Why I CARE more than ever.

I just watched my 16 year old drive off in her own car without me riding shotgun.  She's not on her own yet, but she's almost there.  She's a young woman about to take on the world.  Her little sister isn't far behind.

The election this year is ugly.  Some people feel strongly for their candidate, most everyone else-more so against the other.  I've never understood the division that politics can create.  Until this year.  I get it.  I really do.  

I just watched my 16 year old drive off...thankfully, today it was just to school.  All I can think about is what this election means for my girls.  I'm more invested than ever in the future of our country.  I have a desperation I've never before felt. Trump supporters will say that his words are "just words".  To me, they are very dangerous words.   His words devalue my children, on the brink of becoming women, as women.  He boasts of abusing his power to take advantage of women, he has referred to his own daughter as a piece of ass who he would date.  These words aren't just words, they send a message loud and clear-- I ABUSE POWER.  If his celebrity allows him to assault women, how on earth can we justify giving this "man" more power?  How can I look my daughters in the eyes knowing that WE voted this "man" into office (a "man" who doesn't respect them) and made him our voice, the leader of our country?  How will they feel about themselves?  

Last night, my youngest asked me my thoughts on Hillary--am I excited about her as a candidate?  Will I vote third party.  Honest?  I'm not excited about her.  I'm not scared though.  I'm moderately comfortable.  I'm not sure she can make things better but I'm not afraid that she will leave behind a mess that we can't come back from.  She can hold her tongue and exercise restraint. She even has policies that I agree with, and she's offered strategies along with details on how she plans to implement them.  She can use the English language to explain her policies,  I know it sounds nuts, but isn't that important?  Somebody who can tell us HOW they are going to make changes instead of just saying, "I'm going to (insert strong republican ideal here)"  without further knowledge or explanation?  I want to know how that's going to happen?   Teach me, sway me, make me feel some hope.  If Hillary is a liar, please point me to Trump's truths.  I'm guessing that the words recorded in private are the closest we have.   If you think that "I use my celebrity to grab 'em by the pussy" are just words, you tell me how you can trust a man with no history of follow through to back up his promises that are really "just words"?  How will he control his mouth when he meets with other world leaders, how will he keep positive relations with other countries?  If Hillary is a murderer, how many people are going to die in the war that Trump creates with his stupid ass words?  

Maybe I'm oversimplifying, but his words suck.   

I have so many more things I can say, I know your arguments and I have rebuttals for likely all of them.  Regardless of everything though;  I'm fearful for our country more than ever, for my kids and for you even.  I urge you to strongly consider the impact of words.  I'm going to respect you for disagreeing with me,  it's what I do.  I'm not going to lie though--I don't/can't understand.  

If this divides us, you and I, at least hopefully you can accept why...

Someday, not too soon, I want to watch my daughters drive off and feel pride in the world I am setting them loose in.  A world that accepts them and holds them in high regard.  

Raising my children without religion....

The topic of religion came up at a family dinner the other night.  It was a good conversation and inspired this blog entry.

Religion- A big topic, and unless you share the same one, can be a pretty divisive one.  I won't go too deeply into the politics of religion here, mostly because I'd probably not sound so smart ;) However, there are mass murders that happen in the name of religion, genocides, hatred and discrimination are explained away as religious ideals, churches who claim that the "morally corrupt" are the cause of natural disasters, who picket funerals, etc.   These are the things that create the division in our society, and also the things that can cause many people to turn against religion.  It's unfortunate, because the God I WANT to believe in is kind and good,  my imagined God wouldn't put up with us hurting each other on His behalf.

I personally haven't fully turned my back on religion, especially not faith.  I've seen faith bail people out of so many tough situations, I've watched in envy and intrigue how faith has guided loved ones through the most difficult times and delivered them whole and well on the other side.  I've seen faith move mountains.  Faith is beautiful and I would never discount or shame someone for full, unrelenting faith.   Infact, I envy and admire you for it.   I would love to experience the comfort and peace that comes with that kind of assurance.

Here's why I don't want you to save me though.  Everyone has a unique religious journey.  Mine is my own.  I'm still discovering my beliefs.   I don't want your church, I don't want your religion, I don't want your pamphlets, I don't want your books, I want MY faith...and for it to be real and authentic to me, I need to find it on my own.

Finally, to get to the true reason for this share...

I have exposed my children to religion, but I am not raising them with the expectation of it.  I want my children to discover their own beliefs.  I encourage them to explore religion.  I encourage them to find their faith.  I encourage them to figure out, without my influence, what beliefs ignite passion in them, and to find what it is in this world that motivates and drives them to be better people.  Because religion, like anything else in life, has far more to do with how you use it and far less to do with whether or not you have it.   If religion helps mold my children into strong, remarkable, kind and good adults,  I will support their religion 100%.  If they turn into all of those things without religion, they will also have my 100% support.  I'm not saying I don't have a real responsibility in who they become.  I do, and it's a big one.  I'm only giving them the wheel, I'm not taking a back seat.  I know it's my job to raise them with strong morals and values,  I just feel strongly that religion and goodness don't have to be mutually exclusive.  I believe and have faith in the inherent goodness in my children, and for me that's enough.


In 2nd grade my oldest daughter attended a non-denominational private school.   We sent her there in the hopes that a smaller classroom size would provide her a better learning environment to help her with some ongoing issues with focus.  I knew it probably wasn't the right fit when each time I delivered her to class I was afraid I was going to burst into an uncontrollable cursing fit, not because I do that, but because a tangible warning to them might be in order that there was an intruder in the midst.   My kid fit in far better than I did and her teacher confirmed what I already knew to be true.  This child of mine is good and kind, "she walks around with the angel of mercy on her shoulder".   Sure she'd been to church before, but I'm pretty sure that's not the reason that the angels wanna hang.  She's just good.  Come Easter time,  this sweet kid of mine, was so excited about the upcoming holiday AND also the Easter bunny, and then her teacher told her that Easter was about Jesus and not some bunny that didn't exist.   I don't make a point of lying to my children, but I also feel strongly that in a world full of ugliness, I will ALWAYS allow magic and whimsy to live inside of them.   I understand  that this particular teacher's job was to teach the children about Jesus (in part ) but there was no way I was going to let her make a decision about my children's beliefs.
When my children ask me about the existence of Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Ferry (yes, I know it's spelled wrong, ours is a bad speller), etc I tell them that they get to choose what they believe in.  I tell them that they will hear different accounts from different people, and everyone has their own unique reason for their belief.  I tell them that they get their own and that nobody gets to tell them that they are wrong, and in turn they should never tell someone else how to believe.  My children are older now, and recently my youngest told me that she only put her tooth and her letter under the pillow because she know's I like the letters, thankfully she also knew I didn't sign the letters back from the tooth "ferry".  This particular magic might be over now, or at least until they get to recreate it for their children, but I don't regret one minute letting them believe.

As long as my children don't ever use their beliefs to hurt others, I'm going to support their journey, answer their questions, I'm going to share my own beliefs but not insist that mine trump theirs.  I'm also going to teach them that your beliefs are just as powerful and that they should respect yours, to be open to them and to never stop asking and learning. I don't think the conversation about religion has to be so divisive.  The optimist in me believes that we can find our religious/non-religious melting pot and learn to coexist peacefully.  I'm hopeful....I believe.


Edited to add--
Since I first posted this, my oldest has recently concluded that she doesn't believe in God.  I was surprised that I struggled with her firm decisiveness in the matter.  I don't know what I believe, but I guess I was hoping her journey would take a little longer.  When I first posted this Blog, I knew some would struggle with it.  I know some of you believe that your faith and your relationship with God is necessary to earn your spot in Heaven.  I respect your belief and I respect you raising your children the way you feel in your heart and soul is best.  I need you to know though,  that I don't fear for my daughters soul and my love for her is not less because I'm not as passionate about her religion.   I can't believe that a good, kind and loving God  is going to make my good, kind and loving daughter burn in hell simply for not knowing Him.  Feel free to explain that to me...how He can let terrible people who do terrible things repent and earn a spot in Heaven but He won't take my kid if she doesn't firmly feel the proof of his existence?  This is going to sound rough, but wouldn't that make Him a Narcissist?  Definitely a God I don't want to know.  If you know this kid of mine, you know that she is the most gentle and kind creature, unselfish and generous, empathetic and humble.  She loves faithfully and unconditionally.  I believe that 100% with my whole heart and soul that if there is an afterlife for her that it will be full of all of the beauty and good that she puts into world she's living in.  I'm so proud that I get to be her mom.  Because of her, maybe I believe even more...I'm definitely profoundly blessed.

Happy New Year 2016

This post just popped up on my memories from this day last year....

"This year my girls turn 10 and 15. Caimbry just turned to Taylor and said "whoa, in 5 years, you'll be 20!!" Happy freakin' New Year. Shit just got real."

Yup--this year shit got pretty real. It's been one of the most challenging years for sure, filled with the highest highs and the brightest brights. Sadness came from unexpected places and I struggled often to find light when a little person I love so much couldn't find hers. It's going to be OK, and I know this because even when things are gloomy and dismal, life keeps happening and beauty keeps presenting itself, relationships grow and in 2015 some pretty gosh darn spectacular things happened.
For years now, I've heard Chris reminisce about his time in Greece and the beautiful people who reside there. I've wanted to meet his extended family since the very first time he shared a memory of them. I wanted my children to meet their cousins, experience their culture and feel the warmth of their embraces.
The opportunity presented itself to make this dream a reality when one of my very favorite people (top 5) planned her wedding in nearby Italy. I'd been planning her destination wedding long before her engagement even happened, so my inviting myself to attend didn't feel like too much of an intrusion, I'm sure.
So yeah, 2 of the biggest highlights of not only 2015 but my entire life happened in a single month. I got to witness one of the people I love the most marry the man she's waited her whole life for. And then I got to feel the embraces and meet the people I'd hoped to meet for so long, and see my children bond and blend easily into a family all of the way across the world.
And then this happened. Taylor, did indeed turn 15 (just 5 years shy of 20), she started high school, got her drivers permit and her first freakin' car. My baby isn't so much of a baby anymore and it makes my heart ache with sadness and pride that she's so much closer to leaving the nest. She possesses a kindness it's rare to find in people these days and her hugs can heal the deepest wounds. Her future is bright and beautiful and she makes me proud every single day.
This is Caimbry's final year of grade school and she has so much spunk, creativity and charisma. She also inherited my 2 favorite qualities-sarcasm and wit. She has so much potential for greatness and my biggest wish for 2016 is that she starts to see herself the way the rest of us do.
I'm not sure if he knows this, But Chris Kontos continues to impress me every year. Like I said before, this one has been challenging. A tough family year and a tough farming year. The harder years make me prouder of him, true character is revealed in the struggle. He finds balance and he works hard, and he does most of it with a positive attitude. He has people pulling at him from every direction, myself included and while I'm sure nobody feels like they get a lot of his time, they do get to feel that they get a lot of his heart. He carries an unspoken burden around in an effort to not overwhelm others. He's pretty awesome, and I'm pretty proud of who he is. Another wish of mine for 2016, is that I learn to give more and take less. I'm selfish, so this one is going to be tough.
So, 2015...you've both lifted me up and you've kicked my ass. I'm unaware of the challenges that will present themselves in 2016, I don't have any resolutions, just some things I need to continue working on and some high hopes that there will be more everyday joy and peace for my family and for yours. Happy New Year <3 

Just a Facebook Post I wanted to remember...

I haven't been much in the Christmas spirit this year. Ok, not at all. I forgot what Christmas means to me. I'm not much of a religious person, and I'm sorry if that makes any of you think less of me, but it's true. This year Caimbry has told me that she is just barely holding on to believing in Santa, elves and magic. She told me that the lady in line at the candy store told the clerk that she was buying stocking stuffers for her kids. I haven't told her one way or another what she should believe, I've just told her that she is the only person in the world that has any power over her own beliefs. This has made me very introspective (or else it's because I'm 40. Damn you, 40!), it made me wonder when I stopped believing in magic. It's been a particularly rough year. I've done a lot of questioning myself these last few months; my beliefs, my values, and above all else, my parenting skills. I fear raising entitled kids. They aren't rotten, not even kind of. I've been blessed with some great kids. Without naming names, but also in fairness to the taller one, the shorter one has been weighing heavily on my heart, her struggles are mine and my coping skills are showing pretty poorly. Christmas for me used to be about gathering with loved ones, Santa, magic and yes...even gifts. I can't remember a gift that has brought tears to my eyes or come at the most perfect time until this Christmas. Wrapped up in a big box with a pretty bow was a folded piece of paper and inside of it, in lovely, careful cursive were some of the most beautiful words I've ever read. My teenager told me that it's OK if I yell and get angry because it means I care, and she'd so much rather I get mad at her mistakes than not care if she makes them. She said she knows I've been struggling and that a sign in one of her classrooms reads....
F(irst)
A(ttempt)
I(n)
L(earning)
and that I am not perfect, and that she doesn't expect perfection because I am the best mom in her world. She said some other really beautiful things, but now I am just starting to sound boastful. I'm feeling pretty proud though, not because of her words about me, but because I've had a hand in raising her and it gives me hope that I'm going to do OK with the other one too.
I guess what I am trying to say, is that I found my magic this Christmas in the heart of my child. It might not be the same as your magic, and maybe I don't celebrate the real meaning the way I should, but It's back. My magic.
Merry Christmas to you and Happy Holidays too. Remember, if someone takes the time to extend you a warm greeting, don't get hung up on whether or not you are celebrating for the same reasons, take it for what it is. Kindness. Happy whatever and how ever you celebrate season!!

I hate hunting season (there, I said it).

Hunting season is winding down in the Walla Walla Valley, and can I just put this out there?  YAY!  First, just let me say before there is any confusion, animosity, or accusations of hypocrisy--I don't judge you for hunting.  I don't have any problem with you turning a day out in our beautiful country into a meal on your plate.   I don't even dislike you for posting photos of dead things on my FB feed.   I am an over sharer, I post many things on my FB page I am sure many of you do not want to see or read.  I figure that being on FB at all means that you have given your unwritten consent to, at any point, be visually or verbally assaulted as you scroll.  So, this rant...this rant, isn't about you.  It's about me.   

I hate hunting season.  I hate smiling, nodding and engaging in polite conversation all centered around your thrill of the kill, when inside I know that had I been there I would have yelled "run Bambi! run!" while not so secretly rejoicing in the fact that Bambi might go on living another hour or another day at the expense of your human family going hungry.  I'm not proud, I'm just honest.  

I hate that when I lived on the farm,  large, grown men in camouflage sporting size-appropriate weapons sparkling menacingly in the slight shimmer of dawn, would knock on my door at 5AM after my husband had left for work and ask me (after passing 15 "no hunting" and as many "no trespassing signs") if he promised not to shoot me, if he could ignore all those signs and just hunt my property anyway,  oblivious to the hungry cries of the prematurely awoken infant coming from the other room.  

I hate hunting season.  I hate after turning on Facebook (which admittedly happens too often), oggling a sweet newborn baby, rejoicing in someone's happy news, laughing at a Michelle Connerism, taking a wistful journey through someone else's travel photos, that I scroll just a little further and then there it is!  Death.  A sweet, sad Bambi face gazing mournfully through my computer screen.  I can avoid it, sure.  I can take a hiatus from FB and pretend.  Part of me, I suppose, is a glutton for punishment.  

It's not just the photos though, we live in an area where it's the norm to decorate with dead things.  Friends, family, people I love.  I don't judge.  When I sit down at your table and you serve me the beautiful fleshy fruit of your hunt and then mount it's head on your wall to watch me eat it, it won't be me that's doing the judging.  I become the judged.  This makes me uncomfortable.  I will however 'bottoms up' whatever is in my glass (hopefully booze), enjoy my meal, and then whisper a silent 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry' to those eyes who hold the judgement.  You see, I don't like to see dead things in pictures or on walls, but I DO like to see dead things on my plate after the faces have been removed.  

Thankfully, after nearly 16 years of marriage, my husband has begun to learn what does it for me and what doesn't.  He's getting there after many, many failed learning opportunities such as; taking me on dates to animal morgues (some call wildlife museums or Cabellas), mounting a dead bird on my wall the very same day I called him in tears after unintentionally butchering a small flock of little sparrow like daredevils with my car,  storing undisguised calf testicles still encased in their veiny, hairy sack...in a jar...of blood...in my fridge,  and my very favorite, teaching his youngest spawn to question me every time I have meat on my plate..."Mom, is that a pig you're eating?"  "What part of the body is the T-bone?"  "Why is this called a rump?"  "What part of the sweet little baby lamb is that?"  "This oyster is still alive!?" "Is this the EASTER BUNNY?"....sigh.  "It's meat, Caimbry!  It's just meat.  Leave me alone".   

So, like I said.  It's not about you.  It's about me.   I don't judge, but I do hate hunting season.  (For the sake of full disclosure, I WILL judge you for waking sleeping babies.   I judge you less now because my babies are grown, but still.  Really?) 

Being 40.

I'm only 4 months in, I'm still a newby really.   However, I feel compelled to share what it is like for me...being 40.  

I never understood when people feared aging.  I never quite got what the big deal was about entering a new age with a big zero following the first number.  I've always entered each new decade (That sounds silly, really.  EACH new decade, as if there have been many) with a sense of accomplishment.   I mean, I survived with minimal physical aging and maximum personal growth.  This is bragging, I know, but that is how I felt.  Bring on the next ten. 

I know it seems like I am going to launch into a hate speech directed at my new age, but it's not like that at all.  It's true, I don't like it.  Perhaps though, I just never said a proper goodbye to my last decade.  

My 30's.  I didn't fear those, not at all.  They were supposed to be the best years of my life, and now according to the BTDT masses, my 40's are.   I suspect in another decade, my 50's will be the new best years of my life, but I digress.  My 30's were sure a growing/learning experience.   In no particular order--Caimbry was born, rounding out and completing our little family.  My dad passed away.  Some friends passed away.  I had my first personal bout of cancer-just a simple skin cancer, but enough to become a sunscreen nazi and a more diligent mother.  I celebrated 15 years of marriage, and conquered all of the things that may have gotten in the way of that.  I became a pretty good cook.  I kicked ass at the gym for a solid 2 years before petering out and giving in to the gluttony.  I tried botox for the first time (it didn't work for me).  Taylor became a teenager. We bought our 2nd home and started our second business.  I started crossing my legs when I sneezed (just incase;)).  I started bonding more with women and forming real solid friendships (not to discount the ones I already had, I just got better at caring more about other people than myself).  I found my voice and started advocating for myself, people that I love and even people who I've never met.  I gained weight. I lost weight. I gained weight. I lost weight. I gained weight.  I made it a goal to stop caring so much about my weight and to be happy in my own skin.  A goal I have yet to accomplish.  I cared for an ailing parent in my home before losing her.   I went from being one of "the kids" who still got stockings on Christmas morning and Easter Eggs hidden for me on Easter morning to being the oldest generation left in my small family.   A weird feeling really.  I can't say my 30's were all they were cracked up to be.  But, they were BIG. In my 30's, I became a grown up.  

Now, I'm 40.  I found my first gray hairs and there are little lines that are sprouting from the corners of my eyes.  Laugh lines.  I kind of like them, because they indicate joy-right?  My weight is fluctuating less and is pretty much just on a steady climb.  I now cross my legs every time I sneeze, and it's really not for a "just incase" anymore, it's for a "good lord!  seriously?!  again?".  My knees hurt and playing on the floor with my kids comes with moderate but well founded fear that I won't be able to get back up.  Sometimes people call me "Missus" or "m'am" and now I know exactly who they are talking about.  Me.   I get carded still sometimes but there is always a twinkle in the eye of the asker that looks a little like *gasp* flattery.  Intentional.  My husband has aged beautifully, he is pretty dreamy and sometimes my heart still does a little pitter patter when I look at him.  However, my cholesterol is borderline high so it could just be the beginning stages of heart disease.  Dangit though, he really has aged way more gracefully, and I'm going to be honest....I'm a little envious.  The competitive side of me wants desperately to be the younger, hotter one.  I know, I know these are all physical grievances that come across as plain old ugly vanity.  It's true.  I care.  I don't want to care.  I am thinking though, if my 40's really are the best years of my life-I will stop caring.  I will love my beauty, all of it, and the inner will accentuate the outer and I will feel content, confident and free.  I really can't think of anything else to like about my 40's, so I sure hope this prediction is a sign of all of the great new wisdom that comes with...being 40.  

Goodbye 30's.  You taught me a lot.  40--teach me.  I'm open.  I'm a bit of a sceptic though, so you've got a lot to prove.  bring it on...

Mother's Day

Today is a bittersweet day, emphasis on the sweet.  It's the day where we make an extra effort to honor the mothers in our life.  Today I remember my mother.   She was a caretaker and a giver.   Her life was full of struggles that were rarely voiced and she never sought pity, attention or even understanding.   She moved through life asking for very little, and giving way more than she ever had to give.    She was intelligent and quirky and sometimes infuriating, and I found out too late that she was strong, so strong, and she gave me the greatest gift in her passing--she showed me my own strength.   I honor her, I value her and I miss her...everyday.  Happy Mother's Day to my mom, Jean Marie Kantola Saunders.  I love you.

Today I am the mother to a 13 year old and a 9 year old.  I have the most  daunting and gratifying task of helping 2 young ladies navigate through life with as little scarring as possible, to help lead them towards success, fulfillment and happiness.  To gently nudge them in the right direction while trying hard to  trust the paths they choose.   Sometimes nudge them slightly harder than gently, while careful not to break their spirits or rob them of their originality.  I get to be a cheerleader, an advocate and a supporter while encouraging them to be those things even BIGGER for themselves.  To allow them to feel and to move on through gut-wrenching heartache so their blessings can feel that much greater.  To lead them away from measuring success in "things" and to show them the value in everyday kindness.   To show them that winning isn't in being THE best, it's in being THEIR best, and that is ALWAYS enough.  Anyway-these are the things I aspire to do and to be.  When my children do good, which is frequent, I can slowly measure my success as their mother.   Really though, all I can do is hope, hope that all of the good choices I make will someday outweigh the mistakes I make (which piled on top of each other, feel like Everest)  I can be the most loved and the most loathed person in their universe in the same 10 minute window, loving them through the loathing, that's my job.  It's rough.  Being their mother- it's both terrifying and an extreme honor, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.   
My mother didn't seek understanding, she was far less selfish than I am.  Today, I hope she knows that I finally understand her, I finally GET how hard it was to be my mother ;)  It's not just making sandwiches and doling out the punishments.  Mothers are women who are molded by personal struggles, who are imperfect, flawed and often scarred HUMANS who are given only one chance per child to grow a well adjusted adult.   How on earth can we expect perfection, from our mothers or from ourselves?  It may have taken a long time for me to understand her, but now that I do- a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Someday, my kids might just understand me.  Understand that my ferocity is molded by my intense desire to get this right, to do right by them, by fear and by hope, a whole lot of hope!