Bubble Tub

My friends gave me a bath today.  Ok, not in the way you might be thinking.  I wasn't suddenly stricken with something debilitating requiring assistance in the tub.  I was all alone in there...really.

My friends just provided me with all the decadent things that made my bath so lovely.  My girlfriend, Leana, made bath salts for Christmas gifts this year.  A wonderful combination of epsom salts and essential oil that she packaged in a holiday gift bag and delivered to my doorstep.  Heaven!  A few spoonfuls in the tub is all it takes to for me to lay back and relax.  A few years ago, when we built our house, old pal Katie gave me a lovely bathroom gift basket complete with bath pillow, French soap, loofah, and a candle.  I'm telling you that bath pillow makes my life complete!  I don't know what I ever did without it.  Gives new meaning to lounging in the tubby.  The candle always helps too, ramping up the olfactory part of the bath experience and setting the mood.
And I love me my loofah!
So, I turned on my bubble tub, settled in and had a good long soak.  It's just about the best thing to beat the winter blues and always leaves me relaxed and refreshed.  I'm letting all my friends in on it!  

Baby Angels

My name is a special gift from a baby angel. In 1963, my parents named me Stephanie Ann, after my father's sister, who died at the age of 4. My dad was only 2 year old when she died (1942), so he doesn't remember much about her. My grandparents told me stories about "Steffie" and I have a collection of her baby things (ie. pictures, baby book, silver rattle). She was a golden-haired little girl with a mop of curls and was the light of their lives. I love that I am named after her. It lets a part of her live on and makes me feel tied to family. In 2003, my sister named her youngest daughter Evelyn Stephanie, after me. I didn't know of her plan to give the baby my name ahead of time. I was in the hospital room when Evie was born. When Beth said her name, I burst into tears. This time my name was a gift to a baby angel. The love just keeps getting passed on from one generation to the next. How heavenly is that?!

Squawk Back!

So, I'm pondering yesterday's NPR report about teens who talk back to their parents being alright in the long run.  Apparently, opportunities for argument in the formative years promotes mastery of the art of persuasion and even peaceful coexistence in the home and workplace as adults.  Phew!  My boys are gonna be alright!  But, I've got to tell you it's a constant around here.  Greg and I are hit almost every day with the "Can I just ___?" followed by an immediate squawk back of rationale.  You'd think it was a simple yes/no question, but it never is.  In our house, there are degrees of yes and no-ness, which I realize promotes the squawking.   It might be the "Yes, but..." or the "Yes, if...", sometimes it's the "No, because..." or more often the "No, but it's up for discussion".  Greg often defaults to the "I don't know" which is like wearing Lady Gaga's meat dress into the lion's den.  They circle and devour you for that one.  I try to start with "Let me think about it" which is also akin to a swarm of bees coming in for the sting. I remember when the boys were little having frequent conversations with Greg about being the united front and having each other's backs during such times.  I'm sorry, Sweets, but it has turned into every man for himself!  It's what you have to do to survive.

It's interesting, however, to see how their tactics have changed over the years.  Sam, at 15 is becoming the master of negotiation.  He's learned that he can immediately get a more favorable response if he lets go of his back talk in a calm, more controlled manor than he did when he was younger.  Instead of flying off the handle with a tirade of begging and whining, he now quietly says, "BUT, if you let me..." and presents a well-prepared, sometimes beautifully crafted litany of excuses.  Joseph still resorts to a good 'ol 13 yo sassing, which just escalates either parent into a full-blown frenzy of shouting.  He hates this and ends up shouting louder to tell us that he wishes we wouldn't shout at him.  For Greg and I, we've grown tired of the "I'm the ONLY one who..." or "Everyone else is..." and shouting is catharsis, for the moment.  Then we all just realize that no one is being served and everyone is unhappy, so we go back to negotiating.

I wish I could stand firmer in my responses, but like most parents of teens, I struggle with the balance between giving them independence and keeping them safe and sound.  For us, it's trial and error, and lots of trust.  If we don't trust them, who will?  So, we take the back talk in stride and acknowledge that this too shall pass.  It is, however, comforting to have science behind us telling us that our boys will be stronger, better prepared for adulthood, work life and even marriage someday for having sassed, shouted, and squawked their way through adolescence.