Goals for 2018

The year 2017 was pretty good to me.  But it could have been better.  I could have saved more money.  I could have eaten healthier.  I could have done more to further my education.  But overall, I am satisfied with how I spent this last year.  For 2018, I'm setting up goals for myself.  Simple goals that will help me out in the long run.
My first goal is to continue my education.  I am currently taking an online religion course.  I am also signed up for math class at the community college that starts in January.  I am currently working on applying to Brigham Young University Idaho.  I just need an interview and to write one more essay.  I have found that, now that I know for certain what I want to do with the rest of my life (middle school guidance counseling), my level of self-efficacy and determination has increased.  I am more willing to push myself academically.
My next goal is to live healthier.  I have a kind of bipolar appetite.  Sometimes all I think about is food.  Other times, I don't want to eat.  Sometimes all I eat is junk.  Other times, I crave vegetables and protein.  I need to learn to balance my food choices.
In 2017, I did an awesome job of saving money.  Until my car had to go to the shop.  Four times in 2017, twice in the past three months.  Fortunately, I had enough money for the repairs and a rental.  But now, I am stressing out.  If only I had saved more.  As well as I did saving money, I still went out and spent more than I should have.  I have become addicted to wearing shorts.  I bought three pairs of shorts this year, and even more t-shirts to go along the the shorts.  I spend a lot of money on books.  And, because I drive at least six days a week, I end up filling up my gas tank twice a week.  So in 2018, my goal is to only spend money on necessities.  I need to save more than I spend.
These are all realistic goals that don't take a lot of work.  I just need determination and focus.  I want to make 2018 the best year of my life so far.

Over Thinking Christmas: The Reason for the Season

It's that time of year again!  Time to celebrate Jesus' birth.  But why do we celebrate the birth of Jesus?  Certainly not just because of the miracle of his birth.  You know the story:  born of a virgin, celebrated by shepherds and wise men, called the King of Kings.  No, I believe that Christmas is celebrated in remembrance of the man that baby Jesus would become.
All around the world, people are celebrating the life of their Savior.  Jesus was the perfect example for us all.  He served others without a second thought.  He healed, even on the Sabbath, though that was illegal.  He understood that some things couldn't wait another day.  He sat and conversed with those who were considered sinners.  He loved unconditionally.  He was, and still is, the perfect example.
Now think of your own life.  Do you serve others without a second thought?  I don't.  Although I serve others, I often think of what I could be doing instead.
Are you willing to do the right thing no matter the consequences?  I am.  But that's probably easier said than done.
Do you love your neighbor, even if they have done you wrong?  Even when others speak poorly of them?
And do you love unconditionally?  Or do you need a good reason to love someone?
Keep all of this in mind this Christmas season as you celebrate the birth of your Savior.  Am I living the way Jesus wants me to live?  Or am I living life the way I want to live?  Just remember that no matter your choice, Jesus still loves you.  He still wants what is best for you.  Because he loves you, unconditionally.

Merry Christmas!

The Greatest Gifts

 

The two greatest gifts you can give your children are time and love.  But they won't enjoy that as much as a remote control car or Hatchimal.  So how do you buy presents that incorporate time and love?  Easy.
Philip's philosophy, or Philiposophy, is to steer clear of batteries.  I have noticed in my various encounters with children that toys that need batteries or chargers honestly don't get used very often.  This can be tricky, considering that all the items the younger two boys want for Christmas need batteries or chargers.  I think back to last Christmas, when I first started with the boys.  The youngest got a remote control car.  He loved that car!  It was rechargeable.  How awesome is that?!  But the young boy didn't know what to do with himself while the car was charging.
Once the car was charged, it would be driven around for about fifteen minutes until the battery died.  Back to the charger.  Back to waiting.  This continued for days until, finally, the remote control car was forgotten.
Toys that don't have rechargeable batteries are even worse!  Between searching for screwdrivers and the correct sized battery, the kids usually find something to play with.  Or maybe they don't even worry about changing the batteries because it's just too much work.
Steer clear of batteries.  How is this showing your child time and love?  It's not.  At least one person usually ends up frustrated trying to get a toy working again.
The best way to show your children time and love is to buy toys or items that promote imagination.  The six-year old loves building things.  And he tends to not use the instructions.  He just creates whatever he wants.  Earlier this week, he and I were playing with Legos.  There was a lot of dialogue between the different mini figures and a lot of creativity in the building.  And this fun lasted for almost two hours.  Time.
And I was there playing with him.  Love.
The six-year old also has a favorite stuffed animal named Wolfey.  Wolfey is a little shy, but he will answer yes or no questions by nodding or shaking his head.  This is imagination.  And stuffed animals (usually) don't need batteries or chargers.  You can talk to them all day long, if you want to.
I could go on for a while about the best toys to get your children.  But I won't.  Just remember that time and love is all a child really needs.  And you won't find that in the electronics section.

Life Happens

My life has been going along nice and smooth.  I love my jobs, I have money in the bank, I have a warm house to live in.  I was starting to think that nothing bad could ever happen again.
Then I was humbled.
On Black Friday, my dad and my brother-in-law cut down a tree.  It hit some electrical wires and blew out the kitchen lights, oven, microwave, and refrigerator.
My health has slowly been going downhill.  I am currently taking a leave of absence from one of my jobs, waiting for the doctor to mail me a heart monitor.
My mom's car got totaled after being hit by a love drunk buck.
In the past three months, my car has been in the shop for a total of two weeks.
And then this morning, after getting my car back from the shop, its battery died.
But I haven't been brought down.  I'm still loving my jobs.  I still have money in the bank, though not as much.  And the heater wasn't affected by the fallen tree.  I honestly have nothing to complain about.
Throughout all these insane experiences, I've been thinking a lot about life.  Forrest Gump says that life is like a box of chocolate.  I say that life is like walking around a suburban neighborhood.  You're taking a leisurely stroll passing all the cookie cutter houses.  Cars stop to let you cross the street.  But then, without warning, you end up in a cul-de-sac.  And what do you do in a cul-de-sac?  You turn around and continue on.
For the past year or so, I have been taking a leisurely stroll through Suburbia, enjoying the gardens and clean streets.  Recently, I hit a dead end.  It took me some time to turn around, but I eventually did.  I turned around and continued living with a positive attitude.  I returned to the freshly manicured lawns and fancy cars, leaving the cul-de-sac behind.

Operation: Childspeak

It can be hard trying to talk to a child.  They often have difficulty expressing what they mean or feel.  You sometimes have difficulty simplifying things in a way that your child can understand.  Communication becomes too much to worry about.  It is easier to instead just use your parental authority and tell it like it is.  Sometimes this works.  Other times, it causes your child to shut down and stop listening, or even become argumentative.  This is the last thing you want.  Communicating in this way slowly pushes your children away.  The key to good communication is what I call "childspeak".
Childspeak begins with listening.  Truly listening.  Don't listen to reply, listen to understand.  Don't get frustrated when you can't understand what your child is trying express.  Do some detective work.  With your child's limited vocabulary, what are they trying to say?  Sometimes it's easy.  "My tummy feels funny."  Your child is probably sick or feeling indigestion.  Sometimes it's more difficult.  "I don't like so-and-so."  Ask clarifying questions.  Why do you not like this person?  What does this person do?  How does this person make you feel?  Speaking with a child takes time and patience.  But through your time and patience, your child is being told that you love them and genuinely care about them.  Listening is the most important part of childspeak.
The next part of childspeak is helping your child understand.  Your child won't listen to you if they can't understand what you are saying.  Or if they're simply not interested in what you have to say.  "I need you to clean up this mess."  You probably say that everyday.  And you probably repeat it multiple times throughout the day, usually regarding the same mess.  When the 6-year old I work with needs to clean up a mess, I don't tell him to clean it up.  "I bet I can get a bigger handful than you can!"  I pick up a handful of toys and put them away.  The 6-year old rushes over to the mess and quickly cleans up, trying to pick up more toys than I do.  Children understand fun.  Make cleaning up fun.
For older kids, try to put yourself in their shoes. Why isn't your child listening?  What usually gets their attention?  I try to start a conversation by asking the boys what they are doing.  If the 11-year old is playing a video game, I'll go sit next to him and ask him about the game.  When I feel he is done telling me about the game and I know I have his attention, that is when I begin talking about what I originally came to talk to him about.  How was school?  Did you get along with your teacher today?  By asking about video games first, I was able to get the 11-year old to relax and open up about something he cares about.  This made it easier for him to continue to open up and speak to me.
It's also very important to admit when you are wrong.  By apologizing, you are showing your child humility.  You are also being an example to them.  Your child is more likely to apologize if they hear you doing so.  The same thing applies to saying "thank you", "please", and "you're welcome".  You are showing your child respect and how to respect.
The last part of childspeak is combining the first two steps.  Listening to your child and then helping them understand what you have to say.  I had a great conversation with one of the boys once after he had a good screaming fit with his mother.  I asked simple questions to figure out why he was so angry, what he feels his mother did wrong.  I then helped him understand his mom's point of view.  I told him that screaming never solves anything.  That his mother is more likely to listen if he spoke nicer.  I then told him what I used to do with my parents when I was frustrated.  I would calmly tell my parents to not speak, just listen.  The key word there is calmly.  My parents would agree to listen without speaking.  This way, I knew I had their full attention.  Instead of the annoying interjections I would normally get from my parents, I was able to fully express myself.  Once I was finished, I would tell my parents that they could talk now.  They would then calmly (key word again!) tell me how they felt about what I had said.  What I had right and what I had wrong.  Nice, civil conversations.
Childspeak is based around love.  And the best way to show love is to listen and understand.  Disagreements will still occur, but by handling a situation calmly, you can learn a lot about your children.  And your children will come to love and respect you even more. 

Giving Thanks

There are so many things to be thankful for.  I am thankful for my family, my pets, my job, my home, my health, and my favorite Italian entree, lasagna.
I love my family.  I am the middle of five kids, and each one of us is different in so many ways.  We all bring something to the table.  We have an athlete, musicians, scholars, comedians, and a manny (You know I had to throw that in somewhere!).  Despite all our differences, we get along swimmingly.  And, we have the greatest parents anyone could ask for.
And don't forget the quadrupeds!  I treat my cat like she is my daughter.  I have never loved an animal as much as I love my cat.  The family dog is pretty awesome, too.  The family cat is sweet, but annoying.
I love my job!  But you already knew that.  Yesterday, I asked the boys what they are thankful for.  The 13-year old is thankful for "having a family".  The 11-year is thankful for "family too, I guess".  And the 6-year old is thankful for "rainbows, roller coasters, trains, and skateboarding".  I told the boys that I am thankful for them because without them, I wouldn't have a job.  "What?!"  The 6-year old didn't like that answer.  "I'm also thankful to have you guys as my friends" I added with a smile.
I still live with my parents.  But I try not to complain.  At least I have a roof over my head, even if it does make funny noises in the winter.  There is food in the fridge and pantries.  Blankets when it's cold.  Fans when it's hot.  I can't complain.
I am thankful for my health, even though I tell people I'm a 90-year old in a 26-year old's body.  My health isn't perfect, and it may never be.  But it could be worse.  I could come down with consumption!
And last of all, I am thankful for lasagna because, well, it tastes good.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

The Manny Diaries pt. 4

Around this time last year, my life changed for the better.  I was hired as a sitter for a family with three awesome boys.  But I don't tell people that I am a babysitter.  I tell them that I am a manny.  The youngest boy just turned 6-years old.  No babies here!  (Though I do sit on him from time to time.)

When I hear the word 'babysitter', I think of the cliché teenage girl who is on the phone with her boyfriend while the kids are running around the house causing mayhem.  That's not me.  I'm with these boys five days a week.  These boys are my walking advertisements, if you will.

I began babysitting around the age of fourteen.  I played with the kids, made sure they didn't hurt each other, put them to bed if needed, and cleaned up after them.  This usually occurred on Friday or Saturday nights.  Looking back, I feel like I was just a supervisor.  Make sure the kids are safe:  check.  Put the kids to bed:  check.  Clean up the toys before the parents get home:  check.  It was the perfect job for a teenage boy who wasn't old enough for a part-time job.  There was a point in my life where I was babysitting just about every weekend.  But that was it.  Just weekends.  I wasn't a daily part of the children's lives.

Now, twelve years later, I have three boys who are a part of my daily life, and I am a part of theirs.  For this reason, I am more than just a supervisor.  I am a friend, a big brother, a mentor.  I am whatever the boys need me to be.  Because I see these boys five days a week, I feel as though I share the important role of raising them.  And let me tell you, I'm not about to raise some ruffian hooligans!  As I said before, these boys are my advertisements.  By teaching them to do right, to make good choices and respect others, I am showcasing my role as a manny.  I am more than just a presence in the house.  I am helping these boys shape their futures.  Ten years from now, I hope to see successful, kind, and compassionate young men.  I want to see that my short time with them paid off.  I love my job as a manny.  I truly care for these boys and only want what is best for them.  This past year has been amazing.  Some days are a struggle.  And some days are perfect.  Either way, I wouldn't change a thing. 

The Golden Rule

A lot of children don't understand the Golden Rule.  I didn't when I was a kid.  Treat others the way you want to be treated.  Well, my big brother just pushed me, so he must want to be pushed back.  Obviously.  It's easy for kids to forget themselves.  They worry too much about how other people treat them.  They don't think about how they should treat others.  What's fair is fair.  He pushed me, so he deserves to be pushed back.
The librarian at the elementary school I attended used the Golden Rule all the time, but in different words.  She always told us that she would show us respect if we showed her respect in return.  This seemed to click in my young mind, and it's stuck with me ever since.  If I want to be respected, I should be respectful.  And that is how I try to live my life.
I don't know why, but it really bothers me when, while I'm driving, I let someone in front of me, and they don't wave a thank you.  How rude!  Until I realized that I rarely wave a thank you.  I've gotten much better since this realization.  I probably confuse some people.  Why is this weirdo waving at me?  I don't know him!  This is the Golden Rule in action.  If I expect people to act a certain way towards me, shouldn't I act the same way towards them?
I have been told multiple times throughout my life that I am too nice.  I also get complimented on my patience a lot.  (And my humility.)  Kindness and patience come easily when you put yourself in someone else's shoes.  I know it's hard, but the first thing to remember is that the world does not revolve around me.  Other people have their own lives too.  Other people have feelings that need to be taken into consideration.  By realizing this, it becomes so much simpler to be kind.  People act certain ways depending on what is going on in their lives.  And because I can't read minds, I decide to just treat everyone the way I want to be treated.  With love and kindness. 

I Am Not My Body pt.2: Labels

Last week, while doing his homework, the 13-year old made a discovery.  He knew that he had ADD, but he never really understood what the letters stood for.  All he understood was the 'attention' part.  He came downstairs proclaiming "I know what ADD is now!  I have a disorder?" to which his mother came up with a brilliant reply:
"You don't have a disorder.  You have a superpower.  Your ADD is your cape."
My boss mom and I then tried to explain to the 13-year old the good things that his ADD gave him.  He is better at multitasking, he is very intelligent.  And what amazes me is that this bright young man gets straight As in school.  That in itself is a super power to me.
I was diagnosed with ADD about a year or two after graduating high school (which explains why I almost didn't graduate.).  For the next year or two, I blamed everything on my ADD.  I would tell people, "I'm ADD.  It's what I do."  Looking back now, I realize how ridiculous I was being.
First of all, I am not ADD.  I have ADD.  A mental disorder is not a label.  A person isn't bipolar.  They have a bipolar disorder.
Think of it this way.  I get migraines.  Therefore, I am a migraine.  Doesn't make sense, right?  So why label people with mental disorders as ADD/ADHD.  I am not a migraine.  I get migraines.
So, "I'm ADD" was the first wrong thing I said.  The second was blaming my ADD for the way I acted.
Again, I am not ADD.  My mental disorder does not control me.  I have ADD.  I also have a cat.  And a car.  As difficult and expensive as it gets to keep my cat in good health or my car in good shape, I am still in control.  If my cat gets sick, my life may cycle around her.  If my car breaks down, my life changes, but only until the car is fixed.  If my ADD tells me to look at the stain on the ceiling that looks like Robert de Niro instead of listening to my professor's lecture, I tell my ADD no.  Mr. de Niro can wait.
I am not ADD.  I am not anxiety.  I fight to control my ADD and anxiety.  These are my superpowers, that I am in control of.  I am Philip.  I am not my body.

Boys Will Be Boys

Boys are messy.  Boys are loud.  Boys are energetic.  Boys will be boys.
Boys think they're tough.  Boys make funny noises.  Boys will be boys.
Boys can be sweet.  Boys can have potty mouths.  Boys will be boys.
Boys will lust after women.  Boys will take advantage of girls.  Boys are controlling.  Boys will be boys...?
We've been hearing a lot on the news about men sexually harassing or assaulting women.  There are some who would say that this is just the nature of the male sex.  They can't help themselves.  Men will be men.  Those people couldn't be more wrong.
Something that really boils my broccoli is when people brush things aside with an excuse such as "He's a man, what do you expect?" or "All men are just idiots".  I've been hearing that a lot in my adult life.  But I don't say anything.  I just smile and nod while inside I wonder, does this person consider me an idiot?
Believe it or not, men actually can control themselves.  They can be decent human beings.  It's all dependent upon the way they are raised and the choices they make.
I was raised to treat everyone with respect, to treat everyone the same.  It didn't matter what someone looked like.  It didn't matter if someone was mean to me.  I had to treat everyone kindly.  To this day, I still try to treat everyone with respect.
Having worked with children as long as I have, I have heard a lot of little boys repeat words that they probably shouldn't be repeating.  Not just swear words.  I've had to explain to kids why they shouldn't talk or joke around about their private parts or, even more importantly, private parts of the opposite gender.  This is psychology by Philip:  If a child is permitted to joke around about sensitive topics, such as private parts, they are basically being taught that they have no boundaries when it comes to human anatomy.  This makes them more comfortable with talking about the opposite gender in crude ways.  This in turn may (key word may) lead to these children growing up still not knowing boundaries.
While I was working in a restaurant, a lot of my co-workers, male and female, would talk about their or someone else's bodies.  I was usually the one trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.  It just shocked me how casually people talked about sex, and with so much detail.  It seemed as though people were only thinking about the body and not the person behind the body.
I could rant about this all day.  But I won't.  While raising your children, just remember:
Boys are messy.  Teach them to clean up after themselves.
Boys are loud.  Teach them to be considerate of those around them.
Boys can have potty mouths.  Teach them the correct ways to use (or not use) certain words.
Boys will be boys, but that doesn't mean they have to be idiots.

Don't Waste My Time

This time a year ago, I was working between 8-10 hours a day, 4-6 days a week.  But that's all I was doing.  While I was at home, I would waste my time on Facebook, playing video games, watching TV, or sleeping.  Usually sleeping, to be honest.
Now, I am working three jobs (one with random hours), I try to visit with my Little Brother every week, I blog every Thursday, I dog sit on occasion, and I dabble in the photographic arts.  I am also active in my church and volunteer at my church.  I could use a break!  So what do I do?  I consider the unused hours between everyday life and bedtime.  Call me crazy, but I'll soon be signing up for an online college course.  And I still apply to weekend child care jobs, despite my three jobs.  What is wrong with me?!
This year, I realized that are a lot of minutes in a day.  Why waste them?  I have found positive ways to spend my time.  Through my jobs, I'm not only making money, but I'm also helping the children I take care of.  I have become a part of their lives, someone to look up to.  Visiting with my Little gets me out of the house doing fun things.  I have the opportunity to be a good example to a child who needs a positive male role model in his life.  And yet, my Little has been the example for me.  While volunteering at church, I have learned more about myself and what I am capable of.
Am I tired?  No.  I'm exhausted!  But it's all worth it.  My life has changed so much this past year, for the better.  And I feel that this is the result of not wasting my time.  I am living life, loving life.  I live life differently than most people, but I enjoy what I do. 

What the BLEEP?!

One day, at the tender age of four years old, I called a kid an unkind word.  My older sister told my mom and I got to taste dish soap for the first (and last) time.  A couple of years ago, I was talking to my mom about this incident.  I didn't understand why I got my mouth washed out for calling someone a name.  My mom told me that I didn't just call someone a name.  I used the 'F' word. 
The word that I haven't used since that day 22 years ago is 'fraidy cat'.  (Notice that 'fraidy' starts with an 'F'.)  My older sister had told my mom that I had said the 'F' word. 
Needless to say, as a child, I was very careful about what I said.  If a fun-hearted name calling resulted in me drinking suds, what would something really vulgar result in?  Like poopy-face?  Or fartknocker?  Then I entered middle school.  It was like everyone was speaking a different language. 
My mom had taught my siblings and I to ask her or dad if we didn't know what a word meant.  So I knew better than to repeat any of the words I was hearing, especially after seeing the teachers' reactions to them.
Next came high school.  The language got even worse.  There was no way to get away from it.  Even after graduation.  I was surrounded by profanity at work and at college.  It just comes out so naturally from some people, without a thought.
So it came as no surprise to me when the 13-year old accused me of being a hypocrite.  In a previous post, I explained the 13-year old's "What the What" jar, in which he receives a token every time he curses.  (I'm proud to say that I haven't used it in a couple months.)  One day, after I put a token in the jar, the 13-year old confronts me.  He felt that it was unfair that he couldn't curse.
"You're an adult," he said.  "You curse all the time when you're not here."
Wow.  Just wow.
I guess I can see where he's coming from.  He probably hears profanity all the time in school, on the street, on TV, on the radio.  To him, it truly is an adult thing to do.  I tried to convince him that I did not use foul language.  He didn't believe me.  It honestly hurt my feelings, being accused of something I don't do.  But like I said, I can see where the 13-year old was coming from.
I believe that using profane language is plain dumb.  What does it accomplish?  Isn't there a better way to express yourself?  Shut the front door, there is a better way?  Well by golly, see if you can figure it out for yourself.

Adventures in Babysitting

I rarely have a boring day working with the boys.  We have fun days.  We have angry days.  We have silly days.  Every day is different.  I never know what to expect.  My favorite thing about the boys is that they always make me smile, even if it's not on purpose.
For the sake of this post, the boys will be known by the following titles:
The 5-year old will be known as 'French Fry'
The 11-year old will be known as 'His Majesty'
The 13-year old will be known as 'M'

M likes to keep to himself for the most part.  But over the summer, I like to think that we became buddies.  We went to Hershey Park one day.  M and His Majesty were arguing over who got to sit next to me on the roller coaster.  I had them guess what number I was thinking of.  M won.  So I sat with him.
While waiting in line, I don't remember what we were talking about, but M and I had a disagreement.  M raises his voice a little and asks "Do you want me to make a scene?"  Before I can reply, he says, clapping his hands once "Aaand cut!" as if he is a director ending a scene.  I have never been so proud of that boy!  That joke my day!
His Majesty is always fun to be around.  He's got such great energy and an awesome sense of humor.  He's one of those kids that likes to hide and then jump out and scream when you least expect it.  He's not very good at hiding, though.  (Don't tell him I said that!)
His Majesty can be quite bossy, though, thus the nickname.  He likes it when I say "Yes, Your Majesty."  He smiles, but then catches himself and says "please".  One day, I took the boys to this awesome playground.  His Majesty asked me to throw away his Capri Sun pouch (without saying please).  So I said "Of course, Your Majesty".  His Majesty glared at me and said "Not in public, Philip!".
The jokes this boy tells!  He loves 'Yo Momma' jokes.  We were telling each such jokes one day.  His Majesty starts out with "Yo Momma's so ugly, when One Direction saw her, they went the other direction."  I fought back with "Yo momma's so fat, she uses a boomerang to put on her belt."  French Fry then chimed in with "Yo Momma's so fat, she wears a yellow hat!"  French Fry won.
Speaking of French Fry...I spend most of my day with French Fry.  He randomly started calling me 'Nugget Head', so I call him French Fry. I'll often say his name to get his attention, then repeat it a couple more times.  I'll then say "French Fry!".  He looks up from whatever he is doing and says "My name's not French Fry!"  But, I got his attention!  Works every time!
French Fry loves playing on the computer at the library.  He usually plays Reader Rabbit, but the other day, he played The Berenstein Bears.  While listening to one of the stories, French Fry calls me over to tell me that Brother Bear had just said a bad word.
"He said 'shut up'!  Freak you Brother Bear!"
I told French Fry to use kind words then quickly went off to a corner of the library to bust up laughing.
French Fry also loves swimming.  One day, I took all three boys to the pool.  At one point, French Fry informs me that he has to poop.  So off he goes to the bathroom.  Fifteen minutes later, he's still in the bathroom, so I go in to check on him.  I know right away which stall he is in.  I follow the sound of splashing.  I get him to unlock the door for me.  He opens the door, stark naked, water and and toilet paper all over the floor.  He walks over to the toilet and pulls out his bathing suit.
"I didn't make it in time.  I need to wash my bathing suit."
Ok, Philip, stay calm, I think to myself.  I obviously can't let French Fry back in the pool.  So I fetch his clothes and begin dressing him.  We get his undies on (backwards) when he slips out of my grasp and runs out of the locker room.  He runs around the pool in nothing but his backwards underwear.  I catch him on his way to the parking lot.
Needless to say, we had a long talk on the way home.
As you all know, I love my job.  I love these boys.  They bring so much joy into my life.  We have our struggles, but we're always able to work through them. At the end of the day, M, His Majesty, French Fry and I are the best of friends.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

Can Mormons Wear Hats?

I was born and raised a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, more commonly known as the Mormon church.  Growing up in the suburbs of Baltimore and D.C., there were plenty of Mormons to go around.  But when I was 15-years old, my parents moved my younger siblings and me to the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania.  I was the only Mormon in the high school.  I started to get asked a lot of questions.
The most commonly asked questions were:

• What do Mormons believe?
• Are Mormons Christian?
• Where did the name 'Mormon' come from?

In short, Mormons believe that Jesus died on the cross to atone for our sins and through him, all mankind may be saved.  I believe that answers the first two questions.  The name 'Mormon' comes from the Book of Mormon, a set of scriptures that goes hand in hand with the Bible.
But those aren't the only questions I've been asked.  I'm not here today to preach.  I'm here to clear up any misconceptions you may have about the Mormon church.  In order to write this post, I asked my fellow Mormon friends, via Facebook, what kind of off-the-wall questions people have asked them about their faith.  They did not disappoint.
Let me start off, however, with the more common, yet still strange, questions.

How many moms do you have?
I love answering this question!  I joke around with the person asking.  "I only have one mom.  My dad has 17 wives, but only one of them is my mom."  This is a joke, of course.  My mom is my dad's one and only wife.
You may be wondering why I get asked this a lot.  Well, back in the 1800s, some members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints practiced polygamy.   This practice also ended in the 1800s.

So what about the show 'Sister Wives'?
I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or the LDS church.  The family on 'Sister Wives' are members of the FLDS church, 'F' standing for fundamentalist.  Some members of the early LDS church disagreed with the change in marriage policy and branched off into a new sect.  Their name may be similar, but they are not Mormons.  The LDS church is the original, true-blue Mormon church.


Do Mormons celebrate holidays?
Yes, yes they do.  It is the Jehovah's Witnesses that don't celebrate holidays.


Why can't Mormons drink caffeine? 
This is up to personal interpretation.  I know plenty of Mormons who chug a Mountain Dew on a daily basis.  My family tries to stay away from caffeine.  Caffeine is addictive.  How many people do you know who can't start their day without a cup of coffee?  They can be quite irritable until they get their daily dose of Starbucks.
Speaking of coffee, that is something Mormons are not allowed to drink.  Mormons have a policy, for lack of a better term, called the Word of Wisdom.  The Word of Wisdom promotes a healthy lifestyle for members of the LDS church.  Things included in the Word of Wisdom are no smoking, no alcohol, not over doing it on red meat, and no coffee.  It's my personal belief that not partaking in any of these things leads to happier, healthier life.

Now on to the bizarre questions:

Can Mormons wear hats?
I don't see why not!

Do Mormons still drive horse and buggies?
Um, no.  We drive cars.  Actually, the official car of the Mormon church is the 15-seater mini van.  (Another joke!)
Funny story, though.  When my older sister was in Driver's Ed, her instructor told the class that there were only two groups of people in America that did not drive cars:  the Amish, and the Mormons.  My sister corrected her, of course.

I think it's ridiculous that Mormons don't accept blood transfusions! 
Again, that's the Jehovah's Witnesses.  We Mormons love life.  So, please, should the occasion arise, give me a blood transfusion!

Are Mormon girls allowed to wear makeup?
Of course!

When did the Mormons break apart from the Amish?
This question caught me off guard.  A co-worker asked me this when I was working at a restaurant.  The Mormons were never a part of the Amish faith or culture.

Now on to the really crazy questions that my friends posted on Facebook:

Do they force you to have babies?
Wow.  Um, no.  Is that a thing?  Can you be forced to have a baby?

Are you a baby killer?
Again, wow.  Who would even think to ask such a question?  One of the Ten Commandments states "thou shalt not kill".  No, Mormons are not baby killers.  And yes, we still follow the Ten Commandments.

These last two questions take the cake:

Do you really have to roll naked in your meat before you cook it?
I don't.  I don't know of anyone who does.  But I won't judge.  And, no, it's not in the Mormon guidebook.

 
Do Mormons really believe that when you die, you go to the moon to teach 8ft. Quakers about Joseph Smith?
As awesome as that would be, it's not true.

The moral of the story is:  Don't believe everything you hear!  If you have a question about the Mormon church, who better to ask than a Mormon?  Can't find a Mormon?  No problem!  Just visit mormon.org and chat with a missionary.  But don't get crazy with your questions!  Just remember, Mormons are human too.  They're not that different from you.



 

Text Speak: What Did You Just Say?

Call me old fashioned.  I still have a flip phone, an iPod, a GPS, and a digital camera.  Not all in one device.  I have four separate devices.  It may surprise you to hear this, but I use my phone to call and text people.  And that's about it, other than occasionally using it as an alarm.
Call me old fashioned again.  When I text, I use proper grammar, punctuation, and sentence structure.  I capitalize letters, use Oxford commas, and, yes, I spell out every single word.  No silly acronyms from me.  Not even an LOL!
As much as I love writing, I often have difficulty expressing my feelings and opinions in a way that my readers can understand.  I especially find it difficult to express myself in text messages.  I'll send a text and worry that the person receiving the text will think I sound bossy or angry.  I may or may not have a small addiction to exclamation points...
When 'text speak' became a thing, I was still pretty young.  I never really got into it, though.  And now, as an adult, I am paying the price for missing out.  I don't understand what other people are trying to express.  Everyday, I find myself on Google.  Today, I googled 'WYD'.  I have seen 'WYD' multiple times on Facebook and I finally got around to looking it up.  'What you doing?'.  Well no wonder I could never figure out what it meant.  That's not even correct grammar!
What's the point of text speak anyways?  Does it really save you that much time?  What are you going to do with that extra 8 seconds you saved by typing 'brb' instead of 'be right back'?
Now, I'm not hatin' on anyone who uses texting short cuts.  No, I'm just expressing what I feel.  With real words.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I've 'got to go' assist my friend who is 'rolling on the floor laughing'.  I mean, who does that?

48-Hours

Every morning when I wake up, the first thing I do is take my medication.  I take two pills to help lessen my anxiety and help me get through the day.
I've missed doses here and there before, but usually of just one of my pills.  I may have pill A, but I forgot to refill pill B.  A couple weeks ago, however, I went two days without taking either pill.  That's 48-hours of me, alone with my thoughts and fears.
I had already called for the refills to be...well...refilled.  But, you know how it is.  Life has a way of grabbing you by the ears and whisking you away.  My life had become pretty hectic.  So I forgot about my refills.

Day 1
The first day of being unmedicated went fairly smoothly.  I had to drive a friend to a doctor's appointment.  I acknowledged the fact that I didn't have any pills to take and told myself I would pick them up on the way home.  That didn't happen.  Life had me by the ears.
It was a perfectly normal day, up until the evening.  I began to feel light headed and nauseous.  My arms and legs got a little shaky.  This had happened before.  Just a side effect of missing one of my pills.  No worries.  I'd pick the pills up in the morning.

Day 2
This was a rough day for me.  It started out like a normal day, but as the day went on, I began to get more and more agitated.  My thoughts began to randomly race around like my brain was trying to win the Indy 500.  I was sitting there, eating dinner, asking myself how I had survived this long.  How was I ever going to pay for school?  I think I need a new car.  Where would that money come from?  Why am I still single?  (To be fair, I'm always asking myself that question.)  I became so overwhelmed with fear that I just wanted everything to end.  I wanted to go to bed and never wake up again.  Yeah, it was pretty intense.  On top of that, the nausea, shakiness, and light headedness had only gotten worse.

The next day, I woke up, ate breakfast, and went straight to the pharmacy.  I was still pretty anxious, but by dinner time, I was back to being myself again.  I had, and have, the same doubts and fears, but they no longer consume me.
The important to thing to note from my experience is that I realized I was not okay.  I realized I needed to get my medication.  I have heard of people, young and old, who decide they are all right, that they don't need to take their medications anymore.  It could be true.  Some people actually do outgrown their mental illnesses, or learn how to live with them.  But the choice to quit medicating is not yours to make alone.  You should always talk to your doctor first.  Get there opinion.  Schedule a follow-up appointment so your doctor can see for themselves how you are doing.
After the 48-hour experience I had, I now know that, as much as hate to admit it, I need my medicine to get through my day.  The next time I run low on pills, I will be grabbing my own ears, thank you very much, and taking myself to the pharmacy.

Adulting: The Worst Decision I Never Made

After ten years of practicing photography, I feel confident in my ability to take good pictures.  After thirteen years of babysitting, I feel confident in my ability to work well with children.  After only one year of blogging, I feel confident in my ability to express my feelings through written word.  But after nine years of being an adult, I am becoming less and less confident in my ability to survive.
Many questions come to mind:

• Why can't I work my dream job without going to college?

• Why are other adults so weird?

And, most puzzling of all:

• Who was the genius who invented money?

Needless to say, I have been struggling at 'adulting' lately.  I want to get my own place, I want to finish school, I want to jump straight into my dream job.  What's holding me back?  Money!
In order to get an apartment, I would need to get a third job.  To continue my education, I would need to get a fourth job.  And a fifth job.  By then, I won't even have time for school.  So maybe I should just quit my jobs (note to boss:  I'm not quitting any time soon!  Don't panic!) and take out a loan...or seven.  That way, I can finish school, get my dream job, and spend the rest of my life earning money to give back to the bank.  This is the American dream, people!
And don't get me started on the privileges of being an adult.  As a child, I longed for the day when I could finally eat a bowl of ice cream without someone telling me I couldn't.  Now that I can, I find that I shouldn't.  I've got to stay healthy.  My quick metabolism is quickly slowing down.  All that ice cream just sits in my gut.  Most men have a beer belly.  I have a mint chocolate chip belly.
Now, back to school.  I hated high school with a passion.  I couldn't wait to get out of there.  Now, I wish I were back, not in high school, per se, but back to going to school for free.  Back to the teachers handing out free copies of the textbooks.  Back to $2 cardboard pizzas instead of $15 salads.  Ok, scratch that.  Maybe I don't miss the food so much.  But you get my point.  I miss the days when things were handed to me on a cheap green, plastic tray rather than having to pay for my silver platter.
The worst thing about an adult, though, is that I had no choice.  Adulthood was thrust upon me.  High school graduation, which should be one of my proudest memories, is now one of my greatest regrets.  I didn't choose the adult life.  The adult life chose me.  And it chose poorly.

It Just Makes Me So Angry!

I have been blessed with a great deal of patience (and humility).  I don't get angry very often.  In fact, the 11-year old once told me that I don't get angry, just frustrated.
Can you keep a secret?  I do get angry.
I get angry when people don't use turn signals.  So I made a game out of it the other day.  A guy in the next lane over obviously wanted to move over to my lane.  He stuck his nose in front of me, but I carefully scooted forward so he couldn't get in.  He backed out.  A couple seconds later, he tried again.  Again, I didn't let him in.  Finally, the turn signal came on.  I slowed down and let the guy move over.
I get angry when adults act like children.  So I quit my job at a restaurant and got a job with people who are supposed to act like children:  children.
I get angry when I see people (children and adults) disrespecting their parents.  So I give my parents hugs and tell them how much I love them.
I get angry when the IRS says I owe them money.  So I write them a check.  Wait...
The point I'm trying to make is that I try to find a positive way to release my anger.  Sure, I'm probably not releasing as much anger that way, but I don't keep it bottled up inside.  God gave us dance music with a lot of bass for a reason!  Rocking out in my car to Zedd and Martin Garrix certainly helps me unleash my anger.
So the next time you're at Walmart walking behind that old lady who takes two steps a minute, don't just quickly brush by her in a minor fit of anger.  Ask her if she needs assistance.  Start a conversation with her.  Make her day brighter.  It'll make your day brighter too.

Ms. Earley's 3rd Grade Class

In January of the year 2000, my whole life changed for the better.  As I have mentioned in previous posts, I was diagnosed with a social anxiety disorder at a young age.  Because of my anxiety, especially my selective mutism, my mom decided it was best for me to be home schooled.  From Kindergarten through 2nd grade, I had the same teacher:  Mrs. Mom (I didn't call her that by the way.  It was just 'mom'.).  Halfway through my 3rd grade year, after being successfully prescribed with medications and treatments, I asked my mom if I could go to public school.  She felt that I was ready.
In the first month of the Millenium, I was enrolled in Harman Elementary and assigned to Ms. Earley's class.  Now imagine, a kid who is terrified of people and doesn't even speak to kids his own age, going to public school.  What had I gotten myself into?!
Fortunately for me, Ms. Earley was the perfect teacher for me at that time in my life.  She was kind and didn't give me funny looks like some adults did when they thought I wasn't looking.  She treated me like she treated her other students:  with love and care.  But not everyone in the classroom was so warm at first.  I got a lot of dirty looks from the girls, and the boys didn't know what to do with me.  But one girl, Jenny, decided to take me under her wing.  And, by some miracle, I was perfectly comfortable with talking to her.  In fact, she became my spokeswomen...er...-girl.  I would whisper things into her ear, and she would repeat what I said.  Ms. Earley even put our desks together so I would feel comfortable answering questions in class, always through Jenny.
As the school year progressed, I became more and more comfortable with my class mates and made plenty of friends, all of whom I was comfortable speaking with.  But, as much as I wanted to, I just couldn't bring myself to talk to Ms. Earley.
I don't remember when it was.  It was probably towards the end of the year.  One day during reading time, I had to use the restroom.  I rose my hand, using the sign for the letter "T" as was required at Harmans.  Ms. Earley didn't see me.  She, too, was reading.  So, after weighing my options, I stood up, walked over to Ms. Earley's desk and asked "May I use the bathroom?"  And you know what she said?  Without looking up from her book (must have been a good one!) she asked "Boy or girl?".  I said that I was a boy.  She looked up from her book, saw who had spoken, and I swear her eyes teared up a little.  She calmly handed me the boy's bathroom pass, as if nothing momentous had occurred.  That is the moment that changed my life.  Instead of excitedly exclaiming "Yes!  You may have the bathroom pass!  You may have all the bathroom passes!", she stayed calm and treated me like a regular student.  Doesn't sound like that big of a deal.  But for me, a child who was used to getting lectured for being impolite for not speaking, a child who was used to being treated delicately, like a China doll, was finally treated like everyone else.
The next day, however, Ms. Earley had added something new to my desk.  A Root Beer scented scratch-and-sniff sticker.  She told me that for everytime I spoke to her, I would get another sticker.  I didn't mind.  Who complains about stickers?  That smell like Root Beer?!  My desk was filled with stickers by the beginning of June.
So at this time in my life, I would just like to thank Ms. Earley and those students in her class.  My life was forever changed.  I saw the beauty and kindness that humanity has to offer.  Because of Ms. Earley's 3rd grade class, I became a changed man...er...boy.


p.s.  Because I started 3rd grade in January, I missed picture day.  So I cheated!  The above picture is actually from Mrs. Resnick's 4th grade class.  But that's another story.

No Tech Day

Last Friday, the boys and I had a No Tech Day.  After struggling to get the teenager out of bed ("What's the point?  I might as well sleep all day.") and listening to the younger boys complain about being bored (after a grueling four minutes), it was time to step up my game.
First came Twister.  The spinner got broken, so that didn't last very long.  Next came wrestling.  That's always fun.  Until it goes too far.  So, it was time to build a fort.
We gathered the chairs from the dining room and made a square.  I had a top sheet ready, but the boys insisted on using every blanket in the house.  The fort we built was huge!  Once the fort was finished we played a game the boys called "Slenderman".  They had thirty seconds to get from the fort to a hiding place.  I then had about two minutes to find them before they got back to the fort.  We had a blast!  Until one of the dogs jumped on top of the fort.  No worries there, though.  The boys fixed it up and made it even stronger than before.
Lunchtime came along while the boys were playing Bop-it or building with Jenga blocks.  We had had such a good day by that point that I decided we could watch one movie, taking a break from the No Tech Day.  After two hours of Jim Carrey fighting thugs while wearing a green mask, we continued our No Tech Day.  Back to Bop-it and Jenga.
After a while, the 11-year old brought out his electric ball.  You know what I'm talking about.  One of those globes that has electricity running through it.  When you put a finger on it, the electricity follows your finger.  He set it up in the middle of the fort.  We spent a good hour and a half in the fort shocking each other.  The boys would put one hand on the globe and use the other hand to go up and down my forearm.  At one point, one the boys asked what was burning.  It was my arm hair.  It smelled awful, but the boys thought it was the coolest thing.  It was actually fairly hot.  Not cool at all.  But, again, we had a blast.
My boss, who I just call 'mom', got home while we were working on MadLibs. The boys started complaining to her about the long, boring, torturous day I had put them through.  But I know better.  They may not realize it, but they enjoyed themselves.  We had rough patches throughout the day, such as calling each other names and hitting each other, but I also saw the boys bonding, which doesn't seem to happen much when I'm around.  They told each other jokes, talked about their trip to the beach they had recently returned from.  They even discussed politics!  Imagine that!  A 13- and 11-year old discussing the state of the Union.  I thoroughly enjoyed my tech free day with these fine young men.  I'm kind of tempted to do it again.  Heaven help those boys!

The Power of Reading

There is nothing more enjoyable, in my opinion, than reading picture books to young children.  Seeing and hearing their reactions is priceless.  Here is a quick list of some favorites that the 5-year old and I both enjoyed.

• The Hair of Zoe Fleefenbacher Goes to School by Laurie Halse Anderson and Ard Hoyt
• The Very Cold, Freezing, No Number Day by Ashley N. Sorenson
• Wiggle by Doreen Cronin
• The Pigeon books by Mo Willems
• The Duckling Gets a Cookie!? by Mo Willems
• It's Hard to Be Five by Jamie Lee Curtis and Laura Cornell
• Dragons Rule, Princesses Drool by Courtney Pippin-Mathur
• The Arthur books by Marc Brown
• Chu's Day by Neil Gaiman
• Froodle by Antionette Portis
• Not a Box by Antionette Portis 
• Baghead by Jarrett J. Krosoczka
• The Boy Who Lost His Bumble by Trudi Esberger
• Pretend by Jennifer Plecas

This is just a handful of books that kept the 5-year old's attention.  This kid used to hate being read to.  He now looks forward to me reading with him.  He even memorizes parts of books and blurts out the words before I do!  My hope is that my reading to him has opened up a new world to him.  I hope that, as he grows up, he continues to read and enjoy the books he reads.  It's becoming more and more difficult to find kids who love reading, so I take pride in knowing that I have assisted at least one child in finding his way to the literary world, where nothing is impossible.  

The Colors of Patriotism

Happy belated Independence Day!  I hope yours was as awesome as mine.  I spent the evening in Harrisburg with some friends.  There was a food truck festival going on with fireworks afterwards.  I found a food truck with a short line, so I bought myself an overpriced pretzel and strawberry lemonade and headed back to where my friends and I agreed we would meet.  I was the first one back.  So, I decided to do some people watching.
Harrisburg, though small, is a city of great diversity.  Looking around, I saw people of many different nationalities and cultures.  I heard many different languages being spoken.  But what stuck out the most was the one thing everyone had in common:  the 4th of July.
Everyone at the festival, as far as I knew, was American.  Even though some people had different colored skin and some people spoke with accents or in completely different languages, everyone was celebrating being an American.  I saw a young Muslim family waving hand-held American flags.  My friends and I sat near an African family, the parents speaking with an accent.  Everyone was so friendly and just having a good time.
This, in my opinion, is what being an American looks like.  Different colored skin.  Different accents and languages.  Different styles of dress.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time in the city, surrounded by my fellow patriots.

The Non Traditional Student

Ok, so I guess I'm still pretty young.  But it doesn't feel that way sometimes.  Especially in school.  I am the 26-year old sitting next to the fresh-out-of-high-school student, usually asking the youngster for help.  It's strange seeing people who graduated high school years after me graduating college before me.  It's honestly starting to annoy me.  But there is no one to blame but myself.
After graduating high school, I immediately registered with the local two year community college.  I then waited a year to begin classes.  I paid everything out of pocket.  No loans, scholarships, or grants.  It was pretty pricey.  So I waited a couple semesters until going back to school.  Now, six years later, I am a Sophomore,  still taking classes at the two year community college.  There are pros and cons to still being in school at my age, though.

Pros:

• Since I've been paying out of pocket, I'm not in debt.
• I've had plenty of time to work to help pay for classes.
• I've changed majors several times.  Fortunately, I haven't taken enough classes to get to far ahead for any majors.  I've pretty much got my generals out of the way.
• After I turned 23-years old, I could no longer claim to be a dependent with my parents.  The amount I was eligible for in grants went way up.  I took my first full-term semester for free!

Cons:

• I'm normally one of the oldest people in my class.
• All my friends have awesome jobs while I'm still trying to figure out the Quadratic formula.

Huh!  Not as many cons as I thought there would be.  And when I think of the cons, I remind myself that, even though it's taking a long time, I  am going to college.  I have friends who were amazing students in high school who showed a lot of promise, then dropped out of college because of drugs or alcohol.  So even though I feel like I'm stuck in a rut, I try to remember that I am moving forward. I might not get to where I want to be right away, but I am still making my way to the finish line.

Someone to Look Up to

When I was a Cub Scout, many moons ago, I remember going into the gymnasium at the church to play basketball after Den Meeting.  My fellow Cub Scouts and I would play Knockout with the leaders.  And we always had a blast.  Until the Boy Scouts came in.  The older boys would get a hold of all the basketballs and start their own game, forcing us younger boys off the court.  This always made me so mad.  We were there first!  Needless to say, I didn't really like being around the Boy Scouts.  Or any other teenage boys, for that matter.  They weren't people that I felt like I could look up to.
Everyone needs a good role model in their life.  It can be a parent, a teacher or leader, a friend, or even a friend's parent.  Why only have one?  Have as many as you want!
In my life working as a manny, a respite care provider, a Sunday School teacher, and Big Brother, there are a lot of little eyes looking up at me, watching what I do.  Being a role model comes naturally to me  (I know, toot toot!  There goes Philip tooting his own horn again!).  I love being around children.  For me, they are much easier to get along with than most adults.  In all honesty, I think a lot of my role models are the children I have worked with.  While I do my best to set a good example to the kids around me, little do they know that I am learning from them.  Be yourself, be honest, don't care what other people think, love unconditionally.  A lot can be learned from children.
My goal in life has always been to change the world, even if it's just one person at a time.  I often feel like I am failing at this.  I'm not seeing the fruits of my labors.  But I get surprised sometimes.
A couple of examples.  One day in Cub Scouts (as a leader, now, not as a Scout), I had the boys write thank you letters to someone they look up to.  One of the boys wrote a letter for me.  Now, let me tell you, this boy is insane!  Insanely busy, active, hyper, and talkative.  I felt like I was getting nowhere with this boy.  So you can understand my surprise when this young boy handed me the letter, thanking me for all that I have done for him to make him a better person.  I was deeply touched.
The second example is the 5-year old I take care of.  I had to take a day off for CPR training and the little guy was very stressed out about being with the back-up sitter.  I didn't realize this at the time.  So the week before my day off, I was joking around with the 11-year old about how I had the day off and I was never coming back.  I heard a loud "WHAT?!" from the other room.  The 5-year old came running in with tears in his eyes.  I asked what the matter was.  "You said something mean!" he told me.  I  apologized and explained that I was just joking around with his older brother.  This seemingly insignificant event showed me that, even though he never said anything before, the 5-year old looked up to me.  He felt safe with me.  This is an important thing for a child to feel.  That they can trust someone.
Look around you.  Are you alone?  Are you with people your age?  Younger people?  How do you act around these people?  How should you act around these people?  Ask yourself these questions when you are with others.  Are you the kind of person who takes a basketball from a group of children?  Or are you someone to look up to?

The Manny Diaries pt. 3

Step aside Jo Frost!  There's a new sheriff in town.  And his name is Supermanny!
Nothing has changed since last week's post.  I still love my job.  But there are challenges.  Summer, for example.  What do I do with three boys in the summer that they'll all enjoy?  And how do I discipline in a way that is effective, yet creative?  After a lot of contemplation, I've finally discovered the answers to both questions.

Question #1:  What do I do with three boys in the summer that they'll all enjoy?

Keep the boys' interests in mind.  Ask them what they want to do.  Find ways to make things happen, but don't be afraid to say no.  The 12-year old wants to do some expensive things, such as paintball and Hershey Park.  He understands that these are costly activities, so they may or may not happen.  The younger boys are a little easier to please.  Just give them a net and some water shoes and take them to the creek and they're set for hours.  Free can be fun!
Another thing to do with the boys this summer is to get them out of their comfort zones.  The boys despise reading.  So what did we do yesterday?  We got signed up for the library's Summer Reading Program, which, by the way, is free.  Did I mention that free can be fun?  The boys were given sheets to keep track of their reading.  They get to mark off every time they read for ten minutes and eventually earn prizes.  The 12-year old read for an hour yesterday!  That blew my mind!  It just takes a little motivation.
Every Thursday, the library will have a different show or demonstration.  For example, today, the boys and I went to see a science show.  Next week is a magic show.  I'm super excited about Thursday mornings now.



Question #2:  How do I discipline in a way that is effective, yet creative?

I had a blast with this!  My creative juices have really been pumping for the past month or so.  I even have pictures of my creations!

This is Beastboy from Teen Titans Go.  This show is always on!  I've probably seen every episode sixteen times by now.  So, since Beastboy is such a well known character for the 5-year old, I decided to use him as my example.  As you can see in the pictures, Beastboy has listening ears, watchful eyes, a respectful mouth, gentle hands, and gentle feet.  These are all characteristics that the 5-year old needs to work on.  When the 5-year old, say, hits one of the dogs...

...Beastboy loses his hands.  Beastboy is a whipping boy of sorts.  But the 5-year old gets very offended when his whipping boy gets punished.  Doesn't sound like the 5-year old is getting disciplined, though, huh?  If Beastboy loses all his detachable parts, the 5-year old loses a privilege.  No more iPad for the rest of the day.  Or no more TV for the rest of the day.  With Beastboy, discipline is still happening, but in a way that the 5-year old can understand.

What's the best way to keep zombies out of your house during the zombie apocalypse?  Plant a garden, obviously.  The 11-year old loves playing games on his iPad.  He's been playing a lot of Plants vs. Zombies lately.  Thus the plant and the zombie.  But enough about the game.
On to the discipline.  You know how in golf the less points you have the better?  The same is true in this case.  I took all of the 11-year old's worst habits then made him make the point system.  I helped.  He yells a lot, so for yelling, he only wanted one point.  I think we finally agreed on three points.  For lying, which he is doing very well on, he wanted five points.  That's not how this works.  The more you do something, such as yelling, the more points you get, in hopes that you will think before you act.  The points limit is ten points.  After getting ten points, the 11-year old loses his iPad for the day.  If things continue, he'll lose his Playstation.  But don't worry!  He can redeem himself.  By apologizing or using his manners, he can have points deducted to get back down to zero.  If we're having a really rough day and we're at nine points, the 11-year old has the option of cheating to get a clean slate.  For a cheat, he simply needs to perform a chore, such as folding laundry, taking out the trash, or helping with dinner.  After performing the chore, the score sheet goes back to zero.  And if he acts up again, we start all over.
The important thing about this idea, in my opinion, was giving the 11-year old the power to make the point system (even if I did have to guide him a little bit).  This shows him that I care about his opinion and I trust his judgement.

The 12-year old is developing the mouth of a sailor.  So what to do?  I Googled alternatives to swear jars and found...nothing.  So a swear jar it is.  Actually, it's a What the What?? jar.  But, instead of the 12-year old putting money into the jar, we'll just be using tokens.  If he gets five tokens put in the jar, he loses the Xbox for the day.  Ten tokens, he loses his phone.  I prefer this method over the paying money method because nobody benefits.  With the traditional swear jar, someone (usually the parents) benefits from the money in the jar.  With the What the What?? jar, the only thing being served is discipline.

This little guy is the Gadget Bag.  In the past, the boys' mom used to hide their iPads.  Give the boys five minutes and they either have the iPads in their hands, or the house is a mess from the search.  The Gadget Bag is a form of trust, on both the boys' part, and mom's part.  And mine, I guess.  When the "gadgets" aren't in use, they go in the bag.  This way, the boys always know where their beloved iPads are.  But, heaven forbid, an iPad should be taken from the Gadget Bag without permission.  Punishment is, you guessed it, no more iPad for the rest of the day.  I love this method, which I thought I came up with myself only to find other people use it also.  The Gadget Bag shows that the boys' mom and I trust them enough to do the right thing by keeping the iPads in the bag.  It also shows the boys that they can trust mom and I.  The days of hiding things from them is over.  Trust is an important thing, especially amongst family members.

My job couldn't be more perfect.  I am extremely happy with where I am in my life right now.  I love working with the boys and helping to raise three fine gentlemen.  After almost eight months with the boys, I have seen so much change in all three of them.  Now I know why Supernanny does what she does.  She sees the fruits of her labors.  And her fruits are life changing.  Even though I may think as myself as Supermanny, I know I still have a ways to go before I can take on Jo Frost in nanny to manny combat.  But she had better get ready, because here I come.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

I haven't told you guys recently how much I love my job as a manny.  I absolutely love it!  It is the perfect job for me at this time in my life.  I have fun working with the boys.  I never know what is going to happen next.  The boys keep me entertained with their jokes and silly antics.  And their mother, my boss, is awesome!  She goes out of her way to make sure I am happy and comfortable.  She is a great listener and thoughtfully considers any ideas I may come up with for the boys.  Could it get any better than this?
I didn't always have the perfect job, though.  Before my manny job came along, I worked as a shift manager at a restaurant.  Let me tell you, that is not a dream job. I was miserable as a manager.  I was always tired and irritable.  There were only three things that made me happy.  The end of the shift, my bed, and my cat.  I was a manager for about three out of my seven years at the restaurant.  Way too long!
I've worked other jobs along the way, too.  I worked retail.  That lasted three months.  I worked at a gas station.  That lasted two weeks.  I just couldn't seem to find my happy place.  I knew I wanted to work with kids, but, as I mentioned in The Manny Diaries, child care is a tough place to be in if you are not a female.  So when I finally got hired to work with the boys, I almost immediately quit my management job.  And after some time, I noticed some changes, which my older sister just confirmed for me.  She told me that I seem happier. There are hundreds of things that make me happy, not just three.  I still get very tired after a day of chasing a 5-year old around, but I don't dread going back to work the next day.  I look forward to it.
Don't be afraid of changing jobs.  Finances are important, but I believe happiness is more important.  I am proof that doing what you love can change your outlook on life.  I went from being Scrooge (A Christmas Carol), always negative and hating everything, to Buddy (Elf), finding the good in everything and always striving to be happy.  Pass the happiness on like a disease.  That's what I try to do everyday, now.  Happiness is contagious.  Don't be afraid to catch it and share it.