No fear like this fear

As all the events unfold around us this week, the only thing that even allows my mind to come close to understanding how people feel is the day our middle daughter got lost. Yes, responsible parenting continues...

As a little girl, her voice was like a song. That cute curly blonde hair and blue eyes, she charmed everyone. We were at the State Fair with my parents. She was holding grandpa's hand as we walked through the crowds. We moved with her two sisters across to the other side of the road and in an instant she was gone.

Now one thing to keep in mind is that she was a wanderer. She was so happy and so in the moment that keeping a hold of someone's hand wasn't foremost in her little happy mind. We knew that, but this moment made it real.

I can tell you every move everyone made from that moment on. It was like time slowed. I checked to see that the other girls were secure. Then I could not find a police officer fast enough. The one I did find probably still remembers me. I grabbed his arm. I began telling him every detail about her from the pink overalls and white shirt to her height and coloring. As he looked sternly at my spider-monkey 5'2" frame, he told me to let go of his arm. I said, "you aren't moving fast enough. Do I need to find a more competent officer?" Now that is how you charm someone into wanting to help you.

He was on his radio and in the next minute he said, "we have your daughter." I bet not 5 minutes had passed but it was a lifetime. In that time you remember everything you have ever done wrong and are sorry for it (okay that took a few moments considering the volume). You tell God that you will be better if only you receive this one thing.

I arrived at the State Police post and there she was. Sitting on the counter with the Assistant Attorney General just chatting away all happy. She was like, "Momma!" I thanked everyone profusely and away our reunited family went.

She hates this story and dreads when I tell it. It was 18 years ago, but as I think about it, it is as crisp in my mind as yesterday, maybe even this morning.

After that fun event, we put her on a little kiddie lead when we went places. I never let go of her again and as she gets ready to graduate the end of this month, I think I will be getting that lead out again so I can't let her go of her now...

Safety Scissors

That's right folks, Only cuts through paper! No sharp edges. Safe for children 4+.

My girls loved playing dress up: darkwing duck (otherwise known as clothespin towel cape girl), mighty morphin power ranger (otherwise known as clothespin towel cape girl), and on occasion the amazing haircut girl (otherwise known as mischievous curly auburn headed girl lacking parental guidance).

As dad slept on the couch, almost two-year old Emmy decided she was going to be a hairdresser. She chose her weapon of choice and person of choice: Safety scissors and Erin with her long blonde curly hair. Emmy stood behind her sister who was seated on a little plastic chair talking happily in front of the Barbie "something or other" mirror table. Now you say, no worries. You read the package. It is not possible that those scissors cut more than paper.

After careful evaluation and personal research, they cut whatever you want them to. They just don't put your eye out on the first attempt. Erin had short curly blonde hair after that day.

You would think we young parents would learn...but, no. There will be many more stories of our idea of responsible parenting.

You can sweat where?

As I sit here in Asia, I am reminded of many things. The heat as it beats down upon me, big bugs - really big bugs, holding on to my organs, and Jack Sparrow - Captain Jack Sparrow.

Now the thing that is bothering me the worst is the sweating. I do not seem to recall in the summers of my youth sweating like this in 90 degree heat. I certainly don't remember butt sweat. What the hell kind of deal is it when you can sit down at a pleasant cafe for a cool drink and look as though the drink moved straight through you as you stand up. Butt sweat. It is the evil for all business women everywhere trying to maintain their savoir faire.

I haven't seen any big bugs yet. And that's a good thing or the news would be reporting that a particular country is on fire and some crazy lady is on a raft floating away from the scene and laughing maniacally.

Now finally my mom has warned me relentlessly about traveling and maintaining my organ count. So far so good. No one has taken nor offered me money for my pieces and parts. I will remain vigilant so as to stay in one piece or rather a collection of many fine pieces. I am sure during our call she will remind me "they will come in the night or just take you off the street."

As a kid from a family that didn't travel and who stayed pretty close to their roots, I am happy for the opportunity. I am hoping I sweat off a few pounds for Erin's graduation later this month. For that I will put up with butt sweat even boob sweat. This is however the last time I will be alone on my birthday. I enjoy the company of family too much.

Don't F%@k With My Kids

In third grade there were two kids who were causing me trouble, Joyce and Bruce. They were really bad little kids. They cheated in class, they threatened other kids, they carried knives, they threatened teachers, they were just plain nasty. Their favorite thing to do was pick on the kids who couldn't really stand up for themselves. That didn't sit well with me. One day I challenged them and told them to stop. They threatened to kill me. I told the teacher, she told the principal, and he called my mom.

As you know by now, my mother is no one to fuck with. Mr. Crabbs (yes Spongebob stole that name from the Joy Elementary School principal in the 70s) knew my mom was a force. A strong wind blew when she entered the building. It could be 85, sunny, and 0 wind and when my mom arrived it would turn -20, cloudy, and gale force winds would announce her presence.

So as my mom entered the building you heard a lot of "Hello Mrs. Frageman." She had no time for fluff or niceties. It was always cut to the chase, make a decision, and move on (hmmm sounds familiar to me somehow). The situation was described and my mom demanded swift action and accountability. Expel those kids and deal with their parents (or lack thereof). As usual the answers from the school were less than satisfactory. They had to go through certain channels, all kids deserve chances and opportunity no matter what they did. That response would not be enough, that I knew for sure. She whisked me away still quite angry. As we made our way to the car, school had already let out. She began to drive home when she spotted two kids walking along the road. She looked at me and said "is that them?" "Yes," I said, "it is." She turned the wheel of the car violently toward them and cut them off from their intended path. I think my head hit the dashboard she stopped so hard. She put the car in park and was out of the door in a fraction of a second. As usual, the wind kicked up, the sky darkened and the forces of evil arrived. She was pissed and she would have justice. She returned shortly to the car and we drove home. Yes, they were still alive when we left.

I have no idea what she said to them and I probably don't want to know (I am sure the statute of limitations is up by now). What I do know is those kids never bothered me again. They never came near me or my friends. They didn't even look at me.

Fried Peas

I am reminded of learning key lessons about cooking as my eldest stands in our kitchen frying chicken while we sit in the living room with the fire extinguisher. Okay that is an exaggeration, she is becoming quite the cook. But it does remind me of some great kitchen moments.

#5 Did you know that you are supposed to pour the liquid and the vegetables from the can into the pan to heat up? If you throw away the "juice" the peas fry in the pan.

#4 If you put too much water in the mix and don't boil it first the jello never solidifies, ever. I don't care what you do to it. Put it at zero Kelvin I dare you. It defies physics.

#3 Do not, I repeat, do not confuse salt and sugar. That will make the nastiest cookies ever.

#2 When your child says "the oven is on fire," go ahead and believe her.

#1 Never, I repeat, never joke when your mom makes cookies so hard they bounce off the floor. If your mom is my mom, she will proceed to send said cookies through the mail to you. The squirrels even rejected the cookies and threw them back at the house. The name of those cookies - Jello cookies. They will live in infamy.

Dad isn't ready yet...

Today we went on our first visit to a potential wedding venue for our eldest daughter. As we looked around it was easy to remember the early days, the sleep-walking, the whining, the pushing of the littlest sister off the couch... It seems like just yesterday she was drawing with colored markers on the walls, on herself, in her middle sister's mouth. I am certain that is all her dad can see now. It's like the commercial where the daughter asks for the keys to the car. The dad sees a little girl asking, the rest of us see a 16 year old. Even at 23 when Michael looks at her he sees his 2 year old with the curly hair.

What is it about daddies and their daughters? Why is that bond like no other? Why do they say "you aren't getting married" and get mad and walk out of the room if you even mention having kids. The tears in the eyes when they say "I started your wedding dress bank account." The tears on the day you are asked for your hand in marriage.

Well this daddy has another 18 months before his eldest daughter moves to the next stage of her life. That still won't be enough time for him to be ready.

Smoking in the bushes

I used to go over to Aunt Thelma's house quite often. Aunt Thelma was quite the busy-body. She would stare out her window and watch the neighbors. She would open the windows sometimes so she could hear them. Sometimes I was there when she did it. She would give me the low down on what was happening with who. And if they looked up at the window, she would say, "get back." We had to hide. It was so exciting for a kid. We were like spies.

The most fascinating guy to me was the old man across the street. He was really little. He was short, bent over, and skinny. He wore glasses. He smoked. He smoked a lot. He smoked behind the bushes. He was always out there in his underwear, one of those tank top undershirts and white boxers. He did wear the standard old man black calf length socks and black shoes. His wife was always yelling at him. One time when she turned her back he flipped her off. Aunt Thelma would say how disgusting he was and then at that moment we would have to hide because he would look toward the window. Um, pot...kettle...hahaha.

She was so funny.