"Don't you DARE write about this ON YOUR BLOG MOM!"

*blink*

That sounds like an invitation if I ever heard one.  Let's backtrack.

Yesterday, I'm in the front room with Kent watching "Castaway" with Tom Hanks.  We're both very engrossed, it's been a while since we've seen the film and really, when I say engrossed, I mean, it took five or seven screams before Kent and I turned towards the kitchen.

There was Jane, yelling "People, PEOPLE.. PEOPLE!!!!!!" We looked at each other, not quite sure what's going on when Jane let out a huge shriek "PEOPLE, THERE'S A FIRE IN HERE!!!!!"

More blinking.  I mean, the smoke alarm wasn't going off and even though we couldn't see the kitchen, it didn't look like an emergency.  Kate was standing there, turned towards, whatever the heck was going on, just watching the show.  If the house was on fire, I think she would be yelling too.

So I got up picturing a possible fire on the counter.  We do have a gas stove and I have a vivid memory of watching my mom cook, while standing on a chair and inadvertently pushing some newspaper into the flame.  I remember a stern lecture and my kids are about as observant as I was.  So really, I was expecting something on fire *on* the counter or the stovetop.

Noooooo.

The flames were licking up from the inside of the frying pan.  They were pretty impressive too, but entirely contained, so I wasn't worried in the least.  I glanced in and noticed a raw egg, apparently about to be cooked and a stack of paper towels next to the egg, and it was the towels that were burning. 

Jane turns to me and utters "Don't you DARE write about this ON YOUR BLOG."

So of course, I immediately called Kent into the kitchen to take pictures and we, of course, expressed how impressed we were with her fire, which was starting to go out at this point.

Later in the retelling at a friends, we asked Jane how the fire started.  She hid her head under a couch cushion.  I asked her if she was using olive oil in the pan, because she's seen me mop up excess oil with paper towels before and honestly, that was the most logical reason for the paper towels being there.  No, she was using non-stick spray, so much for that theory.  Our friend said, from the pictures, it looked like the egg was just dropped in the pan with the towels already there.  It's a puzzler for sure.

And the one kid with the answers isn't telling.  Maybe it's time to mount a fire extinguisher next to the stove.

Greg's Tears

Sometimes there are things that just feel right, like today, I called my mom and let her know the resident "tween" in the house was needing a boost to feel special.  My mom being the intuitive grandmother she is understood exactly what I meant and knows exactly what kind of self esteem boosting the "tween" needs.

Then there's the sister-in-law (as in, we're bother sister-in-laws  to Hill siblings, she's married to one of Kent's brothers) that wanted someone to go see the last "Twilight" movie with her.  I mentioned that Jane would love to go and she's picking her up a little early  and spending some quality time with her.

What a blessing to have family that is involved with our children, understands them, and most important helps them understand what truly incredible individuals they really are.

But there's lots of family that isn't there, mostly because of distance, a portion of course is not by choice since death is just part of the cycle that is life.  Which brings me straight to Greg. 

Oh my Greg.

Have you ever met a child that is just pure in heart.  They're sweet, kind, honest and truly just love with all of their might anyone and everyone that touches their life?  Greg is such a child.  What I hadn't realized is that this love extends to those that should be in his life but due to whatever circumstances, can't.

My little boy came to me today with large hazel eyes welled up with tears asking me if Grandpa was gone.  I told him that grandpa was my daddy and yes he is gone.  Those tears welled up even bigger and threatened to spill right onto his freckled cheeks when he stated "But momma, I miss him and I love him."

Oh my goodness.  I almost cried myself.

I called my mom and let her talk to Greg, I felt that was most appropriate and as he chatted I couldn't help but wonder if his missing his grandpa, who died before we ever knew we'd have twins, was either from all the pictures we have around the house of my dad and realizing that he should be there or if it's from something more.

Truly believing that there is more to life then what we see on this earth and having had extremely special experiences that whisper the presence of loved ones no longer with us, I wonder if there is a spiritual connection between Greg and his grandpa. 

Either way, it was a very sweet moment with my dear boy.

Cooking 101

For Jane that is.  The rest of you are on your own.

I have very strong memories of my mom teaching me the basics in the kitchen.  She really liked to work alone until I was about ten when I started asking for an easy bake oven.  My mom informed me there was no way I was getting one, why should I make little cakes in a fake oven when I could make real cakes in the big gas oven.

I wasn't very happy.  The big oven wasn't pink with little flowers on it. 

What can I say, I as a child of the '70's, when light brights reigned as one of the hottest toys around? 

So cooking lessons began.  It was very informal with me just mixing, measuring and mom giving me hints.  Mom gave me free reign, along with kids cookbook sporting simplified recipes, to create at will whenever I wanted to.  She let me fail.  There was fudge that was grossly undercooked, unintentionally unleavened cake, extremely thin spaghetti sauce along with all seasons of undercooked to almost burnt entrees for the family.

By my early teens I even tackled Thanksgiving dinner almost solo.  Dad let me do everything but wouldn't trust me with actually prepping the bird.  That was the year the bird was seared to the bottom of the roasting pan, dad had to invert the pan and pound the bottom with a hammer to get the turkey out.  It came apart in pieces and there was no carving that year.  Hysterical doesn't even cover this memory.

I admire my mom now because letting go of control in my own kitchen is really hard for me.  It doesn't help that our kitchen is small so if I'm working in there, there really isn't space for more bodies.  I've tried to channel my mother, letting the kids take an active part cooking but that's not always feasible when I'm on a deadline or am preparing food for others.  I leave questionable hygiene and extra kid goobers exclusively for our family eating right now.  Granted with mom working nights by my early teens, she didn't have a lot of choice.

But today, with Thanksgiving prep work on the horizon, I'm choosing to devote time to Jane's culinary education.  She's not excited in the least, truthfully she's happy making boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner.

Which reminds me, Kate's been begging for me to teach her homemade mac and cheese.  Maybe next week...

I Started a New Blog

When my mom moved out here and we were going through her stuff, the little bit of nostalgia that held my attention was the articles that my dad wrote a few decades back.  See my dad worked for the local newspaper, The Bennington Banner, even before I was born.  He had worked all different departments, knew the paper inside and out and from the late '80's to the mid '90's he wrote the weekly "TV guide" column.

He loved it.  I do mean LOVED IT.  He spent hours writing, rewriting, reading to us various drafts and using his family as inspiration for his writing.

It was a dream job for him.  Oh he didn't make much money off of his column, but dad had a love of the movies that couldn't be beat.  We grew up watching movies.  After going to the local theater, the trip home was riddled with discussion on the good and bad parts of the film.  We'd rip the films to shreds covering dialog, costumes, plot and dad would fill us in on various parts of film history, letting us know tidbits that would otherwise be lost in history.

We had a shelf just for movie books where dad would look up a potential film and see if it really was worth watching.  He saved "Tough Guy" for last.  To this day, I'm not sure who "Tough Guy" was, but he was a critic that my dad held in high regard.  He saved his reviews for last and would gleefully repeat every word of his review, regaling how tough guy would rate everything two stars under what the other guys would rate.

Obviously the chance to share his profound knowledge and love of cinema paired with his love of writing was a match made in heaven.

I have spent a few hours drifting through dad's articles, laughing, smiling and getting a few lumps in my throat.  Lets not forget the occasional eye roll.  Dad did write a few droll articles covering electronics.  Why?  Well in his words "It's my article and I CAN."

My mom entrusted me with the first binder of articles after making me swear I'd protect them with my life.  I promptly sat on them for about two years.  This morning I was staring at my blog thinking about what to write when it hit me, a blog!  Seriously, why hadn't I thought of this before?

So I have created a blog to put my dad's work in.  I'm leaving an open invitation for any family member that knew and loved dad to let me know if they'd like to contribute stories about him.

I hope in doing this, I create something that will allow my dad's grandchildren to know him.  He did leave us far to soon.

Public School, the Good and the Bad

My kids are in public school.  It's been a personal choice that, for the most part has worked for us.  Except for the year that I pulled Jane and homeschooled her, the kids have been in public school continuously.  All five have been in the system since pre-school, most going to school by age three.  With the chronic speech and language delays every single one of my children have struggled with, they've all qualified for pre-school extremely young.

Throw in some fabulous teachers at Wilcox, the children's elementary school, that have been stupendous advocates for my children's need, public school has really worked for us.

Now that we're dealing with middle school, we're dealing with policies that make little to no sense.  I will admit that for Jane both seventh and eighth grade has gone much better then that year we pulled her out.  Still, this year I was surprised to receive a letter that my oldest has five absences in one of her classes.  If she gets two more absences, it counts as a truancy. 

Now, Jane has missed a few afternoons from being sick but this was a morning class and she's been to school every day.

Turns out, the school has a policy concerning homework.  Jane had gotten behind in her math homework and had a miserable month playing catch up.  The school pulled her from lunch and required her to attend a class, I don't know what the name is, for homework delinquencies.  It runs for the entire lunch period, including part that overlaps students other classes.

So, wait.  My child was at school. Every. Day.  And she's in trouble for missing homework, so you pull her from class, where she could potentially get further behind and count the missing classes against her???  What kind of asinine policy is THAT??

I told her, she better not miss anymore assignments but I am extremely frustrated there's a policy in place that could potentially throw her further behind and punish her for a situation *vague wave of hands* the school created!

She's caught up now and hopefully has learned to keep up with her responsibilities.  She's trying and hopefully she's getting credit for that.

The good.  I got a call from Ean's teacher on Wednesday.  You know Ean, my wonderful, bright, intelligent spaz that struggles with not bugging the carp out of other people.  Well he was bugging a girl trying to work on the computer.  Usually Ean gets in trouble and suffers the consequences but this teacher took it upon herself to set a goal with Ean to not bug other people for the next four days.  This takes him right to Tuesday, when school is let out for Thanksgiving.

She put a note on Ean's desk to remind him, it says "I will not bother others" with the dates marked, ready to be checked off.  After four days he gets to pick something from the reward bucket.  She also called and talked with me to make sure what she'd done was alright.

Lets see.  She's taken what's normally a negative and put a positive proactive spin on it.  She's helped my son set a goal, that's reasonable and within his grasp.  She also talked to the class and let them know that Ean is working on not bugging others and encouraged them to help Ean.  Which I'm totally fine with because, it's not like they don't know.

Hopefully this works and Ean sees that he can control his actions.  I'd love to have something to oooh and aaah over in a few days. 

Baking Nightmare

A friend invited me to a goodie exchange party.  Bring three dozen of your favorite Holiday treats (she specified cookies or candy) and after eating and talking, everyone will get to take a variety of goodies home.  I usually don't go to social things, partly because I can't justify the time away and partly because I feel guilty for allowing anything to take me away from what I need to accomplish as a mother.

Alright, so the first reason is a cop out.  Regarless, I don't get out much socially but this really sounded fun.  I decided to not follow the instructions, I'm rebel that way and chose to make instead saffron bread.  Lussekatt or the Swedish saffron bun, is eaten on the Saint Lucia celebration (13 December).  An extra curly "S" shape is dotted with a raisin at the center of each Swirl.

Due to the Saffron being the most expensive spice in the world, I don't make lussekatt every year.  But every now and then, I do indulge.  They are one thing that I can easily make that remind me of Sweden.  So I decided that I should make them for the exchange tomorrow.  Even though the Holiday is an unofficial Swedish holiday and is non-existent one in the U.S. I still wanted a reason to make one of most favorite Swedish treats.

I started in the Late afternoon but it was still early enough I would be able to easily finish by bedtime.  My first hitch was being unable to find my tried and true saffron bun recipe.  My Swedish cookbook is missing and I know it'll show up.  It's one of those things that never leaves the house but it's still frustrating to not have it when I need it.  I found a recipe on allrecipes.com and although it's similar, I believe my old recipe is truer to the saffron bread I ate in Sweden.

My second hitch wasn't figured out for another four hours.

Yeast breads are an art form and I've baked enough that I have a really good sense to know how to accomplish what I want with the dough.  Dough that is to hot will kill the yeast, dough that is to cold will not rise.  To much flour will lead to a really heavy, dense and drier bread.  To little gives a dough that's sticky and if it's to light, it won't hold it's shape, leaving flat and unattractive bread.

The Swedish Saffron bread dough is super light and sticky.  Much more so then any American recipe I have tried.  This makes it harder to shape and work with after rising.  However it was reaching the step of shaping the buns that I was struggling with.

My dough would not rise.

Boy did I try.  I had my biggest mixing bowl in the oven, I was turning the oven on to it's lowest setting every half hour and turning it off as soon as it was hot.  This left the oven at the perfect temperature for yeast growth.  The yeast didn't seem to agree with me.

It was very frustrating.  The texture was perfect.  The dough had the right amount of springiness.  It was stretchy and beautiful to look at but it just wasn't rising.  I thought maybe I had killed the yeast but honestly I wasn't sure how I could have because I had monitored the ingredients.  Between the butter and the saffron, I had over twenty dollars worth of ingredients in that bowl, I wasn't taking any chances!!

I even invited my friend Marja over to give her two cents and she agreed, the dough looked like it should rise.  There wasn't anything outward to suggest something had gone wrong.

So I went into the freezer, brought out new yeast and carefully measured about two tablespoons into the bowl.  By careful, I mean I dumped two tablespoonish piles into my palm and sprinkled over the dough.  Then I kneaded the dough for about fifteen minutes to work the yeast in, turned the oven back on and sat back to see what would happen.

Yeah, I had bad yeast because after twenty minutes the dough texture had changed and I could see little yeast bubbles under the surface.  Of course this meant that all my careful planning so I could go to sleep at a decent time was out the window.

So here it is 2:00 AM and finally I am done.  The bread rose, I shaped the rolls although I took a shortcut and didn't put the raisin garnish in.  So they don't look right.  I also didn't brush some egg on them so the buns lack the beautiful shiny coat that's usually there.

But they taste like saffron bread and that is what counts.

I can confirm that my original recipe is better.  So I need to find it before next year. 

Ace Hardware Hell

Kent, very innocent like, approached me last week to ask if I had purchased him a Christmas gift yet.  He was quite surprised when I told him that yes I had but they weren't very big.

Since it's not Christmas yet, I will refrain from writing down what I've already purchased.  I will say I'm very excited about what I found and I think he'll love these particular presents!

Back to Kent.  He smiles, that ever boyish charming smile that won me over seventeen years ago.  Then he pulls from his wallet an Ace Hardware gift card for $25.00 and a computer print out coupon for $5.00 off that has to be used before the end of November.  All for "my" benefit, so I can buy him something for Christmas.

Sounds safe enough on that alone but I've lived with this man, many, many years.  I've watched him agonize over how he'll spend his Ace Hardware rewards.  I've watched him return items he spent over a month deciding to get and then realize he made a mistake and regretting the return.

For those unfamiliar with Ace, it's a conglomeration of not only what you'd expect to find in a hardware store but it also has everything your average redneck could possibly need for a downright indecent good time!  There's tents, sleeping bags, fishing supplies, outdoors man clothes, so all types of hunting gear, guns, bullets, dutch ovens, woman's fashion that would never make a Paris runway and wine. 

The purse I'm currently sporting is from Ace.

The problem is not finding Kent something he'd love, the problem is finding something he'd love without hearing about the literally hundreds of other items he would rather have.

I just came from Ace.  For a half hour I politely declined repeated offers of giving me help (the staff is incredible at this place) and I wandered, priced and debated and DEBATED.  It was awful.

I finally fled for the sake of my sanity and am no closer to purchasing that man I love something from that store that I really am not fond of.   Except for purse shopping of course.

I was about thirty seconds from going to Kent's work, handing him his gift card and letting him know that I would be more then happy to wrap whatever he bought himself.  I refrained.  I'm going to mull this over and discuss with our mutual friend Marja and see what she thinks.

Since she's our camping buddy and I'm leaning towards camping gear, she might have a better idea on what we'd need for our trips.

If nothing else works, I just may go and by the cast iron skillet I spent an indecent amount of time eyeing.  Even if it's not what Kent had in mind, that will teach him for trusting me with his gift card. 

*sigh*

Manly Solutions In all their Ugly Glory

I have a few memories from childhood that are horrifying and startling at the same time.  The source?  My father.  The memories?  Him absolutely losing it over something us kids had messed up and then going into this huge and I mean HUGE production to keep the atrocities of children from happening again.

Gigantic signs taped across the television and VCR come to mind, stating "DO NOT TOUCH: RECORDING" (with recording underlined half a dozen times).  You see, certain things would just put my dad over the edge.  And his effort to keep his world aligned was monumental.

My husband shares this same attribute.

With five children I'm sure it comes to no surprise that our home is a remote graveyard.  From MIA to just down right destroyed, we've gone through a phenomenal amount of remotes.  Unfortunately technology isn't child friendly and more and more electronics are basically useless without the remote.

This has led to blood pressure rising frustrations that in one ugly fell swoop, my husband decided to end it once and for all.

And by ugly I mean what he built, not how he reacted.  Truly I am unsure if I should just show pictures or try to describe the monstrocity.  We're talking worse then the cardboard, aluminum and coathanger tv antennae he constructed and hung in our bedroom suspended from the ceiling.

That bad.

I guess the proof is in the photos.  First here it is, in it's full glory



Wait, that looks....  Did he attach the remotes to that freakishly big piece of wood????  *hitting hand on foreheard*  WHY YESSSSS HE DID!
And here is a close up.  You'll notice the need of power tools to remove these babies.




This is the whole contraption being held by a five year old.



Please note he conviently left room for more remotes.  That's a six by two in case you were wondering and uh, wanting to copy his design.  (insert hearty chuckle)

In case you're thinking Kent is the only crazy one in the house, I lost it this morning, unable to find my dress coat for church.  I threw almost everything out of the closet on my hunt.

Kent found it, right there, hanging up.

So it's a match made in heaven.   Yeah.  

REPRIEVE!

This past week has had a few personal milestones for my children.  The past month has been a little rough on many fronts.  There's been some school problems, some personal problems and some impulse problems, all scattered amongst the brood.

The result is a very long month with very little fun stuff.  Pretty much it sucks for everyone.  The child that's unable to play, the child unable to have sleepovers.  It especially sucked for the child that had no life at all due to being behind in school work.

This week was a turn around.  Finally school work was caught up on!  Some fun was had by a youngster that had been saddled with extra chores and maybe, just maybe that wild impulsive one is figuring out how to contain his general spazziness.

It's been so nice to have life back to normal!!!  This week we've had play dates with friends, a sleepover on Friday night and someone got a special lunch with just daddy today!!!!  I'm thinking everyone is feeling a bit special and loved this week.  I so needed this!!

Ean was the one that got lunch with daddy and I asked him if I could go too.  He very politely let me know that he needed time with his dad and that I couldn't come this time.  I was very proud at how he was able to articulate what he wanted using his best manners.  He's growing up.  They all are. 

I loved Jane calling me after school this week so she could go to the dollar store with a friend.  She's been very grown up in asking for extra teenage privileges like watching a wrestling match after school.

Even the little men have had their moments like making turkeys with mom.  I guess I had a moment to when I scrubbed the kitchen floor to the point you needed sunglasses from the glare.

Weeks like this past week just make want to capture all the precious moments in a memory box.

Or I could just blog them.

If You are Bothered Please Don't Read

Apparently some of my words are bothersome to family members and they would like me to use more caution in expressing myself.

May I kindly suggest that you don't read my words.  Do not read if my frank honesty bothers you.  Do not read if acknowledging my children's shortcomings will cause you worry for them and their self esteem.  Suggesting that I sensor myself will be ignored by all except my husband.  When I am really concerned about content, I read it to him first and ask his opinion.

Believe or not, I try to be discreet and sensitive to most issues I write about.  Anyone that reads this has no idea what I leave out.  My point right now is not to talk about what's not written, but to discuss what is written.

My children have short comings and believe me, I'm aware of them.  I'm also aware of their incredible strengths and the strides and growth we've been privilege to take part in over the years.  Without some reference to the bad, I don't think the good can be appreciated.  The milestones don't have nearly the impact without some knowledge of the journey.

Boiled down, I'm not justifying my words.  I'm not making excuses.  I'm sharing  a journey as a mother of five children with very real challenges.  I share to hopefully give hope and insight to other parents as well as the wonderful feedback I get from those that have "been there" and "done that".

So, if this bothers you.  Don't read.  I am not sugar coating what I say.  To do so would lesson the value of what's constantly being learned in our home.  It's sometimes not pretty.

But it's very real.

Turkeys (and I'm not talking about the kids!)

Let me share some pictures but first a little background. The twins teacher sent naked turkey pictures home with instructions to decorate with your child and to send them back to school by the ninth. So being the uber timely parent I am, the boys did theirs uh, yesterday on the tenth and they got sent to school on the eleventh.



lol!

They do this all through out the year with varioius themes and display what the children and parents make in the hallway.

So with the twins I grabbed about four sheets of scrapbooking paper and cut a pile of feathers, got a bottle of glue out and crayons of course. I then had them sit down and go to town.

David immediately starts glueing feathers like a madman. In all directions, right across the bird. Greg tells me his teacher told him to use CEREAL and I better get some out. Well I know he doesn't have to use cereal but Greg was determined his creative juices wouldn't get rolling without any, so I put some cheerios in a bowl. Honey nut cheerios thank you very much.

So Greg's first action? He made cheerio eyes. His twin stops his feather massacre and peeks over and decides, that's not such a bad idea, so David copies and then glues eyes on his turkey. So basically David glues a gazillion feathers and stops every now and then to glue cheerios like his twin. It was HYSTERICAL.

Greg finished his work with some artfully chosen feathers, six to be exact around his bird while the mayhem that is David's feather offsets Greg's exactness. Really, I love my boys! Their individualness just pours out of them.

Greg's Turkey!!

 

David's Turkey!!

 

The New Scout Master

The new Scout master is absolutely petrified of his new church calling.  Trust me, I know, I am married to him. 

Honestly, I am not surprised that he's been called.

Kent has this ability to not only tolerate the nonsense that billows forth from young men, but he is able to connect with them and mentor them in a manner that I see as a gift from God.  Truly it is Heaven sent.  How many people do you know that not only like to hang out with teenagers but in the end the teenagers are better people because they know them?

Kent is this sort of person.

I strongly suspected that eventually Kent would be back working with young men.  It was only a matter of time.  I just didn't know when.

We found out the night of the Fall Social.  (We refrain from calling it a "Halloween party" but essentially that is what it is.)  It was a grand time with dinner, followed by a trunk or treat for the kids. 

On a side note, I really like the trunk or treating.  Twenty minutes of my time and we're done!   Sure beats dragging kids around the neighborhood.

After the party of over, I was visiting with some friends that I had invited, Melonie and Marja.  One of the Brethren walking by me mentioned that he needed to talk to me soon and Kent too.  Marja, who is an active member in a different denomination, laughed at me and asked what could my kids have broken in the building.

I told her that it was far worse.  That Brother was a member of the Bishopric and if he wanted to talk to both me and Kent that meant that someone getting a new calling.

Flash forward to the car being loaded with everything except children and Kent visiting now with our friends, the Brother that had spoken to me previously starts to approach us.  In a staged whisper I said "RUN KENT RUN".  Since I had not mentioned we were being sought out by a member of the Bishopric, I sort of forget to tell Kent that a calling for one of us was on the horizen.  We were asked inside, found an empty room and the calling was extended.

Kent almost fainted on the spot.

While leaving together, Kent told me that if he had realized what was coming he would have taken my warning to run more seriously.

Kent's worried about the time that will be needed but I believe as a family we will be able to balance it all and most importantly Kent will be able to do everything he needs to do without neglecting his roles as husband, father, and provider.

Blessings come forth when we are called to serve and in the end I think Kent will find a great deal of joy working with the Scouts.

Even if his first instinct was to run away.  

Daddy is a SUCKER

But he can be taught!

Alright, background, we've had a rough go with lying in the house.  Particularly the ten year old and the seven year old but today lets talk about the ten year old.

About a month ago when Kent did allowance for the kids, I had him give me an extra three dollars for Ean's classroom party fee.  Ean remained the one child that I hadn't paid and I wanted to get that done.  This was Sunday, inconveniently right before church but that is a whole 'nother blog post!

Monday morning I forgot to send the funds with Ean and I remembered after dinner that night so I went to my desk to get it taken care of, so Ean could take it the next day.

Gone.

Nothing.

Of course first thing I did was check piggy banks because if it was one of the twins, that's where it would go.  Each only owned a few dollars, so it was not them.  Asked Ean, he said he had his own money, WHY would he take someone elses????  He was very indignant too.

That left the ten year old.

Now we have a long history of lying, denying, especially when cornered, so I decided I needed back up and called Kent into the kitchen before getting the tween.  When both were there, I confronted Kate and of course she immediately went into denial mode.  There was shrieking, yelling, righteous indignation "I didn't take it OKAY!"  My problem is that I have heard it all before and later found out she was guilty.

I was not fooled in the least.  After several minutes, I finally told the child that I was searching her room and the reason I didn't believe her was because she had lied so often in the past.

After several minutes, I did indeed find the missing money and she knew she was caught and we dealt with it.  As a parenting note, we've already had the "Can't trust your word, have to earn your trust again and this can only happen with 100% honestly" several times.

To my complete shock I found out the other day that my tween had her daddy convinced that she innocent that day.  He was snookered, hook, line and sinker.

I am very very glad that I called him that day as back up because obviously he hadn't seen THE PERFORMANCE, that I've endured far to many time to count.

I'd like to note that the moral is, be a united front in front of the kid.  I mean, Kent certainly thought I was maligning his daughters character, but he let it play out and if I had been off base we would have talked about it later.  Away from the tween.

Unfortunately I was right.  Sometimes a mother doesn't want to be right.

Hopefully we're on the road to respecting ourselves enough to make better choices.  It is very hard to grow up.  And daddy has learned a little too.