Uninvited Guests

A few years ago, when we were on our way to the hospital to visit a sick relative, one of my sons said, “I don’t want to go. I don’t like hospitals. They make me uncomfortable.” My response was simple. “Sometimes we have to do things that make us uncomfortable so that we can make those we love happy.” He seemed to accept that and we went about our visit. Recently my husband came home and excitedly announced “Jerry Joe is getting married! The wedding is Saturday in the U.P. and I want to go!” My responses were the usual wife-type responses to this. I reminded him that we can’t go to a wedding reception that we weren’t invited to. It’s just rude and there’s a name for that, it’s called “wedding-crashing.” But he protested that because it was Jerry Joe’s wedding, that it didn’t matter if we were invited or not. I know that to men, invitations are simply a formality. I think men feel that verbal notification from a friend-of-a-friend is good enough. Tom hadn’t seen Jerry since we moved here 12 years ago and was determined to go. As the day approached I drug my feet and tried desperately to find something else to distract him. When Saturday arrived, not only were we still going, but we were riding the motorcycle. I was just beside myself. Now we were going to a wedding we weren’t invited to, dressed totally inappropriately for a wedding and with helmet-hair. Tom assured me that it would be similar to one we attended about 15 years ago in Barbeau (also in the U.P.) in which those in attendance wore jeans and concert t-shirts. When we arrived, not only were there no concert t-shirts, but the reception was obviously a formal affair. I was livid. I informed Tom that if he wanted to embarrass himself that was fine, but I would be waiting for him in the lobby. Tom proudly walked right through the tastefully dressed guests and up the stage stairs and sat down at the head table right next to Jerry, who at that time was sitting up there by himself talking to someone directly in front of him. I stood in the doorway and watched as after a couple of minutes of not being noticed, Jerry suddenly turned around and saw Tom sitting there with a big grin on his face. Jerry just lit up as the two old friends reunited. We ended up staying for a quite while as Tom caught up with more old friends. He was really happy. On the ride home I was reminded of my statement to my son all of those years ago. Yes, sometimes we do have to do things that make us uncomfortable. I know it sure made Tom happy and that in turn, made me happy too.

Column published June 23, 2012

The Phenomenon of the Extra Kid

When someone said the average family has 2.5 children, I think I know what he meant. We have two kids.  When Tom and I decided to stop at two kids I thought it was a good idea at the time. I was a working mom and I convinced myself that I shouldn’t have more kids to simply put them in daycare. A year after we made the decision “final” I began to struggle. Had we been too hasty? I struggled for years with that decision even to the point of looking into adoption. But what I didn’t realize is that I didn’t need to beat myself up too badly. All I had to do was wait for the extra kid. Our family is really no different than most. I think most parents can agree that there is usually at least one extra kid hanging around at one time or another. When I was growing up Chris was our extra kid.  She called my mom and dad “Mom and Dad.” She ate dinner at our house 2-3 times a week and spent the night at least once a week. Tom’s extra kid was Brian. Tom spent a lot of time at Brian’s house and Brian went on sailing trips with Tom’s family.  If you’re still not sure what I mean, the extra kid I’m talking about is the one who is around much of the time. The extra kid is the one who is at the house so much that your grocery bill is affected. He even knows where the sheets are so he can make up his couch when he stays. You have stopped saying “Make yourself at home” because he already does. This is also the kid who is around so much on weekends that if he isn’t there you start to wonder where he is. In addition to that the kids don’t even ask if he can come over anymore. He is just suddenly here with a friendly “Hey Ms. Hovie, Mr. Hovie.”  He also becomes part of the family routine. He brings in the groceries, takes his plate to the sink, and feeds the dog or helps with the dishes if he’s asked to. You also just figure that the unidentifiable clothes in the laundry belong to him. Our extra kid is even in line for hand-me-down clothes. There are many advantages to having this additional part-time family member. He loves everything I cook. He is always polite and never gets mouthy.  Actually it’s really the ideal situation. We’ll miss him when he leaves home, but won’t have to pay for college. We’ll attend his wedding but won’t have to pay for that either. So if you’re young parents wondering if you made the right decision to stop having kids all you have to do is wait. Your extra kid will be along in no time and you’ll love him like he’s one of your own. I know I do.

Jay is our "extra kid" on the left.

Spring Break RV Style

We have not been known for our outstanding family vacations. To tell you the truth, when the four of us return from a family vacation speaking to each other, we deem it a success. Because of this, our family vacations are either brief (no more than two days) or spaced several years apart. I don’t know why cramming the four of us into a vehicle for more than 2 hours brings out the worst in us. I mean, we should be able to travel and have a relaxing time, but for some reason it doesn’t seem to work out that way for us. It was with some trepidation that we told Robby that we would take him wherever he wanted to go on his senior spring break. We were relieved when he chose Florida because we are familiar with that state and how to get there, but nervous because that would mean 25 hours in a cramped car together which at times has been a deal-breaker. We tried to avoid that by looking at airfare, but the prices were not within our anticipated budget. So we decided to try renting an RV. The other problem we have is that the four of us all have completely different ideas of what fun is. As the trip approached I suffered a couple of migraines worrying that we just wouldn’t be able to come to any sort of agreements about where we would go in Florida or what we would do. Tom surprised me the most saying that it would be “great” and that he was excited to go.  We had one spirited (to say the least) family meeting about our activities and settled on a few different things to do. I was actually looking forward to ride in the RV. I had daydreams of whipping up a delicious meal while we tooled down the highway. I quickly realized that my imagination had obviously gotten the better of me. The night before we left I had an attack of vertigo and found myself mostly confined to the front seat.  Moving around in an older RV heading down the highway is far from smooth sailing. It’s more like hurricane sailing. I didn’t get sick, but I have a variety of bruises from being thrown around as Tom kept us from getting sucked into the path of a passing semi or rear-ending someone in the bumper to bumper stop and go traffic in Indianapolis. Since we could usually go no faster than about 63 miles per hour, the trip to Florida took about 5 hours longer than expected. But a funny thing happened. We all got along. It’s amazing to me that a little space and an on-board bathroom does wonders for peoples moods. We got some much needed R&R and quality family time. I can honestly say that we had a good trip. Actually, I’d have to say it was outstanding.

A Wrinkle in Time

This is my 24th Column! Happy 2 year Anniversary to me! I can't believe that two years have passed since I started sharing my life with my readers. I love writing and this has been a great outlet for me. I continued to be surprised when complete strangers comment on my column. Thanks for 2 years of encouragement (and material-haha).
Dawn

Published March 24, 2012:

I found a new wrinkle recently and I am not happy about it. It’s a horizontal line between my nose and upper lip. I’m guessing it’s some sort of laugh line. I think the name is misleading. I may have gotten it from laughing, but I’m not laughing now. I’ve watched the progression of wrinkles closely for years now. I figured that I would be looking at premature wrinkling due to my sun abuse in my younger days, yet I continue to be surprised at the appearance of those pesky fine lines. The frown lines (a much more appropriate name) were the first to appear. These are the prominent horizontal wrinkles across the forehead. When I had bangs it was easier to cover these up, but because of the motorcycle helmet, bangs are no longer an option. For years I have seen those crinkly crow’s feet on the corners of Tom’s eyes, but they have not seemed to go much further on him. Of course, wrinkles are distinguishing on a man, right? I have been preparing for wrinkles for years, starting with moisturizer in my early twenties and although there are people who are still surprised that I am 44, I can clearly see the elasticity disappearing from my face. When I wake up from a nap the telltale pillow dent can stay on my cheek for hours. My husband smirks and says “Sooooo, did you take a nap today?”  One morning I wore a crocheted hat to work and the bumps from it stayed on my forehead almost until lunch. The only good thing about that was that they distracted from my frown lines for a couple of hours. So I moisturize more with specific creams targeted for specific areas of my face like my eyes. I would consider more drastic measures but I hate needles so Botox isn’t an option for me. Plus I have seen too many rubber-faced women on TV who probably look worse than if they had just let the wrinkles progress naturally. My aunt once told me that she is embracing her wrinkles and trying to love each one. She is 10 years older than me so maybe she’s a little further along in the process of acceptance than I am. I’m sure I’ll get there some day. For now I plan to continue on my daily regimen of cleansing and moisturizing along with religious use of sunscreen.  Unlike grey hairs that can be covered in dye, wrinkles are a daily reminder in the mirror of middle age and the approach of old age. But I guess if I have to acquire more wrinkles I’m going to make darn sure that they are the ones that are named for laughing.

Being Seasoned Doesn't have to be a Bad Thing

In education, teachers try to put a positive spin on just about everything so as not to bring on discouragement or low self-esteem.

There is a term that we use to describe older teachers. The term is "seasoned" or "seasoned veteran."

The term "seasoned" still has somewhat of a sting to me, now that I fit that classification. Most teachers have their master's degrees. In fact, I am one of probably three teachers in our district that doesn't. A couple of years ago I decided to put forth the effort and cost and join my colleagues with that esteemed distinction of having an MA behind my name. So I enrolled in a fully online program through Northern Michigan University.

When I was a college student in my younger years, I would glance around the class at what we referred to back then as nontraditional students. I thought that they had sort of an air of confidence about them while at the same time wondered if they felt out of place in a classroom of young 20-somethings.

In my online program, we have the luxury of not being able to see each other and therefore the playing field is somewhat leveled as far as who is seasoned and who is young (for lack of a better term). In every online class I have had to write a bio and include a picture and then read and comment on other classmates' bios.

For some reason, I was shocked to see pictures and read bios of first-time moms, recent graduates, and one or two other nontraditional students, including myself. As I would leave comments to others about their exciting futures as parents and educators, I would read comments on my bios that said things like, "I am looking forward to the expanse of knowledge and experience you will bring to the class as a seasoned veteran."

There it was.

I was the old lady of the class. In that first class I decided to tread lightly and not let my experience show, so to speak.

But as I proceeded through the coursework, I realized that I did have something to offer.

I quickly saw that my experience was met with appreciation. The younger teachers seemed to want to hear what I had to say. They weren't rolling their eyes and commenting about me under their breath, not that I could see anyway. I have come to embrace my role as an educator with experience that can bring a different perspective to those who have not been in education long.

With that, I think I'd like to update the term "seasoned" to something that describes how I feel inside.

I think I like "zesty" a little bit better.

Published February 25, 2012

Rethinking the Appeal of Empty Nest Syndrome

This is one of Robby's senior pictures.

A few days after Christmas our oldest son, Robby turned 18. I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday. I can see the day when he leaves the nest rapidly approaching and it makes me kind of sad. But that feeling hasn’t always been there. When our kids were in the years of early adolescence when the arguing and defiance were at an all-time high, my husband and I questioned whether Empty Nest Syndrome actually existed and why anyone would consider it a syndrome. Aren’t syndromes supposed to be bad things? We would go to open houses and chuckle on the way home saying “Those lucky dogs! We can’t wait for Empty Nest Syndrome!” We could see the days of no children in the house as refreshing and relaxing. We fantasized about packing boxes and turning bedrooms into craft rooms. The frustrations that go along with raising teens seem to be as endless as the eye-rolling and sarcastic remarks. Our longing for the elusive “Empty Nest Syndrome” continued until our oldest son became a senior. An amazing thing happens when a kid gets to be around 17 years old. He seemed to turn this mystical corner of maturity. He still thinks he is of a highly superior intelligence than his dad and I, but he has also become much more agreeable. He doesn’t seem to get mad at us nearly as often or stay mad as long. We actually like having him around and find ourselves saying stuff like “Don’t you want to hang out with us tonight?” We are feeling our sentiments change from “Don’t let the door hit you in the…” to “Sure, you can live at home and go to community college.” We breathe a sigh of relief because although he’s graduating in June, he’s not leaving for at least another 2 ½ years. We find ourselves re-thinking our fascination with Empty Nest Syndrome as we tell our younger son, a high school freshman, that there’s no reason for him to go away to school right after graduation. He is welcome to stay home after high school and attend North Central Michigan College like his older brother. We say it’s because of the money but we know deep down that we don’t want to let him go either. We remind ourselves that when he is at his most frustrating, that it is just a phase and we survived it with Robby.  Visiting my friend in the hospital as she welcomed her new baby boy in early December brought tears to my eyes as I remembered friends saying “You’ll blink and they’ll be teenagers.” That is exactly what has happened to us and we wonder where the time has gone. We still joke out loud that we’ll claim their rooms the moment they pull out of the driveway, but secretly know that we won’t. Not for a while anyway. I’m here to verify that yes, there is an Empty Nest Syndrome and yes, we will have it too. However we no longer welcome it and we are desperately trying to stop blinking.

Published January 28, 2012

Sometimes Dirt Doesn't Hurt

The boys and I at the youth group campout

My husband and I recently had the opportunity to be chaperones on a youth group camping trip for our church.
Since I am a planner and an organizer, camping is not one of my strong suits — it is not something that can be planned and executed perfectly because there are always those unique circumstances that arise that can ruin the whole experience for me.
When I set out to go camping with my family, I want it to be memorable.
What better way for things to be memorable, than to micro-manage every minute, right?
Because I didn’t plan this trip, we simply had to show up and help out with the kids when needed. I was able to sit back and observe some of the things that to adults can be trip-wreckers, but not to kids.
One thing that just irritates me to no end is that my feet are inevitably dirty the entire trip.
The ground is usually some sort of gray color and my flip-flopped feet just never seem to be free of it.
As I watched these kids walk around barefoot, moving the dirt around with their feet at the campfire, and then of course, go to bed that way, I wondered what I was so worried about. I knew the sheets could be cleaned and so could my feet.
Kids also don’t tend to be too concerned about whether or not their teeth get brushed. Some did, some didn’t. And my dentist might chastise me for saying this, but will one day of dirty teeth really cause advanced tooth decay?
I realized too that I don’t need modern conveniences like electricity or showers to have fun. Tent camping takes me back to my youth, only in a better, more water-resistant tent.
That brings me to my last point — rain.
I have come to realize that the only ones that seem to be bothered by rain are the adults. Kids and teens don’t have any trouble continuing to have fun on a camp-out when it rains.
As they get older they do, but only because of listening to us grumble about it. Fortunately we avoided rain until our final night.
The kids swam, ate banana boats and hobo dinners, played a game of predator in the woods at night and whittled knives out of sticks.
Our youth intern, Matt, did a wonderful job making the experience fun and memorable for everyone. All was done with dirty feet and questionable oral hygiene.
I loved every minute of it.

Published August, 2010