Why I have a dog

This is our dog, Lyra:



I am not a dog person. Dogs have smelly breath, and they pant in your face with it, and they drool, and they jump on you - especially when their paws are muddy. And if they're small enough to fit in your lap, they're yippy. And if they're large enough to not be yippy, they're big enough to knock you down if they jump on you...I could go on and on.

No offense to my friends who are dog people. I know a lot of you aren't cat people, and, even though I'm a cat person, I think we can still love each other despite our differences. Actually, to be more accurate, until I had Elizabeth, I was a cat person. Now, I'm afraid to admit, but I'm not currently really any kind of animal person - except maybe a stuffed animal person. Right now, I just don't see a need to have anything else that requires a single moment of my already over-stretched time.

But, back to the dog thing. A major change in our household happened at the beginning of 2006. Through a strange chain of events, we got a dog. Not just any dog. I have to admit, she really is (99% of the time) about the best behaved dog that you ever will meet. But, she is also a dog with really long white hair - that no matter what we do seems to spread itself across every inch of our house, especially when it blows out in chunks twice a year. A dog that barks for up to 30 minutes straight when the garage door goes down and I'm alone in the house trying to work. A dog that throws up (or worse) every time there's a thunderstorm and we're not home. A dog that has scratched my new hardwood floors and ruined my carpet.

Why, you ask, did I get this dog that I so obviously can't stand? I got this dog, not because I'm a dog person (as previously explained), but because I am a "Jonathan" person. Jonathan is my 16yo stepson. But, I just can't seem to call him that. To me, he's just my son. I'm not trying to take the place of his mother, who he still loves and sees as much as he can, but I also don't feel like "stepson" adequately sums up the feelings I have for him.

Jonathan has lived with me (and his father, of course) full-time, except for school holidays and occasional weekends, since he was 10 years old. When I married his father, I committed to love the TWO of them - through the good times and the bad times. And, as anyone who has a teenage son knows, there are plenty of both to go around. I have to admit, it can be a struggle every time we have to repeat the monotonous conversation about making sure his homework is turned in on time. And, he probably doesn't realize it, but grounding him is often more of a punishment for us than for him. But, fortunately, there are many other things about him that make him easy to love - like when I see what a wonderful sense of humor he has developed, how incredible he is with his younger sister, or how thoughtful and generous he has become. I'm blessed to be allowed to spend so much time with him and have him as part of my family. His father and I are both very proud of his accomplishments and the young man he has become - and we look forward to watching him truly claim all of his potential and become the man God intended him to be as he continues to grow and mature.

It would be an understatement to tell you that Jonathan is a person of very few words. As one of his teachers once told us, he acts like words are in short commodity, and tries to use as few of them as possible (at least with adults). Sometimes (ok, all the time), this can make conversations difficult. It can be unnerving to try to start conversations, only to get such short, brief, seemingly uninterested answers. But, I have decided that this is just a communication barrier that exists between us. One that I hope will someday disappear, as he feels more comfortable opening up to and talking to me, but one that is still there right now. So, while it's difficult for me to tell him how I feel about him, due to our extreme differences in conversation styles, I have decided to show him in the only concrete way I have found so far. I have a dog. Not because I love dogs. Not because I even like dogs. But, because I love my son Jonathan. More than I have the courage to tell him. But, if he ever wonders how I feel about him, he just has to look into those two big eyes of that adorable pooch, and know that my actions are speaking louder than my words ever could. Jonathan, I love you. And, that is why I have a dog.

Because, sometimes being a mother (or stepmother) means that a smile on your child's face is worth infinitely more than a smile on your own.

The color of friendship

I recently finished reading "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. I really enjoyed the book, and it left me with two thoughts. First, I really wished I could have given this book to my grandmother, Mother Dot, to read. I think she would have enjoyed remembering the time period in which it was written, plus it reminded me a lot of her favorite book of all time, "To Kill a Mockingbird," which she read about once a month up until the time she died at age 98.

But, most of all, it made me thankful that I did not grow up in a time period, region, or most of all, family, that taught me that people were inferior because their skin color was different than mine. As parents, we are the most influential people in our childrens' lives. And what we say and do is watched, learned, and imitated by our children even when we don't realize it.

While reading this book, I realized that my parents were raised in roughly the same time period as I was reading about. They both spent all or portions of their childhood in southern states. Yet, they both managed to learn, and teach to their children, that a person's skin color does not determine their worth. I am thankful to my parents for this.

To be honest, I can never remember my parents having a conversation with me about how I should treat people that have a different skin color than mine. In our household, it was just expected that you treated everyone the same - black, white, or green, it didn't matter. My parents never had to sit down and tell me this, because that's how they acted to everyone around them. Unlike many of the people around them, my parents had no problem sending their children to an inner city school. And, that is something I am very thankful for. Because while attending that school, I learned that there are nice people, and not so nice people, in every so-called category (geeks, preps, jocks, rich, poor, whites, blacks, etc.). And that knowledge encouraged me to seek out friendships in places I might have been hesitant to do so otherwise.

Which leads me to another lesson on this subject that I have learned recently - not from my parents, but from my daughter. My daughter's best friend, Anna, lives around the corner from us. The two girls love each other so much, and it's so sweet to watch them together. Ever since Elizabeth was barely able to walk, as soon as these two girls saw each other, they would start running toward each other and hug and jump around together - and they still do. Anna is the sweetest girl you will ever meet, with a beautiful smile that lights up a room. And, she is black.

Here are pictures of the two girls from September 2008:






And again two years later at Elizabeth's 5th birthday party:





A while back, after playing with Anna, Elizabeth came to me looking very sad. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, "Mommy, Anna looks very different than me." My heart sank a little bit hearing those words. I was worried that she had somehow picked up on the world's view of their "differences" and it would taint the beauty of their friendship. But, I put on a smile, and asked her, "Oh, yeah? What do you think is different?" And then she sighed, as if it was hard to have such a dunce for a parent (come to think of it, it was very similar to the sigh I often get from my teenager!). She shrugged her shoulders, and in a voice that portrayed this was the most obvious thing in the world, she said, "Haven't you noticed? Anna's hair is curly, and my hair is straight!" I laughed out loud in relief when she said this. Then, explained to her that God makes hair in all different colors and textures, and everyone's hair is beautiful in its own special way.

To this day, Elizabeth has never once mentioned the fact that Anna has a different skin color than her. Instead, when she looks at Anna, she doesn't notice if she's black or white. She just sees her best friend.

Recently, Elizabeth and I were playing a game where I would say a feeling or thing, and she would tell me what color it reminded her of. Some of the answers were easy for her (i.e., blue = sad), while others were harder (i.e., proud). One in particular that stumped her was the word, "friend." (She ended up picking pink, because it's her favorite color.) But, later, when I thought about it, I realized that there is a better answer for the word "friend." To me, the color of true friendship is "clear." With a true friend, you don't have to paint yourself a certain color - they see you exactly the way you are, and love you anyway. I've had to learn this lesson the hard way in life on a few occasions, when I've found out that people I thought were friends really were not. But, it's amazing to me that my young daughter is the one who has demonstrated this principle for me most vividly. When she looks at her best friend, she doesn't see her as "black" or "white" - just as "Anna." And, that's exactly the way it should be.

5th birthday letter

Dear Elizabeth,

When you were about to turn 1 year old, I decided I would write you a letter for each of your birthdays, so some day you could go back and read about what you were like at that age, and be reminded of how much I’ve always loved you. I can’t believe it’s already time to sit down and write Version 5 of the birthday letters, but it’s true – your 5th birthday is only 2 days away.

This year has been such a wonderful year with you. You’re about to graduate from preschool, and are so excited to be signed up to start kindergarten in August. In fact, you were so disappointed that you couldn’t start the day we signed you up! Your only consolation was the knowledge that your cousin Brooke had to wait to start kindergarten too. (Yes, you’ve inherited our family’s competitive gene as well.) I, on the other hand, find it very bittersweet to think of that day rapidly approaching. I know you will run into the school, excited about all the possibilities, while I will wave goodbye and try not to cry, wondering how my baby girl could be so big and grown up already.

But, in fact, there is very little about you that is “babyish” anymore. Of all your baby talk, the only word that you still use is “butcept” (instead of except), and I can’t bear to tell you the real word, because then all of your baby ways will be completely gone.

Sometimes, I find it hard to believe that you are my daughter. I was always such a shy child, while you’re eager to go to the park and play with any new friend you meet that day. I was a tomboy, while you are such a girly-girl. In fact, you are now giving me fashion advice, and even making sure my shoes and necklaces match my outfits before I leave the house. For you, the highlight of turning 5 has been getting your ears pierced and showing off your new sparkly pink earrings, while I still have yet to get my ears pierced, even as an adult. But, even with those differences, we are still very alike in other ways. I still refer to you as my “mini-me,” because there is such an unmistakable family resemblance. You even got your hair cut like mine earlier this year, because you wanted to be “just like Mommy.” And, we both love to read, sing, act goofy, and just spend time with each other. I’m pleased to know that I’m still your favorite playmate, and try to cherish the time we spend together, because I know your opinion of me may change drastically in just a few short years. I still have to be away from you more than I want to because of work, but I hope you will remember the many fun times we have together - shopping trips, makeovers, cooking, games, etc. – instead of the times I was away.

This year, your empathy and compassion have grown even more than your physical stature. You have learned how to relate to other people, and your sensitive nature shines through in your relationships. You have cried the hardest this year on the few occasions when you realized you had unintentionally hurt someone else’s feelings. I am so proud of you for already having learned the lesson that your words and actions can cause great joy or great sorrow, and your sweet nature makes you strive to bring joy to those around you.

It has also brought me great joy this year to watch you learn more about Jesus Christ – and fall in love with him. You have openly invited him to live in your heart, and at any time during the day, you will ask us to stop and pray with you. I know God smiles at your sweet prayers just as much as I do. Every day, you remind me of God’s miracles all around us. And the excitement you experience as you learn about Jesus is a good reminder to me of the excitement I need to have for our Savior as well. Even before you were born, your father and I were praying that you would love Jesus. And it is so exciting for us to be able to witness that prayer being answered.

You are my precious baby girl. (And I’m the only one you still let call you that. To everyone else, you are a BIG girl…) I love you so much. Thank you for letting me see the world through your eyes, and making me a better person because of it.

Happy Birthday, Libby Lou. I love you!

Mommy

Winter fun

All of Lexington has been excited this week because a "winter storm" was predicted for today. The schools were closed today, before even a single snowflake had fallen. The snow started falling lightly this morning - right in the middle of my run, of course - and really didn't stop for the rest of the day. All told, it looks like we got about 3 inches of snow at our house - which isn't too shabby for Kentucky, but a far cry from the dire predictions they were throwing around at the beginning of the week.

Elizabeth spent a good portion of the morning staring out our front window, waiting for there to be enough snow to go sledding.



In the afternoon, we finally decided there was enough snow on the ground to tackle Stonewall Hill, the very large hill at our local elementary school. One of the perks of me working from home was that I got to take a late lunch and tag along on the sledding expedition.



We have a new sled this year, which is super fast and fortunately evened out all the bumps and dips in the big hill - something David and I quickly realized as soon as we went down on our older, less shock-absorbent sled, which quickly reminded me that I am getting very old. The sledding was really great! There was just enough snow falling to keep the hill from being too crowded, and to keep the runs super slick. Elizabeth loved sledding, and took several turns going down with each of us. She still wasn't quite brave enough to go down on her own yet - mainly due to the combination of the creek at the bottom of the hill and the swiftness of the sled. Several times she had David go to the bottom of the hill to catch her, only to chicken out at the last minute and have me slide down with her. She ultimately decided that she would tackle the hill by herself next year. And, David and I successfully managed to keep us all out of the creek, even though it meant slamming on the brakes or bailing out of the sled at the last minute on a few occasions.





Elizabeth even managed to sucker David into pulling her UP the hill several times. But, for some reason, he never would do that for me...



The fun of the day was rounded out with a few snowball fights:





Elizabeth was also excited to get to catch the snowflakes in her mouth as they were falling:



There's a lot more snow on the ground now, so I'm sure she'll have even more fun playing in it tomorrow.

After the sledding fun, we all had the requisite hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows. Then, tonight, we made "snow ice cream." Elizabeth's preschool teacher had told them about making snow ice cream in class, and she wanted to try some.



Fortunately, the bowl we placed outside had collected quite a bit of snow, so we got to try several colors. Elizabeth insisted on making yellow snow for herself (even after I told her what yellow snow usually signifies).



David wanted his to be "natural" color. Of course, he didn't realize that when you add vanilla to the mix, that makes it brown. I guess there is something worse than yellow snow!

I chose to honor the amazing 2009-2010 as-yet undefeated UK basketball team with beautiful blue:



Now that looks like the color of champions to me!

Caution: Hang at your own risk

Fellow citizens of Christmastreetown,

It is with a sad heart that we must report to you that several vicious assaults have occurred on our citizens as they hung out in the below-the-tree (BTT) area of town. So far, all of the attacks have occurred late at night, when the local policemen have been off-duty. Upon returning to the area, the police have found once proud citizens injured and lying on the streets.

Here are some sample photos of one of our dear citizens both before and after the brutal attacks:










While none of the injuries have been life-threatening to-date, the psychological harm inflicted upon our citizens by these attacks may last through many Christmas seasons to come. Even our own treasured king and queen have fallen prey:





We have noticed a marked decrease in the number of citizens willing to venture into the BTT area. At this point, we think such caution is definitely warranted. Recently, a few brave citizens were interviewed as they swung through the area:



Mr. Barney, a fine citizen of our town since 2006, provided the following quote to our reporter: "Sure, I'm scared. But, what can I do? This is my job. How am I going to provide for my family if I don't come to work?" His companion, Mr. Starfish, who moved to Christmastreetown following a family cruise in 2007, offered: "Man, Christmas is all about the kids. If we all scampered to the top of the tree, the kids couldn't even see us. I'm willing to risk my life for the happiness I can bring to the little ones." Christmastreetown is honored to have such a brave and courageous citizen in our midsts.

A suspect in these assaults has been identified. The suspect was captured in these rare photos:





As you can see, the suspect is a very large female with short orange and white hair. She is known to travel silently on her own four legs. She has the ability to move very quickly and will pounce with no provocation. One of her pseudonyms is "Mittens." Be forewarned - do not attempt to capture the suspect on your own as she is considered highly dangerous. Until the suspect is apprehended, it is advised that no citizen enter the BTT area unless absolutely necessary.

She's dreaming of a pink Christmas

This year, we bought a small, very pink Christmas tree to put up in Elizabeth's room. She was so excited. She even got to pick out all the ornaments (pink, of course) and the star for the top (again, pink, of course).



If you ask Elizabeth, she'll tell you it's the most beautiful Christmas tree she's ever seen. If you ask me, it's pretty tacky. But, the smile it brings to my daughter's face is the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.

Picture proofs

They put the proofs for our family photos up on the website.

I think you can see them by going to this link: http://www.walzstudio.com/photocart/index.php?login=y

Then, use my e-mail address (kate_dicks@yahoo.com) with the password "david".

Overall, I was very pleased with them, especially since Elizabeth is so bad at staying still and looking at the camera for pictures. But, he managed to still get some good pictures of her - much better than any of our previous attempts.

Now the hard part - deciding which ones to order!