One of my followers, Pat, asked me to write about my kids.  The following is the truth, the whole, and nothing but the truth.  So help me, God.

These are my three boys.  Austin, Nate, and Jack.  They are amazing kids.  Austin, who is my AJ, is a first year law student at my alma mater – Indiana University.  Who could ask for more?  AJ is the perfect first child.  My middle son is Nate.  Nate is a senior and a finance major at the University of Dayton.  Nate is smart, sweet, and most importantly, he is striving to be employed upon graduation!  Finally, Jack.  Jack is my baby and a freshman in college.  He is a technical systems management major at the University of Illinois.  He is intelligent, charming, and confident.

These wonderful boys DRIVE ME CRAZY!!!  Sometimes, I don’t want to admit that they are mine.  That is when they are Meeny, Miny, and Moe.  Let me explain.  Meeny, aka AJ, is just that.  He can be high strung, argumentative, and he can be a meanie!  Perfect future lawyer.  Miny, aka Nate, sometimes thinks he is an FBI psychological profiler.  He has all the answers about how the universe works.  Miney asked me if my blog was “a cry for help?”  No LOL here.  Jack, aka Moe, is the perfect Moe!  At times you cannot make that boy do anything.  He moves at his own pace and he looks in the mirror constantly.

What else?  Well, there is the social drinking that more than challenges my comfort level.  And the cigars that get lit on those said drinking occasions. Finally, is the fighting.  Oh, the insults fly around the room like a ping-pong ball at breaking speed.  My favorites are:

• “You will be living in my basement.”
• “I will be buying your kids their Christmas presents.”
• “Your wife will be in love with me.”
• “22!”  (An inside joke that I will never reveal)

Yet, these boys are special.  They made it to college.  They are tight and love each other immensely.  They are good to me and to my husband.  They are hilarious.  They fight and they let it all go.  They are still maturing, so Meeny, Miny, and Moe show up less often with each passing year.  I am proud of them.  Three shiny pearls.  AJ, Nate, and Jack.

Still, help me, God!

I had three boys in a five year period.  You may gasp at the thought, but it is the biggest blessing in my life.  There were days when I felt overwhelmed – those ugly puking and diarrhea days.  Otherwise, those munchkins made me laugh and smile everyday.  And this one particular day was very special.

I am picking the boys up from school.  They were young – fourth grade, second grade, and pre-school.  They are all buckled in the back seat –  three across.  I am mommy chauffeur!  A very serious discussion breaks out between the boys and I decide to only listen.  Conversations between young kids are hilarious.  But little did I know, I am about to hear some profound wisdom.

The youngest, Jack, announces that another boy is hitting him on the playground everyday, and he is very angry.  “What should I do?” asks Jack.  Austin, my oldest, does not hesitate to give the following advice.  “If you ask mom, she will say ‘talk it out.’  If you ask Dad, he will tell you to hit him back!”

I almost crash the car!  That is just too funny!  I am astounded he knows his two options.  Also, he is totally correct that I would encourage a non-violent  tête-à-tête between two school comrades.  He is also correct that my husband would offer enemy retaliation as a solution.  I am stumped.  I have to think about this before I respond.

It was the first time I realized that moms and dads sometimes offer a different perspective on life.  Was I right this time?  I think so!  But I did learn that sometimes kids should stand up for themselves.  “Set the tone early that you will not be bullied!” is my husband’s rationale.  And he is right, too.  I see that boys and girls benefit from the feminine and masculine perspectives.

A child’s life is enriched not only by their mom and dad, but by grandparents, relatives, good friends, and trusted caregivers.  It is a blessing when children have a small tribe of loved ones in their lives.  There may sometimes be conflicting messages, but that is a part of life.  We spend our whole life navigating right and wrong and the gray that exists.  It is a true pearl to gift children with many positive influences!

But, I still think I was right!  Do you?

Photo by Brigitta Schneiter on Unsplash

Lately, there has been many tributes to Fred Rogers on social media.  As a child born in the late 1960s, I was an avid television “neighbor” of Mister Rogers. Thankfully, there was only one channel on TV that offered children’s television. In Chicago, it was PBS Channel 11.   I really had no choice but to watch Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.  It came on after Sesame Street and Electric Company.  Boy was I blessed!  I grew to admire Mister Fred Rogers for many reasons.  He helped shape a very young Micki.

First, Mister Rogers spoke differently.  He talked very slowly, and he looked me straight in the eye.  Who does that?  No adult in the life of a young Micki!  In Chicago, we talk fast.  Also, no adult ever talked to me for a WHOLE half an hour.  Teacher taught, parents parented, but I felt pretty much invisible to adults.  And, let’s be honest, there was no such thing as “hands-on” parenting in the 1970s.  I was the seventh of eight children.  My struggle for attention was real.  So, to be engaged with the gentle soul of Fred Rogers every day did feel different.  It felt wholesomely intimate.

Second, Mister Rogers insisted, even persisted, that I was special just the way I was.  What does that mean, crazy man?  I was a nothing – a blob of clay – a mere child.  But when an adult looks you in the eye everyday, seems to care, and tells you that you are special, it starts to sink in.  Believe me, it just does.

Finally, Mister Rogers made me more aware of feelings.  He was passionate about feelings.  He would ask if a “certain scenario” made me feel angry? or afraid? or happy? or confused?  He encouraged me to talk to my mom or dad about my feelings.  It was OK to have feelings! Again, who says such crazy things?  I was a good catholic school girl.  I was to either feel happy or guilty, but most importantly, I was to remain silent and not bother the adults.

You see, Mister Rogers made me feel like a special person with feelings.  I felt like an equal soul to his because that was the way he treated me.  To a child, that feels amazing.  Even today when I talk to a young person, I get on their level, I look them in their eyes, I ask questions about them, and I inquire about how they feel.  I learned that from Mister Rogers and it works.

You were a great neighbor, Mister Rogers.  A pearl of a neighbor!

I am writing this post in haste.  Forgive me if it does not flow well, but I feel like I am running a race.   You see, my dad may not be doing well.  He is having some symptoms that seem serious to me.  At 94 years old, everyday my dad lives he is spitting death in the eye – taunting death to put up a losing fight.  I am convinced that my dad wears secret boxing gloves, and that he is the world’s heavyweight champion.  I get a special thrill to say, “my dad is 94!” – and I don’t want it to end.

I made a promise to my son that I would pay tribute to “Grandpa Bud” on my blog using the present tense.  Since that promise, I knew that I needed to get writing, but I did not know where to begin.  How do I write about someone who has meant everything to me and do it justice?  I cannot, but I will try to get at a few words out there.

My dad’s life is literally a book.  As a young boy growing up in the Depression, he supported his family by passing the newspaper.  His mother would cry when he handed her his weekly salary.  My dad lost his mom as a teenager to epilepsy.  Shortly thereafter, he enlisted in the army to fight WWII.  He was a bridge builder and was in France and Germany.  He made it home and met my mom.  They married in 1949 – on my mom’s golden birthday.  Dad became an electrician and worked at US Steel.  His compassion for workers led him to become a union leader.  He once threatened management to a full-mill shutdown.  He won.  In the meantime, along came eight children.  He survived losing his wife and a son (“the hardest thing I’ve ever done”) and he lives on his own. He battles health issues, mainly a very bad back that has hurt since 1942.  Is your head spinning yet?

There is so much about my dad.  The wisdom in his body makes him a giant.  Whenever I walk into my dad’s house, I am greeted by a huge smile and a “Hi, Mick!”  It is mind blowing.  Always a positive attitude – never complaining.  He recently said “I am ready to go look for your mom.”  What a loving, poetic way to say that he is coming to an end.  My dad tells me that “tomorrow always comes,” – not to let life’s trials bring me down.  His faith in God is unwavering.  My dad is an expert on fighting life’s trials. He is the reigning heavyweight champion.

Please pray for my dad.  Whatever happens, I know I will be writing about my dad for the rest of my life.  He has bestowed on me so many pearls that I will have to give them out a little at a time.  That makes him the biggest pearl of all.