This State of the Union, however has nothing to do with Wall Street, Homeland Security or International Policies—it is specifically geared to the people who I serve three meals a day to (no, make that about ten!) and who’s laundry I sort, wash and fold 7 days a week—my loving family.

As I proudly stood in front of my Presidential Seal–a makeshift poster board I had decorated with Betty Crocker boxes, empty toilet roll spools, a pair of dirty socks, a photo of my pre-mommy self, our upcoming Little League Schedule (that took up ½ the board!), and a few other incidentals that represented a “day in the life of” this family, I looked them each in the eye and humbly began speaking from my teleprompter—the magnifying mirror I use to help me apply my mid-life lipstick color—coral raisin—in a matte finish.

Mr. Husband, Madame Black Lab, and esteemed members who make up the eight Butler children–our Constitution does not declare that from time to time, the little woman—also known as your wife, lab’s best friend, and doting mother report in about the state of our family, but if it’s good enough for Congress, well—then it’s good enough for me.

While I realize you will all find it hard to believe, although things in your world seem to be near perfect, there are a few issues in “our family” world that need a bit of attention.

Domestic Issues

• Our Furniture—It is a pleasure to have a sectional sofa that is made in the United States, not China, but let’s all try to remember one thing—the stuffing that is gently dangling from the arms and the back of the recliner should be treated with the utmost respect.  This fine piece of chenille needs to last your mother another 14 years—when our little Annie heads off to college.  (And…it may need to accompany your father and I to a retirement community such as Shady Pines, so please, no more using it for art projects and the like.
• Going Green—Remember how excited you kids were to come home from school and announce all the earth-saving measures being taken at school to reuse, renew, and restore?  I wasn’t allowed to throw out a single item that still had life in it.  Well, I am pleased as punch to announce this family’s new recycling and conservation efforts, and I know I’ll have your full support and enthusiasm—just like you showed for school.  The heels of all loafs of bread are now as important as the middles—please get used to it.  I will happily unplug my blinking neon “The Kitchen is Closed” sign if you are willing to take 7- minute showers as opposed to 40- minute ones and will do so in the dark.  Hand me downs in a large family are just part of the deal if we want to continue with the luxuries of electricity and grocery shopping—hey, I do my part, who do you think gets your father’s old leisure knits?

The Economy & International Affairs

• I’ll be brief.  It’s not looking too good for our vacation to Europe this spring.

Health Care Reform

• Paid family member sick days continue to be a sore subject, specifically for a certain mother who tries desperately never to become ill, especially if it should interfere with her children’s lives—attending sporting events, helping with homework, providing taxi services at a moment’s notice, preparing hot, tasty meals 7 nights a week (stop rolling your eyes—they might not always be tasty but they do have a temperature), and of course, being available to be your private nurse when any of you take ill.  Congress may not have come up with a way to give me a paycheck yet, but the speaker of this house has unanimously decided that my sick days can now be taken in a horizontal position and in the comfort of my Winnie the Pooh bathrobe.

In closing I would like to leave you with a few thoughts.  We have just finished another jam-packed year in the Butler household—some of it difficult, some of it outrageous, (we only left one child accidentally behind at Sunday school and he’s no longer having nightmares, so for that I am grateful) but most of it was filled with joy.  With the continuing challenges that lie ahead of us during this brand new year (a new driver in the family, six kids on eight different baseball teams, weaning me off the hot glue gun that I bought myself for Christmas) let’s seize this moment – to start anew, to help with household chores, to never forget Mother’s Day and above all, cherish the fact that you belong to a family who loves, supports and appreciates you for the individuals you are, even though you’ve all decided those frozen meatballs in a bag are much more delicious than the ones I spend hours making from scratch. We’re all in this together, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Thank you. God Bless You. And God Bless every family in these United States of America.

Copyright 2010 Cheryl Butler

You know the ones—always written on festive computer stationery laced with poinsettias or jolly old snowmen wearing cozy wool scarves—sets the tone beautifully for what’s to come next—a lot of hot air touting how fabulous the individual or family had just sailed through the past year. (Ok, most of them.)

A typical one reads “Morton received his third MBA from Harvard as well as his pilot’s license while I received the broker of the year award from my real estate firm for the fifth year in a row, despite this challenging economy.  It was a struggle, but our teenaged twins, Bart and Bella were able to graduate with high honors from high school a year early.  Sven, our Major Domo for the past 15 years had to really kick it up a notch by serving extra high-protein hot breakfasts for them every morning so they could excel in both their studies and polo team duties.  How we lived through it, I’ll never know!”    You’ve seen versions similar, I’m sure.

But that’s ok—once a year I think we all deserve to blow our family’s horn a little bit.  As long as we don’t blow out anyone’s ear drums in the process, what’s the harm?  With the written holiday cheer way down, it leads me to believe that either our soft economy is to blame or………or is our infatuation with the internet these days the real culprit?

It all started quite innocently when the computer world was rocked with one of the savviest means of communication ever—e-mail.  What a high it was to log on to your computer and hear those three zippy words “You’ve Got Mail”. (Remember the movie?)  After we were hooked, there was no turning back and the journey into the cyber world continued to grow faster than dandelions on a dank summer’s day.

But it didn’t end there.  Socializing on the internet was turned into a multi-million dollar industry with companies like My Space, Twitter and the most popular network worldwide—Facebook.  Facebook is a social networking website that is operated and privately owned. Users can add friends and send them messages, and update their personal profiles to notify friends about themselves.  For those who are privacy conscious, this type of social hoopla is probably not for you. I admit, at first, I was skeptical myself, but my how that has changed.

Little by little I started to reconnect with friends from high school, college, my dental days, and with family members that live all across the country, and in the process I’ve met new friends that I absolutely adore.  For those unfamiliar with how it all works, there is a place on your profile page that allows you to post photos and your status (what’s on your mind)—as frequently or as little as you like.  Let me give you some examples:

There is your “random”  status facebooker that will post things as simple as “Tired”, “Indigestion”, “More snow!”, “In laws!”, “Mocha Cappuccino” and anything else that sums up in one or two words what is on their mind at that particular moment.

Moving right along we also have the “Play By Play” status facebooker that will log on the moment he awakens and will list everything he’s done, in specific order, from brushing his teeth, to finding a hair in his oatmeal to what time he will be leaving the house to buy anti-fungal cream (and where the itch is), shop for yesterday’s bake and then back home again to drain the puss out of his three-legged cat’s infected ear.  As my kids love to say “TMI”—too much information!

Next up is the “Woe is Me”  facebooker, who will post just how dreadful her life is going to which anyone with a conscience and a beating heart will comment back that things aren’t really that bad and the world really is a better place because she is in it.

One of my favorite status types are the “inspiring” ones.  They will usually post an upbeat or thought provoking quote such as “Don’t ask what your mother can do for you, ask what you can do for your mother!” (Or something on those lines)  Those types of status remarks leave me wanting to be a better individual.

And lastly, there are the “life’s a bowl of cherries” facebookers, which I believe yours truly would fall under.  It took me a few months to get the hang of regularly posting my status, but I soon realized it was pretty neat to share what was going on in my world, as long as I could make it fun.  Though I’m private by nature, there is something very refreshing about sharing the comical trials and tribulations of real family life—no one lives in a perfect world, but why not live in one where we can laugh a little each day.

Greeting cards may be down but that doesn’t mean our friends and family aren’t thinking about us and wondering how we are doing.  Whether you facebook or not, why not be prepared.  The next time someone asks “What’s your status?” what will you say but more importantly how will you say it?

Copyright 2010 Cheryl Butler

I’m not going to kid you, by the time I’ve hauled the last box of shiny ornaments back up those attic stairs, I’m more than ready to change gears and get back to basics like figuring out what kind of hair accessories I can still carry off as a 40-something mother so as not to embarrass my teenage daughters (or myself) when we’re out in public.  Good news, though, that shouldn’t be a problem this year because now that I’ve been diagnosed with PPS—Post Purging Syndrome, if in fact I do choose to grab a cheesy pony tail holder for my tresses, I will know exactly where to locate it.

PPS is a real shock to the system.  While PMS is a much laughed at (or feared!) topic of many, PPS is fairly new on the radar screen in the medical community.  In fact, it’s so rare that those inflicted with it are facing an uncertain future for themselves and their families.  I mean I know we can’t be the only household in town that has way too many broken pencils, expired coupons, empty gum packages and useless C and D batteries stuffed into several gadget drawers in the kitchen.  And that’s only one room in the house! Go ahead, you can admit it, your secret is safe with me.

I’ll try to make this brief so I don’t scare you away too quickly.  This past November, I started showing peculiar symptoms that I just couldn’t put my finger on.  When my children left for school each morning I would scurry about the house scavenging coins for milk money from so many drawers, purses and black holes in the house that I asked for a metal detector for Christmas to turn it into a sport.  When the bus rolled out of our neighborhood and I had actually beat the clock by getting them on it each day I would then go inside and take care of  my daily business and I’m not referring to a few moments in the bathroom.  I’m talking about cramming our freshly folded laundry into drawers that were already bulging with clothing that either no longer fit, was no longer decent enough to be wearing or in my own case was severely outdated—like all my jeans embedded with jewels and such from my best Ronco purchase ever, the BeDazzler.

As if feeling harried after scrounging for loose milk change or nearly spraining my wrists by wrestling with the laundry each day wasn’t enough to get my heart pounding, I knew my symptoms were becoming worse when I’d reach for something in my spice cabinet and find my trusty hot glue gun with a dust bunny attached or my 4-year old’s headless Barbies rather than the nutmeg or garlic powder.  Little by little, I saw what was happening to me—I had gone from a super-organized (and dare I admit stylish) 25-year old bride whose biggest challenge each day was deciding which step aerobics class to take at the gym to a 40-plus married (and sadly a bit frumpy) “Little old Lady Who Lived in A Shoe and had so many kids she didn’t have a place to put anything” matron without even realizing it.  Clutter had conquered my life and was now leaving me physically drained.  If I recall, my doctor called it “Clutterbugitus” and the prognosis wasn’t good.  The treatment plan called for either getting rid of all the extra stuff in each and every room, or prepare for many more years ahead of drowning in it. Side effects for years to come may include shortness of breath, uncontrollable perspiration and full blown panic attacks when the simple search for my wonder girdle or brass hair clips is challenged by a condition I have the power to control—without medication (unless wine counts!).

Once I was diagnosed, I set right to work sorting, chucking, straightening and de-cluttering every inch of the house.  Room by room, drawer by drawer, closet by closet, hole by hole and yes that would include all my purses and every last tote bag innocently hanging in the mud room were tackled and reorganized.

Warning “Do” try this at home!  A painful process, yes, but after I removed that first hunk of year-old Swiss cheese from behind the steak knives, got rid of all the mismatched Tupperware, put the Band Aids in the medicine chest instead of in my daughter’s dollhouse I started seeing that there is indeed something to that phrase—a place for everything and everything in its place—and my symptoms began to slowly disappear.  I’m even starting to feel like that 25-year old carefree bride again (Ok, that’s going a bit far, I know!).

Though I’ve temporarily managed to skillfully kick my clutter habit, professionals have placed me in a high-risk category for slipping back into my harmful old ways—having eight kids could do that to a person. But if I take each day in 2010 with a “less is more” stride and don’t go through severe withdrawal symptoms the next time I reach for a pair of those gem-studded jeans I used to own, chances are I’ll be able to enjoy PPS for many years to come.

Copyright 2010 Cheryl Butler

Years ago I thought this was a harmless enough way to keep them all busy and out of each other’s hair (and mine).  For hours there wouldn’t be a sound in the house other than the intense swoosh of their markers and a few “oohs” and “ahhs” when something really tickled their fancy.  Albeit it did seem a bit ridiculous that my girls were circling GI Joe accessories and the boys were A-OK with the pink Barbie jeep, but I think the rush they were getting over the endless possibilities, ok the greedy gimme-mine-mine-mine, blinded them from what they really wanted and would actually play with.  Since this was happening at Halloween time, however, I figured they’d forget their 50-gift wish list well before the holidays were in full swing, so what harm could it cause?

I learned fast that I didn’t give my young offspring the credit they deserved.  Out of the blue, hours after the last gifts had been unwrapped I overheard their 4 and 5-year old voices commenting on what they didn’t get, instead of what they did get.  That was a painful lesson to learn.  As I got ready to serve the roasted turkey dinner with all the trimmings—I should’ve been sitting down to eat crow instead.

Well that promptly ended the days I’d let the Toys R Us Big Book babysit my kids.  Thereafter, as soon as those toy catalogues would hit our property, I made sure they were placed in the recycling bins instead of on the coffee table.

Of course, now we have something far more accessible for them to go window shopping with, and my kids are far savvier at navigating it than I am—the internet.  Who needs to touch the glossy pages of a 100-page toy pamphlet when instead, all they need to do is surf the net and print their wish lists, or worse—e-mail me what they want with a CC to my husband’s business e-mail along with a text thrown in for good measure.

Listen, I’m not trying to be a Scrooge here, honest!  I enjoy the magic and wonder of holiday surprises more than my kids do, but when I get home from having a root canal, the last thing I want to do is play back my answering machine and listen to my 10-year old disguising his voice as my husband asking if I remembered to pick up the Play Station 3 that was on sale at Target.

This year, I decided to beat them all to the punch.  It’s no secret in the Butler household that by late October, I’m frantically searching the radio stations for those 24/7 holiday music marathons.  Call me anything you like, but there is something outlandishly uplifting about hearing “Frosty the Snowman” wafting through the house when you’re stuck cleaning the bathroom that five boys under the age of 15 share!

With the festive holiday tunes blaring from the cable channel on TV, I got right to work making the very first holiday wish list I can remember since my days of wearing a training bra.

On a simple white piece of copy paper which I decorated with Save the Children stamps, here’s what I came up with.

Cheryl’s—AKA Wife, Mom, Chef, Dry Cleaner, Merry Maid, Gardner, Nurse, Dog Walker, Chauffeur, Errand Girl and Anything Else You Want Me To Be—2009 Holiday Wish List:

• New bathroom shower liners (preferably environmentally friendly) for all bathrooms
• New wastebaskets for all bathrooms and bedrooms—anything but wicker
• New drinking glasses to replace the soap-laden cloudy ones presently being used
• One (or two) packages of band-aids that I can stash away for those times when we actually have a bleeding cut.  Cartoon character brands not necessary.
• A dozen or so pencils—sharpened please
• A new dustpan and brush—one where string attaches brush to dustpan
• A new-aged wine opener—do I need to explain?

At the bottom of my list of material desires, I scrawled an addendum.

Dear Family,

Please forgive my confusion.  I seemed to have forgotten I already received many of these items at my bridal shower 23 years ago.  Don’t burden yourself by shopping for me, instead, consider giving me something that you can’t find in catalogs, malls or on-line—a holiday season where the focus isn’t on what we think we must have, but instead, what we are grateful for already having.

Love,

Mom

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Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

That wouldn’t be the case, however, if good old “Jeopardy!” decided to shake things up a bit with something many women in my circle could relate to–say “Jeopardy! The Motherhood Edition”.  I can picture it now—women all across America vying to get a spot on this show and tuned in every evening at 7:00 PM no matter how many dinner dishes were piled up in the sink.

Mom Contestant #1     “I’ll take “Body Noises for $100, Alex”

Alex Trebec “This happens every time you ask for help with the garbage, cleaning their bedroom or tell them “no” you will never have a pet snake in this house”

Mom Contestant #1 “What is whining?”

Mom Contestant #2   “I’ll take Last-Minute Chaos” for $200, please.”

Alex Trebec “It’s 10 PM on Thursday evening and your 6th grader looks at the clock, then at you and says “Mom, I forgot to tell you something I still need to do.”

Mom Contestant #2 “What is a full-blown last-minute Science Project due the next day, Alex?”

Mom Contestant #3 “May I please have “Family Members” for $500, Alex?”

Alex Trebec “They are the most difficult species of all human beings to decode.  One moment they kind of like you, the next—you’re a dundering chowderhead.  Staple wardrobe items may include a touch iPod, ear buds, low-rise jeans and a scowl.  They can text faster than the speed of light and you must never let on that you know them out in public.”

Mom Contestant #3 “What is a teenager?”

Mom Contestant #1 “Favorite Statements” for $1000”

Alex Trebec “This question is part of every child’s vocabulary at birth.  Many times you will hear this on a rainy day, but millions of mothers are attesting to the fact that they hear it even when their offspring is surrounded by state-of-the art electronics, dozens of books and games, paradise-filled backyards and lots of neighborhood buddies or siblings to play with.”

Mom Contestant #1 “I’m bored!  There’s nothing to do around here!”

Mom Contestant #2 “Alex, I’d love “Losing My Mind” for $1000

Alex Trebec “The phone rings and it’s the school nurse calling.  You let the machine pick up because you are dealing with an electrical crisis where your dryer and dishwasher seem to be shorting one another out each time they are used.  Two of your children are already home sick with the stomach bug and your husband is out of town on business for the week.  You assume your third child is now sick as well, but when you actually speak with the nurse, you learn it’s much worse”

Mom Contestant #2 “What is being told your oldest child has just wet his pants in school?”

Alex Trebec “That is not correct.”

Mom Contestant #1 “What is being told your daughter and her classroom have head lice?”

Alex Trebec “Absolutely correct!”

Mom Contestant #3 “I’ll take “Housekeeping Duties” for $1500, please”

Alex Trebec “For centuries this task has literally brought housewives to their knees.  Originally mastered in the great outdoors, modern technology has practically made this job mindless, but women everywhere agree, no matter how hard they try, it’s never something they can keep on top of.”

Mom Contestent #3 “What is cleaning a toilet?”

Alex Trebec “No, I’m so sorry, that answer is incorrect.”

Mom Contestant #2 “What is laundry?”

Alex Trebec “Yes!”

Alex Trebec “Ladies, we are almost out of time.  Please listen carefully to our final clues.  “Her wardrobe is usually several seasons (make that year’s) behind the times though she’s known to raise a few brows when she wears her big, red cape.  Sleep deprivation cannot dampen her spirits and neither can a disappointing gift from her husband like that of a toaster.  She’s known as self-less, tireless and is always willing to go the extra mile (literally) for the people in her household. She collects no paycheck for the multitude of tasks she performs 24/7 and though she may not be Martha Stewart, she can kiss a boo boo better than any other set of lips in town.  Throw in her ability to fend off all monsters living under beds and gives the best hugs in the world—well, she’s truly one in a million.”

Alex Trebec “Folks—please, quiet down—I am not able to hear one of our contestants because the entire audience and every household in America is shouting the answer so loudly it’s deafening.

“What is a mother?”

“YES, you are all correct, and I urge families everywhere to never forget it!”

Now that’s a show I could watch with my kids.  How about you?



Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

It isn’t one thing in particular about java that doesn’t float my caffeine boat—I mean I absolutely love the fresh aroma of a pot of coffee brewing, and believe it or not, coffee ice cream and coffee milk are tops on my list of favorites.  Perhaps it stems from when I worked in a dental office and was on the receiving end of coffee breath! No, just kidding!  For some unknown reason the taste of coffee and I just do not agree.

With that information now aired in public, I think my strained relationship with a good cup of Joe is partly to blame for my latest challenge in life—mastering the coffee break.  Looking back at my working years as a babysitter, a waitress, and then 15 years in the dental field I don’t recall ever taking a single coffee break.  Not a one.  And now that I’ve moved up the ranks to the CEO of a family of ten, my idea of a relaxing break is sitting alone in the bathroom, never mind sitting down with a hot drink for a few minutes.

I got to thinking about all of this recently because we have just entered my favorite time of the year—beautiful fall.  It’s not just because the kids are finally back in school (yes, you heard me correctly) but the change of seasons is just stunning and the crisp snap in the air along with all those freshly sharpened pencils leaves me energized and wanting to learn a few new things myself.  Now, I may not be a gal who actually drinks coffee, but I recently laid claim to a total of eight childless hours each week so before I turn those into a deficit like I did during the last school year, I decided to give those old coffee breaks a whirl.

Being new to this whole break thing, I had to learn a few things the hard way.  You have to keep in mind that this is only the second spell in 16 years that I’ve been alone.  If it’s not one of the kids or my doting husband claiming my personal space it’s the dog, the orthodontist or the nice young man gathering the runaway shopping carts at the grocery store.  So you see, the first step to a successful coffee break was being able to quiet not only my mind but my nerve endings as well.  That said, I don’t recommend scheduling your very first coffee break with acquaintances that have vocal chords or still have young children in tow themselves—what was I thinking?

Timing seems to be an important part of this equation as well.  Never schedule your escape mid morning after eating late at Taco Bell the night before—need I say more!

And then there’s the late afternoon coffee break, which in some countries is referred to as a siesta.  Yours truly sat down the moment after completing the drop off at nursery school only to be awoken by the sound of the phone ringing—“Hi Mrs. Butler, we were just wondering who was supposed to pick up your daughter today—we finished an hour ago.”

Still not ready to give up on this just yet, I actually took out my calendar and my Sharpie and scheduled them in each day.  To bad it was last year’s calendar.

Lastly, I unplugged all the noisy electronics, including the doorbell chimes and I decided to just sit and be still in the moment.  Not knowing anything but the art of frantic multi-tasking, I felt completely out of my element, yet it still felt quite familiar.  My mind began racing—did I remember today’s milk money, who needs their toenails clipped, will I ever get rid of my wonder girdle, why does the dog smell funny, when was the last time I mailed a love letter to my hubby, who is that knocking at my front door?  What?  Yes—someone is knocking at the door.

I regain consciousness and exit my own little world only to find my mother in law standing at the front steps.  Startled, I jump up and begin making excuses as to why I am just lounging on the living room couch and not hovering over the washboard removing the grass stains from one of my five son’s pants.

Clearly I have a lot to learn about mastering the all-important coffee break because the intention is to feel refreshed after taking one, not to feel guilty.  The great thing here is that I have eight glorious hours per week to perfect it and until I do, I will simply enjoy all the trial and error that comes with this and I will never unplug our doorbell chimes again!



Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

I met Amy 16 years ago, the day after our oldest daughter was born.  We were in the NICU getting to know our new baby, only one short week after our adoption agency phoned to say a birthmother had chosen us.  Not only did I finally become a mother, I also gained a wonderful friend, one who had just delivered triplets in her spare time.

We’ve been close pals ever since so when my gracious husband suggested I check into the summer-saver airfare deals that were being advertised, I took the liberty of striking while the iron was hot.  I later found out he was buttering me up to take a golf vacation with the guys, but when my Flight #2261 is taxiing down the runway and that precious flight attendant asks me what I’d like to drink—ask me if I care!

Yep, Mama’s going to Denver–ALONE.  Of course, that does come with a wee little price.  It’s wishful thinking that I can simply pack my suitcase in a carefree instant, kiss my husband and kids good-bye and skip all the way to the departure gate.  There are a few minor details to handle prior to take-off.

Let’s see—I will be running away, I mean leaving for a short visit, just days after school begins so with that in mind I must do the following to alleviate any extra burden on my wonderfully considerate and very hardworking husband.

• Make sure all 40-some beginning-of-school year forms are completed and returned. (That task could scar him for life!)
• Count out 5 days of lunch and milk money ahead times 7, and place in marked envelopes with said child’s name and day of week
• Leave master calendar with all PE classes, library and band days. (He’ll thank me for not having to haul the trumpet down to school after the bus is long gone.)
• Review my system for setting kitchen timer in 20 minute intervals each morning so children will not miss any of three buses and will also allow him ample time to get to nursery school on time.  Remind him he will only have 1 hour 7 minutes in between drop off and pick up.
• Make sure all eight children have enough clean underwear for the duration and specifically label who wears boxers and which character briefs and that the Dora the Explorer panties do not belong to our teenaged daughters.
• Speaking of garments—the four teens are on their own.  As for the remaining four—make sure five days of outfits are set aside, named accordingly for each child with two extra per child in case of emergency—better include his too.
• Food shopping and meal preparation should include stocking all favorite cereals (remove toy prizes to avoid fights—or, not).  Pre pack 8 snacks times five days along with juice boxes of choice—hide in extra suitcase where bottomless pits will not think to find them.  (Hope husband can find them).  Stock freezer with decent meals so they won’t be eating Cocoa Puffs or Ramen noodles every night.
• Reschedule all orthodontic appointments. With four kids in braces or retainers, don’t want to push him over the edge.
• Leave explicit directions in laundry room that American Eagle and Abercrombie T-s cannot be placed in dryer.  He’d keel over if these $40 babies shrunk and had to be replaced.
• Call in favors from friends to help transport young ns to bowling, skating and laser tag birthday parties that are all scheduled for same day and time.
• Clean out fridge day before leaving.  Returning to rancid leftover tuna salad and slimy zucchini just wouldn’t be fair—to me.
• Place new batteries in all TV remotes, and label which chargers go to which kid’s Nintendo DSs, cell phones and iPods.
• Leave his mother’s phone number with gentle reminder to call on Sunday.
• Hide all K’nex and Leggo kits.  These require adult supervision—and I’ll be gone. (Sorry honey!)
• Leave subtle hints around house for the new laptop I’d just love to have for our 22nd Anniversary the week after I return. I’m so beyond diamonds.
• Be sure to triple stock toilet paper in all of the bathrooms.  Out of sight, out of mind is what frightens me here.
• Shop ahead for all travel items he will need to take on his golf vacation.  Would hate to burden him with details for his own getaway.
• Find cleaning lady brave enough to come in the day before I return—just to spiffy the bathrooms.
• Lastly, lighten up Cheryl!  Hard as it is to imagine, they will be just fine without you for one little week.  Sigh.

Still worth it you ask?  Taking care of a few incidentals beforehand so I can go visit one of my dearest friends in beautiful Colorado and then return home to my boisterous family of ten that I am going to be missing like crazy the moment I set foot on that plane–you bet it is!



Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

There are only so many snide comments one can make about the weather and then even that gets old, so by the third week of drizzle, clouds, whining kids and no sun in sight, I did the only logical thing—packed up all our gear, minus the sunscreen, and headed to the beach.  You wouldn’t believe the premium parking spot I was able to snag, along with a wide open beach to park our blankets, boogie boards, sand toys and bottomless bag of snacks—practically heaven.  This misty day of blah deserved to be interrupted with a batch of homemade sunshine, and I was sure the kids would agree.

I wish I could tell you that my kids were as willing to roll with this desperate attempt to snatch some summer as much as I was, but I would be lying and would hate myself for it.   My peppy plan wasn’t as well received as I had hoped it would be, but my threat to make them start trying on things in their closet to see what fit for back-to-school was enough to lure them into the car.

Once our things were strewn all over the muddy sand, I thought I could entice them into helping me sculpt a triple-decker sandcastle decorated with the most divine clamshells we could find, but they were far more interested in digging through the large sack of soggy snacks rather than digging with a shovel.

OK, so they were just a little hungry.  Now that they had filled up on Ding Dongs and Cheetos, I just knew they’d be interested in a little scavenger hunt, especially when I announced the winner got a prize.  “It’s not another book to add to our summer reading list is it,” squawked my 12-year old son.  Drat, how did he know?

We’d been there all of but 15 minutes and already they had depleted the cooler contents leaving one bruised apple, taunted the seagulls with cookies they had no intention of sharing with them, asked where they could go to the bathroom since the pavilion was closed and then let me know how bored they were and could we please go home and watch Spongebob.

Did they honestly think I was going to waste that front row parking spot for only fifteen lousy minutes of beach-filled ecstasy?  Not a chance!  Nothing that lives in a pineapple under the sea was going to persuade me to take them home, especially knowing that I was returning to a washer machine that had been out of commission for nearly 3 weeks.  Amazing that this 3-year old top-of-the-line commercial front loading washer could no longer handle my 4 plus loads a day.  Lucky for my family, though, I had the wherewithal to rig the Jacuzzi with pantyhose on the intake jets and did the wash like so until my delicate wrists became sprained from wringing out our plush Egyptian-Cotton towels by hand.  I may have had no control over my broken appliance, but thankfully I had control over my mind and stopped that nonsense so the Jacuzzi could be used for more important things like hiding the really good snacks that  I don’t leave for the vultures in our open pantry.

And of course, there was also our hot water tank that was currently on the blink as well.  I am well versed in how things break in threes, so I easily succumbed to having no hot water for nearly the entire duration that the washer was down.  These silly new-fangled gas water tanks that have their own computers—how were we to know the tank was in a computer lockdown because we had blown a fuse when the washer went kaput. We didn’t’ see the urgency in figuring out the problem because our teens were now taking 1-minute showers as opposed to 1-hour ones—the savings was well worth the sacrifice.

With the glorious beach all to ourselves I allowed myself the pleasure of actually sitting in my own beach chair like I see the other grown-ups doing on a hot, sunny day at the beach.  It was everything I could’ve hoped for, minus a great book and a dozen deep-fried clam cakes—this was the life!  Sadly, it was short-lived because the thunder began to rumble and the now black skies opened to let me know this party was over.

The ride home with 8 sandy drenched kids was a breeze because we were the only vehicle on the road.  No sun means no beach traffic which means less time for bickering and poking one another.  My husband, away on business, called home later that evening and sheepishly asked how it was going.  I glanced out the kitchen window to see my 6 and 9-year olds hitting golf balls in the mud with what I think were my husband’s new clubs.  “It’s going great I smirked, just another day at the beach.”

Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

Group Leader: “I want to welcome you all here this evening.  What a great turnout!  While I recognize most of the group, I do see one or two new faces.  Could you kindly introduce yourself and talk a bit about what has brought you here tonight and how you think we can help you?”

I felt the warm stares of the 20 or so people in attendance.  I nervously gazed amongst this eclectic mix of real powerhouses—beautifully dressed executives who radiated confidence seated alongside some earth mamas who were giving the term “go green” a whole new meaning.  There were even some funky student types and a couple of foxy mid-life gentlemen who probably thought they were at an eHarmony dating club.

The diversity was very interesting, but I was immediately drawn to the women twitching nervously in the front row, the multi-tasking veterans who really wanted to be there but obviously had a zillion other things they should be doing at that very moment—the PTO mothers.

My Turn: “Uh, hi everyone, my name is Cheryl, and I am a junkie—a volunteer junkie.  I’ve been clean for a couple of hours now, but that’s because I turned my cell phone off in order to attend this meeting.  For me, it all started with the simple joy of baking two dozen teddy bear cupcakes.  The immediate high I felt after I delivered them to my daughter’s nursery school is how I got hooked, and nearly 13 year’s later, I’ve totally lost control.

Group Leader: “Go on, dear, tell us more.”

My Turn: “You see, soon after the cupcake incident, I began fantasizing about living the charmed life of a “room mother” so I made sure I was easily accessible to attain that honor.  Once I fulfilled that 5 times over, it was only natural that I start attending each and every PTO and other school meeting that came down the pike.”

Group Response: “Ooh, we’ve all been there and done that, keep going—its obvious there is more you’re not telling us.”

My Turn:  “The rush I received from attending those PTO meetings prompted me to shoot up with the really good stuff–becoming a member of the board.  With only five children at the time, this was totally doable and there was plenty of time leftover to continue helping at bake sales, rallying to “save the bay” and support every magazine, candle and car wash fundraiser that came my way.

Group Leader: “What else, c’mon, you are amongst friends here.”

My Turn: “Um, yes, well it’s not just my eight children’s school’s I’m involved in, uh, there’s another place, too.

Group Leader: “It’s OK, Cheryl….we know this is difficult, but just say it aloud and let the healing begin.”

My Turn: “CHURCH”   “There, I said it” I’m neck deep in doing the Lord’s work and that’s a high that I just can’t stay away from.”

Group Leader: “Is that everything, Cheryl?  No Girl Scouts, nursing homes, or affiliations with saving the whales or baby seals in Alaska?”

My Turn: “Well, there are all those causes such as collecting for Juvenile Diabetes, the American Cancer Society etc., and during election time I do jump on board and make phone calls for my candidates.”  “Other than that, no, there’s just the ripple effect from having served on committees in the past which somehow follow me everywhere I go.”

Group Leader: “Cheryl, when did you realize you were totally addicted?”

My Turn: “Honestly, for the first ten years, I didn’t notice anything different. I signed up for anything and everything because I wanted to, not because I felt I had to.  Each new duty introduced me to new experiences, friends and feelings of being useful that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. But now my children are getting older.  I have four teenagers who need to be driven all over God’s green earth and this has added an extra few hours to each day.

Group Leader: “Ah, teenagers—say no more!”  “So tell us, how are your extra-curricular affairs affecting your family—are they supportive, resentful, or jealous?”

My Turn: “It really got bad this past spring.  My laptop and I were inseparable and I hid in any closet or crevice I could find so that my kids and husband wouldn’t know I was at it again.”  “Then, my 6-year old son sprained his ankle from hurdling the piles of laundry I had let go and now there are rumors circulating that the leftovers in our fridge are spending more quality time together than my husband and I have had in the past year.”   “Do you think there’s hope for me?”

Group Leader: “Cheryl, thank you so much for sharing and being so brutally honest about your addiction.  There are many that can relate and the key to your one-step recovery program is quite simple.    It’s ok to say “no” from time to time. You will not be judged in a bad light, only you have the power to do that to yourself.”

There I had it.  By saying “no” to a few obligations, I was really saying “yes” to myself and my family.  As I said my good-byes to my new group of confidantes, a paper was quickly handed to me.  Would I kindly be in charge of organizing the refreshments and location for the next group meeting?

With only a smidgeon of hesitation, I locked eyes with the others and said “I’m sorry, I just can’t commit to that right now.”

Group Leader: “Let’s give up a round of applause for Cheryl, folks.  She’s going to be just fine.”

Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

As we sail out of another jam-packed school year and cruise into the beginning of summer vacation, I find myself doing what I always do at this time of year—taking deep breaths and reciting any positive mantra I can get my lips around so as not to become overwhelmed with all the schedule changes coming my way.

Presently, I find myself chanting the following two quotes over and over again, and I have that silly old bear himself to thank, Winnie the Pooh. “Oh bother” and “Think, think, think” are staples of mine and have been from day one. Because of  the way my life flows—like a sweet, sticky pot of honey, I am sure author A.A. Milne had busy mothers in mind when he contrived one of make believes most popular fictional lands ever, The Hundred Acre Wood.


Not only am I a sucker for big, beautiful trees I can totally relate to most of the characters in Pooh Bear’s storybook forest.  Piglet, for instance may be Pooh’s smallest and very best friend but he is always up for conquering his fears and seems to want to be brave.  Not only do I see myself in that delightfully pink pig, I also see a couple of my children in his character as well.

And to every family, a little “owl” must fall.  Surely you remember the distinct characteristics of owl—always happy to offer his opinions, stories and sharp advice, whether or not they were actually wanted.  Hmmm, I guess that could be my mother n law (sorry, that wasn’t very nice of me!).  Well, you know what I mean.  We all know a person who means well regardless of whether or not his wisdom is needed.

Moving on, there is everyone’s favorite Hundred Acre Wood personality, Tigger.  Along with his striking orange and black stripes, the lively bouncing that Tigger is known for is what always stands out to me, and his energetic personality has always reeled me in.  Call me crazy, but if I have the choice to be around an active ball of fire or a lump of draining problems, I’ll take the springy route any day of the week.

Enter one of the best-known characters residing in that forest and sadly he’s the one that most people find it easiest to relate to, Eeyore, a very dim, blue-gray donkey who is dismally gloomy for almost eternity. But ironically that’s not Eeyore’s perception of himself, according to him; he doesn’t expect too much of himself and therefore remains quiet for most of the time.  Are you buying that?  I’m not. And the more blessed years I spend on this earth, I realize how many Eeyore’s surround us every day, so in some ways I’m happy we have a character reference like this to point to. Just ask my children—if I substitute their first names with one of Pooh’s friends, Eeyore is the name none of them want to be called, although I do an impressive donkey imitation that would make even Eeyore chuckle.

Now, I would hate myself if I neglected to mention rabbit, and I will let you in on a little secret, that’s because I have always seen myself in his makeup.  He’s always ready to take charge of nearly any situation brewing in The Hundred Acre Wood and has elaborate plans to make it all happen.  That, of course, explains why he is also the chief organizer amongst Pooh Bear’s brood but inevitably his most detailed plans go awry when he gets so caught up in doing it his way.  Ouch!  That’s a tough realization, but since I can’t grow a vegetable to save my life that lets me off the hook somewhat for being totally rabbit-like.

And saving the best for last, there’s the tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff, Winnie the Pooh.  Outwardly he appears to be made of stuff and fluff but it’s the inspiration taking place on the inside that we all know and love him for.  Known as one of the great morale teachers in cartoon history, he sure is a wonderful role model for today’s know-it-all youth and perhaps even a few complacent adults out there.  He always greets others with a warm smile, sees the good in everyone and is a problem solver in his own way.  Let’s not forget he is brave, lighthearted and funny.  In essence Pooh is a being that everyone wants to be in the company of.

I suppose when school lets out later this month I will hold on to Pooh’s, “Think, think, think.” mantra as I try to come up with fun and exciting plans to keep everyone happy during the two months of summer vacation. At the same time, however, I hope I never lose sight of all the wonderful traits this silly old bear stands for because teaching my kids how to be Pooh-like, is far more important than trying to keep them busy.

Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

For the most part, my lists have served me well, sometimes too well.  Once I have items scrawled on a piece of paper, whatever I have written down is now something very real meaning I will move heaven and earth to see that it gets accomplished, regardless of whether or not it was something even worthy of my pen and pad in the first place.


So, when the movie The Bucket List, was released a couple of year’s ago starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, you know I had to take their cue and come up with one of my own.  Mine was a bit more practical than theirs was, however.  I have no desire to go sky diving, drive a race car or go skinny-dipping at midnight in the South of France (not unless I achieve becoming a Swimsuit Model for “Mother’s Illustrated first).  Nonetheless, the items I have on my “Bucket List” are quite significant to me and one of the first items I had down was to master a second language.  Good news!  By sheer accident, which I owe all to my husband, I was able to do this without having to enroll in a single foreign language class or place an order for a Rosetta Stone software package.  (And I hear that product really works!)

When my husband saw my list, only because it came tumbling out of my suitcase, I mean pocketbook, as we waited for a prescription to be filled for one of our children down and out with strep throat a few weeks’ ago, he curiously grabbed it and started reading.  This was quite humbling as I watched my life’s partner reading my lofty ambitions only to watch his eyes widen and then listen to a few chuckles easily escaping his lips.  It’s not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.

Items like spending an uninterrupted (key word—uninterrupted) afternoon in the Jacuzzi eating take out Chinese Food is nothing to snicker at.  And what’s so funny about wanting to strut, I mean stroll, down the beach in a bathing suit without an over-sized cover-up hiding all my sins?  There was no stifling his laughter when he read one of my top 10—-enroll in an assertiveness training program so that I could learn to say the word “no” with confidence.   Alas, though, when he saw the one about learning a foreign language he asked why I even had this one down, seeing as I had already done that.

Perhaps he was referring to my childhood growing up on an Air Force Base in Puerto Rico.  Spanish was obviously the native tongue and at one point, I did speak it almost fluently, but, when you don’t practice and use it everyday, how quickly words like “hola” become a thing of the past.

It wasn’t Spanish he was referring to, however, it was another language that I have been speaking for 15 year’s now, day in and day out and thanks to my charming brood of children, apparently I’ve become quite fluent at it—The Mother Tongue.

Hold on a moment—he just might have something here.  From the moment my feet hit the floor in the early hours of each morning, my Mother Tongue starts speaking, before I’m even awake.  Usually it’s to my 3-year old who is frantically searching for one of her 70 pocketbooks or other important items that she stashed someplace before going to bed.  Without missing a beat my Mother Tongue immediately knows how to change subjects so we can head up to breakfast and avoid a meltdown before 6 AM.

It’s not always that easy, though, as any of us with teenagers know.  By 6:30 AM, my Mother Tongue has to quickly change gears from placating a 3-year old to bribing a 16-year old to get out of bed immediately so she doesn’t miss the 6:45 AM bus!  And then, there is that group known as middle schooler’s who constantly remind us that they know more than any adult ever could so my Mother Tongue must now play the game of wit, always being one step ahead of their pre-teen insight to life.

The Mother Tongue is spoken in our home from sunrise to sundown 7 days a week where occasionally silence is golden and the simple raise of an eyebrow or swift motion of my hand sends a message faster than any verbal prowess I could deliver by tongue.

Thanks to my husband’s astute awareness that I am already very savvy in a second language, I can cross another item off my 100 –item bucket list.  In honor of mother’s everywhere this month, I highly encourage you to create one of your own.  In a little over a year, I’ve crossed 20-some items off of mine, and on days when I feel like pulling the bucket over my head instead of checking off what’s on it, I remind myself that there is one item that I should be checking off each and every day, despite the challenges—enjoying and appreciating my family.

Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

There were many questions about what, when, and how this new business had unfolded, but the one I really found interesting was when they asked “Why would you want to do this, Mom?”

As a busy mother I’ve always admired “those people” who came up with a unique idea and then turned it into a business.  How many times I’ve uttered “why didn’t I think of that” to myself over the years.  Well, within the past six months my new business partner and I have found out what it means to be “two of those people”—who come up with a clever idea (or so we think) and turn it into an actual business.

We both have a newfound respect for inventors and small business people because now that we’ve turned our idea into a reality, we have realized that although it’s very exciting, it’s certainly not as easy as it looks especially when you’re already handling the hectic 24/7 job of raising a family, running a household and trying to find the time to brush your own teeth every day. (Never mind flossing!)  But that doesn’t mean it’s not possible either.

Luckily, when you put two determined mothers together who aren’t afraid of a little (a little?) hard work and who accept that committing to a new business means other things must slide—yes, that means we no longer have time to vacuum our curtains or make fresh-squeezed orange juice for breakfast, great things can happen.  For us, that great thing has been launching an innovative company from a simple idea that we shared one day as we were taking a walk through town.

This walk just happened to take place after I dropped my 3-year old off at nursery school for the afternoon.  I certainly couldn’t justify going back home and folding laundry or worse sitting on the couch watching a skin-care infomercial so taking a walk with a good friend was really the only option left.  Not only would we get a few miles of exercise under our belts, but because we’re so apt at multi-tasking we knew we’d be able to tackle several conversations at once, which would then free up time for a refreshing beverage after the walk. (Its true– blondes do know how to have more fun.)  What we didn’t know was that one of those conversations would soon be changing how we’d be spending the rest of our “free” time for the next several months and then some.

To put it simply, while we conversed back and forth about all the ups and downs we were faced with in our lives we realized that we were still able to find something, no matter how small, to laugh about.  They say “laughter is the best medicine,” for a good reason. Scientific research indicates there are real physical and emotional benefits from a good chuckle. Laughter stimulates the release of beneficial hormones and lessens the effects of mental stress.  We couldn’t agree more.  Hence, our idea to combine a much needed laugh with something nearly everyone enjoys—chocolate, gave way to our new business where we would create premium chocolates and include funny jokes inside of each one.

That was the easy part—acting on it was the challenge.  So after many a meeting at our kitchen islands or even better, the bus stop, we laid the groundwork for creating the product we had dreamed up.  Did I mention we usually had kids on our laps or gently tugging at our shirts with a zillion interruptions while all this took place?  We did! Next came the taxing weeks filled with business meetings, lawyer appointments, building our website, financial pow wows, marketing strategies interlaced with food shopping, laundry, feeding the dogs, helping with homework, cooking dinner, carpooling our kids around, working our part-time jobs, and trying to remember our husband’s names.  Determination doesn’t begin to describe the taste in our mouth (other than delicious chocolate, of course) that we inhaled right from the get-go.

And finally, many, many grueling hours later– it happened.  The idea was produced, the legal documents were signed, the business plan was etched, the website was launched, and our product made its grand debut right after Thanksgiving.  Don’t ask what our homes looked like during those first busy weeks, it’s all a blur.  Every precious second was put to good use and if you ask either of our families what they thought, they all had something different to say.

Our younger kids wanted to know if this idea would make us rich.  (You don’t think we’re in this for the money do you?) Some wondered if they could work for us.  They also harbored a bit of resentment from time to time, not to mention we were told that we were getting to be grumpy.  (Oh, that hurt—two ladies who have a business centered on laughter cannot be given the reputation of grumps.)   But then we had our “shining moment” that split second when we unveiled our packaged product to our friends and family who knew we were working on a top-secret business idea and we saw how proud everyone was of us.  We really believed we had a hit on our hands and we now had our family’s support as well.

Nearly six months later, we are pleased (and exhausted!) to have grown our business in such a short amount of time and have even started creating a new product line. This entrepreneur thing isn’t for everyone and although we are known as a “small business” there is nothing small about the amounts of time, effort and certainly passion that we’ve invested—but that is what makes the entire process so well worth it.  Now there is no question as to why we launched a new business nearly on the spur of the moment–in our minds, it would’ve been far worse to take our idea and just file it away for “maybe some day”—because that day may never have come.  As Alfred North Whitehead quotes, “The vitality of thought is in adventure. Ideas won’t keep. Something must be done about them.”

Copyright 2009 Cheryl L. Butler

I left the kitchen before I could be dismayed by anymore of their helpful remarks, after all my date had only called earlier that day and would be arriving in a few short hours (not too desperate was I?) and my number one goal was to make a stunning first impression.

My sixteen-year old daughter kindly mentioned that if I was going to transform myself, I’d better get busy, but I didn’t take it personally.  In just a while, I was going to be picked up and driven to a nice restaurant, one where a waiter would take my order instead of a large microphone box asking me which value meal I’d like.

First order of business was a nice hot bath, so I quickly dashed off to my bathroom.  Over the years and eight kids later, I’ve learned a thing or two about how to outsmart my family so by the time the last one leaves for college I won’t forget what the word privacy means.  Calgon has nothing on me, but upon entering my 8 X 8 retreat, I saw my bathtub filled to the brim, only not with luxurious bubbles, but with every piece of Christmas wrapping paper I had leftover and was trying to organize for next year.  The 20-some rolls of snowmen and reindeer stared me in the face and I knew if I unloaded them and tried to start that project another time, I would pay dearly.  Plan B—a shower (If I shaved my legs it would still qualify as a mini spa treatment).

Once in the shower my mind quickly darted to the interesting conversation I would try to engage in while sitting at a candlelit table for two.  Surely this guy would want to know more about me other than how I make my kid’s brown bag lunches so exciting, but it’s been years since I discussed events other than potty training or how to remain injury free when legos are lying all over bedroom floors.   I prayed that my left and right brain would work well together so I would appear somewhat balanced and intelligent and could participate in dialogue that didn’t necessarily rhyme.

There was so much to think about with this dating thing, I soon began to waiver on whether or not I had made the right decision.  With my mascara wand in one hand and my 3-year old’s empty juice box in the other, I started to have second thoughts.  Who was I kidding, mothers don’t go on dates, they concentrate on their households and families all day long, right?

Luckily time was running out and it was too late to bail. In just moments he would be arriving.  My hair was washed and blown dry, my outfit was pressed and on (without a wonder girdle holding it together thank you very much) and my 6-year old told me I smelled like flowers, so I knew when I walked out to his car I wouldn’t smell like eau de burrito.  I was ready!

The doorbell rang and I was surprised that my heart skipped a beat.  I peeked out the living room window and there he was, standing at the front door, with a sheepish grin on his face, holding a small bouquet of pretty pink tulips.  He didn’t try to come into the house—just waited patiently on the front steps while the dog barked nonstop.

I guess this is a real date, I thought, because if my own husband can’t open the front door and come in to greet our children, he must be taking this “date thing” seriously—even the kids (and dog!) picked up on that.

I kissed them all good night and stepped out the door.  He held the car door open for me and made sure I was actually seated before gently shutting the door—for once, we were moving at a leisurely pace, this was confirmed as we drove away and not one article of my clothing was hanging out the door.  My mind and heart agreed—we liked this idea of dating again!

What a novel idea my husband of 21 year’s had—calling his wife, that would be me, and asking her on a real date.  Sometimes you get so caught up in the daily grind of life you forget that adult time is very necessary and often overlooked.  Not only am I grateful that we escaped for an evening out for two, I’m more grateful that my children saw it unfold—I think they gathered how important it was for the two of us to get out alone so the next time it happens, I doubt they’ll ask “Mom, is it really necessary”, but instead, they’ll insist that it is.

Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

For years I’ve tried to embrace this Winter Vacation, which usually falls during the third week in February with open arms. The first few I ever experienced were new and refreshing, and at the time, I had four kids, not eight. But as the years have progressed and our family has grown my approach to this vacation has changed dramatically.

The first official Winter Vacation greeted me in 1998. My oldest daughter was in Kindergarten, two were in nursery school and our youngest at the time was not even two. Being a newbie to school vacations, I wanted to make that first one an occasion to remember. I spent the Christmas vacation planning the February break and actually created a Winter Carnival itinerary for each day of that very long week. Creating ice castles out of 300 colored ice cubes seemed exhilarating during the planning stages, but after three days of freezing tiny trays of water mixed with shades of blue and green food coloring, I began to realize I just wasn’t normal. Next year’s vacation would be toned down a bit and would definitely revolve around a much warmer theme.

But in 1999, after planning a sun-centered Winter Vacation which boasted a slew of tropical activities, my timing of having our 5th child that same week hindered my abilities just a bit. Thankfully, my husband had taken that week off to help me, bless his soul, because with five children under the ages of six at home it was a bit more challenging to hold those daily luaus in the living room. When he discovered what I had been planning that week let’s just say he wasn’t very motivated about letting them have picnics in their swimsuits and it took more energy to convince him that scheduling a fun-filled week was going to be much easier than just allowing each day to unfold slowly on its own. That was the first and last Winter Vacation Week that my husband ever participated in.

That brings us to the year 2000, where I was still new enough at this school vacation thing to be excited about concocting yet another week jammed with juvenile entertainment—this time 6 month’s pregnant with baby #6. Physical activities were scaled back that week, but I did make sure we had a new craft or game to play both in the morning and the afternoon, and I do believe that’s the year I perfected the art of making sock puppets, with hair we “borrowed” from our limbless Barbie Dolls complete with a homemade puppet theatre we made out of some leftover Christmas storage boxes. Does it get any better than that?

Now here I am, nine year’s and eight children later, getting ready to embark on my 12th Winter Vacation realizing how quickly time flies—and how things change! My school vacation planning has evolved from weeks filled with make believe and theme centered activities, including the year I created a kiddie college where I had my kids sign up for the programs they wanted to take in our own house such as cake decorating classes, Lincoln-log architecture 101 and even a taste-testing class in different bubble gums while listening to movie soundtracks—talk about some savvy exposure to the arts, to this new place I’m at—simplifying everything and anything in my life.

With those President Day Sales lurking right around the corner I’m going to try a completely new approach this year and just chill out. I now have a mix of teens, pre-teens and elementary aged kids and my Dr. Seuss mindset has had to adjust accordingly. Although I enjoyed (for the most part) those Winter Vacations where I kept them busy from dawn to dusk, I needed a vacation after the vacation week to get my wits about me again.

Soon enough the questions of who, what, when and where will start to filter in as the February Vacation gets closer, and I can hardly wait to reply “Chill Out”. I mean this in the most positive of ways such as we’ll be spending our time relaxing, taking it easy and just hanging out together. If there was ever a perfect time to experience a little chilling, this is the year to do it—in more ways than one. And if this laid back approach should fail, the week won’t be a bust, because I’m sure I can remember how to construct a few sock puppets.

Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

Kindergarten!  What a place.  For years, whenever I thought of a Kindergarten classroom, primary colors of bright red, blue and green, and shapes of triangles, squares and circles along with tablets of construction paper and little bottles of Elmer’s glue would flash before my eyes.  Gee, was I ever wrong!  There is a lot more, and I mean A LOT more that should be associated with this very important grade.

It’s been a dream of mine to physically help out in one of my kid’s rooms ever since my oldest daughter, now a sophomore in High School boarded her first yellow bus. How I envied the moms that were able to enjoy that part of their children’s lives.  Eight kids later, I am finally able to spend a few hours as a classroom helper because my youngest is now enjoying her first year of nursery school, and let me tell you—has it ever been worth the wait.

They file in each morning like a group of ants heading to the greatest picnic in the park, backpacks in tow, some bigger than the child himself.  Without being cajoled or instructed, those precious 5 and 6-year old students head straight to their pint-sized cubbies and get ready for the day ahead.  Some giggle, some are loud, a few are lost in their own sweet daydreams, but once they hit the mat for their circle-time and group activities, they are in complete Kinder-mode and the real magic begins—learning so many amazing new things.

In case you didn’t know—everything’s a learning opportunity in the wonderful world of Kindergarten.  The attendance teaches simple addition—how many students are present and absent—the hot lunch order also gets their thinking caps whirring figuring out how many are buying pizza or having cold lunch etc, and that’s only within the first couple of minutes!  We haven’t even covered reading, writing and all the opportunities that the Kindergarten staff use for social skills—respect, kindness, honesty, friendship—the list goes on and on.

So, there I was on a very ordinary Friday morning in the land of Kinderville, watching the children wash their hands before lunch and then proceed into the very exciting line to head to the lively cafeteria.  Most of the kids were chattering up a small storm and were a little fidgety waiting for the others, but a couple of young boys were noticeably standing still, keeping their hands to themselves and patiently and quietly waiting for everyone else to finish.  In the midst of all the activity, I saw their teacher grab a piece of paper and write a little something on it and then stick it into a box. Hmmm, I wondered what that was all about.

Later that afternoon, I found out exactly what that was all about—my son ran off the bus with two sparkling brown eyes and a grin as wide as the house—“Guess what, Mom?”, he squealed—“today I got caught doing something good in school!”  So that was it!  The note his teacher had made was a system they have in their classroom–“Getting caught doing something worthy of recognition!”   I was intrigued (and pleasantly surprised that my son, the most active member in our entire household) was caught standing still and waiting patiently.

The fact that my little guy was one of the lucky recipients of this valuable tool was awesome enough, but what a terrific message this sends to young children when they are rewarded for doing something good—something that may seem so insignificant—waiting patiently in line is teaching these young people that their actions will have consequences—and that goes both ways—good and bad.  Kids are so used to hearing “no” or “please don’t do this or that” that when they are praised for doing something kind, or for following the rules etc. it is such a motivator it lifts their spirits and confidence right up off the ground.

So with that, I couldn’t help but thinking what a great concept this system in Mrs. Parkinson and Mrs. DePrete’s Kindergarten room is for life in general.  Without getting too deep, how great would it be if we all used that approach, for no special occasion other than rewarding appropriate behavior with a simple nod or words of appreciation and recognition when someone in your family, workplace, one of your friends (OK, this applies to spouse’s as well!) does something that made you stop and take notice.

With this brand new year of 2009 right at our doorsteps, I’m going to give those worn-out New Year’s resolutions of mine a fresh new approach—concentrating on noticing the good that is going on around me, and patting the deserving recipient on the back when warranted.  Finally, getting caught in the act, is going to feel good for a change!

Copyright 2009 Cheryl Butler

I suppose I have no one to blame but myself, after all, I didn’t have the good sense to take better care of it while it was in my possession.  Now I’m franticly searching high and low for it so it can assist me when I begin decking the halls and dreaming of a white Christmas just like the ones I try to know each year.

And to think this gift was entrusted to me after waiting 15 long years for it—that makes my carelessness even harder to fathom.  You see, I’m an empty nester now—well, sort of.  Since my youngest child is now attending nursery school for a few ½ days a week,

I in turn am now the sole owner of six free hours to call my own each and every week during the school year.

This may seem like no big shakes to some but to a woman who for most of her parental life has had to hide behind the shower curtain to secretly unwrap a stick of gum or make an uninterrupted phone call, thoughts of six delicious hours to be spent anyway I chose was like winning the lottery.  Do you know I purchased my 2009 calendar a year in advance just so that I could stare at the crisp, empty blocks of unscheduled time and daydream about the possibilities that lie ahead?  There was now a flickering light at the end of my overscheduled tunnel.

Those six hours were going to be a fresh new start for not only me but also my adoring family, especially during the holiday season.  With an extra 360 minutes each week I could definitely give the 12 days of Christmas new meaning. With this kind of time on my hands not only would our home be sparkling clean, each and every room (bathrooms included) would be decorated with department store glitz, gifts would be creative, purchased and wrapped weeks in advance, this year’s gingerbread house would be a triple-decker and at least one of our three Christmas trees would have a theme!  Easy, stress-free and this in just one of those six-hour time slots!

Selfishly, I wasn’t going to forget about my own needs either—a fifteen year wait certainly warrants a little “me” time, right?  Now that Christmas was well under control, there would be plenty of leftover time to catch up on my reading, complete 8 new scrapbooks for my kids, write a book, walk 10 miles instead of five, (oh what the heck, maybe train for a marathon), design next year’s flowerbeds and of course take up yoga and learn how to meditate (not medicate!) properly.  Oh, I can still feel the peace and love now.

Then just last week the unthinkable happened.  I was asked a simple question that left me completely devastated—“What are you doing with all your free time now that everyone is in school,” asked my dear friend who lives out in Colorado—mother of four, including triplets.  I’m sure she didn’t ‘mean to snicker as she stuttered the words, but it was clear she already knew what she was about to hear—my long, empty silence.

In the 12 or so weeks since school had started I couldn’t account for a single thing I had accomplished or simply indulged in during those sacred few hours I had added to my week, yet I felt more haggard than ever before.  In fact, I realized something even more upsetting, not only were my six silly hours missing in action, I had actually taken on several new projects that had turned my six plus hours into a 12 hour deficit.  This couldn’t be happening.

As I listened to the peppy tune of “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” bellowing through the house, I bravely grabbed my 2009 calendar that seemed to know more about my commitments than I did and quickly flipped it open.  January was still wide open as was the rest of the New Year ahead—if I could just protect some of this empty space throughout the coming months, the next time I’m asked how I’m spending my free time I might actually have a good answer.

Now that I have all that figured out, I can at least take better care of the remaining few free slots I have left during this holiday season.  Guess that means the theme tree and Gingerbread condo will not be part of my priorities, though maybe I’ll try and string a few lights in just one bathroom.  Instead, I will focus on appreciating how I spend my precious time, which will be the best gift I can give to myself and my family this Christmas.

What sealed the deal was the fact that he insisted on giving me a little spending money to take along, after all, you can’t just show up at these events for the free wine and cheese (been there done that).

Because I’ve done these home parties in my own circles dozens of times, I know the drill well.  Grab a bit of refreshment, kibitz and mingle, freshen up the refreshment and then head over to the sales table.  Once the business at hand is taken care of you must quickly find someone to engage in deep conversation with before buyer’s remorse begins to settle in. (How many silver bangles, seal and lock storage containers or soy candles do we really need?)

Somehow, I missed the refreshment stand and ended up directly in front of the merchandise.  There was certainly a little something for everyone, but those little some things all started at $100 and went up rather steeply from there.  If I were to get out  buying one of the cheapest, pardon me–least expensive pieces on display, I would’ve had to choose earrings that were the size of door knockers in which case I’d need to also purchase a weighted vest to keep me from toppling over when wearing them.  No thanks.  I decided I needed to find one of those cool refreshments and browse again later.

Not really knowing anyone at such a gathering has its pros and cons.  The pro being you don’t need to feel pressured into buying something because no one there can judge you for how much you did or didn’t spend.  The con, however, is that you have to work a little bit harder to dive into conversation with complete strangers especially if you are only window shopping.

This presents an opportunity to casually observe and listen—something I’m already quite used to in my house full of kids.  The pie-plate earrings were picked up and put down again and again as everyone frantically discussed the economy (probably not the best timing for a home jewelry party).  It wasn’t the fear of what was happening to their 401 K plans or having to pay the hefty increase in grocery and utility bills that had everyone in a panic it was how they were going to say “no” to their children’s materialistic requests.

This was a mixture of ladies who had high-paying careers as well as worked part-time and were now facing a family-budget crisis causing them to shudder at the thought of having to break this news to their kids.  Yikes!  Last time I checked, my kids would rather eat than play polo—if they’re safe, warm and full, I don’t see a problem.

As I watched the sterling table gathering dust I started thinking about the recent bail out plan that Congress just passed.  The economy is currently plastered with such doom and gloom that the only things thriving are the Eeyores of our world.  Don’t hate me, but I can’t help myself but look at these dire financial times as an opportunity to enjoy a little of Pooh Bear’s honey, that being family bonding instead of just focusing on all the bailing going on.

Many kids, however, probably won’t see the value in this simple thinking of mine especially if they are used to joining nearly every club, activity or hobby that suits their fancy.  That doesn’t even include the regular expectations of spending extra-curricular time at the movies, skating, eating out, shopping for brand names that will make them part of the “in” crowd and purchasing cutting edge electronics that many adults don’t even have yet.  Pandemonium amongst families may soon resemble that of Wall Street if our kids have to make some serious adjustments to the lifestyles that we have let them become so accustomed to–but only if we let it.

Not to worry—I’m not suggesting we all stand together around the kitchen table holding hands and singing Kumbaya, but maybe families can get into the habit of cutting a costly activity or two and even a shopping spree here and there and instead just learn to spend some free time together, without shelling out a cent—talk about real value!

After an hour or so of nibbling, sipping and smiling I exited the home party empty handed but completely free of guilt.  Instead of leaving with jewelry I didn’t like or need, I left feeling excited to get back home to my kids.  Parents everywhere will always have tough financial choices to make that won’t necessarily make their children happy, but when it comes to careful spending hopefully we’ll all learn to invest time in one another, not just in material things or our monetary status—regardless of what the economy dictates.