It's up to us: what will we do about bullying?

Today's post was written by my 16 year old daughter. Please read it, I think she has something important to say. xoxo T.

Tyler Clementi.

Asher Brown.

Seth Walsh.

Justin Aaberg.

Raymond Chase.

William (Billy) Lucas.

You might not have heard these names. These are all boys who committed suicide in the last few months after being bullied due to their sexual orientation. Who knows what they felt? Alone, ostracized? Like life wasn't worth living. Like they didn't matter? Their acts of desperation could have gone unnoticed. Thing is, we saw. The internet saw. First one, then another, then hundreds, then thousands of people took a stand. In their own way, everyone said that these boys…and so many like them…matter.

Then, the internet spoke. (Well, it didn't really. It's inanimate. Go with me here, I'm making a point.)

It started with an idea.

Social media spread the idea to quite literally thousands of people.

The idea was simple: wear purple (the color of spirit on the LGBTQ flag) on October 20, 2010 in memory of those boys, and for all the other kids out there who may feel the same way.

So today, I wore purple. To my surprise, there were other kids in my (conservative Christian) class who wore purple. Not to mention the thousands of people all around the world. Teachers, parents, talk show hosts. We took a stand against bullying, against the idea that what happened to these boys was okay.

Bullying is common now. Before, insults were thrown in front of a class, maybe twenty people. Now, cyber bullying is the norm. Hateful anonymous comments, bringing down the person in front of everyone on the internet...whole schools. But kids will be kids, right? They need to suck it up. Learn to ignore it. A common answer to the problem, and not a solution.

But you know what?

I think it's going to be my generation that changes it. We know social media. Some of us communicate mostly through email, facebook and texting. We get how to make a difference. And we do. My generation will be the one that steps up and says it isn't okay.

It isn't okay to make fun of someone. To discriminate based on age, or race, or sexual orientation or disability or intelligence or anything else.

It isn't okay to have an Us vs. Them mentality.

It isn't okay to talk about how loving God is and then hate anyone who is different.

It isn't okay.

And when that happens, when we step up…it will change.

In 1983, D.A.R.E (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) was founded. It has changed lives. Imagine what it could be like if there was a similar approach to bullying. In one generation, D.A.R.E made drugs uncool. Nearly every school age kid knows what the red ribbon means. If something similar could be accomplished for bullying...imagine what could happen.

Hate is learned and we need to lead by example. The things we learn in kindergarten can affect the rest of our lives. If we start from the bottom and work up, we can change hearts. If we could show from the beginning that bullying isn't okay...just imagine it.

If we change the mindset behind bullying, imagine how drastically different our world might be.

It's going to start with us.

Now, don't just imagine it. Let's make it a reality.

A fairy, a fort and a kiss..and they all lived happily ever after. For now.

One of the best things about homeschooling is that my kids have the opportunity to explore the things they are most interested in. JBug plays the piano, completely self-taught. She isn't a concert pianist, but she can play what she hears and likes. Pretty impressive.

On Friday, she held an impromptu photo shoot with her siblings. These are her pictures, taken completely by her...I just did a bit of photo tweaking. Clearly, she has an eye for photography, as well as an ear for music. Artistic, much?

What's better than kissing your brother? Making him grimace while doing it!

T, who couldn't get these shots if she tried

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You want fries with that? Oh wait, I thought I was somewhere else...

Tomorrow, Nov.14th, our church is doing a special Serve Day...about 2,000 of us are fanning out into our community and taking part in various projects throughout the day. My family has signed up to plant vegetation at Brea Olinda high school, to replenish the plants that were there before the big fire last year. We are especially concentrating upon a slope, hopefully to get some anchor for the soil before the rainy season comes.

It is so easy to say that we don't have time to serve. Sure, we are all busy, I know our family is! But to my way of thinking, we don't have time not to serve..if not us, then who?

I leave you with one of the funniest videos I have seen in a long time. This guy's YouTube account is a must-view.

T, who's bringing servin' back, yeah.

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How to fix a suck-egg day in one easy step

Yesterday was one of those "everything go wrong" days... I can't point to a ton of things, just little stuff. The cat decided to make my house her litter box (anyone want to kill my a cat??) Yeah, right now, her poop is very weak with me...I am wondering why I keep her around.

I was still dealing with the aftermath of going out and things going wrong. My son had a "diet incident" while staying with his aunt and spent Saturday afternoon in the bathroom, missing a soccer game with his grandparents, and guess who is mad at me? Yeah, they are. As if I could control my son's bowel habits. (autism sucks sometimes, seriously) Then JMan and I spent the afternoon bickering over a misunderstanding, that just sucks eggs. So I was already in a bad mood.

Then I didn't sleep well, had nightmares. Sunday, we all had stuffy noses and sore throats so we missed church. And JMan and I woke up grumpy, and just there was more miscommunication all day. (Asperger's can #suckit) I was feeling really down, and wondering why I bothered to stick around instead of running away with the gypsies get outta bed. I broke a glass, dealt with JBear's sass (can I just put him on the curb for the gypsies??) and was not very receptive or expressive when JMan came home from Costco. I was running around doing laundry, and trying not to snap at the kids when I looked on the couch and burst into tears.

These were waiting for me in front of my computer. For no reason, except just to be thoughtful (and my Love Language is Gifts and Acts of Service, so it meant the world to me). Notice the chocolate. This man knows the way to my heart.

I think I'll keep him.

T, who was pleasantly surprised

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We Interrupt The Regular Flow Of This Blog...

Warning, this post is about girly stuff, and time of the month and flow and bad skin, so be warned. If you are squeamish, come back tomorrow. Just know this is part of a being a woman, and sometimes you just have to talk about it. Because our mothers didn't talk about it, and now, we have to find all of our information on Google! More autism posts to come, but today we are discussing getting older and how much it sucks.

I didn't start my period until I was 15 and a half. I was the last of my friends and I used to read Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume and just lament the fact that that special thing that makes me a woman hadn't happened to me yet. When it finally did, I was so excited, I just about told my father! (but I didn't tell him because, come on, my dad??) Also, he would have been absolutely mortified. He was a bit reserved, a firm gruff Army guy. Don't show weakness, never let them see you sweat. When I kissed him goodnight, it was on the forehead. So, yeah, telling Daddy all about my period? Not such a hot idea.

Ok, so like I said, I was 15 when I started, and I started with a vengeance. For years, I have had very heavy bleeding, 7 days, we are talking the Superwoman plugs. Right. I used to get cramps so bad in high school that I popped Advil like candy. Very hideous. Sometimes, I would even stay home, but I didn't get to do that very often. My mother was more the slave driver "If you aren't dead you can make it to school" type. So I suffered for womanhood every 28 days, like clockwork, spent 7 days sloughing off the dead lining of my uterus and called it part of Being a Woman. I got used to it.

After my 3rd child, I started slowing down a bit. It was nice. Now, no longer did a period last an entire week, I was down to 5 days. And a bit lighter flow, which was also a welcome change. Getting older has some perks, I suppose. But with age, comes your child growing as well. Which is all well and good, unless they are female and teenage, then they start the whole process as well.

I pride myself upon being a strong woman. When I was in an office environment, I was usually the strong hormone leader, and women would line up behind my cycle. (Did you know this happens? When many women work closely together their cycles will coincide, with one woman being the evolutionary hormonal leader.) I was the driver, and of course, right? And then SHE showed up on the scene. My daughter.

In the last year, she has played havoc with my cycles, and it is killing me. This last time, I was done. Done, I tell you! And just a few days later, I started my cycle all over again. And it is because she was PMSing and now is the young, fertile (ack I don't like using that word in the context of my daughter!) strong hormone woman. And I? I am a crone.

I am only 42. (and I am staying that age, after all, it is the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything...so only anniversaries from now on..the 1st Anniversary of my 42nd year and so on). I have noticed in the last few months that I have moles and brown spots I didn't have before. My wonderful smooth skin isn't so smooth anymore. Even on my eyelids, I have little bumps that make putting on eye makeup a pain in the butt. Don't get me wrong, YOU can't see these things. They aren't that noticeable. But I can tell, and it is bugging me! I now have a bump on the side of my nose that wasn't there a year ago. I see little laugh lines (bull, they are wrinkles you can't fool me) around my eyes. I look tired. In short, I look kind of like my mom!

This is not okay with me! My mom is old! And I am young! Vibrant! Energetic! I feel like those hot young 24 year olds! Except...

About six months ago, I wasn't feeling very well. I was running an errand and had a cold. I stopped in at Starbucks to pick up a chai tea latte, one of my favorite pick-me-ups when I am feeling under the weather, and noticed a schlumpy woman in Jamba Juice as I walked by. She was about my age, but was wearing a green velour sweatsuit. Her hair was back in a ponytail and she didn't look well. My thought was, "Wow, that woman is really letting herself go." And then I realized, I was looking at my own reflection! Yeah.

I think I have some sort of Body Morph Disorder. Many women look in the mirror and are appalled by what they see. I look in the mirror and see someone hotter than she really is. That day in front of Jamba Juice was a rude awakening. I am no longer young and hot. (if I ever was) I am growing old. Now I suppose I could just lie down and die, or grow old gracefully but I refuse to do that, I am too stubborn. Instead, I will just continue to be hot, thank you very much. Even if that hotness is just in my own mind. Sex (ack! She said THAT word) is pretty great at 40+... and youth truly is wasted on the young. If I could take my knowledge at 42 back to when I was 22, I would be unstoppable. But, since I can't do that, I have to settle for my new title, a badge of honor, and let the silly 20 year olds be young and insecure.They don't want to play with me anymore...to them, I am old. That's hard to accept. I am secure in my age, now I just have to become secure in my image.

T, who asks who that middle-aged woman is in the mirror

How Faith Is Born

When I was 15, I knew God loved me. Sometimes, I would go out at night, but always made it home by curfew. I would come home and turn the tv on, watching movies until dawn. I am a night owl, by birth, I think, so I am at my best in the wee hours of the morning. I would watch as one movie melded into another, as I was swept away into new worlds. When the Movie Go Round would end, the first vestiges of light would be peeking out from around the moon, and soon after, the sun would rise. I would stand on my porch, in Central California, in the early morning fog, and I would feel alive.

My childhood home was a 3 bedroom ranch house with a bit of property, a rural suburb of a larger city, which really wasn't large at all. My town didn't even have it's own post office, but I had horses so that more than made up for it. Over the years, my family had a small parade of animals: horses, a calf, pigs, ducks, chickens. We had rabbits for a very short time, until our neighbor's dog ripped open the cages and ate them. I remember the tears of both myself and my younger brother. I learned a lesson about the food chain that day. Also, lessons about cruelty, predatory behavior and that neglect and ignorance of your animals is abuse. The neighbor, a puffy swagger of a man was not bothered when he learned his dog had killed my rabbits in cold blood. I realized that day there are things more evil than an animal following its biological impulses. The dog couldn't be helped. The man loosely known as his keeper was another story.

But, this story is about God. On those mornings, with the fog blanketing everything in stillness, I could feel God. In Monterey County, the fog does not come in on little cat feet, contrary to what Carl Sandburg wrote. No, in Monterey County, the fog, which is ever-present, settles in with a thud. It doesn't so much float as paint the skies, the fences, the houses in a thick coating of black and white. Very like my beloved late night movies. Life becomes grainy and indistinct, and takes on an air of unreality.

Under the spell of the fog, ordinary spiders' web becomes coated with diamonds, the dew from the fog enveloping each strand the way Winston drips his jewels on movie stars. (The effect of course, pales in comparison to what the Master Jeweler creates). The fog muffles sounds, and though at five in the morning, there isn't much sound to speak of, what is there is muted, indistinct. Save for the sounds of the animals, who are talking to their Maker, there isn't much conversation.

I would stand on the front porch, and feel the enormity of Life...and, as teenagers are wont to do, believe it was all for me. It really felt that way. God was wooing me, with the day, the animals, the utter joy and peace that emanated from Him on those mornings. I fell in love with my Creator, the one who had woven and spun all that I could see, and so much more that I could not. I could feel the absolute sense of order, and the eye for beauty that one who was so busy with the world, would not seem to have time to find important. And yet, he did. And since I was the only one awake, it was all for me. I would pet my horse as my dog happily trotted at my heels and I would feel a kinship, a certain conspiracy since we knew the secret. God was alive and busy in the world. More importantly, he loved us.

I didn't grow up in a home where faith was the answer. In fact, my childhood taught me to believe mostly in myself. I still have no idea how I came to faith, except those mornings were instrumental in helping me to understand God. I hadn't read the Bible, though I had been to Sunday School some, with friends. But it was he who made himself known to me that pulled me to him. Though I had many years where I questioned, and a brief time in my youth where I followed, that time marked me indelibly as His. I didn't understand doctrine, but I understood Love. It was enough. It was a start.

T, who is waxing poetic tonight

Now I Can Get That Boob Job

This book is preparing to be released next month. And we wonder why girls' self-esteem is in the toilet? If mommy ain't happy with herself, how can she expect her daughter to be happy with what she is? It was written by a plastic surgeon to help parents explain why mother's face and body have changed drastically and why the child should nor fear that body snatchers have come in the night, replacing Mommy with a Desperate Housewife. This trend scares me. Why can't we all just age, if not gracefully, at least, with aplomb?

T, who thinks wrinkles give her Character

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