Ladies stop! Do not help the decline in society, we need to be there for each other. In history, we have fought to have our place in society. Whether it be shorter skirts or wearing pants. Women have had to fight for their rights to get an education in certain fields, join the workforce, join the army, play proffessional sports, to vote, to be heard. We should work hard to maintain this.

We are no longer just baby makers, breeders. The goal is no longer for us to find a man and be married. That shit happened. Some of it still does in other cultures. It really wasn’t that long ago, some of our new generation have no idea that this is what some of their Gramma’s or Great Gramma’s faced! We have come along way. Women need to band together, lend each other a safe harbour. Advocate for each other.

So often I see social media posts of public, slashing and shaming and tearing each other down. Even little girls have become catty and hateful. Urged on by jealousy and envy, brooding over a boy. Let’s not go backwards. We are warriors!

Families give your children pride. Let them know about the previous obstacles we faced and they should never be told they can’t because they are female. Give them tools to rise above. Give them self esteem. Show them they need to be supporters of each other. To celebrate each others accomplishments. Don’t let them turn away and mumble their displeasure for anothers success. Be sure they hear from you the same. Don’t you walk away from a greeting with another and then slander that same person in your next breath.

People seem to love drama. The shows on TV reflect it. Big Brother, Housewives of Beverly Hills, Bachlorette. Not much of a moral compass. You need to be the moral compass for our future gerneration. There is the “Be Kind” slogan, so be sure both sides of your face reflect it.

I always wanted to be a parent. I had fifteen dolls, they each had a name and went through all my daily routines with me. I grew up as an only child. I would ask to hold parent’s babies at the doctor’s office! I love kids.

Family studies was my favorite class in highschool. Our teacher would put on audio tapes of parenting styles and they were fascinating to me. Giving kids choice, discipline that wasn’t spanking.. they were called consequences. All new fangled stuff in the 80’s.

As soon as I was married we planned our family. I read Parents magazine from cover to cover. There was no internet.

I have three kids. The first one cried through the first night that I brought her home. We paced, is she sick? Hungry? Wet? Cold? Funny now, not so much then. Did you know that sometimes they just cry? Back then babies didn’t room in with their moms, they were kept in the nursing station, lights on overnight, etc. She had her nights and days mixed up.

I was twenty, I looked even younger. I had a nation of women approach me and tell me how to parent in public. Gah! “Oh honey; your baby should have socks on, your baby should be on her side, your baby should wear cloth diapers, no soother, breast only, no solids till one.” Note the words “Your baby.” When the first one was born, my first words were “Mine! Mine, Mine!”

Was I perfect? Hell no! But my kids were first above everything.

My parenting was different. I remember the two older ones scrapping and being an only child, I was baffled. My husband was the youngest of four and said it was normal. It sure looked violent to see two kids under 5, scratching, pinching, screaming in a twisted ball I couldn’t untangle. I once walked in with a bucket of cold water and doused them with it. Another time, I carried the twisted ball to the tub where the cold shower was running and set them in it. I dunno isn’t that what you do with fighting cats? I do know when the youngest came along, the cat days were over.

Parenting under ten is the better stage of parenting. They did get themselves into trouble. I choose consequences that made them accountable. When my daughter was four she took a pencil and made a zig zag pattern on all four freshly painted walls in her room. I gave her an eraser and she erased all of it. My other daughter was playing outside and took the retaining bricks around the culvert and threw them into the ditch. She was three and I took her to the neighbours door kicking and screaming to apologize, he was ever so kind and said it was okay, but I still made her haul them all back into place. My youngest was a wild animal, a dinosaur actually. He would head butt, bite and run like the wind. I had to keep him teethered to me. He would cry so hard he would forget to breathe in and pass out. He bit someone once and I was mortified. The very next time he bit, I bit him back and that was the end of that. Were these the best solutions? Not always, maybe if I was standing over them all the time I could of prevented these incidents. So, never go to the bathroom, do laundry, make supper, talk to your mom on the phone!

Their imaginations were huge! Tons of hours outside, crafts, baking, reading, barbies. Playing house, hardware store, rescue 911, army and school. Neighbourhood games, biking, basketball, baseball. Our neighbourhood was packed with kids and I am sure they have either been in my house or yard to play.

I don’t know how much they remember from under ten. I don’t know how much teenage angst robs from their memories. So much energy! Enjoy your kids, seems a season of time, and then they are moving on to the next season. It goes by too fast Mommas!

An apology is not just saying sorry. We make children say sorry all the time. Not just toeing the dirt, downcast eyes and a mumble. We teach them about eye contact, tone of voice, shaking hands. That’s the short version. Sorry is just a word.

I hate the word sorry. I hate fighting or argueing and forgiveness. Ouch, sounds harsh!

When I was younger, we had some neighbours and their daughter was my best friend. Her parents would have extreme fights. Clothes being thrown out the door, swearing in their language. Someone always left. They always returned and days of peace resumed. My freind enjoyed the return, she always ended up with a gift. We were eight, it was terrifying and then came the relief. Her explanation was, they had a fight and he is sorry. This was on repeat the four years we lived there.

Sorry should mean change. Sorry after sorry for the same thing is not sorry. “sorry not sorry” means sorry I did it, but I’m probably gonna do it again. Or sorry you feel that way, but I’m going to do it anyway.

You can tell a real sorry. I was throwing the ball for my grandkids and they were taking turns catching it. On the toss to my grandson it hit him square in the mouth. I was off my seat and at his side, pulling him into my arms, kissing his face, admitting my mistake, wiping his tears, calling myself funny names to make hime laugh, and then we changed the game.

If someone does something wrong, the word sorry is good. Over and over sorry for the same thing is not sorry. Sorry means nothing without change.

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Don’t allow repeats. It’s not music, listening to your favorite song.

If you get an apology, or give an apology, be sure you change the game.

We need to go here for a minute. Anxiety, everyone knows this word. Feeling worried. So understated and not that simple. It can stunt your life, paralyze you. This is a traffic light you could be stalled at forever.

I am a parent, therefore I worry. My own parents were overprotective. That’s what I thought parents do. I voice my worries all the time. “Get down! You are gonna fall! Put the stick down, when you run! Don’t touch that! ”

It’s the auto pilot voice though. The continuous replay of self doubt, irrational thoughts of doom. That is where it goes awry. I didn’t know until someone close to me became medicated for anxiety. They told me that all the overthinking and over analyzing, sits down and shuts up. You can focus without fear. I was truely happy for them…and then I paid attention.

The audio in my head is relentless. I told another friend, what I had heard and what I had learned. They said, ” You’re not medicated? I don’t know anyone that is not medicated.”

So Bell, “Join the Conversation”. I guess I am not talking enough. Strong independant woman, is the very foundation I support everyone from. Apparently I have some holes in it. So my overthinking brain says, go to the root, get therapy to fix the holes, don’t just patch them! This of course costs money, more money than pills. Did you know, now on credit applications, they ask if you are in therapy, or if you have been treated for mental health in the last two years?! Why? Are they denying loans? They aren’t insuring you?

I don’t have answers, My internal monologue will keep me keeping on mostly in fear I guess. It is the quiet ones I worry about. They don’t share and may not find answers. This is where many people are, silent, alone, fighting. Not even knowing they are overwhelmed and part of huge population. If it’s you, reach out, don’t go it alone.

As a kid and all my young adult life, I was extremely shy. I couldn’t go into a space if I didnt know anyone. I couldn’t start a conversation with a stranger. I wouldn’t go on a stage. I was always on the back burner. I wouldn’t say shit even if my mouth was full of it. I was invisible and I liked it. I put everyone’s needs above my own, avoided confrontation and took whatever was dealt my way without incident. I bottled everything!

I really don’t know how it changed. Perhaps being an advocate for my children? That Mama Bear syndrome! I’m sure age and self esteem played a role. Somewhere between thirty and forty it stopped. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I now have opinions, real strong ones, I don’t care what strangers think. I can speak in front of a group and initiate a conversation.

I could be considered selfish, but my selfish is probably for the best. It’s not the type of selfish that lacks consideration for others. My selfish has been earned. It is more of a, put myself first for once. I have learned to say no, and guide my own time. I enjoy controlling my life. I do hate being wrong or being told what to do.

This selfish has been earned.

This selfish makes me a better person.

This selfish will stand up for others.

This selfish is loyal.

This selfish is just enough to give me balance.

A lot of people write about parenting the toddler. The napping, toileting, funny antics, firsts. What about our grown children? We are still parents. We are no longer expected by society to do anything for them. Our goal was to get them there, hopefully unscathed.

Sometimes they reach out for advice, maybe it is not what they want to hear. Many times they didn’t ask for the advice. Nonetheless we still parent. We still want the world for them, we would still take a bullet for them.

It is a very different road, and different for everyone. It still surprises me, the stories friends share of their journey with their children. Each child’s journey is very different. Which also surprises me. I mean they were all raised in the same house by the same parents.

So how do we do it? What is the secret?

No big secret, there is no formula. Just like a toddler, all trial and error. Each child is an individual. If it was easy, there would be a manual. That being said, this is what i know:

Every external influence in their lives will affect their perceptions and ideas.

They will surprise you-the princess will wear track pants, the athelete will hang up their gear, the invisible, angry child will grow a social conscience.

They all remember childhood events differently

They will disappoint you

They will surpass your expectations

They will assert their dominance over their own life

They will hurt your feelings

You absolutely should:

Step back and even out of their lives so they can do it on their own

Let them fail (do not say I told you so)

Smile and nod

Bite your tongue (until it bleeds)

Listen (do not speak)

Cry with them

Always love

Parenting a grown up does not hold the same responsibilities those little cherubs needed. Their chubby little fingers are no longer there for you to hold. Your heart will only get bigger with the love you always have for them. You have to be the silent cheerleader, rooting for them in the back of the room. Your silent tears for every milestone they surpass. Hopefully you are a person they hope to be like. I hope they become far better than I ever was. Most importantly, I hope my love for them is felt forever and they never doubt that love.

Really that is it, they are not for you to control. You are just the home beacon, the place they can always come and know they will be welcome.

What’s for dinner? Never was there a more cringe worthy statement! When the kids were small meals were day by day. I had two diabetic kids and a fussy husband. Leftovers grew in the back of the fridge. Create and toss. It got better when the kids were teens, they ate everything and leftovers were a late night snack. Hubby had expanded his palette and I’d like to think I got better at it.

Sure there were the unprepared days, which in my momma circle I found myself and my friends just let cereal become supper. I did get better at that too and breakfast for dinner is my go to, except now it’s an omellete or fried egg sandwich. Then as the empty nest started to happen, I had to relearn again. I overprepared meals, create and toss happened again and it frustrated me so much! So I meal plan. It is not perfect. Sometimes I fall off the meal wagon.

Essentially it started with brainstorming all the dinners I can create, the complicated, the easy, the single meal, and the larger meal. Then I get the calendar and factor in any events taking place. The hair appointment after work that would cut into prep time. The night the grandkids stay over. A family event. Then the list of dinners comes out and seven days of dinners are choosen for the next ten days. Simple ones for the pressed for time, ones that could be created with day before food to cut down on waste. My biggest obstacle was having things on hand, so a grocery list is created too. All of this makes life easier, just the fact that I can pull out the pork roast in the A.M, so it can be prepped in the P.M. Or having Taco Tuesday and preparing the entire pakage of hamburger reserving some for the tacos and prepping the rest with onions mushrooms and peppers to freeze cooked, so spagetti on Thursday is just cooking the noodles and sauce.

Total game changer. Not fail safe of course, there will always be the night the family drops in and you have prepared a small dinner with nothing to spare. Or it’s the night hubby is coming home late and you are having a tomatoe sandwich because making him an omelette when he arrives is easiest.

For the most part it eliminates a lot of stress surrounding meals. I post the menu on the fridge and most days we eat at five, create and toss is limited. The garbage goes on Monday so if I am tossing alot on Sunday it is because my planning is falling away again. Just remember every week is a new week, just do what you can do, give it a try. Hey! What’s for dinner?