motivated to get on that treadmill and start my workout routine once again.

This is my body conscience story; this is how it all started. I’d like to continue my story by explaining what I do, why I do it and maybe give you some eating and exercising tips that have worked for me.

Please understand – I’m NOT a physical fitness expert. I DO NOT have a tight little body to be envied – my body is quite flawed and as I’ve mentioned, could be better if I really punished myself. But I’ve reached that point in my life that I’m okay with the way I look. And maintaining this look is really all I’m interested in.

The tips and tricks I’m about to share with you in upcoming posts are mine and work for me. You’re more than welcome to try them for yourself, but I can’t stress to you enough that finding something that works for you is KEY to maintaining YOUR own physical health.

But for now, tell me – what does it take to motivate you into finally making those physical changes in your life? Is it a photograph? A comment? An upcoming event? A person? Or is just the way you feel?