Halloween: It's Not Just for the Dead Anymore!

12:56 PM Elizabeth Seckman 0 Comments

Happy Halloween!

I'm not a huge Haloweenie kind o' girl, but it's still a cool holiday. I mean come on, it includes chocolate! Anything that includes chocolate gets a thumbs up.

From everything I've read, Halloween is one of the oldest holidays. Ancient Celts celebrated Samhain (pronounced sow-en) at the beginning of fall. According to legend, early pagans believed that the close of summer meant the final harvest...of both crops and souls. They would dress up to hide from the spirits wandering the earth in search of the nether world.

To secure a loved one's safe journey to the other side, poor children who begged at doors were offered cakes and treats in return for their promise to offer up prayers for the dead. Handing out 'soul cakes' became a tradition and since the children would be out walking among the restless dead, they would hide behind masks so no spirit could trick them into following them into the beyond.

And these children would carry carved turnips filled with embers as a lantern. Swapping a turnip for a pumpkin? That was an American upgrade.

And Jack O Lanterns? That can be credited to Jack of the Lantern. According to Irish folk lore, there was a stingy man named Jack who liked to dally with the devil. As the years passed and Jack's time on earth was coming to an end, the devil came to collect his soul. Jack asked the devil to have a drink with him before he went and the devil agreed. They shared a drink, then Jack admitted he had no money and requested the devil change himself into a coin. The devil agreed, but Jack dropped his Satan coin in his pocket...next to a silver cross. The cross made it impossible for the devil to change back from a coin.

Jack bargained with the devil, he'd move the cross for another year. One year later, the devil came back and Jack talked him into climbing an apple tree for the plump fruit. Once he was up the tree, Jack carved a cross in the bark, trapping the devil yet again. This time he made the devil promise to never take his soul. When Jack died, he was banned from heaven and couldn't go to hell, so he wanders the earth carrying his turnip lantern.

Recent history reveals a holiday of fun with the darker edges blurred  to a fuzzy happy orange with smiling witches and  happy goblins. But this night of fun has grown into a billion dollar industry world wide. And it's not just the kiddies looking for tricks and treats...adults seem to be using the holiday as an opportunity to swap sweets for spirits and street clothes for street walker clothes*.  For fun I googled adult costumes and wasn't at all shocked to find:
~the Playboy bunny- the classic 'pay me, I'll get naked outfit' IS the sensible attire for fall
~ the blazing hot fire girl-  stiletto boots and fishnet stockings? I'd laugh, but it does come with an ax, so that makes it genuine, right?
~Little Red Riding Hood- for the woman who wants to attract pedophiles. I guess that sort of bait and   switch is a public service.
~the 80's chick- hey I was an 80's chick and I don't ever recall worrying about exposing my thong

There were plenty more, but I had to stop at the 'sexy hot sweet bikini' and wonder why not just write "I'm a tramp*" on a tee and save $49.99.
And among the hundreds of slutty girl costumes, I found him...now he's classy.

Have a Happy Halloween, be you tramp or candy seeker. :)


**Last year I read Linda Sands' (author of "Not Waving, Drowning") blog  post "Halloween is for Tramps" and now I can't look at the holiday with a straight face. Thanks Linda, here's a free blurb.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGY5ZqFsdn0

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A Spot of His Own...

11:28 AM Elizabeth Seckman 0 Comments

Stole this from my son...it's what he gets for asking me to proof read a school assignment. I guess this makes him a guest blogger...
Caleb age10 and Spot age 4 in 2005



            Pets are funny creatures. They cost us money and create havoc without ever helping pay a single bill. Pets are work. Take my dog for instance, when she was a puppy she pulled an entire load of laundry off the clothesline and dragged it around the yard. Most of the clothes were muddy and torn. Fifteen minutes of doggie fun rendered a load of laundry worthless. My mom threatened to get rid of her, but I knew better. No matter how bad my dog was, she wasn’t a pet, she was family.   It’s fascinating how a creature, that really is nothing but an animal, lives side by side us in our homes and becomes so important to us that we put up with all sorts of extra work and insanity.  Truly it is a mysterious and special relationship.
            My dog Spot and I share one of these relationships.  Since the day we got her, I have loved her. She is a wonderful mutt who brings nothing but joy to my life.  She has been with me loyally for eleven years.  Even when we got a cat and then a second dog, Spot still held a very special place in my heart.    No matter how tough things get or how hard life becomes, I can always rely on Spot to brighten my day when I see her.
            Spot is a Blue Tick crossed with a Rottweiler. She was supposed to be a Blue Tick and Black and Tan, but we doubt that lineage. A hound mix would have big floppy ears. Spot has little perky ears, just like the Rottweiler we saw the day we picked her up at some guy’s house in Parkersburg. She’s a big dog, about seventy-five pounds in her youth. She’s probably close to ninety now. She has a bit of an eating disorder. She has been known to nudge open cabinets and eat whole boxes of food and once ate four Easter baskets full of candy when the rabbit left them down too low. Because of her gorging, she often looks more like a bloated tick than a Blue Tick.
            She got the name Spot because she was covered in spots, or ticks, as a pup. People who weren’t familiar with Blue Ticks thought she was a new breed of Dalmatian. As she grew, her fur turned all black. She is a spotless dog named ‘Spot’.  Now that I am older, I have to admit, Spot isn’t a very pretty name for a girl, but what did my parents expect when they let a six year old boy name the puppy? But she likes her name. Call it and she’ll come running, especially if I call her from the kitchen.
            Spot was supposed to be a coon hound, but she was always more willing to chase balls and play tug of war with a rope than actually hunt. Truth be told, she’s petrified of raccoons. But my parents agree she’s worth her weight in gold. Mom always said she never had to worry about my brothers and me playing in the yard. No fool was going to come into our gate with Spot on duty. We aren’t totally sure she’d eat an intruder, but she sure sounds like it. No one has been brave enough to see if her bite really is as bad as her bark.
            Memories of Spot are some of the fondest of my childhood.  She’s getting older and I know she won’t live forever. She is a blessing and maybe a blessing is best appreciated when it can’t last forever.  So, I live every day with Spot to the fullest.  She is often the first thing I see in the morning and always the first to the door when I return home.  To me, she is more than just a dog.  She is a friend to be valued and loved.  My mother says she believes dogs are guardian angels.  They protect us with a fierce loyalty, play with us until we are run down, and, above all else, they love us no matter what happens.  I do not know if she’s right, but I do know that my dog Spot is as close to a divine being as I will ever know on this earth.


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Potty Training IS Easy

10:46 AM Elizabeth Seckman 0 Comments

Last week I bragged that I had a fool proof potty training plan. I suppose I shouldn't brag without dishing out the details.

All of my kids (I have four boys) were potty trained by age two...well, Carter, boy #3, by eighteen months, but the little freak pretty much potty trained himself. He hated diapers; they were for babies and he was a big boy. "Fine." I said, "But pee your pants and you're back in diapers." He never had an accident.

For the other three? This was THE PLAN

Potty Training Boot Camp~

1. Shop
          ~Let child pick out several packs (unless you're a laundry wiz) of 'big boy (or girl) pants 
          ~Construction paper
          ~Stickers
          ~Juice boxes
          ~Marker

2. Prepare
           ~Hang a piece of the construction paper on the bathroom wall
           ~Take single squares of toilet paper and draw happy faces on them

3. Potty Train!
            ~Let your toddler pick out a pair of underwear. Be sure to be awesomely impressed by how MATURE he/she looks in them.
            ~Forget the complicated clothes. This potty stuff is a new skill; don't complicate and frustrate.
            ~Bring on the drinks. And just like a puppy? Once they drink...time to visit the potty.
            ~Throw a square of the happy face TP into the bowl....he's the target. Ready, aim, fire! (My oldest nicknamed this step, 'sinking Mr. Brown')

4. Reward time!
             ~Even a dribble gets a happy dance...and a true happy dance should be so over the top exciting that  your neighbors will think you've cracked, or are on crack. But clap and dance...you won't be buying diapers soon!!!
             ~Then give your toddler a sticker and let him/her put it on the paper.
             ~Repeat the process till a whole sheet is filled up. I'd then let my kids cash that sheet in for a toy.

 That's pretty much it. It's that simple.

A few footnotes...
              ~The big potty for #2's is scary. Tiny bottoms, big openings...scary from a small fry's perspective. The potty chair is a perfect alternative.
              ~#2's are boring. Read them a book or have a chat while you hang out with your young pooper. 
              ~Long before potty training time, keep baby clean. Change that diaper frequently. Teach them early that being dry and clean is sweet. A child who is comfortable in wet/ soiled diapers is tougher to train.
              ~Pull ups? I never liked them. Sure they might be convenient on the go...but what a confusing message. Once you switch from diapers, leave them behind. To me, it seems like switching to snuff to stop smoking.

And remember, accidents happen. Clean up and move on. I never scolded my kids for accidents. Any new skill has a learning curve and you can't expect perfection over night.

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"Choose what you will, but Marshall is better..."

1:06 PM Elizabeth Seckman 1 Comments


Two  weeks ago, I took my oldest son, Caleb, over to WVU for ‘the tour’. Now, those of you who aren’t from WV, understand that for many years there were two universities in the mountain state…WVU and the other one. Four hours south of the school who gets first funding and top billing is the little sister school. And like any younger, slimmer, better looking little sis, she has big attitude.  We ARE Marshall. 

Now at Caleb’s birth, two concerns were foremost in my mind…
1.             How will I potty train him?
2.             How will I make sure he grows up with a strong sense of self?

I wanted my child to go to kindergarten in big boy pants and go into adulthood with confidence.

My husband and I had a fail proof system for potty training. Yay us! And a theory on personality development…we would let him make his own choices, within reason. (yes, we let him wear gum boots to church, no we didn’t let him drink beer for breakfast…no one in our family drinks till noon)

We accepted his choices. He wore Halloween costumes year round, adorned his outfits with amulets and sword, and even went through a phase where he had just two favorite shirts…the big truck shirt and the animals on camo shirt. He’d take one off, put the other on, sometimes waiting anxiously by the dryer for one to be done. 

But we subtly did our best brainwashing. We dressed baby in Marshall green and white. Took him to Huntington for weekend trips, for football games, and let him chase squirrels on campus…Basically we taught him as best we could to bleed green. And he absorbed it like a sponge. He was such a good little Herd fan, he bought himself a Pitt jersey to wear on WVU day at school. 

But then…oh cruel fate, you are such a witch.

A chick from the WVU recruiting office called his junior year, “Come on over and tour our campus,” she said like a spider from her web. “We think you’ll like it here.”

We ignored the call. Surely Marshall in all her wisdom will be in touch soon…but nothing…nothing but another call from WVU. 

We explained to our son, “This is your choice to make. We chose where we went to school, now you choose where you go.”  A letter from WVU later, Caleb says, “I think I should check them out.”

So off to WVU we went. A free tee shirt and a guided tour later, Caleb was filling out the application.

On leaving  the Mountain Lair, I couldn’t help but point out the obvious… Marshall’s campus is all together…a picturesque little community set aside from the city of Huntington, no transit system needed. As we climbed one set of stairs after another?  I think I mentioned the land Marshall sits on is flat. As we waited to ride the PRT?  I just couldn’t NOT state my concern that the unmanned transit hub could be a mugger/rapists favorite hang out after dark.  And when we crossed the highway and I tripped on the median and landed on my knees in the middle of the highway? Please note that the streets around Marshall’s campus are one ways, so you don’t have to stop on the little concrete island and risk your life to cross the road.

See? This open minded, supportive mother has allowed her son his roots and wings…and the freedom to make his own choices. Like I told him, “Choose what you will, but Marshall is better.” :)

1 comments:

What's Your Theme Song?

10:40 AM Elizabeth Seckman 2 Comments

Who didn't love those buns? Okay, what girl who wore a bra during the 80's didn't love those buns? I loved those buns enough to buy the album (for home), the cassette (for cruising), and the poster (for ogling).

Oh, I know it wasn't just the buns. That entire shot was marketing perfection. The slightly worn pocket, the hat, the flag...oh be still eager, little, anxious heart that yearned to conquer the world and coif hair tall enough to shadow small buildings.

Ahh...good times. Good times.

This morning as I dropped the kids off at school, I listened to the old forgotten radio and "Dancing in the Dark" came on.   My once very most favorite song in the whole wide world, chosen when I was still young  enough to believe choosing a THEME song was like, OMG, a necessity.  It was my self selected musical mantra, the song that would play in the background as I moved through life...the song that once inspired me...that I knew would one day remind me of the energy of my youth.

It was my "play it way too loud, pick me up"... and when I heard it this morning? It sparked the old brain and sent my motivation a tiny surge of energy. I guess all that hairspray didn't overly hinder my thinking after all.

Songs do that. They spark memories and with them the feelings and the mood of the moment. There are so many songs that take me somewhere...from the melodies of love songs to the horrific lyrics of the uh, music (Little Wayne, really? I have to have a memory attachment to Little Wayne? Whatever...) of my ornery teens... they all bring me back to somewhere, sometime more powerfully than a photo.

So, what's your theme song? And if you don't have one...get one. Maybe St. Peter puts together a "This is your Life" montage before entry into the Pearly Gates...you never know...it could happen.

I pasted a link to mine below. It was chosen when I was naive enough to think Courtney Cox just got lucky to get on stage. Pity that I now understand she was a plant...

"Dancing in the Dark"...thank you Bruce. :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=129kuDCQtHs

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