WE'RE IN IT TO WIN IT!

If you know anything about Pittsburgh, you're well aware of the true grit our Pirates and Steelers show in every contest they compete in. This weekend was a barn burner for both teams. The Pirates were losing 2-0 to the Brewers on Saturday night. Yet in the bottom of the 8th, Russell Martin, our talented catcher, hit a three run homer to set the stage for a 4-2 victory. Yesterday he drove in Andrew McCutchen in the bottom of the 7th resulting in a 1-0 win. The Pirates are only 2.5 games out of first place in the Central Division. Look out, St. Louie, we're right on your heels for first place and are in it to win it!

Last night the Steelers were in Carolina to take on the Panthers. Their first series was a disaster to say the least. The Cats defense was spot on and it looked like they were going to give us fits for the entire game. However there is no quit in Big Ben and his band of mighty warriors. They kept plugging away and were ahead at halftime, 9 - 3.

During the second half, unbelievable plays and a ton of just plain luck took the team to a 37-19 victory!  In the melee, the Steelers lost Taylor, Shazier, and Jones on defense, yet never thought of quitting. On offense, Antonio Brown made two touchdown catches, Le'Veon Bell ran for 147 yards, and LaGarrett Blount ran for 118 yards and scored a touchdown. Are you getting my drift yet?

Our sports teams are merely a reflection of the people who live and work in Pittsburgh. Far from being privileged, well-heeled elitists, we're simply hard-nosed, hard-working folks who keep plugging away no matter how many obstacles present themselves. When times seem the darkest, and the mountains to high to climb, that's when Pittsburghers are at their collective best. When a neighbor loses his or her job, we offer support with food, clothing, and tips on where to find another one. When tragedy strikes a family, we gather together and help out wherever needed. Nobody looks to be thanked or publicly acknowledged.

I was born and raised in the Pittsburgh area and have lived here for 70 years. It's a place like no other. Once in a while, my hubby and I talk about moving to a warmer climate. Since two of our adult children and their families live in of all places, the Carolinas, it would seem logical we'd consider moving there. But after coming to our senses, we couldn't leave Pittsburgh any more than we could decide to divorce after 46 years of marriage. Just like our beloved Pirates, and Super Steelers,
WE'RE IN IT TO WIN IT for the duration in sports, marriage, and our town, Pittsburgh, PA!

The Pirates are on their way to the World Series,the Steelers to another Super Bowl and the people of Pittsburgh are with them every step of the way!  WE'RE IN IT TO WIN IT no matter what it takes. In Pittsburgh, that's the way we roll!

Hi, my name is Flo, and I'm a Kid Lit Blog Hop participant!

This is my first time being involved with Kid Lit Blog Hops. The purpose of the event is to bring children's book authors, bloggers, and publicists together to share their works, ideas, and interesting things in their lives. I am so excited to be included.

http://motherdaughterbookreviews.com/category/kid-lit-blog-hops/

I received a comment on my Grammy's Gang blog from @snacksformax informing me that I was to include a specific post instead of the blog itself. I truly appreciate 'snacks' taking the time to show me the error of my ways. I'm 70 and admittedly not a techie whiz. It's folks like 'snacks' that help me to improve my computer skills daily. I couldn't be happier to have made a new friend and plan on following her advice whenever I'm fortunate enough to be a recipient.

I posted the second book in my When We Were Kids series, Puppy Love, on Kid Lit Blog Hops because I think it's the perfect way to introduce myself to all of you. I've been a children's advocate my entire life. My father died when I was three years old. Even though I was so young, I realized then that I was helpless and needed someone to speak up for me. Unfortunately in 1944 folks believed children should be seen and not heard. My brother and I suffered a lot because of that ridiculous mantra.

All the books in this series deal with issues tweens and teens face everyday. Through my words I hope to help them understand what they are experiencing and have the courage to move forward.

We were all kids once. We know what it's like to be bullied, travail the challenges of puberty, and even suffer the loss of a loved one. It is my mission to be that voice speaking to and up for our children until they speak for themselves.

I AM WOMAN,HEAR ME ROAR!

Tomorrow is my birthday. I will officially be 70 years old! So today I can't help but look back over my shoulder to observe the path I've taken. Born in 1944 during the final days of World War II, I think was clearly a premonition that my life would be one of turmoil as well as peace.

Although these two dichotomies are at the extreme ends on the living continuum, I've experienced varying degrees of both throughout my lifetime thus far. Supposedly one would believe that I'd have relished the good times, prayed for them to keep coming, and do everything in my power to avoid the negative ones. And for the most part, that's true. While living through pain and suffering, I oftentimes railed against my God, asking 'why me,' and having the audacity to raise my fists in futile defiance. At other moments I simply bowed my head in grudging submission and allowed the miseries to overtake me. From an early age, depression became my constant companion although since being so young, I was completely unaware of the nature of this hideous malady and what could be done to alleviate it.

And so I lived day-to-day, year-to-year, going about the business of wading through my childhood, being a teen, getting a college education, becoming a teacher, finding and marrying the love of my life, giving birth to three great kids, solidifying a career, reaching retirement, and embarking on a second avocation as an emerging author of children's books at the ripe old age of sixty-eight.

What I discovered over the years is that without the turmoil, my journey would have been quite boring and without much merit. I wouldn't have attained nearly half of my accomplishments without the struggle and defeat I'd endured along the way. There would have been little to no motivation to continue striving for more. Since I would have been at peace with what I'd already done, there would have been no need to pursue much else. Had there only been a continual sense of calm, today I would be a little old lady content to sit in the proverbial rocking chair waiting for the angels to transport me to that heavenly kingdom in the sky.

But because of my struggles, at 70, I'm a vibrant, active, opinionated woman who continues to seek out new ways to reinvent herself. I have no desire to rest on my laurels, I have no desire to be transported anywhere, and  I have no desire to end my journey anytime soon.

Of course, I'm thankful for the peace I've enjoyed over these many years. I wouldn't be the person I am without having experienced the euphoria that comes with the glorious feelings of utter contentment.  Peace has certainly propelled me on my life's path.

But I must give a shout-out to all the conflict and pain I've been privileged to bear. It is precisely the very adversity I've met along the way, and had the strength and courage to overcome, that has made me the happiest and most proud. "I am woman, hear me roar!" When my final day does arrive, even though I plan to be cremated, I want those words engraved on a plaque and hung along side a picture of my smiling, mischievous face.

After having looked back over my shoulder on the past, I've set my sights forward, and am excited about what lies ahead in the future. I'm determined to be around for at least another 30 years, give or take.  So deal with it!

Happy birthday to me!

An Authority On 'Labor Day!'

Since I've birthed three children I believe I'm an authority on 'Labor Day!' Oh, yes, my dear friends, especially those of the male persuasion, I know from first hand experience what Labor Day is all about.

I was in our first apartment sitting on the couch with my mother-in-law about 10:00 P.M. while the men in the family played cards in the kitchen. Suddenly I felt wet. Not knowing for sure what the problem was, I excused myself and went to the upstairs bathroom. Water was flowing out of me like somebody had turned on the spigot. I grabbed a bath towel, stuck it between my legs and yelled for help. My hubby shot up the steps with a look of terror on his face."It's time," was all I could manage and away we went.

In 1969 once reaching the hospital,  I was entrusted to the night nurse, and my husband was led to the waiting room never to be seen again until AFTER LABOR AND DELIVERY!  Imagine that! For the next twelve and a half hours, I experienced the worst pain ever alone and extremely afraid. Occasionally the nurse would come in, check my heart rate and the machine showing the baby's activity and then leave me alone to suffer.

Somewhere in the melee, I was given an epidural to alleviate the pain. Then shortly after 10:00 A.M. that Sunday morning, I was wheeled into the delivery room. At 10:17 A.M. my first born was extracted from my womb, help up by the doctor for me to see, then placed upon my abdomen where she rested while the staff in the room sang happy birthday. Immediately she was whisked away to be cleaned, diapered, and tested.

Since I had the epidural, I wasn't allowed to sit up until 10:00 that night. I'd only seen my hubby for a short while after giving birth. He said our daughter was absolutely beautiful and he was the proudest man in the world. Good for him, but I had yet to get a close-up view of her, hadn't yet held her, and was in a whole lot of pain from the cluster of hemorrhoids throbbing in my posterior. Ain't Labor Day grand!

Finally the nurse presented my baby to me shortly before midnight. As I held her in my arms, tears streamed down my face. She was indeed the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes upon. Her skin was like that of a summer peach, her body perfect in every way, and she was peacefully asleep. I was supposed to be giving her a bottle, but never did. I just couldn't take my eyes off her. In those moments I promised her I'd be the best mom I could be, and that her dad and I would protect her with our very lives. I promised myself I'd never go through labor again!

However, thirteen months later I gave birth to my son. I was only in labor for about an hour, my husband was with me from the beginning until our boy was delivered after only thirty-five minutes at 12:42 A.M. He was far from beautiful since he had to be removed with forceps and he weighed almost 2 more pounds than his sister. He looked like he'd gone ten rounds in the ring. My hubby was the proudest man in the world for the second time!

Eight years later I found myself experiencing another labor day, On a winter night in February, 1978, we found ourselves headed to the hospital once again. I had a towel between my legs and pains were coming every two minutes. We figured we'd make it just in time to deliver. No such luck. I yelled and for eight hours, this time my dear husband got to see and hear it all. I was supposed to get an epidural, but with a shift change somehow it never happened. Instead I was wheeled into the delivery room where the doctor and nurses began the birthing process. NATURALLY! At first I didn't realize what was going on, and when I did, it was too late for the shot. I grabbed my hubby's hand and squeezed it so hard I could have easily broken his fingers. When the nurse asked him if he needed to sit down, I went off cursing and screaming about the pain I was in and nobody had offered me so much as a 'sorry' for your troubles!  The words I used are not printable, but you get the picture. At 7:57 A.M. our second daughter was born, our third and last child!

Yes, I'm an authority on 'Labor Day!' If you have any doubts, just return to the top of my blog and read it again, this time pay close attention though!

First Day Jitters!

Across the country many children are heading back to school today. Most likely they tossed and turned throughout the night, but still managed to wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. They brushed their teeth, washed their faces, and got dressed without you having to prompt them even once. After all, they've been waiting to wear their new clothes and the hottest athletic shoes for weeks now. Most likely they don't want much if anything for breakfast. And assuredly, they don't want you walking them to the bus stop. Lugging their favorite sports team or Taylor Swift backpacks loaded with sharpened pencils, notebooks, and bagged lunches, off they go! Maybe you shed a tear or two, but chances are you let out a huge sigh of relief and return to a second cup of dark roasted coffee and the newspaper. You don't have to be at work for at least another hour!

The schools have been in frantic preparation for months now. Principals, teachers, cafeteria workers,  and maintenance staff have all been carrying out their specified duties in order to make the first day of the 2014-15 school year run as smoothly as humanly possible. Room assignments went out in June so unless a child is new to the area, students pretty much know where to go and how to get there. As the halls begin to fill up, sounds of laughter and anticipation float through the air. Spirits are high, expectations seem reachable, anything is possible.

Jitters at the start of any school year come with the territory.  I like to think of them as the fuel needed to rev up the educational tanks of each and everyone connected with the learning process. Sure the kids are hyped, but the teachers experience the same type of anxiety as well. Not knowing the capabilities of students that have been entrusted to their care, they must be vigilant from the get-go. A top priority for them is to identify the strengths and weaknesses of every child and formulate an individualized plan so each one can grow and excel throughout the year.

In particular, teachers should  be on the look-out for socialization development. The shy kids need help with forming connections with their peers. The class clowns need help realizing they don't have to always be "on" to be liked. And the bullies need to learn that putting somebody else down doesn't elevate their status one bit. Actually these kids suffer from low self-esteem more than any other group and should be the focus of their teachers' understanding and professional expertise.

Principals suffer first day jitters, too. Having to contend with a large number of students is a piece of cake compared to the supervision of both new and seasoned teachers, the concerns and complaints of anxious parents, the execution of smooth-running cafeteria schedules and overseeing the operations of the entire building. At times like these, I'm sure many principals yearn to be back in the classroom.

And finally, the parents. Perhaps your jitters outweigh any of the groups already discussed. Once again you've handed your precious sons and daughters to folks you don't really know. You believe you're doing what's best for your kids, but somewhere inside there's a little voice telling you to be on alert. Listen to that voice, not because the teacher has done anything to merit your distrust, but because it's possible that he or she could. Although the percentage of "bad" teachers is very low and most of these dedicated professionals deserve our deepest respect and admiration, you, the parent, need to be involved with your child's education from the first day of school until the last. Get to know the teacher well. Be in communication with the teacher on a regular basis, support the teacher's efforts towards benefitting your child, and don't be afraid to ask questions when the need arises. By formulating a strong bond with the teacher, your jitters will definitely subside, and the entire school year will be rewarding for everyone!

On your mark, get ready, get set, GO!  This new school years holds the promise of great things to come.
If everybody involved maintains the same enthusiasm they experience on the first day of school, the sky's the limit!  Good luck!

PIMPLES AND PERIODS

Every human being goes through puberty so what's the big deal about making it the central theme in my latest novel? According to my daughter, Joy, the title, Pimples and Periods (When We Were Kids, Book 3), is going to put a lot of people off. Really? Although classified in the juvenile fiction genre, this tale is appropriate for ages 9 to 99! You're either close to being pubescent, are currently going through the throes of puberty, or can remember that time in your life as if it were yesterday.

Not only do I give accurate information about the process, but infuse a ton of humor to make readers see puberty for what it truly is, a Right of Passage. Girls are told about what happens to their bodies and why those changes are occurring in a delicate, sensitive manner. Boys learn why their voices change, why hair starts growing all over the place, and, the possibility of outbreaks of unsightly acne. In this tale, suggestions as to how to deal with ugly zits comes from such unreliable sources as younger sister, Betty Lou and Uncle Tom. However in My Letter To Readers, I direct kids experiencing skin problems to talk to their parents and find a professional to help eradicate this condition with effective treatment.

Our society today proclaims transparency at every turn beginning from the White House down to the everyday mom and dad who are proud to say they can talk to their children about anything. Really?
I don't know, but a number of young teens either lack even the most basic knowledge of what their bodies and emotions are about to experience, or have erroneous information they've gained from their peers.

Why parents feel so uncomfortable about "the talk" in our modern world remains a mystery to me. For this very reason, as a life-long child advocate, I was compelled to write Pimples and Periods to offer valuable information on the topic of puberty to both teens and adults alike. It can be used as a stepping stone to initiate conversation. In the back of the book I provide 10 Talking Points that cover just about every aspect of this Right of Passage. By using this helpful insert, your discussion with son or daughter can actually be informative and fun at the same time.

To me, Pimples and Periods, was the obvious title choice. I can't imagine calling it anything else and that anybody would be put off by it. Really!

WE GOTCHA!

A little more than two weeks ago my three adult children and their families came into town. Not unusual because they all make a summer visit but not necessarily at the same time. By the morning of July 19th we had 11 people in our house ranging in age from 78 years down to 15 months. My daughter, Joy, and her family of four were due in about three o'clock. Without much in the way of mathematical skills, I'm sure you figured out that that would make 15 rowdies eating and sleeping together in our three bedroom home. Out of this number, 6 were boys, ages 1-11 and 1 girl, age 8.

On Saturday, after awakening, washing up, and attempting to get themselves breakfast, the grandkids took to the backyard to conduct wrestling matches while the so-called adults plunked themselves down on the patio to set the agenda for the day. Though the plans for the morning were sketchy, we'd agreed to hit Kennywood Park after Gabe, the youngest, woke up from his afternoon nap. Right about then, Kaden, 7, was calling a penalty on Liam, 7 for unsportsmanlike conduct. Of course, Liam denied any wrongdoing and claimed his cousin was a baby. Somebody hit somebody with a hard ball and somebody was screaming bloody murder. After a while I purposely forgot who was being the aggressor and who was being aggressed. I find it's better to keep my sanity that way.

My younger daughter, Kristy, decided the best course of action was for the dads to take their kids to White Oak Park, a county green space, where their little darlings could let off some steam and hopefully stay in one piece before going to Kennywood. She suggested they stop along the way for a burger and then we'd have a more substantial meal later on at the park. Once they left, peace returned to the valley.

Kristy, Kelly, my daughter-in-law, and I sat outside and talked and laughed for at least an hour or two. Finally Gabe woke up and Kristy called her hubby, Todd, to get a bead on their location. They were still at Sumac Grove, the kids were having a ball running through the raindrops and didn't want to leave, so we decided we'd meet them there and head out together for Kennywood.

My husband and I drove our own car because if the baby tired at the park, we'd bring him home while the others stayed to continue riding the coasters and the other death-defying attractions. As we rode towards the back of White Oak, we noticed picnickers partying under pavilions because of the misty rain. I announced how badly I felt for them even though they seemed unphased by the weather.

Upon reaching Sumac, I spotted my son's truck parked among tons of other cars. I told my husband how rude it was  of our kids to have taken up space in an area that had clearly been reserved by other's for their own purposes. When he stopped the car and got out, I assumed my hubby was going to apologize for his family's inconsiderateness. Instead three of my grandsons came running to the passenger side and were yelling something I couldn't quite understand. As I opened my door, they screamed, "Happy birthday, Grammy!" In no uncertain terms, I told them it wasn't my birthday and to get in their dad's vehicles so we could proceed to Kennywood.

But, as I looked around I spied my daughter,Joy standing with a crowd of family and friends smiling from ear-to-ear yelling, "We gotcha!" and then bursting into the birthday song followed by the Ole Gray Mare. Now my 70th birthday isn't until September so they had hatched the perfect plan to pull off a surprise party which they hadn't ever been able to accomplish before. I've always been the one to plan our celebrations and the one to surprise just about everybody in the family at one time or another.

The food was sensational, the games, robust, and the many well-wishes truly enjoyable. I received wonderful greeting cards, lottery tickets, and unexpected, but greatly-appreciated gifts. But what was and will always remain closest to my heart was that my children, their children, my family, and my friends took the time to celebrate my life in such a glorious, sneaky way. "We gotcha!" thrilled them to no end, and I must tip my hat to all of them since I never had a clue!

We partied hardy, cleaned up the pavillion, and headed back to our house. For the rest of the evening, the adults talked on the patio, the kids ran around catching June bugs, and the baby slept peacefully in the pack-n-play. Around midnight everybody found their spots either in a bed, on the floor or in a chair ready for a good night's sleep. I think they all dreamed of the look on my face as I realized they'd actually pulled the wool over my eyes. And, I'm sure they considered their dreams sweet!  I know I did!