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Last week was an especially busy week, end of summer, last minute school supply shopping, orientations, school starting and football for my boys. On one of those nights my oldest son had his first football game of the season and my youngest had her preschool orientation right after the game. It was a surreal experience to go from yelling at the football game for my oldest to “get em”…. To “and this is how we make the play dough” at the preschool orientation. I had a moment. Oh yeah, a moment. It was the first time I felt the difference in the age of my oldest and youngest and it truly caught me off guard. It was the realization that my son is not a toddler in anyway, shape or form anymore. My brain has known this for awhile but it has not been talking to my heart.

And then I started to weep. I think most of the other parents were frightened and I may have just decreased the school enrollment by 20. The teachers all thought it was about my daughter starting preschool but that wasn’t it at all. It was the knowing. Knowing what was coming and just how fast it comes. I keep telling myself it is a great time in his life and to celebrate it. So I am celebrating through my tears. I smile thinking of the little guy who used to come running down stairs after his bath every night saying, I’m clean, I’m clean, smell me… and now when we stand face to face and he can look me square in the eye, honestly, it breaks my heart. In my soul I want to scream STOP. Stop growing up and away from me. This may be the toughest part of parenting for me. Sometimes I think the nights of no sleep, temper tantrums, and cleaning up vomit was just part of the “training camp” for the real parenting, the letting go part.

I am proud of the young man he has become and can’t wait for the man I know he will be (well, I mean, I can wait…) but I will miss my little boy. I am praying that it gets easier with each one, but my brain is telling my heart, “I don’t think so…”
Great, now they start to communicate!

I am trying to live courageously. I recently read some where that courage is simply fear with faith. My daughter who is four has been struggling with fear. She is trying in her four year old way to understand heaven. She insists she doesn’t want to go there, ever! No matter how much I try to explain to her how fantastic and awesome it will be. Finally, the other day in a very small voice she said to me, “Mommy when I go there, will you hold me until I get there?” I swallowed my own tears and immediately told her yes!!! In her own little way she was still fearful but had faith that with me holding her it would be ok. Courage from my four year old!
I want my courage to break the chains that bind me to certain habits or sin and I know fear is a big part of that. For me there can be fear in learning how to live my life in the absence of my bad habit or sin. My fear has resulted in me creating so many different masks for myself, in the fear that this person needs to see me this way and a different person another way. Quite frankly, it is very exhausting and I don’t want to do it any more, so I’m not.
I am going to have faith that if a person doesn’t or can’t accept me for who I am then it is time to move on. And just for clarification, I am a sinner. I’m really good at it. It seems to come pretty natural to me. Sometimes my kids listen to inappropriate music and I let them, sometimes I scream at my kids and my husband. I lie, and have lied about lying. Sometimes I drink too much and sometimes I eat too much. I gossip and scorn people who do the same. I get envious of things I can’t have and buy things I shouldn’t and hide them from my husband. And I have spent a life time of caring way too much about what you think of me instead of focusing on how much God loves me despite all of my sins and bad habits.
I am going to work on sinning less. I am going to believe for the first time in my life that God doesn’t want a rule follower, He wants me. He wants me broken, ugly and with all my masks off. He loves me despite myself. I am going to judge less, and love more. I am going to speak the truth and hold my tongue, sometimes.
I am going to try and live courageously, knowing that my heavenly Father is holding me until I get to heaven and no matter what, I am safe with his arms around me.

I am blessed with sisters, biological and chosen. I have some radical sisters. I have some conservative sisters too. Sisters who have promised to defend me even when I am wrong and who will walk beside me through all times of my life the good and the bad. They will wade into the deep water with me and help me reach dry land. My sisters will stand in the rain with me, sit in the silence with me, yell over the noise with me, and speak to my inner child like only another woman can. They will eat chocolate, drink wine and complain with me about not losing weight. My sisters will notice my new shirt, haircut or lip gloss. They will tell me when something looks good and when it doesn’t. My sisters will let me know when there is something in my teeth, my hair or nose. They pass down the word to all of my other sisters when I am hurting, make a human life line and pray with me through it all. We share our dreams of living in an all women commune together someday, where all of the dirty socks are in the hamper and the toilet seats are always left down. They remember what is important to me. They share recipes, and secret miracle cures. Some of them I have shared my whole life with and some I have known for just a little while. Some I talk to everyday and some I may have not talked to in a couple of years, but still we are sisters. None of them are exactly the same, some very different from each other, some are younger than me some are older, some are skinny some are not, some cuss and drink some would never do either of those, some have quiet voices and some scream a lot! Some are blond, brunette and red heads, and some of them have been all three. Some of them live right down the street and some a cross the country. And that is exactly how God designed it, my circle of sisters, He uses them to hug me, tickle me and wipe away my tears. They are His voice, His hands and feet. They are the reality of “you are never alone, for I am with you all the days of your life”. They are His gift to me everyday as a reminder of His love for me. They are my sisters.

There is a lot of perceived power that comes with judging. In 1990, I was a judge in a local toddler princess pageant, think pageant like but 3 and 4 year olds in Iowa in 1990…very, very high hair, corn costumes and moms who never quite made it off the farm. Now that I have set the scene, let me tell you a little bit about the power surge I experienced during my inaugural judging debeaute.
In 1988 I had been crowned Miss Iowa American Coed and I was just coming off serving my year in that role when I was asked to judge the princess pageant. I was of course a former queen so I had my groupies at the pageant with me, mom and grandma. Being a former queen, I felt completely qualified to know what qualities a 3 or 4 year old should possess in order to be a crowned princess. Yeah right.
As we were given our judging instructions from the pageant director, I can remember being shocked at the category of character, meaning the personality and character of the child. I was thinking, “How am I going to be able to judge character based on stiff modeling, corn costume tap dancing routines and programmed answers from the contestant?” Then I had an idea and the first surge of power hit me as I pretended to listen to the pageant director and decided I would judge the mom’s of the contestants. Maybe not completely fair, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
The pageant began and I can remember being so enthralled with the mothers of the pageant contestants that I would almost miss the girl’s performance because of my distractedness. Some of the mother’s clearly were living through their daughters, some of them had no idea what they had gotten themselves and their child into and were looking for a quick escape and one mom must have thought it was a mother/daughter lookalike pageant because she matched everything with her daughter from hair, clothes and fake eye lashes. It was fun to watch the moms do the choreography in the audience as their daughters performed and they would very, very slowly mouth the words, SMILE over and over again.
I will never forget one little girl who came out and stood on the stage and cried. She cried and cried, no matter how much her mom danced to the music or mouthed SMILE the little girl just cried harder. The mom snapped and I surged with power. The mom came completely undone and I had a big RED sharpie! She was so upset with the little girl’s complete lack of stage presence that she went up on the stage and yanked the young girl off…. I showed the mother no mercy and included a few extra comments of my own judging expertise. Oh the power. I loved judging the mom’s actions until later that night at the banquet for the “big girls” pageant, the pageant director shared with me that the little girl had thrown a fit back stage before going on because her mother wouldn’t let her change her pageant name to Marigold. Please remember I was just a wee babe of 20 at this time and had no frame of reference to understand how a 4 year old little girl could throw such a huge temper tantrum over such a thing. Trust me when I tell you that God has sense provided me with plenty of reference to draw from, the blessing of three children but only one daughter! Thank you, merciful Father.
I wish I could tell you that I was invited back to judge again and that I never judged anyone’s character outside of a pageant again but I can’t. I am pretty sure most of my adult life I have felt very justified in judging people from everything as little as hair color to their personal beliefs. By what authority? I’m not sure because I do know that most people I have judged weren’t looking for my opinion or judgment. But the power that comes with passing judgment on someone else can be very intoxicating. I can feel better about myself and my few (eek!) imperfections. But then I had someone sober me up and share with me that all my judging really had more to do with my own insecurities and guilt. Ouch! The intoxication and power I may feel when judging others is the evil one’s way of hooking me but it Never is Jesus’ way. Jesus taught that we should love and demonstrate compassion to people who were hurting and far from Him. Ouch again!! Don’t be fooled by a lack of feeling power when judging it can mask itself in other emotions. A good test I use is to check myself and see if humility, love and a need to serve that person in someway are present, if not, guess who is trying to hook me again!!
Everyday I am learning to hand over my “Judges Score card” to Jesus, the ONLY judge, some days willingly and other days, not so much.

I grew up in a home where sports were celebrated. All types, we were not single sport snobs. I grew up watching golf, wrestling, football, basketball, hockey, and baseball. My mom loves all sports and my grandparents were avid Hawkeye fans and fans of anything their grandkids participated in. My dad coached several different sports, everything from my T-ball teams to my brothers wrestling.

I can remember grown men coming up to my dad and telling him he was the best coach they ever had. I of course would stand a little taller, as if I had anything to do with it; I was proud of my dad and the obvious impact he had had on these men. As a grown, women and a mother of three, I am always looking for my dad’s input when it comes to the sports programs my kids are involved in or his opinion on different opportunities they have. My dad lives three hours away so any coaching opportunities he gets with my kids happen on vacations or special family holidays.

My dad gladly gave his gift of coaching to so many and I truly believe it was a gift. I have known a lot of coaches in my life and trust me, they are not all created equally!

About four years ago someone suggested a hitting coach by the name of John Maitland for my oldest son Jacob. It took me about a year to actually make the call and set up a lesson but once we had our first lesson my boys met with John weekly until this year right before Easter.

John would be the first one to admit he never really was a very good baseball player but he loved it. He was a student of the game. John loved the strategy, loved the odds of succeeding in a game of failure and loved to keep everything simple.

I will never forget the first time my son had a lesson in John’s basement, not a pretty or fancy set-up and I do remember being slightly fearful of where to sit! My son hit a few balls for John and John promptly told him where he was struggling and how he could help him improve his swing and batting average. And that is exactly what he did. You could see my son’s improvement in the batter’s box and on paper but what he gave Jacob that meant so much more to his mom, was the self confidence to believe in himself.

John was the first coach to ever spend quality one on one time with Jacob building into him. If you would have ever heard any of their conversations during a lesson you would say I’m crazy to think that, most of the lessons John was picking on the Cubs (my son’s favorite team), or Jacob’s lack of focus or the fact that he was wanted by the police in several counties….. some days it never ended….Jacob loved it and would try to plan ways he was going to “get” John, but somewhere in between all of the jokes and knocks on each other, John would say, “Now that was a nice swing and he would mean it.” And Jacob would soak it up.

I have always looked forward to the weekly lessons and my conversations with him. We would discuss everything from, his latest civil war find, the Kennedy assignation and crazy baseball parents. I will miss his advice, and sense of humor, but most of all I will miss his friendship. I don’t know if he ever realized what he gave to me as a parent when he gave Jacob his confidence in the batter’s box, he gave me confidence as a parent that even if only for a little while during a baseball game, I could relax and know my kid had found his swing.

John lost his battle with bone marrow cancer on June, 22nd 2010. He was an inspiring coach to hundreds of kids and their families. I once read what matters most in life isn’t the day you were born or the day you die, it is what you did during the dash in between those two days that matters most. Well done John and thank you.

I can remember when I became a teenager, a switch in me from liking my parents to complete mortification when ever they were around. Eating out was a completely different experience. If I was alone with them, meaning that I was just with my family and no other normal people (my friends), I would totally “Valley Girl” out on them…

“It would be like totally gag me, these people are such a bunch of lame hosers. Like, don’t have a cow mom and dad, I want to get out of here and go hang with my friends, you guys are like, so barf me out, like, I can’t even handle this!!!
Sitting with them was never an option if I had a “Valley” with me, I mean they were totally embarrassing. Gag!”

So I shouldn’t be surprised when my own teenager starts to pull away, right? I mean I am a totally cool mom, totally, but I guess I’m not “Legit”???!!

Legit
1. (adj.) A modern synonym for words such as “cool,” “ill,” “tight,” or “dope.” Used to describe a noun that is of a particularly excellent quality. The slang use of this term is slowly but steadily increasing in popularity. Per the online, Urban Dictionary.

The other day at the pool when Jacob picked out a whole different area to put his towel and stuff, I thought to myself, what….what…wha…oh. The funny thing is I of course, being the totally cool mom that I am, would not leave him alone. He thought this was really funny, not. But he would text with me, and believe it or not we had a great conversation about a girl he likes and some of the other drama in his life. It isn’t the perfect scenario but I will take it. If he needs his space I will give it to him, kinda.

It was shocking to me the other day when I had him get on the phone and wish his 17 year old cousin happy birthday, and he struggle for anything to say to him. I’m sure that my excited, smiling face two inches from Jacob’s face, had nothing to do with his loss for words. I can remember talking on the phone for hours with my friends, much to my parent’s dismay.

On a serious note, all though I am grateful that he would text with me, I do feel that he and my other children are going to be part of a generation that struggles with face to face, one on one communication and this worries me. Texts and emails don’t allow you to hear the tone in a person’s voice when they write the message. As someone who typically speaks with lots of sarcasm this can be a huge stumbling block. My humor gets lost on the person and they are either pissed off or really confused.

When my son got his phone I can remember telling him to never text something to someone that you wouldn’t say to them in person. When we can hide behind our phones or computers screens, fear and civility can completely disappear. I am hoping that my advice and constant reminding will help Jake make the right decisions when texting and I am dedicated to becoming “Legit” in his eyes. Pray for me.

I think I need a change. Time to move on; cut my losses and don’t look back. I’m thinking about turning in my resignation. I am resigning from my position as nurse, maid, taxi driver, psychologist, chief, cheerleader, accountant, fashion advisor, gardener, car detailer, value setter, tutor and sex kitten. It’s time. There have been some things that have been asked of me that I am pretty sure were not in my job description as wife and mom. Things like, spending most of my adult life hauling whining children around in what at one time was a fairly nice vehicle but today resembles and smells more like a men’s locker room at the YMCA.

Some days I don’t want to be a mom or a wife. I just want to be me. I don’t want to take care of anyone but myself. I want to be selfish. I want to spend the day sleeping, watching TV or take the secret stash of health bars and eat them all at once if I feel like it. I love my children and my husband but some days I just feel done. It’s not necessarily anything they have done or not done, my tank is just empty. It is this deep disconnect in my soul with Tami, the real Tami. Not the mom/wife that everyone else needs me to be.

Sometimes I day dream about taking off going off on my own, leaving town, starting over new, for some reason this dream always involves a convertible, my long hair and a white scarf around my head blowing out behind me. In reality, it is a vehicle that smells like the Y, hair that hasn’t been washed in a couple of days and someone attempting to hit me in the head with their favorite blankie…ahhh.

Some days I don’t want to be a daughter or a friend. I don’t want to have any responsibility for any of these relationships. I don’t want to have the right words for you to help heal your pain or be a shoulder for you. I don’t want to wear the mask I have made to fit perfectly to my face anymore. I want to be free from expectations and illusions that I have spent a life time mastering. I just want to be. And yet I know that you are the shoulder I lean on and that you are where I feel most at home. I need to be a daughter and friend. I need those relationships, advice and good food.

Some days I don’t want to be a Christian woman or a child of God. I don’t want to have a conscious. I don’t want to demonstrate the love of Christ to the needy. I feel needy. I want to run and hide from my heavenly Father and I want Him to search me out. I want Him to come looking for me, to miss me. I want His love to draw me back.

It’s not everyday but I feel this way more often than I would like to admit. So just incase anyone else ever feels this way, know that you are not alone. And if you have never felt this way, and can’t ever imagine feeling this way, there is something seriously wrong with you and “de Nile” isn’t just a river in Egypt!

With a weekend full of baseball it could be easy to get sidetracked or lost in all the really bad hot dogs and pretzels with cheese at the ball park and forget what this holiday weekend is all about. In a word, sacrifice. All of the soldiers, who have severed to protect my right to go and play baseball all weekend, or have block barbeque parties or protest the Memorial Day parades deserve my acknowledgement and thanks. These soldiers have sacrificed for me. They have given up time with their families, they have missed birthdays, Christmas, Easter, block parties, summer vacations, school programs, graduations, baptisms, funerals, first smiles, first steps, first heart breaks, kisses goodnight and bedtime prayers. Some have given the ultimate sacrifice, their lives; for me. For my freedom.

All of the freedoms that I never think about; I take most of these for granted everyday of my life. The freedom to attend a church of my choice, sending my children to a private school and blogging about whatever I want to blog about.

Thank you to the past, present and future soldiers who protect my freedoms. Thank you for the generations after me that you will continue to protect. Thank you for going when your country asked you to go. Thank you for the kind word to the child of foreign country that you protected and demonstrated exactly what our country is all about. Thank you to the soldiers who sit on the night watch while I sleep comfortably in my bed. Thank you to the soldier who hides silently, undetected from the enemy, just off our shores 365 days of the year. On this day, all of your sacrifices have not gone unnoticed and I want you to know that it is appreciated.

Dedicated to all the soldiers in my family:
Carlton Townsend, USN
George Swore, USN
Donald Kellerman, USA
Jeanette Kellerman, USAF
Joe Skaff, USN
Eli Skaff, USA
Amy Hunter, USAF
Al Naegle, USN
Michael Kellerman, USN

A lump in my breast really wasn’t what I had planned for the day. Ugh! Not now. Not that I really wanted to schedule a time that I thought would be good, “Ah…yes next Tuesday at 9 am that would be a great time to discover a lump in my breast as long as I can be to Layla’s dance class by 10:15….”

At first I didn’t really feel scared about the lump, I was more worried about finding a sitter for my three year old during the mammogram and ultrasound. Once I had that figured out I let myself start to think about my own mortality.

Of course, I think about my kids and the things I would miss if I were to die now. First kisses, dates, car driving, high school, college, marriage, grandkids….that would really stink. I think of my husband. Oh man, he could never handle all of this alone!! But I’m not sure I want anyone else raising my kids or being a wife to him! Hmpf!! Now I’m getting mad!

I wonder what people would say about me? It’s not like I have discovered the cure for cancer or a way to end world hunger…..hmmmmm.

May 25, 2010

Tami Rae Swore Kellerman (Boogie)
39 (It’s my obit, I can be however old I want!!) of Rockford, Il passed away Tuesday, May 25, 2010 after a long battle with never ending piles of laundry, dirty dishes left in the sink and socks that could never seem to find the hamper.
Tami was born at St. Luke’s hospital in Cedar Rapids, Iowa to Chuck and Carol Swore of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. They have 3 other children who really don’t need to be mentioned right now, because this is MY obituary!!!! She married Michael Byron Kellerman, in Cedar Rapids, he was her high school sweetheart, on a rainy day in May, 1991.
She graduated from Thomas Jefferson High School and some days wishes those days had never ended! Or that they had never happened.(depends on the day) She received her BS in Psychology with a minor in Journalism from the University of Northern Iowa.(Yes, the same ones that BEAT Kansas during March madness this year.) She received her Masters in Public Administration from Valdosta State University.
Awards ahhhh…Miss Iowa American Co-ed 1988(thanks mom!!), Rookie of the year for Kings Bay Rotary Club(What? There wasn’t a lot to do in Kings Bay GA!!!) I think I have some coffee mugs that say “best mom”……
She is survived by Michael Kellerman of Rockford, her sons, Jacob and Noah and a daughter, Layla all of Rockford, her nephews and nieces, 16 of them; to many to write out and this is about ME…..
She was preceded in death by her paternal grandparents and maternal grandpa, 3 unnamed children but I suspect I could have a whole tribe in heaven…just sayn.
Services will be held in a church and lead by a person of faith followed by a lunch/dinner with all of her favorite foods!!!

Tami loved God and her family and friends. She desperately wanted to be the person God designed her to be and a loving wife, loyal friend, supportive sister, honoring daughter and a mom who taught her children to live their lives with Christ as their guide.

Almost forgot to mention, lump was a cyst, nothing to worry about!!! But a blessing in giving me some perspective!

Is it just me or does it seem like men in the media today are getting thrown under the bus for a good laugh? Don’t get me wrong I am up for a good laugh just as much as the next person and some of my best material has come from the male species. I couldn’t get over the commercials during the “Big Game” this year (“Big Game” don’t even get me started on that one!) almost every one of them had some sort of slant towards how stupid men can be or how weak they are in their relationships. And have you noticed most of the sitcoms depict men as mental inferiors to women and just plain idiots. As a mother of two boys, this bothers me for a couple of reasons.

First, I pray for my boys to be leaders not followers. When I say leaders I don’t mean jack-asses or donkeys, you know the guy I am talking about, the guy who feels the need to belittle anyone who seems a threat to him or slightly weaker. I want my boys to be strong, confident, compassionate, life giving leaders; men who pour into other people’s lives with life giving encouragement and integrity. Like, Shrek for example. Yes, I just wrote and you just read, Shrek. Once he comes out of his swamp, he becomes a friend to all different types of characters, even a …donkey. He leads a group of misfits on to conquer evil and he loves his girl no matter what she looks like on the outside. With the onslaught of constant demoralizing male characters in the media I worry that it will be very difficult for any boy to grow up in a world that embraces him as a strong male leader. Just for the record, I have also known a lot of women who feel the need to belittle anyone who seems like a threat to her or slightly weaker.

Secondly, this negative depiction of men in the media bothers me is, I pray for my daughter to have a husband that is the spiritual leader of their household one day. I pray for their marriage to be one where she is treated like an equal partner but also like a cherished treasure. Whether she works or stays home, her work is valued but she is not put in the position where she is teaching all of the moral values, doing all of the chores around the house and financially the sole bread winner. That isn’t saying that single mothers shouldn’t be celebrated for the amazing jobs they do but honestly, I don’t want that life for my daughter. I want her to be a strong, confident, independent woman who has an equal partner in her marriage, not a weak shell of a man. Like Captain America and Wonder Woman, if they were married. Each has their own unique super powers that are celebrated and complement each other. They are strong together or separate; they fight evil for good and have a fabulous eye for accessorizing.

All accessorizing jokes aside, I do feel strongly about this issue and I know I plan on doing my part as a parent, wife, sister and friend to continue with jokes that depict the quirks of both boys/girls, men/women and ogres/superheros. How about you?