Truth: Not the Altered Version

It's come to my attention that there are several grandparents out there with doubts as to what they did in rescuing their grandchildren. It seems their Juniors and Lulabelles work on them, whenever they're in contact, with their own version of the truth. These adult children try to manipulate the situation and the circumstances to suit themselves. It leaves Grandma and even Grandpa bewildered, and second-guessing themselves.

Maybe this will help you: Ultimate Truth is based on Faith, but everyday truth is based on facts. There needs to be a preponderance of facts with evidence in order to achieve actions based on truth. Mere faulty syllogisms and fabricated red herrings will not suffice. 

I don't want you sitting there doubting yourself when so much is at stake. Your attorney might tell you that you have a case, but we're talking about your lying, conniving flesh-and-blood here. So whip out your spreadsheet program and make two wide columns with wrap-around text, and a third smaller column in the center (you'll probably have to go landscape on this one); in the alternative, haul out a pad of paper and a pencil, dividing the paper in half however you choose, leaving space in the center. The left is facts. The right is fabrications. 

List the facts you know to be true in the matter, and how you know those facts are true. If you're using a spreadsheet, line them up on the left. Example: Lulabelle didn't just have an unkempt apartment, but there was extreme mold growth on the kitchen table from the 3 week supply of used dishes piled one on top of the other, unwashed and often with uneaten food. EVIDENCE- Dated photos of the mess. Second example: Junior attended no parent-teacher conferences, despite taking off work to do so. EVIDENCE- Note from kids' teachers, record log of calls from Junior's employer looking for him those days. And so on, and so on, until you have run the course of your facts. 

Don't feel better yet?

Well, let's list Junior's or Lulabelle's alleged facts. Put them in the right column, and if using a spreadsheet, create them flush-right. Now, look over those alleged facts, and find the evidence for them to be true; odds are there isn't any. If there is no corroborating evidence, put a word that reminds you there isn't any in each box where there is none. I use the word MYTH, in big, bold letters. You might prefer LIE or FALSE.

Now, print out the spreadsheet, if you're using one; in any event, go get yourself a 12" ruler, unless you can draw lines well without one. Connect the myths on the right to your corresponding list of facts with evidence on the left. I'm betting that you have the proof to prove each of the allegations by your adult child false. 

By this time, you should feel better about your decision to intervene in your grandchildren's lives. If you don't, maybe you need some time with a trusted clergy member or counselor who can help you unpack some of this. But I'm betting it does make you feel better, and it only cost some of your time.

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Happy birthday this week to my eldest child, who created this life I live by her choices, which caused us in turn to make choices on behalf of our grandchildren. You didn't leave us much choice. We love you no matter what lies you spread about us, and what you choose to believe that you hear from others. However, we still will not tolerate the lies, the fabrication, the myths and the alterations in what really occurred. I remember holding you as a baby, caring for you as a young child when your biological father would not, and raising you to adulthood. I wish you better choices, and a good life. 

Day of days?

As a young woman coming of age in the 1970s, I was a bridesmaid more than once. There was a year where if I wasn't walking up and down the aisle some weekend, I was holding the guest book or pouring punch and passing cake in a genuine polyester long dress.  

Weddings back then were not $30,000 for a bare minimum wedding, which now has to consist of a dazzling dress on the bride, tuxes for the gentlemen of the bridal party; every step choreographed by a professional planner; a sit-down dinner for 200, followed by dancing to the styling of at the very least a dj, who brings his light show; a chocolate fountain, a vodka luge; and hired help to photograph and video the hired help helping the star of the show, the bride, and her accessory, the groom. 

A bride whose mother had some smarts (yes, her mother, or other older adult female relative, and there was little protest about it being the bride's day to play Marie Antoinette) sent out the invitations on card stock, not email, requesting the honour of one's presence at two o'clock in the afternoon or seven-thirty in the evening. Anybody with a lick of common sense knew the menu would be cake, punch and coffee, with maybe a glass of champagne thrown in for the toast. Sometimes there were mints and mixed nuts in bowls, and just maybe there were some small sandwiches. Lunch or dinner was between 11 AM and 1 PM.Yes, this meant dining before one arrived.

Truly large weddings happened at Noon or as late as six o'clock in the evening. Those involved the caterer of Mother's choice, a bar tended by the bride's Uncle Louie, maybe a band, maybe the forerunner of a dj, the bride's brother changing records on a record player (You know, the giant CDs with grooves in them). No unique table settings. No extreme party favors, unless you count bags of rice or jordan almonds as extreme. 

I bring this up because grandparents are now being pressed (conned, manipulated, etc.) to help pay for their grandchildren's weddings, whether or not they are helping to raise them. That's fine if Grandma and Grandpa want to help, and can afford to help, but really, they are not obligated to do so. Yet, there are grandchildren and even their parents who did raise them, who think the old folks are mandated by custom to fork over for the event, to make it the star-studded extravaganza that will have people talking for decades.


Grandparents are not being asked to just pay for the wedding, but being bullied into it, and not subtly, either. "It's how we do things now, Mother," Grams is told. The bride is allowed to have her whims and with it control of the extended family for a year, maybe more, and be indulged in this orgy of excess.


Grams should know better, and hang on to her checkbook and credit cards, in favor of less glam, more sentiment and perhaps suggest her money would be happy to return to a more civilized time- starting with approving the young man.

See, back then, families didn't have two year engagements where the bride lived with the groom while both attempted to improve their credit scores, so they could take out a loan to have a destination wedding to Aruba or on a cruise ship. Brides-to-be didn't spend whole months interviewing bands, lighting experts, gourmet caterers, table decorators, street dancers and even clergy. 

Most of all, brides were not given the impression by the bridal industry that this was their Day of Days, the Most Important Day of Their Lives.

Think about it: This giant extravaganza of expense is the best day of a woman's life. It is so important that she has to wait until she can afford it, so live with the guy first, even have a couple of kids without being married. They can always be carted down in the aisle in expensive clothes and decorated strollers.

(That was sarcasm. Please save baby-making for after the wedding if at all possible.)

So, what happens the day after...?

A woman has many phases in life, and the wedding, while an important step, is not the most important day of her life. The day she has children, the day she gets a significant promotion at work, the day of her tenth and twenty-fifth and thirty-third and fiftieth anniversary- those are pretty significant days. 

We live in a time when it seems normal to put the cart before the horse, all for the sake of good photography and videography to remember the day. I'm not against big parties, but nobody in this economy should have to wait two years or even one year to have a man completely commit to her. You are better than a band, you know, and worth having in the bonds of matrimony long before the loan comes through for the rented hall; long afterwards, as well. 

Trust me young ladies, if he's worth it, he'll skip the vodka luge and sit-down steak dinner for cake and punch in the parish hall, maybe even a buffet catered from a reasonable eatery. Dresses can be rented or borrowed. We live in the digital age, so music, photography and videography are the hobbies of many with a laptop and the software to run it. Friends still make the best helpers, and are cheaper in the long run. Save your money for your old age, or when the first child comes. You are so worth it! 

And let Grams and Granps come as guests, not paying customers. Be sure to dance one with the old gentleman if there's dancing.

Skip the polyester unless you insist on a 70s themed wedding. Just keep Uncle Louie at the bar doing his job. It keeps him from wandering the venue, telling everybody to pull his finger.

Update on Naomi's Lulabelle

Naomi has temporary custody and is the children's guardian. There will be a hearing next month for plenary guardianship. 

Lulabelle is quite alive. She apparently can't "handle things" so she is in another state, about halfway across the country from where Naomi resides. Per her attorney's instructions, Naomi said very little, just that the children were well and Naomi was taking care of them. Lulabelle didn't provide an address, and called Naomio's landline from a pay phone. Naomi took the number off Caller ID so she could get an idea where Lulabelle was, which was suggested by her son. (Yes, they still have pay phones. There are 3 in my neighborhood alone!)

Of course, Lulabelle "had" to leave, and of course, if she had said she was going, Naomi would have stopped her. Lulabelle didn't have time to talk to the kids, which was a blessing for Naomi.

Naomi's son will return to classes tomorrow.  He and Naomi found the kids' birth certificates on a shelf in Lulabelle's old apartment, and their social security numbers on some paperwork as well. Naomi was shocked to find out that the father listed on the eldest child's birth certificate is a classmate of Lulabelle's from high school. This opens a whole new can of worms, as up until now, Lulabelle told everybody it was the guy in prison. It will be a relief if it isn't the prison person, as he's in jail for assault with intent to kill. Naomi's attorney told her that the law firm would simply contact the fathers listed on the certificates and see if they could persuade them to take DNA tests before having the court order them to take such tests.

No word from Naomi's Ex and his wife.

That Meme

There is a meme making the rounds that has six photos in one frame, to describe a person's actions, life or existence. I thought I'd give it a twist for retread parents with embeds from YouTube.

WHAT SOCIETY THINKS I AM AND DO.

WHAT MY ADULT CHILD THAT CAUSED THIS THINKS I AM (also my Ex and Ex's family, but who's counting).

WHAT SCHOOLS AND THE DEPARTMENT OF HUMAN SERVICES THINK I AM.

WHAT IT OFTEN FEELS LIKE I AM (LOOK FOR GRANDPA).

WHAT MY GRANDCHILDREN IN MY CUSTODY SEEM TO THINK I AM AND DO (MOST OF THE TIME).

WHAT I ACTUALLY AM AND DO (MOST OF THE TIME). 

March Deals

In our quest to keep a handle on finances, whether because we need it for court costs or just to get Junior a new pair of gym shoes, I announces some deals I've found from time to time. March looks like it's going to be a great time for some stuff.

• EGGS: I've recently seen eggs as low as 89 cents a dozen in my area. During the winter months, eggs were as high as $1.89 a dozen, so that's a significant drop. Eggs will store in your refrigerator for 3 to 5 weeks. If you want to take advantage of these sales and you have freezer capacity, eggs DO freeze with very minimal leg work. Whites can simply be frozen, and need no help except taking them out of the bag and flopping them into freezer-strength sandwich bags (50 cents to a dollar with coupon, and at least 50 bags). Whole eggs need to be beaten with 1/2 teaspoon of sugar or salt for every 4 eggs (about a cup), then put in freezer-strength bags. I've frozen mine two-by-two with a 1/4 teaspoon of salt and no worries. Skipping the salt step will give you a gummy yolk that won't mix well in anything. Defrosting in the microwave will cook the eggs, especially the yolk. Place all the egg bags flat in a container. If you did what I did, you will have to defrost a container of 5 bags, 2 eggs per bag, placed in a round freezer container. It's kind of like a puzzle. Make sure you cook frozen eggs thoroughly, no runny yolks or over-easy.
• TUNA: I haven't seen as much canned tuna as I would like. I did find some locally at 69 cents a can, limit 6, Chicken O' the Sea. Tuna is a great staple for food pantries, stockpiles and emergency supplies. It also makes a wonderful tuna casserole, tuna burgers, and tuna salad.
• OTHER FISH: I am NOT a fan of fishsticks, but the kids are. I saw Gorton's on sale at Walmart for $3.98 and $3.96 for the big packages of traditional fishsticks, fish fingers, fish portions and fish for sandwiches. I had coupons, so that got whittled down in a hurry. I also saw Great Value (Walmart store brand) on sale for $3.88. I also saw talapia for $2.98 for a 16-ounce package and salmon for $5 a 12-ounce package (same as last year). I don't think it's going to get any cheaper. 
• TOMATOES, STRAWBERRIES, ONIONS: It's harvest season in California and parts of Mexico. I saw some really fabulous tomatoes this week for 49 cents a pound. They don't taste like plastic, have good color and nice skins. Poteet, Texas, doesn't have their Strawberry festival until the middle of April, but that's not stopping strawberries from ripening and coming to your market early, at 99 cents to $1.50 a more-or-less pint basket. Onions from Georgia are popping up, sweet and fresh at 39 cents to 59 cents a pound. Tomatoes don't freeze well, but if you find them cheap enough and of sufficient high quality, they certainly brighten the cold months. Onions need to be stored in a cool, dry, dark place- NOT the refrigerator. Onions can also be sliced, chopped or diced, then stored in freezer in the freezer in bags. As for strawberries, freeze them on a cookie sheet and dump them into a big freezer bag.

Farewell, McDonald's!

It's better for my health and my purse, I am sure. It's better for the rest of the family, as well. It isn't as if I went there every day of the month, or even once a week. McDonald's and I are parting company after 40-some-odd years, excepting for the giant unsweetened tea. 

It isn't out of some patriotic boycott. It isn't because my favorite sandwich, the Double Fillet O'Fish, cost $4.19 all by itself in my area. And despite the health benefits, it's not about health; at least, it's not the health issues of bad McDonald's versus healthy me.

There was a time in this world when I could go to work, go out and party after work, wolf down a huge 12-inch Chicago submarine sandwich, fully loaded, and bring home another 12-inch sub for breakfast, to be eaten in a few hours. I gained no weight as a result. My stomach never complained. 

I know I went to McDonald's before my 14th birthday, but I'll never forget the first time I went alone and paid for it. I had a lovely hamburger, an order of fries, and a hot chocolate. It tasted like Heaven.

But my body has changed, and with it, my trips to McDonald's. After a couple years of tests, three food diaries, antibiotics and several rounds of various forms of Omeprazole, I now know there are some foods that just don't agree with me any longer. So does my doctor. 

It's not a long list: Iceberg lettuce, coffee, regular orange juice, and most of the menu of McDonald's. Everything's healed, there's no hernia, and yet- when I go to McDonald's, even if I've had a pill prior, it attacks me, painfully. Everything must stop while digestion takes place, and it's a painful process. 

So, it's now 6 to 8 little meals, lean meats, fresh veggies and fruits excepting the offending lettuce, and no more Mikky D's. 

I won't hurt again, but I already miss those double Fillets!

Proceeding Without Evidence, a Key or a Clue

Our friend Naomi is between a rock and a hard place today. For the past week, she's had as her guests her grandchildren, 2 of them under 5, and one of them young school age. Naomi's daughter- you guessed it- left them for the weekend and didn't come back. Naomi has taken 2 sick days and 3 vacation days so far. Naomi's son is in college, and that college is a good 500+ miles away, so any help he might offer is at a premium. 

Naomi's ex-husband and his wife are none too keen on taking on the little brood, and even less help in trying to find Lulabelle. Her daughter's phone rings, but it goes to voice mail. She is frantic about her daughter's safety. 

Naomi is pretty sure she will take the grandkids for now, but if her Lulabelle is just playing her, she wants custody. She knows who is the father of the eldest, but he might still be in prison. She has no idea who fathered the other two, but she thinks it's two separate men.

Here's the thing: Naomi doesn't have some pretty important pieces to the puzzle, and not just the names of the younger children's baby daddies. For starters, she has no paperwork for any of the kids. She isn't sure who provides daycare for the younger ones. She knows where the older one goes to school, but it is one town over from hers. And she knows where her daughter lives, but she doesn't have a key to the place; neither does the eldest child.

Believe it or not, Naomi's first trip needs to be to the apartment complex where her daughter formerly resided, with a squad car and some law enforcement officers. The people in blue can get the door opened and do some digging where Naomi can't. Naomi's daughter has a history of drug and alcohol usage. If it's a crime scene, she won't be able to take anything, but at least she'll know, one way or the other. Hanging outside the complex and calling the manager repeatedly isn't good enough. 

While she's at the cop shop, Naomi can file a missing person's report. Lulabelle is obviously no where to be found. 

Finally, the police can call Lulabelle's cell- repeatedly. They can use GPS to find out if Lulabelle is in the area or if she or someone with evil intent ditched her cell.

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As it turned out, Lulabelle was not in her apartment but her cell phone was. The manager, who prior to the intervention of the police couldn't care less, suddenly had an eviction notice for Naomi to give Lulabelle. Naomi asked the manager how long Lulabelle had to move out. He said 30 days from service. Naomi replied she'd take out what was important to the children if it was all right, and did he have a key, as she was- you guessed it- Lulabelle's cosigner, and she had no doubt the owners would soon be chasing her (Naomi) for back rent. The manager turned to the cops, who more or less shrugged. The manager came back with a key for Naomi. The cops took a couple of photos, but there was really nothing out of place, no blood, no missing sheets, no cuts out of the carpet, no strong smell of anything but the garbage left behind in the kitchen garbage can (It didn't help that Lulabelle was 2 months behind on the rent). They know Naomi filed a missing person report, but they don't think Lulabelle is dead or kidnapped.

This afternoon, Naomi has 3 appointments with attorneys. One of them will be with her in court on Monday for an emergency order of custody and protection. As is the law in her state, child protective services has been notified, but the agency is fine with the grandkids going to Naomi, rather than coming into Naomi's home all gangbusters as if she is the perpetrator. 

Her son skipped his Friday classes to drive home and help his mother, proving once again that just because one adult child becomes a negligent loser, the others don't. They will clean out the important things in the apartment this weekend, hoping to find something the police did not. 

Naomi is hoping the eldest grandchild can stay in the school one town over, even if she has to drive him there five days a week, at least until the end of the school year. She hopes to find enough this weekend to go to social services on Tuesday, baby-sitter by Wednesday, and maybe she can be back at work by the following Monday. She contacted HR, and was shocked to find she was covered under the Family Leave and Medical Act, because basically, the middle-aged don't think so much about this sort of situation.

Please say a prayer for Naomi, her grandchildren, and all the grandparents and grandchildren put in this sort of situation. And please say a prayer for this Lulabelle, wherever she is.