What would Judi do?

So I'm a slacker when it comes to writing regularly. I have such good intentions when I start and then it all goes to hell, much like my resolution to stop swearing (which my kids remind me of daily). Truth is, I did write a page last weekend but then the cable went out and my post sat on my computer for a while. Sigh.....I'm trying...... So let me catch up. The more I look around, the more I realize there are lots of people doing good in this world. They've also been there. They just work quietly and sometimes I don't notice their work until I go looking for it. I'm glad I'm looking for it. I left off at 11 so we'll start with 12. 12. Unicef - when I was little, we would collect coins for them when we were trick-or-treating. I guess kids don't do that anymore. I thought it was a good idea. http://www.unicef.org/ 13. and 14. The Trevor Project and It Gets Better Project. - saving and trying to improve the lives of kids who get teased/bullied be

I can't quite imagine what it's like to be a member of our military. I have several friends who joined and know others whose spouses are in active duty. I don't think I'm courageous enough to do it. But I'm certainly grateful to those who are and who keep me and my family safe. Living near the Walter Reed Army Medical Center allows me to see the wounded service men and women who live in my community. They're pretty amazing people. Saying thank you doesn't seem like quite enough. So in continuing with my thread of recognizing groups that help others, here's a few groups that do things for veterans. Check them out. Also, if you know of a group, person or organization that does good for the world, let me know. 8. Amvets - I didn't know all things this group did. I thought they just showed up at my door to get the things I wanted to donate. Turns out they have lots of programs. www.amvets.org 9. The Hugs Project - I didn't know that the

You couldn't pay me enough to be a teacher. Well, that's not entirely true. I already teach. I teach families, kids and businesses sign language. But that's different. That's just a few weeks at a time. I couldn't do the full time teaching thing. But I'm thankful to folks who do. I wrote before about one teacher who forever touched my life. Mr. Aiken was kind of a lousy teacher but he was an important figure in my life. Mr. Righter was a teacher of mine in 7th and 8th grade and then saved my sorry butt later when I got kicked out of a class in 12th grade and had too many study halls for my schedule. He let me come to his class and co-teach with him. I worked with the 8th and 9th grade kids on their writing, English and life skills. The oh so cool thing about that was the kids who remembered me. I'm facebook friends with two of them - and they sought me out. Very cool. I had two teachers in my interpreting classes that made a difference in my li

I'm trying to keep the idea of being thankful in mind. It's tough when I have crying kids, a mom who needs things, clients who need me and a business that can't run itself. However, staying mindful of such a positive feeling will benefit me. That's what I'm telling myself. My first goal was to post every day. That's not going to happen. So every few days will have to do. More people who make a difference and organizations that do good. 4. Manna on Main Street - this is a food pantry in Lansdale, PA (my home town). I've served holiday dinners there several times - as have my children. If you're in the area, Thanksgiving is a wonderful day to volunteer there. Tons of fun and it makes your heart grow bigger. http://www.mannaonmain.org/ 5. St. Luke Evangelical Lutheran Church Phone: (301) 588-4363 Address: 9100 Colesville Road, Silver Spring, MD 20910 These folks run a food bank that serves local folks in need. When I was a girl scout leader, we

I've been thinking about what I wanted to do to acknowledge the season of being thankful. My friend Alissa at Have Stroller Will Travel ( http://www.havestrollerwilltravel.blogspot.com/ ) is doing a Pay It Forward series. The things she does make me more aware of the kindness I can provide to others - simple things that make a difference. Today I met people from various organizations that provide help and services to my local community. I decided to showcase some organizations that are making a difference between now and Thanksgiving. Maybe it will help them get some much needed support. Since today is November 3, I'll list three. 1. Deaf Reach - http://www.deaf-reach.org/ - In 1972, the National Health Care Foundation for the Deaf--doing business as Deaf-REACH-- was founded as a nonprofit, 501(c)(3) organization within the District of Columbia. Our mission is to maximize the self-sufficiency of deaf adults needing special services by providing Referral, Educa

While having a discussion recently with a male friend of mine, it dawned on me to ask him "How do boys learn to date?" I don't know what answer I expected but his answer sort of surprised me. What was it? "Um, I don't know." That was the answer. I started thinking about it. How do children (or teens or adults) learn to date? That's a tough one. If you look at my background, I certainly didn't learn it at home. My mother thought it was terrible if I so much as called a guy. There was no guidance. And I had a brother nearly 10 years older than me who was long gone by the time I started dating. I guess I learned it from Judy Blume books and my friends. But I don't really know. I worked with a male interpreter the other day, a few years older than me and someone I trust. "How did you learn to date?", I asked. The answer was the same! "Um.....I don't know. I just did it." My first thought was is this normal? Th

Words are funny things. You can't touch them. Some people can't see them; others can't hear them. But they're important. Once you say a word - it comes out of your mouth or off your hands - you can't take it back. I wish more people realized that. Some words are awesome. Everyone knows my three favorite phrases: 1. I love you (add either mommy or sweetie at the end of that, depending on who's saying it) 2. Cancelled, BILLABLE!! 3. You're right, Judi Those are all good words. They make me happy. Lots of other words make me happy as well. My co-worker who told me my hair smells good when she hugs me - those were good words. The client yesterday who told me she was grateful to have me there - again, good words. The comment "You're beautiful when you smile" made me do just that. However, the "I'm smarter than you" pre-teen crap I occasionally get from my kids isn't so good. Some other things I've heard lately

Life shouldn't be this tough. Love should come easily. Laughter should be part of every day. The good should always outweigh the bad. Tears should only come with laughter. So let it be written, so let it be done. So says Queen Judi.

Somewhere along the line I have lost my voice. Really, I still have a voice but I have an inability - a paralyzing fear sometimes - to use it. I feel like a wuss. I feel like I have no balls or, more accurately, no ovaries. After all, I never had balls (thankfully). It's kind of funny. My job often includes being the voice of someone. I can do that. Those words aren't mine. I have no responsibility for that. I have a lot to say, really. I want to tell some people in my life that they're very important to me. I can't. I want to tell others that I'm not happy with the relationship I have with them. I can't do that either. I just kind of go through my life not saying much of anything. It doesn't do me any good. I grew up feeling I didn't have a right to think certain things. I wasn't supposed to call boys. I wasn't supposed to go out - even to the grocery store - without lipstick. There were a bunch of rules I was supposed to foll

Today is the first day of fall. It was all over the news. It's not something I want to hear when I first wake up. Really, it's not something I want to hear at all. Autumn has never been a favorite time of mine. It meant going back to school, which always caused anxiety. It means the end of long days, pretty flowers and staying up late (yeah, I know that last one doesn't make sense but go with it for a minute). Fall means all the leaves change colors (granted, that's pretty) and then they fall off and everything looks dead. Besides, we all know what's coming next. Snow. I hate being cold. People start wearing sad colors. Browns, oranges, yellows - they look pretty on leaves but not on clothes. I like bright purple, turquoise and pink - spring colors. Sweaters are good. They not only keep me warm but hide me. I like that. The worst part of fall - without exception - is the time change. Fall back. Blech. Spring ahead - that even sounds happy. The days

I started writing this a few days ago but decided to change my mind. Then I changed it again. This is the last time. I started by writing a memory of my 9/11 day. I’ll leave that below. After thinking for a while, I realized what I really want my kids to know (assuming they read this one day) is how my life changed after 9/11. It changed permanently. I was scared after 9/11. Living near DC, I knew we were a target. Who was going to get us next? I had to carry ID with me all the time – no more sweet talking my way into a federal building on the days I forgot my driver’s license at home (which happened frequently at that time). No more driving around the NIH campus to show my mom all the cool places over there. Now there are very big fences surrounding their locked-down facilities. There are big fences everywhere now. Travel by air is a pain in the ass. We wear flip flops and sweats now because removing shoes for not just me but my two kids takes a little w

Today was the first day of school. Traditionally it's a day of mixed emotion - the end of summer, the start of homework, seeing friends, an earlier bedtime. It's all part of the deal of learning. F or one of my kids, it's a high anxiety time. I don't want to be in fifth grade , she told me. I don't want to be a big kid. I want to stay small. Oh, I understand that feeling quite well. I often feel that way. I don't want responsibility, demands on my time, expectations of me. I want to feel free. I didn't have the heart to tell her that her life as she knows it will disappear. She knows it's happening. Many of her anxieties at 10 are the same I feel at 44. It amazes me how much I understand this kid - the one who isn't quite like me. But she's becoming more like me daily, which is a scary thing. M : I want to look good on the first day which means I must wear this outfit. Me: I want my kids to look good on the first

My given name is Judith Ann Rockhill. Yet, I’m called by many different names. Judi, by most folks. Judi Ann by my 8 th grade science teacher and grandmother, both deceased now so no one calls me this any more. Judith Ann by my former bosses in OCNJ and my mom but only when I’m in trouble. Mom, Mommy, Maman, MOTHER!, Ima by my children, depending on their mood. That interpreter by some of my clients. AnjaandMikaela’smom by the kids at the playground. Mom of the twins by the parents at the playground who can’t remember my name. Miss Judi by the kids in the mental hospital where I worked (and some of my kids’ friends). Bitch by my best friend from high school (and that’s totally fine). Rockhill by some of my friends. Hey or You by strangers. Ma’am by young people who want me to smack them. Miss by smart folks at the store. Mrs. Rockhill by people who don’t know what name to use (this is the correct one). Ms. Prien by the unknowing folks in my kids’ school.

Trust does not come easy for me. It never has. I don't mistrust people, exactly. I just don't trust them 100 percent to start. Folks have to earn my trust. And even then, it's doled out in small amounts. I am practicing this right now. I am trusting my children to go on the boardwalk unattended. I am trusting they will not lose their money, go off the boards, talk to strangers (except to say hello or order something), and they will come back in the two hour time frame I gave them. This is hard. My mom trusted me when I was their age - and I was alone. But things were different then. I didn't get into as much trouble and I had good common sense. Truth be told, I think they have good common sense (most of the time). Here's my bet: 1. they will taste every sample of junk food they can find. 2. they will waste money in the arcade but have fun doing it. 3. they will come home with another hermit crab. 4. they will eat/drink things I would never let the

From m-w.com: — home a : a familiar or usual setting : congenial environment; also : the focus of one's domestic attention < home is where the heart is> — at home 1 : relaxed and comfortable : at ease at home on the stage> 2 : in harmony with the surroundings 3 : on familiar ground : knowledgeable at homein their subject fields> I don’t often feel at home. I’m okay in my house – it’s full of my stuff and sometimes my family, which is comforting. But it’s not me. That will change soon, though. When I say I’m going home, I usually mean Lansdale, PA. That’s where I grew up, though I wasn’t born there. I was born in Boston and spent the first five years of my life in Chelmsford. A nice place, sure, but it’s not home. I couldn’t wait to get out of Lansdale. Now sometimes I can’t wait to go home, even though my “home” there is now the Marriott Courtyard hotel. Ocean City, NJ is probably the place where I feel the most at ho

I love the Montgomery County fair. It brings out the freaks and families, all to one place. The pig made out of butter has been replaced by a cheese wheel (now that’s disappointing). But there were baby ducks and ponies. And we were blessed by some guy at the pig races who declared #14 the Pig Queen and then said God Bless You All! That was odd. My kids were asked to say the Pledge of Allegiance for a prize. They could only do it in French but they still got the prize. They answered questions about rain-scaping and won sponges. Where else does this happen but at the fair? I love the sights and sounds of the fair. The lights are magical. People are happy. People eat fried butter and oreos. I guess it’s a good thing all the EMTs, fire and police personnel are there. I wonder how many heart attacks occur there. People are happy at the fair. The vendors want to sell you something. The exhibitors bring candy and gizmos for you to bring home. People give

In 8th grade, I had a strange man as a science teacher. His name was Mr. Aiken. He left mid-year to go on sabbatical so he could go to the Olympics in Lake Placid, NY. One day while sitting in class (I can't remember who his substitute was), the teacher handed me a card. It was a post card. From Mr. Aiken to me. I was the only one who got one. I still remember sitting there, the teacher handing it to me and all the kids looking at me. I felt special. I wasn't a good student in his class. I was grateful for the C he gave me. I didn't really deserve it. He wasn't a very good teacher. He didn't care much about teaching at that point and thankfully he retired a few years later. For whatever reason, we connected. I can remember visiting him after I went to high school and talking to him about my frustrations with my home situation. He always supported my mother but he also let me talk. I graduated. He came to my graduation party. Somewhere in ther

Oh, I could spend a million dollars. Or at least I think I could. But that's a lot of money so it's probably harder than I think. But I'd like to try. So what would I do with it? Here are my thoughts: I'd make sure my mom was set for the remainder of her life. I'd make sure my kids had a good start on saving for college. I'd buy a house that's all mine. And I'd get a housekeeper because I suck at it. And my kids would have their own rooms (on a different floor than me). I would have a kitchen that makes me happy to cook in. I would have appliances that work (AC, laundry - just the necessities). I'd go to Prague, Croatia and Yugoslavia. And maybe visit Poland and Hungary because I love both and I'll be in the area - it makes sense. And, of course, Paris. Twice. Once with my kids and once with the guy I want to romance me in that beautiful city. I want to have a car that doesn't look like I'm a mom. I want a pur

I admit it. I'm an addict. That's the first step, right? I need to confess that when I walk through the office supply aisle in a store, that I-want-to-be-organized-and-color-coded part of my brain starts tingling. Back to school time is the best time of the year - but not because my kids are going back to school. All the gadgets and doodads are on sale. I'M MEANT TO BUY IT ALL. Every year they come up with new stuff. Sometimes it's something simple like different shapes of post-it notes. I mean, who wants square when you can get different shapes! Who wants a yellow highlighter when you could get purple, pink, blue or green?? There are clips, pens, and notebooks - oh my! There are so many things that I might need one day. And they're on sale now! It's a sign. I'm meant to have them. One of my favorite places to feed this addiction was at a computer trade show event aimed at feds that I interpreted for several years. It was awesome!! I got a y

I just read Alissa Ender's post over at Have Stroller Will Travel about what her son will be when he grows up and it got me thinking. What do I want for my children? I want them to be happy most of all. But I want more than that. I want them to enjoy their life. I don't want them to have a job but rather something they enjoy doing. When I ask them what they want to do when they grow up, the answers vary. So far on the list: veterinarian interpreter (french or sign) inventor teacher musician artist writer The list goes on. What did you want to be when you grew up? I wanted to be a waitress. I really wanted to be a waitress. The idea has stayed with me all these years - so much so that every time I eat at the Woodside Deli, I want to get up and take orders (no, I don't do it). I also wanted to be a make up artist. I thought I'd be good at that (and still maintain that I would have been good at it). I wasn't allowed to go to vo-tech school, though, so that

I have to stop watching Sex and the City. I watched it long ago but now it’s back in reruns and serves as a (mostly) amusing background distraction while I’m (supposed to be) working. Charlotte says to her gay, afternoon-movie friend, “I’m not looking for sex! I’m looking for my next Great Love!” Isn’t this what every single female is looking for? Face it, sex is easy to get. You can either take care of things yourself or peruse the online sites which are full of guys who want to show you all their (self described) fancy tricks. While they are tricky waters to maneuver, they are mostly manageable. The problem is when you’re looking for something more. Dating, especially after not having done so for a very long time, is daunting. The make-a-good-first-impression behavior is good but it’s not real. And it’s when you start finding the less than great stuff that the challenges appear. When does one decide to show their real self? There’s a time limit to the good beh

Mommy, is it true that if you wanted to change the channel on the tv, you had to get up to do it? Yes, that’s true. Mommy, did you really only have 3 channels on tv? No, we had 7. Channel 3, 6, 10, 12 (pbs), 17, 29 and 48. Sometimes if you held the rabbit ear antenna just right, we could get another channel from Allentown, but that was rare. And none of the channels were on 24 hours a day. The star spangled banner would play and then it would go off the air. Wow. Is it true that you didn’t have to pump your own gas? Yes, that’s true. The man at the gas station would check the oil, too. He’d do that for free. And if I needed windshield wiper fluid, he’d add that, too. Were cell phones invented when you were little? Nope. I remember getting my first one shortly out of high school. It was a bag phone and it was big and heavy – couldn’t fit in a purse or a pocket. I was the first of my friends to have one. I’ve been addicted ever since. I also grew

Seven years ago today I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. A week later, I was also diagnosed with Lyme Disease. Both sucked and both were supposed to do terrible things to me. Let's see what's happened in the last seven years. It might have been six years. I don't remember. That's the first thing that happened. My brain is a little fuzzy. My memory works but does so on its own schedule. That's frustrating. I lost my ability to speak properly. Then I got it back. I still mix up words (tell my kids to put on their socks when I meant shoes) but people can understand me. I lost all sense of direction. I got lost coming home from my kids' daycare and going to the grocery store. I had to keep a map with me at all times. I still have maps but I don't use them any more. I can get around just fine - without a gps. I couldn't use my hands properly. I couldn't open a jar of peanut butter or fasten a seat belt. My hands work just fine now. I dye

I have two beautiful daughters who are now 10. Ten is clearly different from nine. There’s a budding maturity yet a need to stay young. I go from Mommy to Mother! in record time, depending on their moods. I think daily about how I’m going to get my girls from this stage to being independent, thoughtful, productive women. I want my girls to grow up and have healthy relationships. But how will they learn that? I didn’t do such a great job modeling that in my marriage, which I owe largely to the fact that I didn’t have that model. A general mistrust of humanity doesn’t help that, either. Yet here I am faced with the daunting task of making sure my children grow up happy and healthy. Daunting doesn’t begin to cover it. I read an article recently by Lisa Bloom (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lisa-bloom/how-to-talk-to-little-gir_b_882510.html?ref=fb&src=sp) which addressed the issue of how we talk to girls when their young can influence how they see themselves as they grow up. A

There are rules to all games. Some rules come in the box with the game. Some rules are found online. Some rules are found in my head. I'm playing words with friends, aka scrabble, with several friends. I started out okay, beating several of them. Since then, I've had my ass handed to me in the middle of words I don't know several times. Okay, folks, here are the rules. Dictionaries are for cheater pants. Yes, there, it's in writing. You don't need a dictionary. You either know the word or you don't. You can guess. You can swear. You can try words that you would think it won't accept (it took sext but not jiz - yeah I know it's spelled wrong but I was hoping it wouldn't notice). But you can't look up words that start with an O hoping to find something that will work with the tiles you have. That's cheating. So there you go.

A visit to the Hirshhorn Museum this weekend has me thinking about this. And thinking about an argument I had with someone years ago about what constitutes art. In my world, art is something that someone creates for a specific purpose. That purpose may never be known but it's there. It should cause a reaction in you. You like it, you love it, you hate, you don't understand it - something. Before I continue on, two things should be known: 1) I'm an art school drop out and 2) I'm the family archivist. I document everything. Both of these facts probably cloud my judgement a bit. The Hirshhorn is full of weird things. There was a 60 minute video of Niagara Falls. It consisted of nothing more than the water falling over the falls. Yawn. What makes that art? There was another video of something that I'm not sure how to describe. It sort of looked like a city view with weird lights, sounds and other graphic images moving around on it. I thought it was cool but

Father's day for someone who grew up without a dad is a weird day. I had a friend (acquaintance, really) in high school who was horrified that I had no idea when father's day was. I knew it was in June - I did have a grandfather at that time. But I couldn't then and still can't tell you if it's the first, third or whatever Sunday in June. I always thought my mother should get both Mother's Day and Father's Day - she was both to me. But I had a brother that grew up with both parents, so that would've been weird. I, for one - and yes, I'm a mom, would be very happy to get rid of mother's day (which is usually a less than stellar day for me) and father's day. Maybe just one day of recognizing the person(s) who influenced your life. For me, that would be my 8th grade science teacher (who was probably the most paternal figure in my life), my mom and a few family friends who tried to steer me away from the trouble I was drawn to. So happy day

There's a lot going on in my head today but I can't get my head together enough to write about any of it. Welcome to my life. There's another blog I like by a friend of mine, Alissa. Her blog, Have Stroller, Will Travel, makes me think. Sometimes it makes me feel normal - that I'm not the only one dealing with weird parenting issues. Plus I get to win fun things sometimes. She wrote the other day about accidents she had while growing up. That got me thinking. I have scars. Right now, when I think of my scars they're mostly the kind on the inside. But I have plenty on the outside. I'm pretty sure CPS watched my family for a while. I broke both wrists within three months of each other. The first was in gym class in 6th grade. I tripped and fell and surprise, it was broken. Then at tennis lessons in NJ, I tripped again and broke the other arm. Ooohhhh.....my mother was not happy with me. At all. There are the weird ones. I have had stitches in the sam

I've been giving the topic of magical thinking a lot of thought. It keeps coming up in my world. I've always been a believer of signs. I think people come into my life for a reason. I think things happen to me for a reason. I don't always know the reason but I believe there is one. Or I used to. I grew up Christian (and have Jewish blood in me, a thing of curiosity most of my life) and being told that things happen for a reason - that my prayers are answered even if sometimes the answer is no. Sometimes I'm not meant to know the reason but there is something behind everything. Okay..... Then I started to doubt things. The doubt started a while ago but I pushed it to the side. I didn't want to doubt what was ingrained in me as truth. But as much as I wanted to push it aside, the doubt remained. I took a class in Judaism. That was interesting. I re-evaluated what I grew up with. I thought a lot about things. It didn't make sense. I'm supposed to

I finally figured something out this weekend. I'm excited by this. I have always felt different. I'm not the other moms who pick up their kids at school. Yes, I stopped wearing skull and crossbones on my shirts. Yes, I make sure I look normal. But I know inside I'm not like the other moms. I don't wear flowered pants. Or capris with cute little shoes. Or have perfectly coiffed hair. I listen to different music, tend to wear black or purple and use words I probably shouldn't in front of other people. I'm not like a lot of my co-workers either but I won't elaborate on why that is. I couldn't do the whole June Cleaver wife thing. Yeah, I'm not sad about that. I feel like a misfit sometimes. I realized this weekend that this feeling probably started around the time I discovered the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I wanted to be Columbia or Magenta. I wanted to have the balls to dress like that. I wanted to feel like that. I was that - at the a