I Don't Have a Problem...I Just Need More Chapstick

I can pinpoint to the moment when the lip balm problem began. I was on the bus in 7th grade and a kid named Chris yelled, "Hey Raisin-Lips!" There I was, completely humiliated and scarred for life. At that moment I vowed to never be called a name like "raisin-lips" again. I have always been a very girly-girl and appearance has been important to me. It would be natural to assume that calling any 7th grade girl a name like "Raisin-Lips" would be damaging, but calling a girl with self-image issues that same name launched a dependence on lip products that has lasted over 30 years. I sometimes call it an addiction because when I don't have Chapstick in a pocket or nearby, I instantly begin to feel panicky and my lips start to dry up and hurt. These are very real, physical symptoms triggered by a fear that I might be more than a 5 minute drive the nearest Walgreens. I never leave the house without making sure I have a tube of lip balm in my pocket, and my purse, and the car. I'm like the guy who has to light a cigarette on his way from the car to the Walmart entrance. I know I'm not alone either. My friend posted on my Facebook page that she was at a concert and forgot her Chapstick at home. I almost made the 20 minute drive to bring her some. I can relate! Don't get me wrong. I don't in any way minimize the real, physical struggles that are part of the lives of those with substance abuse issues. I understand that my dependence, (and that is what it really is, dependence), on Chapstick in no way compares to the dependence one has on drugs or alcohol. Lip balm addiction isn't life threatening and I won't lose my family or job because of it. I can say that it does interfere with my life. I can honestly agree with step 1 of the various Twelve Step programs, that I am powerless over cherry Blistick, which is my balm of choice. Did you know that there are actually articles, websites, and blogs dedicated to the topic of lip balm addiction? Go ahead and Google "Chapstick addiction" and you'll be astounded at what comes up. Here are a few things I have learned from these sources.
Vaseline or petroleum jelly will actually pull moisture from your lips, causing you to need to re-apply more frequently. I know this to be true because I used to carry a hand lotion sized tube around in my purse.
Any sort of mint flavor is irritating to lips.
Tarter control toothpaste will dry out lips. I tried using the whitening toothpaste and it does the same thing. I stick to plain old regular Colgate.
So wherever you are, Chris from 7th grade. I'm placing the blame directly on you. My name is Dawn. And I'm a Chapstick-aholic.

My Bra Gives Me More Support

I recently entered a writing contest and the following post was my second choice. The first choice article has been submitted and can't be previously published in a paper or blog. So wish me luck and enjoy the runner-up!

"You know I could sue you for that" remarked my 17 year old son after he discovered I had mentioned his name in the column I write for a local paper. I mistakenly assumed that after  three years my biggest fans would be my family. Think again. In the beginning Tom and the boys seemed to be OK with being in the public eye because what I wrote wasn't about them. My first indication that the support was waning was when I wrote about my husband referring to me as a "good little cooker." They guys at work thought that was pretty funny and gave him a little ribbing about it. He came home and firmly requested that any columns that included him needed to be reviewed and approved before they could be published. Then after the column about teaching my son Robby to drive, he came home and asked,
 "Did you write about me in your column? Don't do that anymore."
It was evident that support was decreasing. Then came my younger son, Sammy. Apparently his buddies at school had read a column of mine and spent the lunch hour joking about it. He told me that absolutely under no circumstances was I to write about him ever again. Strike three. Do you know how difficult it is to write a column about your life without including the members of your family? Some of my best material comes from my husband and teenage sons. They can be downright hilarious at times. It bugs me that they have stifled my creative outlet so at times I use it against them,
"You better get your keister over here and do these dishes or I'm going to write about you in my column!"
Robby did eventually soften up a bit. When I asked him if I could please write about his homecoming nomination, he said, "It's your column. Write about whatever you want." Sammy, on the other hand, has not. I did mention his name but it was about my husband and I going to his football game, so it wasn't technically about him. There really is a fine line between letting it all hang out and respecting the dignity of your family. I'd love to write about the never ending trail of dirty socks strewn about the house, but in doing so it might cause repercussions that I'm not prepared to deal with at home. For the sake of an interesting and humorous column I'll have to choose my words carefully and find creative ways to highlight the antics of my semi-supportive family without a pending lawsuit.

Finding Happiness in the Little Things...Like New Toothbrushes

For the most part I lead a pretty good life. Even so I can let stress and negativity get the better of me,
especially during the holidays. When that happens there are little things that can really make me feel happy. When I am having a bad day my go to is Pepsi and a Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll. Pepsi just tastes good and who can't help but smile back at Little Debbie? I also like to get mail. Not email. Old fashioned snail mail. I look forward to opening the mailbox everyday in hopes that there might be something special, like a hand written note from my mom or Aunt Marge, which makes Christmas card season my favorite time of year. Recently I posted on Facebook that I was getting a new toothbrush, which means I got to go to the dentist. Yes, I said I got to go. For as long as I can remember I have gotten my teeth cleaned every 6 months. Some of my earliest memories are of leaving the dentist office with a brand new toothbrush. Back then, my new brush came in a clear plastic tube with two halves of a brightly colored plastic dog capping each end. When the toothbrush was removed the two ends could be put together to create an adorable little red, yellow, blue, or green dog. I treasured those silly things and kept them like they were precious. I know some people don't like going to the dentist, but I really enjoy sitting back and relaxing while I get my teeth cleaned. Oh I've had some unpleasant experiences like fillings, but they never seem bad enough to take away the feeling I get when I anticipate my next visit and my next new toothbrush. I think in life we have become so materialistic we tend to equate happiness with the big stuff like new cars or Vera Bradley bags. I have been reading a book called "Growing Up on Drummond Island" by a friend, Jill Lowe Brumwell. The stories are so sweet. Jill spent much of her childhood on Drummond Island in the UP and although her family didn't have much, you can feel the happiness on every page. It's so easy to get caught up in the stresses of life that I forget to notice those little things that bring joy to my life like a hug from one of my boys or a pop and a snack cake from the gas station. I got some less than great news from my dentist the last time I went but none of it seemed to matter as I left with my little plastic bag containing my new toothbrush. Life is good.

What is Adulthood Really About?

I am a person who, much to the annoyance of my children, loves Facebook and Pinterest. You are probably familiar with Facebook, but if you aren't familiar with Pinterest, you should be. One popular part of both sites is the abundance of clever, inspirational, offensive, ridiculous, and downright hilarious quotes that get posted and reposted regularly. One of my favorite ridiculous quotes is "repost if you love your grandma. If you don't then you hate her." The truly ridiculous part of that is the fact that it actually gets reposted! I am guilty of reposting all kinds of (hopefully not offensive) quotes such as, "I don't know Karate, but I do know 'crazy' and I'm not afraid to use it."
There are literally hundreds that have made me laugh, cringe, or go "hmmm." A while back my niece reposted one that said "Adulthood is mostly about being tired and wishing you hadn't made plans." When I read that I felt like Peppermint Patty when she knocked Schroeder away from his piano when she yelled "That's it!" At this stage in my life I have found myself not only tired all the time but napping on a regular basis. They usually aren't planned naps either. They they can occur at any time that I am lying on the couch, which is usually after dinner. Several years back I even made a 'no more than one night of plans per week' rule. More than one night a week of activity just makes me more tired. I love going out with Tom or friends. I really love watching the kids performances or athletics. When I do make plans,I get really excited about whatever it is I'm doing but when the time comes I think "Why did I agree to this? I'm just so dang tired!" Most of the time I convince myself that I need to get out of the house and have some fun with friends or family. Rarely do I cancel.  I do however, find myself in full on yawning around 8:30 PM. I sometimes find myself with an inner-conflict. I love to socialize and hate feeling like I'm missing "the fun" but when I get invited to join the fun I excitedly accept then, like the quote says, wish I hadn't made plans. I guess if that is what adulthood mostly is, then I've nailed it. That and another catchy quote "Now that I've wasted an hour on Facebook, Ill just pop over to Pinterest and make an evening of it."

You're Gonna Miss This

Well, it happened again.No matter how hard I try to control myself, I fail. It doesn't matter if I am driving home from work, riding on the back of the motorcycle, or jogging with my iPod. If I hear "You're Gonna Miss This" byTrace Adkins or "It Won't be Like This for Long" by Darius Rucker, I end up in tears, especially if I try to sing along. When my kids were young and I was in the throws of terrible twos or spending entire Saturdays at wrestling tournaments full of screaming kids, I didn't feel like I was "gonna miss this." Sometimes I feel bad that I didn't cherish every moment with my kids when they were young. More than once I stood at the check out line with a screaming child and a cart full of groceries thinking "Just take me now Lord" rather than "It won't be like this for long." I don't beat myself up over it. That's just the way parenting goes. When we are there, we don't always say "Hey, I'm gonna miss this." But something happens to me when I hear certain lines in those songs. I'm taken back to dropping a crying child off at daycare and an angry teenager telling me that I have no idea how he feels. But the line that really gets me every time I hear it is in the Trace Adkins song where the mom is apologizing to the plumber for her screaming kids and he says something like, "I have two babies of my own...ones twenty-six, ones twenty-three." I literally choke on the words every single time I try to sing them. In fact, I have a lump in my throat as I type this. My kids aren't out of the house yet, but they are independent young men who don't depend on me for much of anything anymore. I look at the pictures of them as little boys and wonder why it went by so fast. I hear screaming kids in the store and look at another middle aged mom and we smile at each other because we too had been there. The other night Tom and I were driving in the rain to watch Sammy play football. I was grumbling about having to sit in the stands and be cold and wet for two hours. And suddenly I remembered that it's his junior year. After next fall there won't be anymore football games, rain or shine. And I'm gonna miss this.

Adventures in Veganism

After reading the title you are probably thinking one of two things, "Well it's about time she came to her senses! Hopefully she will convince others to go vegan." or "Has she lost her mind? Now she's going to try and get us to give up meat!" Actually it's neither of those. I haven't joined PETA and I'm not going to change the world, one carrot at a time. At the recommendation of my doctor I picked up a book by Rip Esselstyn called "The Engine 2 Diet." Rip is a firefighter/world-class triathlete who is introducing others to the vegan lifestyle (which he calls a plant-based diet) and basically has a 28 day challenge, hoping that that the end of the 28 days you will be so much healthier that you will never call a cow "dinner" again. I honestly have never had any interest whatsoever in becoming a vegetarian of any degree. I love meat, poultry, and cheese so much that I don't see any reason to let them go. Besides, I live with 3 staunch carnivores who are definitely not going to join me in any diet altering experiment and have made that quite clear. However, in the interest of getting my digestive system in proper working order, I could do it for 28 days, or so I thought. I read the book and thought "hmm this won't be so bad." Well, I'm here to tell you, it's a lot harder than you might think. I decided to give up dairy first and enjoyed a delicious veggie sub, sans cheese for dinner that night. Wow! this won't be that hard. But the next morning I blew it when I had to put milk in my coffee because I had nothing to replace it with. The next thing to go was meat. That first day went pretty well until Tom made these amazing chicken wings that I couldn't resist. I felt a little weak trying to survive on just fruit & vegetables for lunch so I added eggs back into my diet. I'm getting better at making food choices, but still have some trip ups. One day while waiting for my veggie pita at Roast & Toast I munched on some cheese popcorn. Halfway through the bag I asked Tom if powdered cheese on popcorn would count as dairy. Dang. After a few weeks I am adjusting to my new life without foods that I once thought I couldn't live without. While I have still have no desire to learn to cook with tofu or watch as my family devours a Thanksgiving dinner without me, for now I will make a go of it, expecting a few moments of weakness now and then. I think I may be more of an egg-eating vegetarian who enjoys the occasional bag of cheesy popcorn. And no, I won't try and convince you to join me.

This is Only a Test

*This is an extra column that I chose not to have published.
This past December I completed a Masters Degree program and now proudly have an MA  as part of my professional designation. In order for me to receive an endorsement through the state of Michigan in the area of which I hold my degree, I am required to take an exam. Why the state can't accept my diploma and 3.96 GPA as proof that I actually learned what the university expected me to learn, is a good question. I suspect that it has something to do with the fee I was required to pay. Regardless, somewhere along the line the testing became a standard part of teacher certification. So I paid my $57 or so dollars and registered for the test. When I got my testing information I read a laundry list of testing rules that made me wonder if I would be getting top secret government clearance along with my endorsement. For example, if we brought a water bottle it had to be clear with no label. Wow! Cheaters must be incredibly sophisticated these days! Were they able to create floating crib notes with alphabet soup noodles? When I got to the testing facility we were herded down a narrow, winding hallway into two rooms. We had to provide tickets and photo ID. After my purse was confiscated I jokingly told the woman sitting beside me that we would be asked to show our forearms and the soles of our feet next. Before we took the test we had to provide thumbprints and copy a sentence stating that we were in fact who we said we were. "Good grief!" I thought "I think my son had an easier time getting his passport!" All of that for a 100 multiple-choice question test. By the time all of the formalities were completed and we were directed to begin, I was so nervous that I might have accidentally come in with a stray MP3 in my purse (which would void my score) that I think I forgot half of what I went there to be tested on in the first place. Do I think tests are important? As an educator, of course I do. Do I think the testing craze has gotten a little bit out of hand? You bet. I had to wonder as I looked around that room if there was someone desperate enough to attempt to cheat. Maybe. Or maybe it's just a reflection on the state of morality in our society. Call me old fashioned, but I hold on to the notion that the majority of people would never dream of it because like their diploma verifies, they learned what they were supposed to and were able to prove it.