"No Christmas Gifts For Children?"

The Christmas holiday is a festive time for family and friends. ... It can be fraught with turmoil, too. A new revised view that seems to be gaining acceptance into this historic holiday tradition is being called, the 'no gifts for children' segment. This disturbing trend begs us to ponder the question, “What is really going on and why?”

The significance of Christmas can never be overstated. It is an enduring, magical time of reflection, connection, a time to reaffirm ties with family, friends, and hopefully, the community at large. Announcing a change in one of its basic tenets to children - to address behaviour gone wild - is an affront to the dignity of this vulnerable and powerless group of citizens. ... As a mom to 3 sons, all born prematurely, within a 4 year period, I had my hands full, with intensive daily therapy for all. Exhaustion ruled the day, back then, a characteristic of a life well-lived. I made the decision, from the start, not to interfere, too much, in the 'workings' of our formidable 'adults-in-training'. Well supervised structured environments provided the venue for field study of their behaviour. ... The word 'no' was rarely used. It was simply too easy to utter its crushing meaning to little children. Wielding its awesome ruinous power, indiscriminately, to them, eventually made 'no' a meaningless word. Authority would be lost - when it would matter the most - at a later stage of development.

Children learn self discipline, self-control, patience, on their own terms, daily, in incremental steps, in a form of 'real life simulator' while under our care. There were certain 'rules of etiquette' for our boys, for all the environments in which they participated.  They knew and understood why. We controlled the environments. They controlled the behaviours within these living spaces. With a husband who worked long hours - like me - and who travelled much of the time, it was my responsibility to bring it all to a close, each and every day. 

Our first country winter - 24 years ago - was a brutal awakening to the power of mother nature and the true nature of children. Our first winter there, I paid $35.00 to have our long country driveway plowed. (Within minutes, the deed was done.) Less than a week later, however, mother-nature's wrath visited us, again, burying our driveway under yet another thick blanket of fluffy snow. The thought of paying out another $35.00 for plowing weighed heavily on my mind. (This routine could go on all winter long. Oh, My.) In an instant, three little helpers, aged 10,9,7 were recruited to do the job of the snow plow. Four miniature - me included- 'snow plows' lined up in a row and began the task, working in tandem, of moving snow across the 'roadway'. Their dad was expected soon after a very long day business week. He would be exhausted. True to their fun-loving spirit of giving and doing, the boys and I finished 'plowing' just as dad drove in - one hour later. “Had the plow been here, again, their dad wondered?” The cost of plowing had been rendered mute. The money was 'spent' but kept within our family's coffers as each child received $12.00 for their co-operative efforts. The money was put into their bank accounts for their future investment use. Their worth had been tangibly appreciated. Their smiles told a real life story.

As parents, we have the power to influence our children in many ways. How we use this power is the difference between tyranny and justice. Christmas is a special time for children. We taint its significance with our ambushing tactics when we decide to tamper with its magical, purposeful properties, inherent in this special holiday tradition. Do we cancel our children's birthdays, on a whim, or accepted dinner invitations with friends because of misbehaviour? (We involve others when we do this.) We do a great disservice to ourselves and our children's self-worth when we unexpectedly change the 'rules' of Christmas by interjecting our own personal spin on a revered holiday that is already, for some, a stressful time. Penalties for misconduct should not be stored up like so many points in a 'rewards' program. Christmas used as a leveraging tool debases the holiday and can tarnish this special familial relationship. An element of trust exists in all parent-child relationships. Could this special connection now be at risk?

Christmas is about many things, not a time of punishment for past misdeeds. It is an all encompassing holiday that spans more than one day and involves other people, too, in the circle of life. It is an anticipated, significant, sensory experience like no other, a time of cementing the bonds of trust with our children through this shared human experience of music, song, food, family traditions and religious customs. Restricting its enjoyment can be a blow to the trust built with our children. Gifts are a small part of the Christmas tradition. But to make them the centre of attention is short-sighted. 

Our boys did not have a 'wish list'. Their thoughts, ideas and preferences were year round considerations. What mattered most to them, daily, were their interactions with each other and our two retrievers, one of which had been abandoned, as a puppy, in a Toronto park. ... One son's favourite weekly task was washing the kitchen floor, something requiring effort and commitment. Each boy had a part to play and each played it well. It was simply their contribution to the functioning of the household. There was a time for being silly and out-of-control. They knew and understood the parameters.

Parents set the stage. Paying attention to our children's needs throughout the year helps us gain greater insights into their likes, dislikes and character, too. It is our mandate. ... It is what we do as parents. Our actions should be predictable. ... We develop a clear vision of the future by paying attention to the present, not the presents! The Christmas season, though a time of great splendor, is also a time to reinforce the act of giving to others, doing for others, and caring for those unable to do so for themselves. Let us not lose sight of that!

'Mall Cop', Revisited

In his black regalia, now covered in a red winter coat, a cape-like uniform from the castle guard's dressing room, 'Mall Cop', our 17 pound terrier, watches over the yard. Mr. Wiggles, his younger but more imposing cousin, watches, too. It's wintertime now. Will they behave? Too soon to tell. They begin their dance, ever so ruefully, mindful of each other's special qualities. Both are learning.

It has been 20 months since the babies, 'Mr. Wiggles', the yellow retriever, now 78 pounds and 'Ella', the 19 pound mini-schnauser, at 20 pounds, were born. They have a way to go before matching wits with the pros: Mall cop at 4 years of age and 'Sally', our Labrador retriever, at 6. ...The two younger pups are now 'teens', having passed their one-year birthdays, in March. Stoicism is a characteristic they all seem to share, I am pleased to say. How else could I leave all four furry creatures, descendants of wolves, with their 16 dagger-like feet, in a cage-free enclosure called a room, for a few hours then return to a household of even tempered pups, all still talking to one another.

When they meet at doggie day care, the action begins. Routines have been established, by now. ... My job is to simply provide a caring, enriched environment for all, with language lessons the foundation of all of their learning experiences. Twenty months ago, I worried. Now, I do not. 'Just plug us in,” they seem to say, “We will obey, most of the time”. “You will not do that, little man”. I say to Mr. Wiggles as he attempts to tango with his miniature cousin, locked on to her pink sequinned collar, without her permission. Intervention is swift. Mr. Wiggles does not get it, just now. Time outs await and a firm, 'Let's go inside”. 'Ella waits for the unleashing. It wasn't what she was expecting from her 'twin'. “I'm good”, she seems to say. “Yes you are, my little one.” She's a gem, comes when called and waits patiently for her turn at anything. 

Mr. Wiggles, our yellow retriever, does not, generally, follow protocol as he looks at me with an innocence that seems to say, “I'm sorry but I am trying real hard to behave, really I am”. When Mr. Wiggles arrives on the scene, no one knows for sure what will happen. He can be so playful, lovable and seeming in a world all his own, with his large silicone soother, a lattice type basketball, attached to his mouth. ... He loves it so. But he adores his cousins, too.

Little Ella, our mini-schnauzer, is a party animal in the truest sense of the word, ready to play with Sally, her 77- pound Labrador retriever cousin, without hesitation. It seems girl time matters, now, more than ever. They are in constant motion, to a tune only they hear. Play-time is a serious departure for Ella, now. The little one's outlook has changed, not wanting to wait until brother playtime - those time-dated play sessions of yore- begin. Mall Cop, the Terrier, is not that interested in romping, anymore, especially in colder weather, just sometimes and only at his discretion. His focus is more on his male cousin, the awkward, towering, rambling young'un, whose attentions are rarely welcome by the group. When they chase Mr. Wiggles he just seems to laugh at them then runs at a gallop, in his awkward, wayward style.

Mall cop just wants to protect his idyllic life as a professor, a learned man, a man of few words. ... In winter, he prefers to watch from inside the house, where warm temp. reside and restful nap is only a blink away. ... His administering of comfort aid in the form of licks to the face of his nemesis, Mr. Wiggles, shows he cares but in a different way. It's an opportunity to connect personally with this wayward cousin. Outside, the girls wait for no one. They are in a world all their own. They stare at each other with a gaze that says “I'm game if you are, cuz.“ You know, We don't need them for a good time”. Then it happens:, a comical dance routine of the highest caliber as both females run at top speed, in reckless abandon, around and around. Then it all stops, momentarily, while the girls rethink their next move. This unique interplay is a recent phenomenon.  

Ella, the teen, sidles over to mature independent Sally with a mischievous look that begs to inquire, “Are you ready for more, cuz?” This could get rough”? And away they go, like two friends who have not seen each other in a long time. They chase each other some more, then stop to inquire, “Shall we continue?"  The boys watch in wonder. “How'd they do all that?” From inside the house we all watch, thinking, this is the real deal, two girlfriends running amok with such skill and precision, an intensive Olympic workout, like no other. Their play seems kinder, more relaxed and enjoyable, too. There is no posturing for position, just camaraderie. Each has found a playmate that is her 'equal', her kindred spirit. 

We marvel at the unpretentious nature of the girls' un-choreographed performance dance. And yet they have known each other for just over a year.  Wonders never cease with animals. As the boys watch from inside, Mall cop remarks to Mr. Wiggles, as he licks the younger one's eyes: ”Listen squirt, size has nothing to do with having a fun time with the girls. You need to grow up, soon. It's all about maturity, kid. I have it. You don't. No time like the present. Now, let's go out and see what you've learned”.

Saving Her Life with Powerful PH!

It was early spring when our kitty's health began its slow decline. A rampant, urinary tract infection had been discovered, then, unmoved by the injectable antibiotic that had worked, two years earlier. Tiggy's hyperthyroidism, in a revised, powerful 2014 edition, was now at the center of this latest cruel intrusion into her life. This chronic 'killer' would begin to show us how truly cunning it was at killing our kitty, slowly, by literally 'eating' her to death. She weighed 8 pounds then, 2 pounds less than normal. ... (Left to die by the side of the road in winter -11 years ago - Tiggy now faced a new death threat to rival any other).

With a specialist's 'anorexic' diagnosis and inconclusive tests, we were left to deal with a medical crisis of untold dimension, whose treatment protocols seemed unclear. (Normal cells in her tiny body were acting pathogenic, I soon learned.) She'd rejected her YD prescription diet, in the canned version, earlier this year. I couldn't blame her. It looked and smelled awful. (Why can't 'they' pretend to be cats and then ask, "Would I like this crap for the rest of my hyperthyroid life?”) The YD dry version, for thyroid health, was still O.K. but rarely touched during daytime hours. (She had accepted it as a part of her night-time eating ritual.) ... A frantic search for high grade premium foods, with little or no iodine, was now underway. Getting her to eat anything to gain weight was crucial for her recovery. Raw cat food was offered, early on, in the hopes it would be the miracle cure we were looking for but, alas, after only two days, she refused it.

By the beginning of the summer, Tiggy's weight had plummeted 2 more pounds. ... She now weighed 6 pounds. Visits to my local pet store were soon becoming desperate attempts to find answers and food she could and would eat that might outsmart her hyperthyroid gland. ... She craved fish until its heinous, 'poisonous' intent was made clear: she would vomit, soon after, or the next day, its iodine content, a constant threat. Thirty types of meats dinners/dishes, within a five brand range, one organic, were tried, enjoyed, then ultimately refused. I was running out of time and 'inventory.' ... (My gut was telling me a story I did not want to hear! Was this the way it was going to end?) ... Veterinary medicine was keeping her alive, for now.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Tiggy was acting. I was reacting. Her enigma status stymied even her doctor of 11 years. ...  “Give her yogurt. It aids in digestion”, was all he said that morning, in late summer of 2014, as I entered, Global Pet, the store with such friendly, helpful staff. This simple, innocuous statement of fact became a pivotal moment in my life. ...  His wife then added, “If she believes that the food she is eating is making her sick, you must switch  immediately.” “Cats do not like to eat food they have already touched with their saliva” I was reminded. I listened, in rapt attention, ever so mindful of what these store owners, a dynamic duo working in tandem, were saying. They had been in the pet food industry for decades and had pets themselves. They just knew and understood. Fresh water, food variety, as necessary - mostly chicken based canned,  YD dry food, one layer at a time, all in very clean bowls, became my daily obsession.

By mid-September,Tiggy had lost another pound, weighing a paltry 5 pounds and facing certain death by starvation. ... Then the cavalry arrived! ... From the very beginning, we 'd been ever so fortunate to have the professional 'ear' of a family friend, 'Paul',  pet owner, veterinarian, scientist, professor and forensic animal pathologist, in his ever evolving stellar career. He's the author of numerous scientific papers and handbooks on the subject of animal toxicologic pathology. Having Paul guide us through this medical mystery was both an honour, comfort and a respite from the storm. His counsel changed the focus of this medical crisis for me, in an instant. "Sometimes, antibiotics can interfere with recovery and that hydration, and probiotics -pH-, as found in yogurt, are the all-important stars in healing and recovery," Paul would remark, many times. PH is that delicate balance of gut bacteria in the body. ... We must never underestimate its profound influence on human and animal health, he would remind me!

At 5 pounds and holding, Tiggy remained sensitive to touch and temperature. It was painful for me to watch. Petting her neck was akin to touching a razor's edge; her spine, like the long protruding edge of a serrated  bread knife. One morning, she went missing, momentarily. I envisioned finding her dead, having hidden under a sofa. In her fragile, weakened state, meowing was almost impossible. I wept, imagining the worst, but found her close by, waiting to be airlifted to safety. The elephant in the room, however, was still her malevolent hyperthyroid gland. I knew. She was eating but not gaining until the 'cure' arrived in an orange and white 500 gram container called Greek Yogurt. With 11 grams of protein, 9 grams of fat, this fermented dairy product was making history with Tiggy's life. She began to gain weight, as she licked this new creamy food with delight.

Yogurt is her life now, the appetizer before every meal and sometimes the meal itself. As Paul said to me  more than once, “PH  is often overlooked' in treatment protocols. I thought for a moment, then realized “ It is always overlooked” Laboratory results rarely concerned him. He would know. It was the overall health picture that mattered more, over time. Being a forensic-pathologist, he was faced with solving a health mystery with living tissue, a slight departure from his normal routine. "Look for Lactobacillus or Acidophilus on the label." he said. (My yogurt had one.) I had been supported by three 'experts' who guided me through a crisis, with no end in sight. They all knew! They just knew! Paul made it all make sense. I now understood: we had gone beyond conventional veterinary medicine to a place where no man had gone before. ...

Most cats would have died, I was told, and most owners would not have bothered to find a solution to the crime. By November 23, our precious little girl weighed in at a whopping 8 pounds 8 ounces, strong, playful and acting like a cat with a mission statement. Traditional treatment protocols had kept her in a perpetual holding pattern for months. ... What helped Tiggy win the race, however, was plain, high fat, Greek yogurt, with its magical, medicinal pH factor. Paul explained the profound power of PH on health. It literally changed my life and gave Tiggy back hers!!

White Rice and "Stone Soup"

The other day, while remembering the children's classic, Stone Soup, I began thinking the absurd. Strangely enough, could white rice be the modern day equivalent to the stone in Stone Soup? ... 

In the fable, Stone Soup, hungry travelers arrive at a village looking for food. No one, however, wants to help. The strangers' only hope lies with a stone, a pot, and an incredible imagination. ... As the villagers watch, with curiosity and delight, they are told how much better the 'soup' would be if each person in the town would contribute something to the 'aromatic' mixture the strangers are cooking. Of course, there is no real soup until the villagers share their morsels of food, one by one, into the 'soup' pot, to the absolute joy of the hungry travelers.

In the last few years we have been told to stay away from white foods because of their harmful effects on our health. ... White foods are of no benefit, we are reminded, time and time again. They are of no nutritional value- much like the stone in Stone Soup! 

Is white rice, the current dietary focus, now a needless food, outright? There is, of course, wild rice, brown rice, calrose  rice, and red, to name a few of the many types of rice. But my attention is on white rice, the many white types available, that we buy, repeatedly. It is an affront to human dignity, however, to take aim at this much maligned yet life sustaining white food that has fed and continues to feed billions of the world's population. 

It seems to me that once the 'secret' got out that we were getting fatter and unhealthier, the detectives on the case decided to find out why and decided to place all of the blame on white foods. It would create the perfect scapegoat they were looking for. Under the guise of 'new and improved taste sensation', we also have ingenious attempts to manipulate us into buying reformulated products as if they have been made nutritionally superior. That is not always the case. We are foolish in our thinking. 

Are 'redesigned' recipes simply a ploy to house more sinister additives, preservatives, colours, chemically created flavours for us to eat more of and enjoy? Could be. Are we enticed by the exciting colourful label or the happy, smiling family in the television commercial? Is white rice a plague in our diet like these laboratory created foods? It is up to us to improve rice's health benefits through our personal 'tampering' efforts!. ... Is it a food that beckons, ''fix me". I'm ready.

Years ago, while watching a program about the food industry, the head of a Canadian regional grocery association representing this industry, commented that 10,000 new products were made every year. I thought for a moment. How could that be? There are only 5 food groups: - fruits/ vegetables/ breads/meats, fish/ dairy- more if you place beans/legumes in a separate category. Over a period of 5 years, that would be 50,000 new products. How does that happen unless we go outside of mother nature's garden for that sinister creative touch! We seem to fault white foods for ill health while allowing sinister creativity to invade the kitchen via the fun foods we buy from the grocery or frozen food aisle.

I enjoy basmati, calrose and jasmine white rice.. Painting a tale of woe if I deign to eat this 'universal' white carbohydrate staple is unfair and makes a mockery of history, its people and the food that has fed the earth. Rice is grown not factory produced. Though I have a low functioning thyroid, I am quite cognizant of this gland's unique properties. It has fed the world with a myriad of fruits and veggies steamed or fried with it.  Healthy eating is the name of the health game. including ingredients to offset the malaise inherent in white rice is waht we strive to achieve. 

My cupboard is full of spices while my left-handed brain is full of ideas. When I make cabbage rolls, I use a mixture of jasmine and basmati rices, heavily spiced with turmeric (the brain spice) in the water with 'healthy' textural taste sensations of onions, garlic, celery, as travelling companions with dill, a common addition. Experimentation should be the goal.Wow! Flavour is through the roof and I did not use a stone in making this 'white' dish. 

My father would only eat cabbage rolls made with buckwheat kasha. I never did. The only way I eat this incredible grain is with sautéed onions with butter added. It is a meal unto itself! Rumour has it that this incredible grain separates itself from others as it has both incomplete and complete protein for a balanced diet. It probably saved the life of my preemie son, born over 3 months in 1979. I was sick daily and non-stop but buckwheat kasha allowed me to reign in emissis to 'save a life'. 

It behooves all of us to take our food choices seriously, at all times. Our highly processed 'modern' diet seems to exclude 'real' spices and turmeric, in particular and many times the box in which our favourite food is contained simply lists 'spices' on the side panel of the box to mask its secrecy, perhaps? We have a right to know all of it, in detail.

Cauliflower is white. Green onions, leeks and parsnips are white, too. Onions and garlic, the super foods of our diet are also white and are considered a probiotic in their raw state! One of the newest kids in the white food neighbourhood, is white beans, considered another food superstar as it supercharges metabolism and alters carb absorption. Funny, all of these white foods were born that way yet some of them are added, many times, to increase the nutritional status of many 'colourful'  vegetables for dinnertime enjoyment! 

Though a mix of colour is the goal of a healthy diet, let us not shy away from white foods.  We can alter their nutrient status, if necessary. Though white rice might be considered taboo, let it be known it is made by mother nature as well and many times, is 'polished'  by the food industry behemoths to 'clean it up', thereby making it more appealing to us. (Also the outer leaves of lettuce, romaine and cabbage are removed to look pretty. I'm sorry but those leaves can be full of nutrients) 

In French cooking, we have the 'mother' of white foods, the béchamel sauce. The French are noted for healthy lifestyles, including red wine, artisan baguettes. Their diets are balanced and the 'white' sauce, 'white' French breads, baguettes are simply side dishes to the meal, not the meal itself! ... White foods are not to blame for our ill health. We are!

The travellers in Stone Soup might have been somewhat deceitful in their purpose, but they certainly managed to get a whole village to gather together to contribute to the  awesome wholesome goodness of their originally nutritionally devoid insipid stone soup. Well, from where I stand, white rice doesn't even come close. We just need to respect its glorious past then cook it with intention and integrity!

Profit-Sharing: An Employee's True Worth!

The customer is king! But first at bat, is the employee, without whose loyal contribution within the company, there would be no company. His dedication, talent, experience, and smile help to keep the doors open, 6-7 days a week. Measuring a company's true success must include its employees, the lifeblood of any business.

Within the confines of this physical 'working' space, specialized 'human robots', called employees, enable a company to grow. Profit, this tangible bounty, is the barometer of the company's growth and success, an indicator that the 'human' element is performing and thriving while meeting its daily, weekly and monthly sales targets. Profit-sharing should be as commonplace today, as any employee's wage/benefits package has been, previously. ...

Many years ago, as my husband began his small company, a family friend wanted to leave his banking middle management position. My husband hired him at the same pay-scale that had been his salary while he worked at the bank. Who does that today? It is foolhardy. 'Mike's' move to our company cost him nothing. It did, however, cost my husband, a lot. ... He paid himself less so Mike would not experience any hardship in this lateral career move. My husband had taken profit-sharing to an absurd scale, unheard of today, – twenty five years ago! ...

In today's modern fast paced world, job security does not exist. Enter unions, organizations which protect their members, like a mother lion protects her cubs. But now because of this 'tightly wrapped security blanket' (union) in place, no one leaves a company, until retirement. This job benefits package, including the hourly wage it provides, is too lucrative to risk leaving, for other opportunities. Young people, new to the job market, have nowhere to go. There are few entry level positions open to them. ... And so they wait and toil in many of the low paying food service/retail industry jobs. Membership in this exclusive club, called a union, in all levels of government or in the auto sector is now the gold standard for a select few. This inequitable share of the 'pie' discriminates against those of us not protected by lucrative contracts or unions. What remains is part-time work without benefits, a scheme that helps create a world of haves and have-nots. Life is a full-time job, however! We begin with the minimum wage, a formula that is, sometimes, an unfair and perhaps antiquated assessment of a person's worth. Enter profit-sharing the greatest equalizer of all, within the work-place environment. ... A job is worth what it is worth. There can be no debate here. To truly reflect an employee's contribution within a company, the only fair wage is one based upon profit-sharing. After an employee has effectively met the criteria for this added income benefit, the sky should be the limit for financial gain for one and all.  Members of middle and upper management, should not be the only 'employees' entitled to a share of the company's 'excesses'. The true measure of the success of any company has to be its steady growth, over time, as measured by the profit generated by its employee/customer link. Profit is also a measure, in a moment in time. Should the shareholders of the company be the only other group earmarked for a division of the this bountiful 'financial pie'?

We are all connected. We need each other to truly reflect the success of any business. We are deluding ourselves if we think only certain groups are entitled to a share of the business world's bounty, time after time. The hourly wage is what the position is worth! Profit-sharing is what the employee is worth!! It is that simple. The employee is the company- on and off the job! Next, in line, we have the consumer, a member of the ruling class. They are found everywhere, in all walks of life. They shop where they shop because of convenience, price or quality of the products/service being sold. They are drawn to a particular company for many reasons. But the greatest lure for any consumer has to be the personal interaction, the employee who brings him to the front door of the company where he shops, dines or is entertained. ... After everything is considered, the company's human assets remain, leaving an indelible mark on the consumer with every interaction in the store, restaurant, hotel or at the cash register.

We are one. ...In the retail sector, with part-time shifts the new reality and the multi-billion dollar on-line shopping entity, its biggest threat, 'bricks and mortar' companies must truly focus on its people, the front-line workers and lifeblood of any business enterprise. Employees are the company's real bottom line. ... While watching a documentary about an executive chef whose rise to the top in the hospitality industry placed him at the helm of a five-star Canadian hotel, I was surprised by something he said about his exalted position. He remarked his job was not just about overseeing the execution of the food for his high-end clientele in this luxury hotel. ... It was also about the social aspects of meeting and greeting people. And in the final analysis, that is what living, working and life are all about.

A Flood. Borscht. And Homemade Apple Pie?

It didn't seem fair. A pot of homemade borscht was simmering on the stove while the apple pie baked in the oven. My day seemed to be going pretty well, until it happened. ... Next to the kitchen, water-world, a flood of unknown origin and dimension, began to unleash its awesome power, a trail of destruction, into the adjacent room, making its way towards our Mr. Wiggles and Miss S, his sister. Would the fireplace be hit? My quick action helped to slow the river, in its track. Only then did I realize what a lousy day I was about to have.

There were lessons here, amongst the watery mess of that Sunday afternoon. I wasn't sure what this 'current event' was going to teach me. I would have to wait and see. We'd had a Mr. Wiggles medical emergency last week. Its resolution was still preying on my mind more than this newest twist on an old time favourite: a flooded room. One emergency at a time, please. At least our dinner time meal had been prepared, ahead of time. We waited for the help that was supposed to arrive, in a timely fashion or soon, whatever that meant. Ten hours later at 10:00 p.m. came the quick response to our earlier flood emergency. (We'd been playing phone tag with many companies whose 'return policies' were dismal.) ... Throughout the day, I removed as much water from the carpets as I could, then sat down to think, soon realizing, the carpet would have to go. ...


As hunger bore down on us, we began to eat the borscht with caraway rye bread/butter and its dinner-time companion, homemade apple pie. By the next day, I had lost two pounds, simply eating homemade nutrient dense soup and apple pie, festooned with lemon juice and organic sugar. (Not bad for a sluggish thyroid, I thought.) With osteoporosis and an underactive thyroid gland, I must keep active and watch what I eat to assuage these two chronic medical conditions. There was no sitting around, that day, with a flood in our midst! Since the water emergency was uppermost in my mind, it was gratifying that food had been prepared beforehand. I shudder to think what shortcuts I might have taken had the emergency arrived first. This latest event taught me two things. It is possible to lose weight when you least expect it and when you eat homemade food, weight loss can happen. ...


We ate when we were hungry and stopped when our bodies told us to stop. What a revolutionary thought!  Wholesome food made the difference. Minimally processed /mother nature's foods, in any combination that fits, in the correct carbohydrate concentration, will help us maintain good health and a healthy weight. Diets can be crazy and a waste of time, I learned again on that soggy warm Sunday. ... Eat good stuff and the other stuff will eventually go away. ...(And fat does not make you fat!) ... Diets are stark reminders of what we are not doing or ignoring. We must keep in mind that a flood of any sort can be just around the corner. So be prepared with homemade soup, wholesome bread with butter and any pie you want, as long as it is made in the kitchen. ... 


We have a world-wide obesity epidemic. We are becoming addicted to processed foods, in all guises, whose 'recipes' have been modified, many times, to cause us to eat, mindlessly, in untold quantities. We can't seem to shut off our hunger hormone. Our body is talking to us. We should be listening and acting accordingly. The type of calories we eat matter most, not the number of calories we eat. (When momsey eats low salt chips with only 3 ingredients, she eats a handful. That is all her body wants and it tells her so.) The lesson? Do not eat the wrong things in the first place and if we do, eat a salad and drink lots of water to remove the evidence of our wrongdoing! Eating at home, even during an unplanned flood event, forces us to stop and re-examine what we are doing, on all levels. While waiting for the plumber, we were reminded of what we had not done to put us in this unsettling predicament. We would have to examine the pipes, the septic tank and anything else to make sure this did not happen again.


Eating the wrong things is a choice. Emergencies are not. They happen without warning. Thank goodness, the soup and pie were ready. They made for a delicious and unbeatable 'comfort' duo, an answer to a period of great stress. The borscht was made from both a 'homemade' chicken and beef stock with water, tomato juice, beet juice,(iodized) sea salt and pepper added next. Then came the grated cooked beets, with its finely diced tops and carrots, onions, bay leaf - all simmering on the stove. (Use spinach or kale if tops are unavailable) We lose our appetite when bad things happen. When the desire returns, let the soup and pie be waiting to help keep us healthy and strong, ready to do battle with life's next unplanned event. ...

Another School Year Into The Future

Today's child has been exposed to a vast array of technological gadgetry and, many times, a myriad of early school programs, even before his formal entry into kindergarten. ... Has the time arrived to modify, re-sculpt and re-structure the public school system to reflect the diverse nature and early experiences of its newest clientele? Has the hierarchy within this complicated public school system lost its touch with the new 'learning' reality? (Whose idea was it to cancel recess - a few years back?) How many symposiums are necessary and when should thinking 'outside the box' become de rigueur?...


We have home-schooling, un-schooling and public education, in addition to private and religious education.  In some jurisdictions in Ontario, Canada, non-Catholic students are being admitted into some Catholic schools. This school system is an appealing choice for many as it seems to incorporate the qualities of compassion, morality, caring and high standards. Getting back to basics is such a cute catch-all phrase intended to bring us all back to a place where good things used to happen. Maybe they did. Can the best of a former period of educational history co-exist with today's modern day approaches? (Making modern-day pies still makes use of old time recipes from the past. We revel in finding grandma's recipes, it seems.)


Some fundamentals never change, such as counting to ten, to 100, to 1,000. The multiplication tables set the stage for 'higher' mathematics beginning with the two times, the three times and four times tables. ....Then there is percent, fractions and other forms of fun. Nothing has changed, there, except, the method of instruction. Why complicate protocols? If simple methods are the norm, then let it be.  (Working with calculators is fine when in the express lane at the grocery store.) ... What happens when the 'cute little assistant' is not working or is lost in the snow? Our minds can become crippled by its absence. Reading sets the stage for all learning. It is a simple act, done repeatedly, without complications. But what happens if our reading plans do not seem to be helping the child in this critical learning journey? Then what? Perhaps, we take a 'leave of absence', removing the child from the structured world of words ( language, reading) to immerse him in the simple world of music. (songs, singing, dance.)

Music and dance form an incredible duo in the art of teaching language, reading and math., too. The child listens to the words imbedded in the carefully scripted musical notes called songs. Reading is the art of moving words on a page. But in a song, reading becomes the action set to music, that helps create the story. ... Language exists in music. ... What is wrong with Karaoke? We do it all the time, one way or another, during the course of our day. In the song- 'When the Love Runs Out” by One Republic, we hear incredible music and lyrics to a story. In “Colourblind”, by Glen Morrison and Andrew Cole, another story is told about the human condition, how alike we all are. Music is much like the teacher in that it sparks creativity and can instill a love of language, while sending its message or telling its story, in a melody. ...

Today, movement for learning for at-risk children is more important than ever. We seem to be moving much less than in the past. Once upon a time, some  educational jurisdictions thought it prudent to cancel recess for young children. The time saved would help these young students academically. Wrong! It was misdirection on a grand scale! (Who was steering the boat, anyway?)Inertia is counter-productive for children mentally, physically and  for their learning health. ... All children require interactive play for learning to occur.  It must be standard operating procedure. ... It is a critical first step towards a healthy, happy, successful life!

In Ontario, Canada, the implementation of full-time kindergarten and the introduction of junior kindergarten have produced a hardier, intellectually superior child, sometimes surpassing the grade 1 curriculum towards which all are working. Our modern day child is advancing the elementary school curriculum. Change is in the air. It cannot be stopped. ...Will primary grades even exist in their present format, years from now? The internet, pre-school learning centres and all-day kindergarten have changed the rules of the game of education. It is simply not just another day, another school year, anymore. ...

Back in the day, there was the one room school house, a rustic, simple almost primitive form of housing, with one teacher dispensing 'learning' to all children, in her care. Times have changed, of course. It would seem to make sense to re-visit our past, in light of our present day educational system, and perhaps re-think today's educational structure and goals. It certainly would not hurt, and maybe, just might enlighten us to a new way of educating all children, equally. ...

Vinegar. Lemon Juice. Baking Soda, Eternally Grateful

Lemon juice/vinegar/baking soda are the go-to unbeatable staples in Momsey's life.. These three ingredients are the top 'tools' for body and environmental health, in my world. When simple natural things enable us to live in a more peaceful, healthy state, then it behooves us to try them and make them work! Momsey embraces and adopts simple strategies. ... Complicating our lives with things that make no sense, only serves to increase our costs, stress us and make make us ill.

Lemon juice is king. I marinate with it, barbecue with it, cook with it, wear it and drink it. In Hug a Farmer, I mentioned it as a mosquito repellant, as I work outside or garden among these dangerous little monsters. ... The citronella candles, used to help repel mosquitoes, outside, might work, but who thinks of candles when gardening? ... In the absence of these outdoor accessories, Momsey has used the real deal: lemons, squeezed into my hands and 'rinsed' on exposed skin, near the shoulders, neck and on the hair, where mosquitoes linger, hide or gesticulate. Lemons are a mainstay in my life. I add it to all food, meats, steamed vegetables, especially salads, to improve taste, texture and overall health. It helps to improve pH levels in the body, too. I have begun to add the grated skin of lemons, called jest, in more ways that can be imagined. ... Then there is the greatest dessert of all time: lemon meringue pie. Each time I make it, I use less sugar and more lemon juice/jest to augment flavour and add to health. ... Homemade lemonade is an all-time favourite made with healthy honey or maple syrup for added sweetness. ... (Changing the lemons to freshly squeezed grapefruits, with added honey and basil leaves, creates another incredibly tasty beverage.) What about squirting lemons to the top of a pizza just before eating it? Could this simple step add to the pizza's overall health benefits, too?

When baking soda is called for in recipes, I add buttermilk, also, to counter the soda's effect on taste and to improve its leavening effect. ... (Buttermilk adds incredible flavour to mashed potatoes, too,) ... In the cleaning department and to stop the 'spread' of fruit flies, I sprinkle baking soda on top of the fruit peels inside the kitchen pail used for compost. I use baking soda to clean the kitchen sinks followed by hot water soon afterwards. .... To keep my kitchen sink drain free flowing, I add soda, then white vinegar, creating a foamy mixture which aids in clearing out the drain, easily. Hot water soon follows this routine. Using two food ingredients help clean and sanitize the sink.

Vinegar comes in a myriad flavours and 'colours'. There is healthy red wine vinegar, derived from red wine, raw unpasteurized apple cider vinegar, balsamic, malt and white vinegars, to name a few. All can be use in making fresh salad dressings, to marinate meats of all kinds. ...To remove coffee or tea stains, found inside mugs and teacups, I add a few drops of vinegar, then wipe clean and wash, as usual. White vinegar can be used to clean windows, wiping away fingerprints and pups' nose prints off of glass door panels.... It's a great addition to making pastry as it interferes with gluten development and adds a tangy flavour to the finished product. Vinegar can be used to punch up our health, while we add it here and there.. To make sour milk, lemon juice or vinegar can be used. The choice is ours.

It is comforting to know that food ingredients: lemon juice, vinegar and baking soda can help clean where we live. When Mr. Wiggles and his cohorts are playing outside, spraying a water/vinegar mixture vinegar outside helps to dissuade them from chewing questionable vegetation while killing off the scent of nocturnal animals that might have come calling, the previous evening, outside the compound. A top layer of baking soda sprinkled on the contents of the kitchen compost pail helps to keep away the 'night visitors' - if the pail has not been taken to the larger compost container at the back. I use kitty litter baking soda, often, to help freshen the litter box. And every few days, I clean out the litter box using vinegar with its bacteria killing, sanitizing properties.


Finding creative ways to include simple food ingredients - lemons, vinegar and baking soda - into our lives serves to help cleanse both our palate and our environment. Could this be the beginning of something special? It is here that our tolerance for chemically laden food and cleaning products begins a slow decline. What a way to go!

Incredible Disappearing Acts

Splattered across the printed cotton flannelette top was evidence of a blueberry dance that occurred, earlier that morning, without my knowledge. ... I had been making a bit of jam to catch the berries before they spoiled. Now, the anticipation of homemade blueberry jam was marred by the sad reality of its new application, called a stain, upon a favourite top. ... How could I have been so careless!

These blueberry crystals were not part of the garment's original design or colour swath. ... Following my own dictum of doing nothing or choosing the path of least resistance when confronted with a difficult problem, I took the top to the sink and wet the tiny blue stains, hoping some incredible thought would enter my mind to fix the mess I had created. (Letting a stain dry or using the dryer before removing stains sets the stains forever.) 

I went about the rest of my day. Even 'old' ladies have important things to do. In my world they are called Mr. Wiggles, Miss S, Tiggy our sick little kitty cat and sometimes visiting dognitaries, cousins, Mall Cop and Miss E, his younger sister. ...The afternoon wore on, as afternoons generally do. Each time I passed the sink, I dampened the areas adorned with those dainty bluish dots. ... After several hours, I was left wondering, “Where are those dots?” By the next day, they were gone! The stains I had worried about had simply disappeared. Water's application and patience worked their magic, incredibly and unknowingly. ...It was an absolutely thrilling resolution to a seeming hopeless dilemma created by me. ...

It was a family gathering when my new discovery was verified once again. ... Sliced watermelon was now being passed around the dinner table, a fitting end to a delicious meal. Suddenly, drops of this juicy fruit's nectar began to fall onto his shirt. Without missing a beat, I motioned him quickly into the 'room' to help save his much-prized garment. Another amazing disappearing act was in the process of unfolding. With a few drops of water placed on the characteristic red drops, the random stains began to fade. (“It was important to keep the stain damp”, I cautioned him). Disbelief enveloped us. He left with renewed optimism that his shirt would see another day. ....

We had met at the fair, for a brief moment. His wife and I had been talking before he sat down to eat. His corned beef sandwich covered in mustard; French fries, with ketchup, were the star attractions when the unthinkable happened. ... Down his crisp white t-shirt went the familiar yellow, red trail. His reaction to this newly worn, now stained, white t-shirt told the painful story. “Keep it wet until you get home” I cautioned him as he tried to wipe the condiment rainbow off his shirt. The familiar colourful line slowly began to fade before we left the picnic table. The t-shirt would see another day and water had made its mark, yet again.

Water is a universal liquid. It keeps all of nature and all of mankind alive. It is critical to our survival! It was now being used in a simple and strategic way to address a universal problem facing all of us: stain removal. We were using a gift from mother nature to solve a problem from mother nature's garden. How cool was that! I was not using chemicals, soaps or other reagents, things that can harm us, our children, our pets, our clothing or create allergic reactions. I was simply using water to fix a common clothing problem we all face.

It was late Thursday evening when my husband noticed the wound on the neck of our one-year-old yellow retriever, Mr. Wiggles, as he slept on the carpet nearby. It must have been there for a while. The reddened skin had not been punctured, oozing only slightly, as I attempted to gingerly separate the sticky strands of the matted darkened fur above it. The wound was a mystery to us. How and where had it happened? His playground was a contained, safe wonder world for creatures large and small. In an instant I thought of the remarkable 'antibiotic' I had nearby, a wonder solution, called Silver hydrosol, in its small spray bottle. (This natural 'antibiotic', a natural cleansing agent/antiseptic lotion, has been around, in a manner of speaking, since 400 B.C). Its application this night, was quick, easy, painless, and so readily available and affordable. An appt. was made, the next day, in conjunction with one already on the books for Tiggy, our sick little kitty cat, for Monday morning, a three-day gap in time. In the meantime, I would apply the silver hydrosol solution, steadily, over the weekend and see its wondrous effects on the wound. By the end of the weekend, the wound, its telltale scab gone, seemed to be on its way to healing. Even its location on Mr. Wiggle's neck was hard to find. A medical mystery was now underway, an anecdote in our family's pet history. ...

In the final analysis, keeping an open mind always keeps all manner of information flowing and the wonders of simple, accessible, time-honoured strategies close at hand for all emergencies, large, small or not at all!

The Powerful Reach of Advertising.

The rather incessant, intrusive nature of modern day commercials has made them a most unwelcome addition to our lives. When does the noise end? They are seen on the big screen, small screen and in print format in magazines, in such totality, that it seems that the ads are the foundation of the magazines themselves. ... The snippets of articles, 'sight bites' and recipes on a page, seem like a distraction to the real intent of this form of print media: to sell products being displayed within the magazine format.

Do commercials form an integral part of our television viewing today or are the shows we watch simply the vehicle for these fast-paced product promoting vignettes?... Is television even television today? ... It seems it is more a medium to showcase goods and services whose companies can afford the premium rates charged for the time slots chosen. Then we have the darlings of the product industry that seem to bully other similar products vying for space in the retail market for the all-important consumer dollar.


These mini messages - T.V. commercials - appear in an undulating strip of 15-second time slots or less, trying to influence our seemingly endless buying frenetic lifestyle - one after another. ... This marketing ploy is relentless. ... Once upon a time, commercials were simple little breaks in the show or movie we were watching. They occupied less than the 15 minutes per hour. Now, it seems, commercials are the ruling class of television or movie theaters. ... In the lower right/left hand corners of the television screen, we now have tiny reminders of what we are watching and what is coming next - a continual bombardment on our senses that never ends. Why is this really necessary? Does this 'marking' serve to ruin the show/movie we are watching/taping by this intrusive act? It would seem that our lives are being dumbed down by these unwelcome fast paced 'happy' interruptions of the soft sell. Thank goodness, we have the mute button. ...


When drugs are being advertised it is a much more serious affront to our senses. They tell us a tale of untold happiness in solving our most serious health malaise. As the commercial unfolds, and if we have not left the room, seconds later, the contraindications of this drug's use are now mentioned in rapid-fire fashion, so as to confuse us and maybe mask its true intentions not readily known by us in considering the drug as an option for our health ill. We trust the commercial, so it follows, we must trust the drug. This type of commercial and others like it makes a mockery of other drugs which have withstood the test of time and have helped millions of people stay healthy and alive. I was a guinea pig for a drug that promised bone strength in a simple little pill. I was fearful of its efficacy for my osteoporosis. Nevertheless, I used the drug for two months and realized its contraindications in short order. Years later, this drug was taken off the market.

Clinical trials 'don't impress me much'. I stopped taking my so-called 'miracle' drug and struggled with chronic pain while walking, sitting, lifting and sleeping, for well over a year. My middle son's health background and simple advice of eating simply and walking, returned theMomsey to her former glory but in better shape, pain-free and more aware of the parameters of the pharmaceutical reach! What are the parameters of clinical studies, I wonder, the length of time taken to study the drug's effects on the human body? What are the credentials of the individuals doing these clinical studies? On whom are these sacrosanct drugs being tested? Was the study begun or were its conclusions reached on a Monday, after a long weekend?... The questions are endless for theMomsey. 

Commercials are quick picks. They gloss over the many aspects of a newly derived drug as they promote its promised happy, long life, playing in the lush forest, or on the playground lifestyle. ...
Millions of dollars are at stake in the advertising world. We know it. We trust implicitly. We listen as the commercial tells us a truth that might belie another. ...Then we have the mighty billion-dollar beauty industry aimed at women of whom I am a member, most of the time! Magazines have different titles but the contents look the same. We need to dress a certain way, moisturize this, colour that, and do what the latest 'trends' tell us to do in order to feel our best and look it. In a 15-second T.V. time-slot or space on a page, we see the possibilities of the advertised product. We must eat it, taste it, wear it, use it or simply own it to be thought as being healthy, happy, beautiful, and sometimes just fine.

Print media, be totally reasonable, please. Put the print ad at the back of the magazine. I will read it there. Stop splitting up recipes with ads on back. Use both sides of the printed page for the article or recipe to be worthy of my purchase of the magazine. I do not want to be reminded of your  unending intention for me to buy your product. Inform me. Do not pound it into my brain.... Stop treating me and others like me with disdain. I will decide - not you - how I spend my time and money.  If you truly want my attention, then respect me and make me laugh.

Commercials pay for programming; advertisements, for the print media. I get that. But please be ever so humble and realize that it is the consumer that makes all of it work. The consumer is king. Without our attention and our consumer dollar, you got nothing, absolutely nothing!

Hug a Farmer!

Planting a vegetable garden is hard work. It is without a standing ovation or a boatload of thanks. It is, however, a labour of love. What else could it be? When was the last time we hugged a farmer?

A few weeks ago, my daughter-in-law and I decided to plant a small vegetable garden, quite unexpectedly. Upon surveying the space we had to work in, it became apparent this newest garden might have a chance of producing a harvest of sorts. The four tall evergreens, in varying degrees of decay, were no longer there, having been removed last year. In their place was space and the sun's life giving touch.

In each of the past two summers, a suitable garden site, in an adjacent location, had been thoughtfully chosen and its planting, carefully executed by our youngest son and his girlfriend, Lucy, my editor. Few vegetables remained after the long summer of weeding and tender loving care. Oh where were those vegetables? It could only mean that sun was lacking. Everything else was not. Every technicality had been addressed- including soil preparation- beforehand, yet the results after many months of care was an insult to human ingenuity and hard work. Our son and Lucy had toiled to bring their organic seeds to fruition. It was a sad end to an expected bountiful season. Alas, the only result of that lackluster harvest was the experience it had provided all of us. We learned a lot though I am not sure what that was.

Several weeks ago, an impromptu garden was begun in an area used repeatedly over several summers - two decades ago - to plant tomatoes, hot banana peppers, a few green beans, chives and dill. (In the interim, however, our 16-year-old son had landscaped the area to give us a green-land oasis in amongst the tall evergreen trees that stood within this space.) ... In his genius, our son was able to sculpt the Canadian flag into the design, adding to this picturesque landscape. ) Prior to his magical touch, crops had been planted, yearly, with life giving compost, a gift for the trees, at season's end. ... Near the end of my planting era, back then, it was obvious the trees, ever so tall and luxurious, were benefiting from the many gardens I had planted, winning the game of last plant standing. They stood ever so stately, as they took the glorious sun from the miniature plants beneath them. .. Whatever vegetables I could harvest, from my seasons of hosting a vegetable garden, I canned or simply froze, leaving behind a trail of dismal expectations. The trees grew, in response to the compost left behind by past vegetable gardens. Last year these trees were cut down. Their decay and continued impact on our foundation signaled the decision for their removal. Their time had come - as with all living things. It was also a time for renewal. Next year, something else would occupy the space where these trees and an English garden once lived and thrived. 

This summer's new garden was planted with an energized Momsey, daughter, and insights galore.. Maybe this garden would grow. We would begin anew at farming.  There were two minds, again, to tackle this late summer madness of planting, hopefully, a new and improved garden in the same place as the original vegetable gardens of many years ago. ... Last year's garden had to be moved. Two attempts at farming there had failed. It had been an unfair experience for all. ... As my husband drove out west for family, friends and a high school reunion, I was left to mind the children: Mr. Wiggles, our one-year-old retriever, his sisters, Miss S, our 5 year old retriever, his older and much wiser sibling and Tiggy, our 11 year old kitty who was doing her best to eat, sleep, and be merry. With mosquitoes in tow, fresh cut lemons, a natural repellent for their unwelcome attention and humidity in abundance, my daughter and I began to plant the 'simple' garden of our dreams, the staples of our diet.

Hot banana/bell peppers, assorted tomatoes, and herbs of every type: basil, oregano, chives, sage, bay leaves and stevia, a first for us, went into the prepared soil.. Would they grow? We checked the time of greatest sunlight. We knew the animals in our midst would love to feast upon our green delights. The Chipmunks, wild rabbits and insects, too, were waiting. Protective barriers of all sorts would make the taking of our valuable green commodities a challenge.  Nothing was left to chance! The soil was primed for its duty. More topsoil /special mix was gingerly added after the planting was done. Between us both, we would do our utmost to bring this harvest home. ... Rain was in plentiful supply, now. Watering would be done as needed. Weeding was ongoing as was a prayer for much needed sun. There were days that the sun rose, then hid from view, knowing its power over our garden was a critical element to the delicate balancing act of nutrient rich soil, sunlight, water and green 'healthy' plants. (Food didn't grow on trees!!) Already something was amiss, though. Our three oregano plants died! ...What had I done to make this happen? I hoped to find out soon because many other plants depend upon me knowing.

New oregano plants were purchased and re-planted. Perhaps the originals were inferior from the beginning or simply a reminder that gardening is intelligent hard work. ...We play at gardening, sometimes. Farmers of all kinds do it for a living. They grow food for mankind! ... Hug a farmer! They deserve it!

The Invisible Cloud Came Running

It lunged from behind the bush. Its telltale shape, characteristic white stripe and bushy tail, had come to visit that day. “Stay away from me, little girl” he seemed to scream. “Go away”, he warned “or I will let you have it”! And so he did. Little 'Ella', our son and 'daughter's' 17-pound, 16-month old mini-schnauzer, now had something to call her own. It was a moment to remember. Eight days ago, Ella met a skunk!

It was a sunny day when the gunslinger came to town waving his weapon towards all who would dare come near. ... Ella stood there, realizing, that, perhaps, tempering her enthusiasm for investigating all things that moved outdoors should have been seriously considered. ... One look should have sufficed but her zealous, youthful, happy-go-lucky nature had not yet matured. She did not know that a skunk was a different kind of soul mate, not easily understood or liked by many in the neighbourhood. They had met in a most unlikely way. ... (Mall Cop, her older brother, was kept inside, watching and wondering when he was going to be allowed outside to investigate, too.)

A flurry of activity to contain and, hopefully, eliminate this horrid smell, began immediately. ... ("What was all the fuss about, anyway? Mall Cop mused. I didn't see anything.") Volunteers were on site, working in tandem, to remove the odorous cloud that had enveloped this innocent, young pup. A tiny, joyful bundle of energy had been attacked by a skunk. She did not deserve it. ... 'Ella' hoped her 'new costume' would soon disappear. ... Nighttime would be here. She would be coming indoors to sleep, perchance to dream, if at all possible, without that scent following her into the house. ... Though she was a talkative little thing, at times, she always listened whenever mom or dad called her, unlike her older brother. Typically, he would pontificate before strongly being advised to follow instructions, now. ... (But he was still "sooo goood", his dad would say, often.)

Miss E's compliance, that day, with the stringent washing routine was a top priority. ... All regular business ceased that afternoon. ... An emergency run to the pet store for specific bathing remedies and a strict adherence to bathing protocols of untold dimension began, in earnest. ... Just like last week's, The Country Girl Inside Me, an unthinkable act had occurred. In this current medical dilemma, however, a heavy male presence dominated the scene, all working together to help purify this cute little thing and restore her to her former sweet self. (Her older brother could only wait and wonder, “Was I next for a bath? I just had one. Why do I need another, so soon?") ... I was disheartened when told of the nuisance event, but comforted by the lessons it was about to teach us all.

Thank you, Mr. Skunk, for bringing life to a standstill for all of us. ... 'Ella' had not been attacked by a predator whose modus operandi might have been claws, teeth and terror! She had been touched by an odorous cloud, an invisible dome, a skunk's unique signature of protection. Ella would live to tell the story. ... She did not require a vet's visit or emergency surgery. ... A car had not hit her. ... She had not been kidnapped. ... She was still here, in one piece and in the same body in which she awoke, that morning.

I thought of the coyotes, raccoons and other menacing creatures that I have met in the country that could have easily confronted her that day and altered our whole family's emotional landscape, in an instant, forever changing the lives of at least 13 people. In those instances, she would not be with us. Even other dogs could have posed a threat to her. This time it was a skunk, a very 'strong' reminder of what did happen and more importantly, what did not. ... Miss Cutesy Pie's personality remained in tact, though more cautious about returning outside, the next day, where 'it' might be lurking, somewhere, for her return. ... Within 24 hours and after many specialized bath treatments, she was good as new, smelling like toasted coconut now, up close and nose to nose. ...Our little girl was fine.

The outdoors is called that for a reason. Indoors is generally a safer, more predictable place, where we humans are generally the masters of our own fate.. Mother Nature's home is a place we visit. It is not our place. Danger, beauty, the unpredictable and unimaginable, in all forms, are some of her endless disguises. We must be respectful and careful. Her power is endless and far-reaching. Ella resumed her activities with her brother, Mall Cop, the next day along with her high energy, playful, overzealous cousin, Mr. Wiggles. ... She could outrun them both and send them on their way, playfully. With Mr. Skunk, however, it would be a different kind of story. ... Even if he went away, he could still be with her, in a not so funny way!

The Country Girl Inside Me

Several weeks ago our laundry pump stopped working. Located in the basement, this small piece of machinery that moves waste-water from the washing machine up to the septic tank, did not move anything, any more. ... I delayed calling the plumber, wanting to empty and clean the sink, where the water collects, before it is sent on its merry way. His assessment-visit, weeks later, only delayed fixing the problem. I was not an emergency. Others were ahead of me. That was OK with me. I had waited. ... By now, I'd been without a washing machine for over a month. Waiting a bit longer was no big deal. ... (The sump pump, the other 'pump' in the basement is a constant reminder of its true intent: to keep outside water at bay, at all times. If it  malfunctions, it makes the laundry pump look good.) 

I thought of our dogs and realized they deserved better than this. I had been running out of towels, clean bedding and scatter rugs for them. (Their outdoor play area, topped with straw, was a muddy surface now, with recent rains.) Clean towels etc. were always a necessity for our animals to protect the carpeting, and to wipe them down whenever it rained, snowed or when 'mysterious' matter appeared on them. (It soon dawned on me that the washing machine was not broken. Its companion was.) Laundry could still be done, albeit, with a different approach. ... I would be the substitute laundry pump, for as long as necessary. ...  A gorgeous sunny day, with soft breezes, greeted me the next morning, perfect for drying clothes outside. ... The time had come to revert to the country girl inside me and begin the task of carrying and emptying pails of water to the upstairs bathroom. ... With an average of 8-10 pails per load, I began my early morning jaunt, up and down. ...I washed four loads that afternoon. It was an exhilarating respite from my normal routine. ... Later that day, I watched as the dogs began to sniff, roll and stomp on their freshly washed/air-dried beds, in the room they called home. ... It hadn't been that clean for weeks, they must have been thinking. (“Thanks mommy.”)

Nearly 40 pails of water had been disposed of with great vigor that day. I felt refreshed and my bones, muscles and ligaments received a good workout. ... Strength and attitude are everything. This current laundry pump fiasco reminded me of another time-years ago - when I had to carry water upstairs to the bathroom to dispose of water. ... Our septic system, then, was old and could only handle one load of wash per day. We lived in a town, on the verge of installing sewers, so upgrading, beforehand, was a waste of time and money. Our sons were toddlers then and were the impetus to do the one important load per day, until we moved, years later!

Electricity costs more in the country. Switching to an 'approved' fireplace insert - 25 years ago - resulted in significant savings in our heating budget. We now buy firewood and the momsey has split it, stacked it and keeps the home fires burning, with it, especially, during the freezing temperatures of winter. Going without electricity, on many occasions, for long periods of time, serves to remind me that full time camping could become routine, in the future. 'Showering' with bottled water served as a reminder that anything was possible. Baking a carrot cake on the barbecue required new problem solving techniques not asked of me previously. A new age had dawned. ...When the things we take for granted are taken away from us, even momentarily, it is then we realize how important they were, all along. It is then that the country girl appears to whisper that modern day conveniences have disappeared because circumstances have been altered.

Our first house was a simple little structure on a 'floating' foundation-(no basement)-with a small bathroom, containing an aluminum shower stall. There was nothing glamorous here. ... But it was ours, as 'down to earth' as it could possibly be. (I was teaching full time, then.) Washing laundry was done in the kitchen with a movable, hand operated appliance. One or two items per 'load' was all it could handle. ... Still it was an improvement. Going to the laundromat had lost its appeal. ...When the laundry pump is working, all is well, for now. ... Having cleaned up a few basement messes, over the years, serves to remind me that 'chaos' can happen, without warning. The 'country girl' inside is there to clean, scrub, carry water, wood, cook, - the camping way, when the unthinkable, the unimaginable happens. Touching base with ourselves, in a basic way, reminds us that we're OK and everything else will be, too, eventually. We adapt because we must.

The luxuries of modern life: running water, electricity, and appliances all serve to remind us how fortunate we are, especially, when they cease functioning - for a moment or two. For me, the good things in life can be as simple as clean laundry and  fresh water. That is what the country girl inside tells me, over and over again.

The Only Offer

That first offer could very well be the only offer! ... A friend's recent foray into house-hunting resulted in a back and forth tug of signatures and the all-important and almighty house inspection. It would seem that the sellers, being quite adamant in what they were prepared to do or not do, lost sight of the point of the exercise: a give and take, to close the deal. It was a 'my house, my rules' sort of stance... Considering there were obvious flaws with the house that should have been remediated before the property was even listed, the whole affair became more complicated and stressful with each passing day. The sale failed. ... Our friends bought elsewhere - easily - in the neighbourhood! Lesson learned: be realistic, be smart, be nice.

I was in my early twenties, in a small town, on my first teaching assignment, when our used car stopped working. We could no longer afford to fix it. We placed an ad in the newspaper, hoping for a quick sale. ...(Public transportation was non-existent so another used car was a top priority, immediately.) An offer came in at $200 less than our $600 asking price. The buyer, a gentleman battling a debilitating illness, was serious about buying our car as we were about selling it. ... Though my husband had hoped for a higher offer, I cautioned him against turning down what could very well be the only offer on the table. Who doesn't want their asking price accepted?... A 'no sale' was very imminent and an albatross could soon become an extended member of our family. ...Our car sold quickly making everyone very happy.

In today's buy and sell market, we must be ever so vigilant in thinking that our house, car, or special piece of furniture is so unique that we must not veer from our asking price. Remember, an asking price is simply our opinion on what we think the value is, sometimes overblown, or undervalued, in today's market.... Market conditions, (an intangible), can influence an object's value but also what interested parties, (a tangible), can conceivably afford. ... These have a bearing on the final offer. 

We all have something called living expenses that come first before any other frill-even the so-called buying of a house or a car can be considered. Affordability is the name of the game for both sides of the sale. The important thing to remember: things can always get out of hand. ... Selling your much cherished item for less than asking is not the worse thing that can happen.

During the heyday of rising house prices, decades ago, a house lay dormant on the market until an offer came in at around $40-$50,000 under asking. ... At this point, prices had been steadily climbing just before its customary 'correction'. Surprise! The correction started its downward spiral during the sellers turn at the 'wheel of fortune'... The above 'reasonable' offer was turned down, not signed back or anything. Simply refused.. The property languished on the market for well over a year and was finally re-listed for over $100,000 less than the original asking price: double the difference of the previous year, low ball offer.. Oh, to go back in time and re-live the moment and undo our decisions. 

It would seem that a reasonable offer is what any of us can hope for or expect. Sometimes, no offer results. Being right about our beliefs in what we are trying to sell can be very costly. Remember, we think that way for all the reasons we cite. Maybe, we are wrong in some of our thinking... The buyer is simply showing interest and hoping to get the best deal the same way we are hoping for the best deal. We are both working different sides of the same equation and hoping for the best outcome possible. How much are we prepared to lose? Being inflexible can be a costly mistake. Where house prices are concerned we are our own worst enemies, sometimes. 

Housing used to be a long-term investment - even if the appreciation of its value was low over decades. Now, we have houses being flipped quickly to garner a big chunk of money. Can we apply this analogy of getting the best deal to the choosing of our life partner? Is he tall, dark and handsome? Is she slim, gorgeous and long legged? Are we bringing as much to the table as we expect others to bring to it? If the 'merchandise' doesn't 'look' like the package we've envisioned, then  there is no deal. 

Qualities of trust, loyalty and devotion are what matter most in any relationship. (And helping out with the dishes, too.) ... Close your eyes and listen to the person who isn't your type. He or she just might be exactly what you are looking for. In a dark room, at night, while at work, in the kitchen preparing dinner, cleaning the house, during lengthy conversations on the phone or texting or emailing, we all 'look' the same. The tone of a realtionship is very important.

What we hear and feel are the most important criteria for 'closing' the relationship deal. Laying the blame of past misdeeds of former companions on the doorstep of our newest one is an unfair and misplaced indictment. If we want to close the deal, we need to be 'present' and reasonable, ever so reasonable!

The Spell of Uncommon Vegetables

“Hands off my rutabaga”, he remarked, harshly.  I backed away, slowly, as to not be noticed that another piece had been taken. ... It was leftover night and there was only enough food for one of us. I would scrounge around for something else that would nourish my soul, not necessarily my body. (“Where was the ice-cream”, I thought?) He'd had a grueling day and deserved a real meal. ...This evening's menu would include chicken cutlet, mashed potato made with goat's milk and the rutabaga, cubed and ready to go. A salad with homemade dressing would accompany it. He loved rhubarb so a dressing was made using this fruit, pureed with a few other fruits, added to balsamic vinegar, maple syrup, oil and seasonings.

Rutabaga is a family favourite, in addition to brussels sprouts, spinach, bok choy, and other lesser known and popular veggies. Containing fat soluble vitamins - (A, D, K, E,) - key nutrients for optimum human health - these uncommon vegetables are nutrient rich powerhouses, enhanced by the addition of fat. (Vit. B and C are water soluble)... Fat-free is not a good strategy and the kind of fat is what matters most. Trans fat is bad. With scrambled eggs, I sometimes add a serving of brussels sprouts, steamed lightly, just enough to take the crunch away, then flavoured with a hint of butter, maybe coconut oil and a dash of nutmeg. ... Since becoming a brussel sprouts aficionado, I have improved the cooking of these health gems. ... Leaving them whole is not my answer, I have discovered. The outside becomes overcooked while waiting for the heat to reach the center of these miniature cabbages. I now cut them in half, from top to bottom and lie them face down in the pot. Cooking time has been greatly reduced.

It is amazing how an tweak here and there can vastly improve the taste of vegetables, rarely included in our diet. Some hardy vegetables are better eaten steamed rather than raw, anyway, something to do with its raw affect on the thyroid gland. (Momsey's thyroid is such a slowpoke. Momsey is not!) ... Squash, onions, sweet potatoes and garlic are also high on my list of yummy health foods. They all add incredible flavours while satisfying my appetite and boosting immunity, all around. Momsey sometimes thinks she's had dessert. Barbecuing these vegetables, using indirect heat with a dab of coconut/olive oil and/or butter adds a new dimension of flavour when all these 'foods' are thrown together. A little always goes a long way.

My love affair with vegetables began as a child, starting with pickled hot banana peppers, part of my mother's summer canning ritual. A caraway/rye bread sandwich with slices of pickled pepper, topped any dessert back then. Along with salads, they were my comfort foods, a simple, healthier version of 'dessert'. Homemade pickles, everyone's favourite food, completed another package for me. In the last few years, I have ventured into the world of zucchini, eggplant, sweet potatoes and using red cabbage more often in salads. Making the famous sweet and sour cabbage has never been so easy. Its accompaniment to schnitzel and spaetzle is a dinner-time hit. We are what we eat so it behooves us to try new vegetables and incorporate them into our diet in as many different ways as possible. Disguising them helps us to benefit from their nutritional content as well as their taste and texture.

Lately, I've begun thinking about raw garlic, a prebiotic, - a top food flavour guru and health star - in making chocolate cake. Could that ever happen? ... If carrots and zucchini can be disguised, in cakes, then maybe, there is a way to incorporate garlic, too. Coffee liquid would need to be used to help mask the garlic's pungent flavour of course. It is worth pursuing since Momsey loves mocha chocolate cakes and garlic - not necessarily at the same time.

At the bottom of my list of rarely eaten vegetables would have to be the parsnip. Once upon a time, I made something called parsnip patties, a eerily looking burger that tasted quite unique. I had forgotten about my early experience with this unusual vegetable. Recently, I have begun to pair it with popular ones like 'bay leaves', carrots, celery and onions in making chicken soup/broth. Parsnip adds a subtle character to this 'medicinal' mixture. When these pairings are missing, there is a discernible difference in overall flavour. Fresh cilantro, parsley, dill, thyme and other herbs add fresh, unblemished flavour to your meals bringing with them a cleansing feel to eating and to the body.

Experimenting with recipes opens the door to finding new and exciting ways to introduce all vegetables into our meal time preparation. When we think of comfort foods, vegetables should be right at the top of the list. Move over ice cream, apple pie and chocolate cake.  For Momsey - rutabaga, brussel sprouts, bok choy and bean sprouts are here to stay - to comfort me, too.

Our Preemie's Miracle Machines!

My introduction into motherhood was stark and without warning. ... The year was 1979. He arrived 13 weeks too soon, with no chance of survival. ... The internet did not exist, then. We found ourselves in a medical maelstrom: trying to help save the life of our three-month-premature baby at a time when little could be done for his stage of development. His zero chance of survival, at birth, was soon upgraded to a 10% chance - two days later - when the doctors learned their new patient would be immediately receiving shipments of mother's milk - both fresh and frozen - 7 mornings a week. This elixir of life would become an awesome secret weapon in our son's arsenal of bacteria fighting tools. ...  But soon more 'help' than we could have ever imagined would arrive to assist us in our fight to keep our son alive!

Manual milk expression began in earnest, the afternoon of his birth. It was a tedious and sometimes messy labour of love, to be sure. It was also an experience of ignorance as I began to question the nurse what to do, how to do it and would I explode, somehow? (We had just begun prenatal classes, the week prior.) ... She helped me with the basics and reassured me that I was not at risk of exploding! ...  Warm cloths would help release the pressure and the milk, the creamy, nutrient rich food my body was producing immediately after his birth. We were  part of a grandiose team effort.... From the beginning, milk production was able to keep pace with the dietary needs of our three pound two ounce preemie, whose weight  had dropped to two pounds twelve ounces, days later. It was easy to give him what he needed, though collecting it was sometimes a challenge. ... Using a hand held plastic 'horn' like tool, I collected, dutifully, round the clock and stored the milk in the fridge for immediate use; the freezer, for any excess. (Human milk's 'shelf' life was poor.) While in hospital our son grew one ounce per day.

Arriving home two months later, our son would begin to gain valuable ounces. His nutritional demands, though, began to outpace my ability to accommodate his burgeoning weight status. (Formula supplementation was added as needed) Though he was now home, more relaxed, in a less fretful state and in a more stress free environment, he still could not get the 'knack' of nursing. The 'latching' technique was unfamiliar to him. He had grown used to feeding the easy way, using the bottle with its familiar rubber nipple. Whenever I tried introducing him to the 'nursing technique', he would struggle to latch on. It was not good. If he wasn't able to feed directly from me, easily, then I simply continued as before: collecting and storing the milk in bottles - as I had for the past two months while he lay in hospital. ...

The curse of all premature babies, especially male preemies, was the bacterial army invading their digestive tract, slowly destroying the linings of this vast food delivery network. .(Mom's milk was the key to battling these internal diseases, I learned only two years ago.) ... I contacted the La Leche League, in 1979, an organization for nursing moms, for advice...It was here that I would discover the existence of two miracle machines that would literally change our lives overnight! The complete feeding routine would be facilitated in two dramatic ways. ...One machine would literally empty the milk ducts in record time while the other machine would facilitate the nursing technique for our son, as I held him close. ... Results were immediate and incredible!. Teaching him on my own would have proved a lengthy trial and futile, at best, frustrating him further and reducing milk production to perilous levels. These new methods were simple to use and produced excellent results, each and every time. ...We rented these miracle machines for as long as was needed. ... (Perfection never looked so good!) ...  Gaining weight was critical to our son's health and strength. ...  Since his sucking reflex was still immature and underdeveloped, the one machine, rented for him, helped our baby gain valuable 'work' experience. By 4 months of age, he was able to nurse on his own, a remarkable learning accomplishment, considering the feeding struggles he had endured. ... Partnering with a machine, I had never heard of, to help teach our son how to breastfeed succeeded beyond our wildest dreams. ... The more frequently he nursed, the more milk was produced and the stronger he became. Life settled into a wonderful routine.

Our first-born was nearly five months old when the milk supply dried up. A second preemie was on his way. Though our second child would 'attempt' to assert his independence by 5 months gestation, he remained sequestered, with medical intervention, until birth, arriving one month early. Since I was a poor candidate for pregnancy, we did not wait. Our third child was born nearly two years later, 6 weeks early. ...

Our dogged determination to do what was necessary for our first born preemie and the lengths we went to help him survive, helped pave the way for our sons' own focused learning journeys, in years to come. We did what we had to do! Freedom never tasted so good!

"The Night The World Exploded"

The year was 1957 when The Night the World Exploded was released. This science fiction thriller, depicting civilization on the brink of extinction from worldwide earthquakes, was one of many science- based motion pictures of that era. ... A scene in the movie shows an 'electrodata machine that thinks like a brain' occupying a whole room where scientists are working. This chilling moment seemed to foretell of greater things to come. Today, our modern day 'electrodata machine' is called a desktop computer and is able to store, to memory, millions of pieces of data. Imagine, the computer was coming of age in an original 'old' motion picture from the golden age of Hollywood - over 60 years ago! ... How prophetic. ... Hollywood and science, it would seem, are bankable stars, an unbeatable combination, in teaching us about the future. ...  

Are today's movies reliable delivery systems of scientific information? ... As they entertain us, are they also portraying the endless possibilities that exist for us, too?... I was intrigued by the words and wisdom in The Night the World Exploded, whose simple dialogue provided insights into the earth's changing status - 60 years ago! ... As the movie unfolds, a scientist remarks, “We've mistreated the earth so long it's amazing it has lasted this long”. Today, we have documentaries that have put this theory to the test, in many different treatises, to see what would happen to civilization, if man's basic 'survival' elements - clean water, sunlight, food sources and heat- changed dramatically. ... Near the end of the movie, in a scene reminiscent of many in science fiction movies, a law enforcement officer remarks, “It's dangerous living today”. after being warned that volunteering to help these scientists might be risky to his life. ... It seems that movies from the 50's, whose Hollywood-style special effects are primitive by today's standards, were still credible scientific vehicles, then, giving us a taste of what science- disguised as mother nature - had in mind for us down the road. ... 

Many of today's big screen sci-fi thrillers, television documentaries and series hypothesize, then give credence to the creative ideas/processes of those silly motion picture ideas of Hollywood's golden age. ... .. Movies from the 50's such as Invasion of the Body Snatchers, War of the Worlds, and an all time family favourite, Creature From the Black Lagoon gave audiences suspense filled action throughout while introducing the audience to yet another layer of the absurd or unbelievable, in science. In the recent sci-fi thriller, War of the Worlds, starring Tom Cruise, an incredible adaptation of the original was created. ... In this newer version, a more futuristic format with more frightening implications takes the audience to a place where man is no longer master of his own fate and is now simply prey for this new predatorial life form-from another planet.----Then we have Jurassic Park, the gold standard of all things 'science'. ...What more can be said here?

There are lessons to be learned when we watch movies from the past. ...I was a little girl when movie characters brought the realm and realism of science fiction and all other genres into my very small world. ..There was horror, mystery/suspense, romance and comedy. ... Mature stars, such as Claude Rains, Lon Chaney, Lauren Bacall, Cary Grant, Lucille Ball, Humphrey Bogart, and Brian Donlevy, brought the audience incredible plot lines delivered with spot-on dialogue to match, in clear, concise tones in recognizable voices. The scripts/plot lines of a bygone era brought us entertainment in all forms. For me, the magic was always in the actors' dialogue. ... The words meant something as they moved the action. Today, not all movies are for 'family' viewing. And why are some forms of dialogue so painful to hear? What is the point other than to embarrass and restrict the younger 'patrons of the arts' from participating? 

In movies' golden age, character development seemed to matter. Dialogue mattered more. The people- otherwise known as actors - delivered the plotlines, crisply, thoughtfully and with integrity. ... All movies were for family viewing. ...We may laugh at old movies' primitive style but many of today's big screen wonders have been re-imagined on the backs of those movies from the golden age of Hollywood. ... Perhaps we rely too much on the magic of computer graphics, special effects and other incredible feats of mechanical and artistic genius, to the extreme, to bring realism to the audiences today. ...

I am thrilled to be able to revisit movies from today's recent past as well as from the golden age of Hollywood. I am drawn to the savvy 'literary' content, believable plots and plausible endings. Today, I watched an 'old' 1984 movie, “Beverly Hills Cop” starring Eddie Murphy. I laughed as I listened and worked nearby. The movie is timeless. Now, that's entertainment!

High School: Testing the Limits of Thought and Reason

High school became the 'adult' training ground for our three sons. The period from grades 9-12/13 would be a beginning, a tumultuous time of deep reflection, daily decision-making, a crucial period of testing the limits of thought and reason! ... The 'familial' association that had become a cornerstone of their lives, since birth, was now up close and personal, in every choice they made. ... They had been living with the people who had raised them, cared for them and understood them well. The time for flight was soon approaching. ...

Adulthood had arrived - years before it was officially mandated. This burgeoning 'apprenticeship' program was now in effect!... High school was here, baiting their every want and need. Our sons had the size, intellect and will to do as they pleased, they were  told. But there was a cost to this bravado! Indeed there was. (Everything we do has a cost, they were reminded.) ... Peer pressure, of all stripes, was now up close and personal, demonstrating its unrelenting power over mind and body. ... A whole new perspective and directive now influenced everything our sons did, thought and felt. These were the new 'formative' years. ...

Real life with real meaning had arrived ... These daily reminders of life's choices and the lessons learned from these decisions would take them into the future. ... The talk to the teachers, have you done your homework, it's time for bed mentality of the 'elementary' school period was gone. In its place, a new day had arrived. ... Boundaries were set and very clear expectations given, with consequences a real threat to their daily lives. Their opinions, thoughts, ideas would now have 'immediate' life impact. They were living in this real life 'simulator', the effects of which would be felt for years to come.

Every interaction with people or animals tells us a personal truth about ourselves. Early on, our sons' connection with pets, gave them insights into another kind of truth about people and the cruelty, sometimes, shown these animal creatures. (The world was not always a kind, peaceful, reasonable or loving place for man or beast.) ...This 'early bonding' with animals (dogs, cats, and other animals) helped our boys build strong emotional ties, reminding them of the significance of the animal world on man's health and future.. (One day, they would all become pet owners themselves to a host of rescued animals - as mom and dad had before them.)

There was a conundrum to living at home, however. It was called mom and dad, these 'master's' of their fate. ...Our simple philosophy: “Be nice. act responsibly, help out and do your best in whatever endeavour you undertake, and wherever you go” gave them clear guidelines as to what was expected, each and every day. ... Spending earnings from part time jobs - while living at home - had consequences called paying their share of household/living expenses, a common affliction facing all who call themselves adults. ... Our sons could keep their money or give us half, if they chose to spend, at their discretion. The choice was theirs. They could not have it both ways. Life did not work that way. ... (Having 100% discretionary income was an illusion! ) ...There were bills to be paid, rent/mortgage/ house/car insurance costs, house and car repair bills, vet bills, hydro, groceries, etc. - costs associated with living an independent life.  Living at home, while in high school, was a benefit, not to be taken lightly. (The front door was a daily reminder, showing them there was 'another' way!) They learned very quickly the significance of current financial decisions and the future 'purchasing' power of money saved. This understanding and appreciation of money's power would bode well for them. It would be one of life's greatest lessons. ... Their reputation and credit rating now had real meaning, never to be taken lightly, under any circumstances! ... Financial misdirection, early on, can have serious repercussions, later. They knew.  As long as our sons saved most of their hard earned money and spent almost nothing, access to their largess remained largely intact, for their future use, when they no longer lived at home. The future was an unknown, with unpredictable outcomes. Being prepared was the key to financial security and security in general. (Our sons never asked for money and were reluctant to accept it. Their gratitude was evident. This philosophy holds true to this day.)

The use of the family cars was a privilege. It was here that our sons learned about liability, the law, the rules of the road and the dire consequences of flaunting such directives. ... The purchase of a car, expensive transportation equipment that depreciated in value, upon acquisition, was never a buying consideration. It made no sense. It was simply a transportation 'tool' not to be revered as a status symbol. They knew. They were grateful simply to 'rent' the vehicle whose owners allowed them access. ...

With university/college, looming on the horizon, the daily lessons of high school life kept things lively and real, every day of the week. With this newly acquired concept called 'freedom', came its nemesis - consequences. It would help establish a respectful appreciation for reaching adulthood, a reflective time that guided their every move. ... Though we had stopped parenting our sons many years ago, it was now their turn to be in charge. ... The real fun was just beginning!