Party Time

I survived another one.

No, I’m not talking about a Husker loss (although I survived that too).  I’m talking about my daughter’s birthday party. 

Rachel recently turned 11 and, as such, is getting close to the end of her “official” birthday parties.  So I am beginning to see a light at the end of this tunnel. 

But we’re not there yet.

I think part of the reason I don’t enjoy birthday parties as much as I should is similar to why Jeff and I didn’t have a wedding.  So much time, energy and money put into an event that only lasts a short amount of time.  Logically I can’t get my head around it.  But as a parent in the 21^st century it seems obligatory.  So early this fall, party planning ensued.

I started going through the Oriental Trading catalog for “theme” ideas.  Over the years we’ve thrown a number of parties, but inevitably the ones that the girls enjoy most are the ones at our house.  Lucky me.  So the option of paying someone else to do all the preparation, implementation, clean-up, etc. was not an option.  While I realize this should be a compliment to my party-throwing talents, I instead begin to focus on how to out-do myself with the best-party-ever mentality.  Without doing a “destination party” this all centers on having the right “theme.”

Elisabeth's "Bead" Party

I looked through the catalog and saw very little that I found appealing.  Considering that there are entire stores dedicated solely to helping you plan and execute a theme party this should have been the EASY part.  After struggling for awhile, Rachel came by and asked what was the matter.  I explained my dilemma to her and she instantly replied,

“Oh, that’s easy.  I want an Egyptian themed party.”

Silly me.  Why didn’t I just think to ask her since it was HER party?

Problem number one solved.  We have a theme.  (And coincidentally, despite the millions of options in both the catalog and at the party store, this is not one of their choices!)

Problem number two?  Pinterest. 

Pinterest is a wonderful resource of ideas…….for people that have endless amounts of free time, bottomless budgets and years to make it all happen.  Thanks to a quick search of Pinterest by both myself and Elisabeth (assistant party-planner), and the theme provided by Rachel,  I now had more ideas than I had time.  I asked Rachel how important it was that this party happen this year?  She was only mildly amused by my question. 

Needless to say, we pulled it off and she was very happy.  Despite my degree in architecture, the custom-creation cardboard pyramid was actually more of a tent due to structural complications with ducttape and cardboard.  However, it was big enough to hold two children at a time.  And more importantly, it was ready by party time!

Cardboard "pyramid" complete with Nile River

Having thrown quite a few parties by this point, here’s what I’ve learned:

1.  Let the party girl (or boy) serve as the planning CEO. 

          If I had just consulted Rachel in the first place I could have saved myself a lot of time and stress.

2.  Keep it simple.

          We’ve thrown some big destination parties and while the girls enjoyed them, given a choice they will always choose a party at home.  This isn’t real estate.  Location is not that important. 

Rachel's Pony Party at the Little Red Barn

3.  For decorations, refer to rule #2.

          Despite what the party stores would have you think, it doesn’t take a lot of effort to impress kids.  With a bunch of cardboard, a few rolls of streamers and some balloons, you can easily transform a plain room into a party room. 

4.  Clean up after the party, not before.

          Logic dictates that if guests are coming to your home you should clean the place.  Logic has no place when it comes to children’s parties.  The kids coming to your home could care less if your house is dirty.  And there will be plenty of cleaning to do when they leave.  Don’t waste the time doing it twice.  Pick up the clutter, but save the vacuuming for after the guests go home.

5.  Sugar is a required element.

          Even if you’re a health nut, a party is not the time to try to influence others with your nutritious stance.  Serve up sugary treats of some sort and then send the kids home.  Unless they’re diabetic, a little sugar won’t kill them.  And based on my experience, the mere excitement of a “party” is no worse than a sugar high.

6.  Party favors aren’t as important as you think.

          I’m always frustrated when either of my girls comes home from a party with what looks like more than she took as a gift.  The kids attending the party come for fun, not stuff.  If you need bags to get them home with all their “loot” then you’re overdoing it.  For the Egypt party, each attendee took home a bandana (that they used for two of the party games) and a cupcake that they decorated during the party. 

Party game with their new bandanas

7.  Gift wrap falls in the same category as party favors.

          I used to obsess about making the gifts my girls took to parties look just perfect, realizing the whole time that in a matter of minutes the wrapping would be destroyed.  Don’t waste your time.  One girl showed up for Rachel’s party with her gift in a Hy-vee paper sack.  Not decorated, just a plain sack.  Rachel loved the gift and that girl’s mom instantly became one of my favorite people.  Having five kids of her own she has undoubtedly realized what it took me too long to accept----the wrapping just doesn’t matter. 

8.  Don’t spend a lot of money on the cake.

          Following rule #5, for some of the birthdays I have gotten professionally decorated cakes.  They were amazing.  They were also demolished and devoured soon after pictures were taken.  (Seeing a similarity to rule #7?)  The best parties we’ve had included letting the kids decorate their own cupcakes.  You can easily make a batch of cupcakes for about $2 and for a few dollars more you have entertainment for the party as well.  I know many people would hesitate at the idea of letting kids do this in their house, but if you follow rule #4 it’s not a big deal. 

Custom cupcake creations

9.  Don’t go by the age=number of guests rule.

          Invite guests based on how many good friends your child has and wants to invite.  It sounds counterintuitive, but inviting the entire preschool class (9 other children) worked beautifully and made for a fun time instead of restricting the guest list to 4 and making her choose which friends would be invited.  Now that her class size is 28, inviting the entire class would be insane, but she also does not have 11 close friends.  I simply asked her who she wanted to invite and she came up with a co-ed list of 7 friends that she knew all got along and would have fun together.  Perfect.  (Ties in with Rule #1---consult the “expert”).  Now with that being said, I also serve as a consultant in this process making sure that everyone on the guest list is someone I approve of, and also making sure she hasn’t inadvertently omitted someone from the list.

10.  Have a plan, but go with the flow.

          A surprising discovery at this year’s party was that the attendees liked my organization.  On one of my chalkboard cabinets in the kitchen, I had written the party agenda just so I wouldn’t forget anything.  Once we completed an activity I simply erased it from the list and we moved on.  By mid-party, kids were running in the kitchen to check the “to-do” list to see what was next!  We completed our checklist early and then the kids agreed, as a unified group on their own, what to spend the rest of the time doing.  

This brought the most important realization of party planning.  You can plan all you want, but the kids mainly just want to have fun together. 

Everything else is just, well, icing on the cake.

Teens and Tiaras

 “You just met Contestant Number 73.”

The emcee wasn’t talking to me.  I met Contestant #73 about sixteen years ago.  You see, this is a phrase associated with my daughter, and yet I’m still not entirely sure how it happened.  Many have asked, so I’ll do my best to piece together the ‘pageant puzzle.’

Last fall Elisabeth received an invitation to the Open Call for the National American Miss pageant.  Normally I would just put this right into the recycling bin, but since she’s getting older I tend to give her all of her mail and let her do her own recycling.  But an odd thing happened.  She didn’t recycle it.  Not even close.  She asked if she could go.

WHAT???  You can’t be serious!

“Mom, it sounds like fun, and I think it would be a good way for me to improve my public speaking skills.”

Fast forward to the end of January and I find myself (with Elisabeth) at the Open Call meeting.  The pageant director, who can best be described as short, blonde, somewhat stocky and bubbly beyond comprehension, seemed to have consumed about 6 Red Bulls prior to the meeting and described at a frenzied pace what our daughters were in for.  

Before I knew it Elisabeth was being whisked to the front of the room, along with the other girls in her age division, to introduce themselves to the crowd in the hotel convention room.  Then they were ushered out the door to compete in an interview competition to see who would become State Finalists. 

Whoa.  I thought we were just here to get information!  Boy was I wrong…..

Upon receiving the phone call that she was indeed a State Finalist, Elisabeth was over-the-moon excited.  I did not share this excitement. 

February brought our next meeting--- An afternoon of ‘Pageant 101’ to learn the details of what was involved.  The girls practiced interviewing, how to sit with correct posture, how to stand with “pretty feet” (I wish I was kidding, but that’s really what the pageant ‘stand’ is called), etc.  The various competitions involved with the pageant were explained to us while the pageant representative (another ridiculously cheery and bubbly blonde girl) emphasized that this pageant was a poise and confidence pageant, NOT a beauty pageant (i.e. this is not the ‘glitz’ pageant that Honey Boo-Boo competes in). 

The next month was spent with Elisabeth earning her sponsorship fees, and April was spent practicing interview questions, finding formal wear, etc.  Then we blinked and it was Mother’s Day weekend and we were headed to the Ramada Convention Center for the big event.

At this point I still am not enthused about the whole pageant idea, and can scarcely believe I’m spending Mother’s Day weekend this way. 

But then a funny thing happened.  The pageant started and my daughter amazed me.  Her first event was the formal wear competition.  Escorted by her Dad, Contestant #73 (a.k.a. Elisabeth) confidently strode out onto the stage, under the bright spot lights, in front of hundreds of people and was the picture of poise and confidence.  I, however, was thinking “please don’t trip”, “remember to smile”, “make eye contact with the judges” and praying to God that the dress tape would work and she would not have an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction!

My worrying was a complete waste of time.  Most people know that Elisabeth loves to prove me wrong and this was no exception.  For a teenager that struggles with being in front of people and suffers from panic attacks, she was in her element.   Completely 

calm and collected. 

Who is this kid and what have the pageant people done with my daughter????

Now before you think, well, how hard can it be to walk out on a stage and smile, think about this.  She walked out there for the sole purpose of being judged strictly for her appearance.  Would you want to be put on a stage under bright lights to be judged by total strangers?  The ‘fun’ element of this concept still eludes me but she was clearly having a blast.

She’s already doing better than I expected, but we still have two events to go: the personal introduction, and the interview competition.  For the personal introduction, think of any Miss America or Miss USA pageant where each contestant has to come to the front of the stage and in 30 seconds, explain who she is and where she’s from.  Oh, and do it in a way that makes you want to root for her, and that distinguishes her from her competitors…..while smiling, and making eye contact with the judges, and remembering to stand in perfect posture with ‘pretty feet.’  Piece of cake.  Right……

This was Elisabeth’s real challenge.  For someone who doesn’t like public speaking, 30 seconds in front of a convention room filled with hundreds of people can be an eternity.  Add to this the fact that they go in numerical order.  Yep, she’s #73 and gets to stand in line and listen to 72 other contestants while she tries to remain calm and remember her own introduction statement.  Complicating matters is the fact that many of these girls have coaches to help them prepare, and have been competing in pageants for over a decade.  Oh, by the way, make sure you wear the right outfit (although we weren’t quite sure what this was---the rules indicated you could wear anything from Sunday Church clothes to an outfit for a business interview).  No pressure Elisabeth.  We don’t know what we’re doing, but you got this!

Personal Intro (next to the reigning National American Miss Jr. Teen)

After seeing a couple of girls get stage fright, choke, hand the microphone back to the current titleholder and walk off stage without even saying a word, my nerves were getting the best of me.  Would Elisabeth be able to do this or would she have a panic attack?

Again, proving me wrong she sailed through the Introduction, not stumbling once through her prepared statement.  (Although the picture provides evidence that she forgot her ‘pretty feet’).

Whew.  Two competitions down, one to go.  Interview.  Think of this as speed dating with 6 judges.  You have one minute with each judge to impress them.  Again, make sure you’re wearing the right thing, sitting the right way, maintaining eye contact, smiling, and after all that, make sure you provide an impressive answer to the question they ask (and you have no idea what they’re going to ask).  Sounds like fun, right?

Well, this is the one competition that parents aren’t allowed to watch.   The girls returned (again in numerical order) to their parents, still smiling but with a sort of “deer in the headlights” look.  None of them could remember the questions they were asked, (just minutes earlier) but all were indicating to their parents that they thought they did well. 

You would think at this point that there would be relief because the competitions were over.  You’d be wrong.  We still had the Production Number in the Final Show coming.  This would be the part of the pageant that you are used to seeing on tv (if you watch that sort of thing) where all the girls sing and dance to a prepared song as one big group.  Then they (in lightning speed) change from their Production Number outfit back into their formal wear outfit for the awards/crowning.  Then it’s back out on stage, one at a time, to get into position to see who would be taking home the crown.

Elisabeth's Division in their Production Number outfits on the main stage.

It was during the awards part of the ceremony that you begin to realize just how rigged this competition is.  Girls were winning awards for “Most Tickets Sold to the Final Show”, “Most Advertising Sold for the Programs” etc.  In other words, the girls who generated the most income for the pageant organizers were the ones leaving with the awards, and making it into the round of finalists.  At this point Elisabeth had no shot.  She did not participate in any optional competitions (i.e. Miss Photogenic, Spokesmodel, Modeling, Talent, etc.) nor did she generate any additional revenue for the pageant through additional sponsorships.  We paid the bare minimum to enter---and that was plenty! 

So we came home with her State Finalist trophy, but no other awards.  I wish I could say she was merely disappointed, but she was crushed.  It hurt to watch her go through that and not be able to make her feel better.  Was it a waste of time and money? No.  She got an experience that she will remember forever, and I do believe that she faced (and conquered) her fears by getting up in front of people.  Did I need a pageant to show me that my daughter had poise and confidence? No.  But it helped her believe it.  Do I want pageants to become her hobby? Absolutely not.  I will not be a ‘pageant mom’ and I’ve tried to show her that pageants aren’t about the girls involved---they’re a business.  And based on the number of contestants at this pageant, they’re a BIG business. 

Having been through this process, I caught a glimpse of how important tiaras are to girls.  I’m still not clear WHY, but they are.  Maybe next time instead of all the pageant fees, I’ll just buy her a tiara.  Then we’ll figure out some other way she can prove me wrong, and ‘proving me wrong’ can be her hobby.

And she’ll do it wearing a tiara….

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Oops!

“It’s an attic.”

“No, it’s a tower.”

“An ATTIC!”

“No….a….TOWER!”

And so it began.  Yet another argument between my two girls.  Both smart, and both determined to be right.  The controversial topic this time?  Where was Cinderella’s room located. 

I know what you’re thinking.  With all the problems in the world, this is what my girls choose to worry about?  I can honestly tell you I don’t even remember how the topic came up or why they both began defending their positions staunchly.  But it started in the car on the way to church one Sunday and had their Dad asking “Does it really matter?” 

Silly question Dad.  Relevance has nothing to do with it. 

It resulted in them entering the house after church and putting in the VHS video with each of them excited to “prove” the other one wrong. 

I went to start lunch and when I came back I asked them who was right.  Surprisingly, they had agreed that the movie did not provide the video evidence they were hoping for.  Based on what Disney animators showed us, it could be an attic or a tower depending on your point of view.

Then a funny thing happened.

They kept watching the movie. 

I pointed out to both of them that they didn’t need to keep watching.  The answer they had been searching for was not going to be found in the movie.

“But Mom, we’ve never seen it.”

Wait……….WHAT?

“We know the story but we’ve never actually watched the movie.”

[*Insert feelings of motherly failure here*] 

How in the bibbidi-bobbidi-boo could this have slipped by me?

                              

So for the next hour they sat and watched the rest of the movie.  They learned to love Jacques and Gus.  They compared Anastasia and Drizella to girls at school.  Elisabeth complained about the cinematic quality of the animation (“The colors aren’t right----Cinderella’s dress is supposed to be blue, not white”).  And I’m sure while watching Cinderella do all her chores they empathized and thought “My mom makes me do chores too.”

I watched with them and realized that Cinderella was perhaps the first example of speed dating.  I mean, a subplot of the movie is finding Prince Charming a wife and it has to be accomplished in one evening.  Sort of like a precursor to “The Bachelor.”  Elisabeth thought the animators could have made Prince Charming more handsome.  (I thought they did okay.)

I apologized to the girls for not having watched the movie with them earlier.

“It’s okay Mom.  We read the book.”

Ah yes.  ‘Book Mom’ strikes again.  It’s no secret that I’m not raising princesses and it’s also no secret that more often than not, my girls have to read the book before they can see a movie.  That way I can get the pleasure of hearing them say “Well, the movie was good, but the book was so much better.”  I never intended to start this in the preschool years though when life should be about fairy tales and Prince Charming. 

But when it comes to Disney movies, they just never really watched the princess ones.  They weren’t big fans of Alice in Wonderland or Beauty in the Beast.  They preferred Jungle Book, Aristocats, Sword in the Stone, or Disney’s version of Robin Hood.  For a ‘princess-type’ movie Elisabeth would rather watch Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, while Rachel will always pick The Sound of Music.  (She strongly associates with the Maria at the beginning of the movie who is always getting into trouble). 

The good part is that they still enjoyed the movie (as did I).  However, it left me wondering what other items on the ‘Childhood Bucket List’ I had missed.

“By the way Mom, I’ve never seen The Little Mermaid either.” 

I guess we’ll be going ‘under the sea’ in the near future.

Searching for a Cure

There are two levels of clean in our house:  Kid-approved and Mommy Standards.  When it comes to delegated chores, kid-approved rarely meets Mommy Standards.    I am convinced that children are born with the inability to see dirt. Unless of course it is dirt for digging in or making mud pies, in which case, they can spot it from a mile away.  My kids, great as they are, were born with this defect and I am desperately searching for a cure. 

Case in point: dusting.  This would be one of Elisabeth’s weekly assignments.  She readily agreed thinking it would be easy.  I was thrilled to be rid of this task due to my allergies (to dust, not to cleaning in general).  She completed the job in record time.  What an Energizer Bunny, I thought.  Then I began to survey her ‘work.’  She had selected what she deemed were ‘priority’ surfaces and that is what got dusted.  No one looks at the bookshelves, therefore, they didn’t really need dusting.  Furthermore, dusting in her world means taking a quick swipe around whatever objects are lying around.  Now I know this kid has artistic tendencies, but leaving designs with the dust in my house is not how I want her creativity expressed. 

Case in point two: clean bedroom.  This would be on both girls’ chore lists, but Rachel is the one that baffles the mind here.  Apparently as long as there is a path from the door to the bed, this constitutes “clean.”  While I must allow that the Fire Marshal would probably give his stamp of approval to the room, rarely does it receive a stamp of approval based on Mommy Standards.  Many a time I’ve entered her room for inspection only to wonder what she spent all her “cleaning time” in there doing.  Now before you think my standards are too high, this leads me to…..

Case in point three:  vacuuming.  Back to Elisabeth.  I will readily admit that it is hard to vacuum the carpet if you cannot SEE the carpet.  As vacuuming is one of Elisabeth’s weekly chores, she cannot complete her chores for her allowance if she cannot see the carpet in Rachel’s room in order to vacuum the carpet in Rachel’s room.  My budding fourth-grade Einstein quickly solved this dilemma.  Everything on the floor became relocated to…..the bed.  Vacuuming problem solved.  Bedtime problem created. 

This led to a discussion (complete with eye-rolling by the children) about how we’re all a family and our decisions impact the other members of the family.  Elisabeth suggested that if I removed vacuuming from the chore list, Rachel could stop cleaning her room.  Very helpful.  Rachel was on board with the suggestion.  My girls were presenting a united front.  They were working together for a common goal.  I should have been proud. 

Instead, I suggested that maybe we should just live in a sod house.  I mean, we’re halfway there anyway.  And while we’re at it, why bother with indoor plumbing?  Then we could take “clean bathrooms” off the chore list.  I was on a roll.  No stopping me now.

                            

Do you know why they’re not smiling?

Their house is dirty, so Mama’s not happy, and if Mama’s not happy…..you get it!

 

Unamused, the girls began to see my point.  Turns out they’re rather fond of indoor plumbing. 

So we reached a compromise.  There’s no sod house in our future.  We’ll be meeting a level of clean somewhere between kid-approved and Mommy Standards; no gas masks or white gloves needed.  We’ll call it the Wahlgren Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. 

And it doesn’t need a cure.

Zone Defense (YOLO, part two)

How do you do it? 

It’s a question I’ve been asked often and it refers to the complexity of family life that comes with Jeff traveling so frequently for work.  The simple answer?  Zone defense. 

When we were parents of an only child it was two against one.  I liked those odds and they served us well for almost five years.  Then we added a second child to the mix and we transitioned to a man-to-man defense.  Yet another effective parenting strategy.  Then Jeff’s job began to involve more and more travel which left me with….you guessed it…..zone defense.  We were back to the two against one odds, only this time they were not in my favor. 

Zone defense as a parenting strategy can often be viewed more as survival mode.  You see, parenting was designed as a team sport.  Our winning strategy revolved around man-to-man defense, but sometimes during the course of the game adjustments have to be made.  Sometimes these adjustments mean that the team eats cereal for supper, or that you have to sit through your sister’s concert/sports practice/teacher conference etc.  Think of these as parenting audibles.  They’re not ideal, but often necessary. 

It is at this point that I should mention that I am not athletic.  I do not understand “runners high”.  I think I would have to BE high in order to enjoy running.  I enjoy sports as long as I am a spectator.   If they gave ESPYs for spectating, I might be a contender.  However, in the game of parenting I cannot be a spectator.  Sitting on the sidelines means that inevitably I will have to ask a question like “Why is there a hole in the wall?” or “Is something burning?”  Parenting is the one sport where I am required, despite athletic ability, to be an active participant and not a spectator. 

So back in the zone I go. 

Unfortunately, our version of zone defense meant that one crucial member of our team was often not in the game with us.  He was often calling in plays from a distance, and by the time I received the play call for “1^st and 10” I’d be in a “3^rd and long” scenario and suiting up to punt.  He didn’t like being away from the team so it was time for a change.

In one of the ultimate YOLO (you-only-live-once) expressions he put family first and chose to take a demotion.  He realized that there was not a time in Rachel’s life that he hadn’t been travelling for work.  She had never truly experienced man-to-man defense.  So he took a step backward on the corporate ladder and our team, back to its full roster, moved up in the ratings. 

Do we score on every play? No.  Occasionally we still audible because, well, sometimes it’s fun.  Sometimes we explain to Dad that tonight’s play call is cereal for supper and he can either join the play, or sit on the bench.  But Dad is no bench-warmer.  He got in this game to play.  Pass the Frosted Flakes.

Is everyone happy with the new team dynamic? Not exactly.  Rachel thinks man-to-man defense is awesome---as long as she’s being defended by Dad.  Elisabeth tends to prefer zone defense as it allows for more mistakes by your opponent (a.k.a. parent).  What teenager wouldn’t want that? ‘Ward’ is still trying to figure out his new role in the Cleaver (Wahlgren) family and ‘June’ is adjusting to ‘Ward’ constantly being around.  Now Ward not only knows where the laundry room is, he even learned how to use the new washing machine.  (His only involvement with the previous washing machine was paying for it). 

So if you still want to know how I do it, get your tickets and be a spectator. 

We’re all in the game, and the odds are in our favor.

YOLO, National Geographic and a banjo

20 years.

As of this month it’s been two decades since I watched my father take his last breath.  I did not mark the anniversary of his death (Feb. 9^th) on Facebook, nor the anniversary of his funeral (Feb. 13^th).  These two days are no harder than any other day.  In fact, on these two days I’m prepared for tough memories.  I’m prepared to relive those last moments, and it’s that preparation that gets me by.  On the contrary, it’s the days I’m not prepared for that hit me the hardest.  Those days when I’m having a good moment and it suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks that I wish my Dad was there to share it with me.

One such moment happened last fall.  We were on vacation in Chicago and I had selected the Museum of Science & Industry as one of our activities.  We were working our way through the various exhibits and as we entered an exhibit hall I saw it.   The large illuminated “THINK” sign.  The slogan for IBM, a company my dad worked for most of my youth.  We talked about how Grandpa Tom worked for a computer company, and yet there still is not a personal computer in the house I grew up in.  (Dad always knew that something better was just on the horizon, so we kept waiting for “better.”) 

A couple months later my thoughts turned to Christmas gifts.  I’m not a fan of gifts, but I thought of something I wanted.  I wanted my Dad’s banjo.  Not so much a gift, but an early inheritance.  Mom was happy to part with it and I was happy to receive it.  It represents something so uniquely “Dad” to me.  I don’t know anyone else (other than his teacher) that even plays banjo and it brings back good memories.  The case is damaged and I briefly considered getting it replaced but that would ruin the memory.  All the damage to the case was caused by me as a busy child who repeatedly tripped over it while playing in the living room.  A memory that makes me smile and does not bring tears to my eyes.  (And also reminds me that I should keep it far away from where Rachel plays).  Elisabeth picked up the banjo and within 5 minutes was able to play it.  If that didn’t bring a smile to my Dad in heaven, I don’t know what will. 

It’s these things that come out of nowhere.  But this month was the icing on the top of the cake.  An offer came in the mail that to anyone else would seem irrelevant.  It was an offer for National Geographic magazine.  For some reason I felt overwhelmingly compelled to order this magazine.  Jeff didn’t argue it, but was surprised.  I couldn’t explain it, other than to joke that our home was sorely lacking in periodicals with photographs of naked African women; an issue I would remedy.

But then a moment of clarity.  Much like the banjo, National Geographic magazine was something that seemed very “Dad” to me.  I knew no one else who actually read it.  There was always an issue next to his chair in the living room and it was this magazine that sparked my fascination with Jane Goodall.  It was no accident that I received this magazine offer at the twentieth anniversary of my father’s passing.  I think it was my Dad’s way of letting me know that even after two decades he’s still here with me.  I can’t wait for my first issue to arrive. 

These items make me wonder what “quirky” items will bring about memories for my girls some day.  (Hopefully a long, long time from now).  My guess is that a can of Mountain Dew will be one of them.  But the one thing I hope my girls learn from me is something I learned from my Dad.  Youth today refer to it as YOLO---you only live once.  My Dad never used the acronym, he simply lived it.  When he got his diagnosis he refused medical treatment that would extend his life.  While frustrating to the rest of us, I think he was able to make this decision because he lived with no regrets.  He knew that you can’t wait for a cancer diagnosis to realize you only live once. 

This month we’ve watched two families we care about say good-bye to their sons.  One was 4 years old, barely starting life, and the other was 18 years old, ready to become an adult.   No one understands more than these two families the significance of YOLO.  You make the most of the time you have because you don’t know how much time that will be.  In this spirit, I did not make New Year resolutions and I’m not giving something up for Lent.  I don’t want to use a specific 40-day window to try and better myself---I should be doing this all 365 days of every year.   But at the opposite end of the spectrum, giving myself a year to accomplish something might be too long.  Hopefully this will allow me to live life like my dad, with no regrets.  Instead of just casually tossing around the acronym YOLO I want to actually live that way.  Maybe I’ll even learn to play the banjo. 

Join me.  You won’t regret it.