What Would Your Pledge Say?

Three months before my Dad died, I had given him the book "Just Who Will You Be?," by Maria Shriver.

It served as a birthday gift. I now have it at home.

I picked it up the other day and was reminded of the Pledge in the back of the book. It's a list of the top ten things Shriver pledges to herself in order to keep focused and centered on who she wants to be.

And here they are:

1. I pledge to "show up" in my life as myself, not as an imitation of anyone else.

2. I pledge to avoid using the word "just" to describe myself. For example, I won't say, "I'm just a mother," "I'm just a student," or "I'm just an ordinary person."

3. I pledge to give myself ten minutes of silence and stillness every day to get in touch with my heart and hear my own voice.

4. I pledge to use my voice to connect my dreams to my actions.

5. I pledge to use my voice to empower myself and others.

6. I pledge to serve my community at least once a year in a way that will benefit other people.

7. I pledge to ask myself, "Who am I? What do I believe in? What am I grateful for? And, what do I want my life to stand for?"

8. I pledge to sit down and write my own mission statement.

9. I pledge to live my own legacy.

10. And I pledge to pass it on.

Good words to live by.

The Search Continues

My 7-year-old has lost his Nintendo DS.

I don't use the word "lost" often. I tend to use "misplaced" instead, because things always turn up. But, the DS is clearly LOST. We've looked, and it's no where to be found.

We've searched for DAYS.

It's happened to all of us. You misplace something and you can almost see it lying around your home. We can recall the last time he had it. It stands to reason that the game grew feet and literally walked away.

Over the past week, we've looked under cushions, under beds, in our cars, through toyboxes, and bedcovers. We've moved furniture, cleaned out a closet, opened drawers, and dumped out dry-cleaning bags. We've checked with relatives and asked Hayden if he's playing a trick on his brother.

Nothing.

We've rifled through the junk drawer in the kitchen, looked under the sink, on the shelf in the laundry room, in the guest room, under Darby's bed, behind pictures, inside the piano bench, and guess what?

Nada.

Yet, my husband is determined. Monday Greg was back at it. I heard him exhale with frustration and then say, "I can't stand LOSING things!"

It's now become a challenge for Greg. Last night, he was back to his search, rummaging through our closet, even dumping out my laundry basket.

Still nothin.

You can bet Griff will have a Nintendo DS on his wish-list this year. In the meantime, Greg has a new hobby.

Searching for stuff that's been "misplaced."

Permanent Spirit-Wear

Interesting, to say the least.

Do You Remember?

Memory Lane.

We all take a trip down that famous path from time to time. Here are some of the ones I think of fondly.

The Paramount Pizza Palace. The sound of the organ when I walked through the door as a child was enough to form a grin from ear to ear. Forget Chuck E Cheese's, this place was more fun than a robotic mouse on a stage. I was scared of him anyway.

My Cabbage Patch doll. I loved the smell of baby-powder in her yarn-like hair and the autograph on the doll's backside.

Ground Round Restaurant. Mom and Dad would take my sisters and I to this place, and it was the one restaurant I could be messy. I loved cracking open the peanut shells and throwing them on the floor.

Sun-catchers. We made them for our kitchen window. Baking them in the oven was fun and Mom would display our artwork.

Mr. Steak in Anderson. I lived for their brown rice, and loved the trivia we could play on the big screen. Good family fun.

Dad's wood-paneled station wagon. Forget calling shotgun, I loved the rear-facing backseat. As kids, we would wave at the car behind us, annoying many drivers.

Hostess Ding-Dongs wrapped in foil. Third drawer in the kitchen, that's where Mom kept 'em. I would break them open and eat the filling first.

Finally, the Lazarus restaurant in Castleton. Mom and I would always request a balcony seat so we could people-watch the shoppers down below. It's where my love for chicken salad was born.

And so many more.

We All Have 'Em

It's been kind of an off day...

The kids are fighting over a Gameboy. Yes, we are still searching for a missing Nintendo DS.

I didn't cook the potatoes long enough, and they were crunchy.

My hair has static electricity.

We're out of paper towels.

I have a migraine. Somehow, SOMEWAY, I forgot to go to Starbucks.

Soooo...I think I'll call it a night.

Hold My Calls

Tis' the season.

With Christmas approaching, we sometimes tell the boys that we will call Santa when their behavior is less than stellar. Just the mention of it is usually enough to put an end to the problem.

And did I mention we've used the Santa threat since August? Hey, milk it for all it's worth.

Hayden recently threw a tantrum over not getting his way. The boy was determined, and I was trying to hold my ground. I told him I was disappointed, and Santa probably was, too. I took it one step further, and hit the "page" button on our cordless phone so it would beep.

"Look, Hayden, Santa is calling. He's probably going to tell me that he sees you throwing a fit."

Hayden stopped crying for a moment, then suddenly blurted out...

"Well, tell him to call back later!"

Not exactly what I was hoping for.

Independent To Say The Least

Over the weekend, Hayden woke up and announced that he was hungry.

No surprise there. The boy, almost four, wakes up hungry every morning. It's the first thing he talks about. "I wanna eat. Let's go downstairs and have breakfast."

Yesterday morning, Hayden woke up, rubbed his eyes, and said, "I want chicken."

For breakfast?

We got up, and before I could get things started, Hayden came to me and said, "I'm making popcorn." WHAT?

My impatient child had discovered a box of popcorn in the pantry. A box that had three packets inside.

I assumed he was kidding, but heard the microwave running as I turned the corner. How in the world did he get it to work? And I had to laugh at the sight of it.

The ENTIRE box, unopened, was turning in circles inside the microwave. It was hot when I removed it.

Determined little fella. Luckily, he settled for eggs and bacon.

A Pretty Good Life

My oldest is 7. He may only be seven in age, yet I call him an old soul.

There's something about him that keeps me going. I'm not even sure I can put my finger on it. He has a unique way of looking at life, and sees things I don't. Simply put, he has a way with words.

Last week, as I drove us to run some errands, Griffin said something that caught me off guard.

"I've sure had a good life, Mom."

I wasn't sure what to think of that one. His life was just getting started at only 7 years old. What was he talking about? So, I asked him. Here's how it went:

Me: What do you mean, Griff?

G: I was just thinking, and if you ask me, I have had a good life. Gotten to do some fun things.

Me: Oh yeah, like what?

G: Like "family nights" on Fridays, and I went to my first concert over the summer, I got to be on the big screen at the Colts game, and I've even been in a parade. Pretty good life.

Fast-forward to yesterday, when he and his little brother ran outside to play in the snow. I bundled them up, and watched the snowballs zip through the air as they had their first snowball fight.

Twenty minutes later, they trailed in snow from their boots and sat down for some hot chocolate in the kitchen. Griffin took his first sip and said...

"Ahhhh, I've waited for this my whole life."

His WHOLE life? He's seven.

"Waited for what," I asked?

"For the winter season. For snow. For hot cocoa. It doesn't get better than this, Mom."

I'm not sure where he gets it. But, I love seeing the world through his window.