Looking for Lean New Year

This fall, I learned a concept that I knew immediately would be my 2009 New Year’s resolution. It’s called Lean Manufacturing, and it’s about seeking and employing small but continuous improvements to make production systems more efficient.

Lean manufacturing stems from a Japanese word and philosophy called Kaizan, which means continuous improvement. Japanese companies, led by Toyota, have been employing this philosophy since the 1950s and essentially driven American automakers to bankruptcy. (Perhaps you’ve noticed this in the news.)

This is intriguing testimony about the usefulness of Kaizan. A study comparing the improvement programs of Japanese versus American companies showed that in Japan, about 75 percent of employees participate in continuous improvement programs generating 37 ideas each on average. About 88 percent of these ideas are adopted, saving $126 per idea.

In the U.S., only 9 percent of employees surveyed participated in improvement programs, generating just .12 ideas per employee. Only 32 percent of these ideas were adopted. But each of them generated more than $6,000 in savings.

Impressive -- we are Americans afterall. We generate big, important ideas.

Not really. Even with our significant cost savings per idea, Japan blows us away with overall net savings per 100 employees of $422,000 compared to under $23,000 for every 100 U.S. employees.

Now, you might be wondering how lean manufacturing principles used by Japanese automakers relate to my New Year’s Resolution? I admit, it’s a bit of a stretch since I’ve never really manufactured anything except three meals a day, some unsightly crafts and, with heavy lifting from above, three children.

But one element of Kaizan appeals to me. The mantra states that small changes employed continuously add up to big savings.

The key word for me is small. Small changes -- I can do that. Don’t ask me to keep my kids’ faces clean or Legos and Bionicles separate. But, I can sort mail in the office rather than the kitchen. I can organize my closet according to color, and I can even give each child a specific hook for hanging their coat.

Every house has hundreds of systems in place. Often they develop by default, with little thought about purpose or efficiency, allowing us to function clumsily at best. Why do I keep all my cleaning rags on our top floor and the cleaning products someplace else? Why is mosquito repellent stored inside rather than out where the mosquitoes bite?

With a little effort, I’m certain I can improve the way we operate. As “LeanSpeak – The Productivity Business Improvement Dictionary” states, daily improvement in small amounts carried out in every job and function of the business (or home in this case) eventually accumulates into very large gains.

The end result might not save us a bunch of money, but saving time, frustration or stress even in small amounts will be a very large gain for this family.

Wishing you a happy (and lean) New Year.

Fighting for the Christmas Spirit

Fighting for the Christmas Spirit

Last year, Christmas got the best of me and I vowed never to repeat that frazzled state of affairs. So, this year, I had a plan for managing the craziness and keeping true to the stillness and reflection that are suppose to characterize the advent season.

I began implementing the plan – Operation Christmas Spirit -- last January. By mid-November I already had a stack of Christmas presents wrapped, quite beautifully I thought.

For the first part of this month, I listened smugly to others complain about their endless lists of things to do while I went sledding with my kids and calmly decorated the house.

But last week, my Christmas Spirit plan began to fray. The first threads appeared while we were braiding, one-by-one, candy cane cookies that looked adorable on Food Network but tasted like toothpaste.

Christmas lights further undermined “Operation Christmas Spirit.” I untangled and eventually threw away an entire tub of half-working or completely dark lights. After hours of struggling with wires and bulbs, I wound the strands of working lights around some the garland on our porch, and then lined up the kids to watch me turn them on.

Instead of cheers I heard groans of disappointment. Only half the lights lit. I had knocked one of the more than 300 little buggers loose. Someday I want to meet the Chinese engineer who designed Christmas lights. Clearly, they are a big joke on Americans.

Christmas lights are like kryptonite for the Christmas spirit. So are things like:

· The Chipmunks Christmas CD played on a continuous loop.

· Children who “order” extravagant (expensive) gifts from Santa because they are free.

· Ads that count down the remaining shopping or shipping days beginning in September.

· And presents purchased in advance that can not be found in their clever hiding place.

Christmas, for women, is almost universally a challenging and stressful time. In addition to our normal duties we attempt to:

• Redecorate our homes.
• Buy (or make) presents for family, friends, neighbors, teachers, service providers, clients, co-workers and needy children.
• Send cards with adorable pictures to everyone we’ve ever met and want to remain in contact with.
• Fill our homes with fancy, home-baked sweets.

“Operation Christmas Spirit” has been a revealing effort. I’ve had to fight harder than I expected to maintain calm and good cheer. There are many forces working against it -- most of them our own making.

We’ve turned the simplicity of that first Christmas upside down and transformed the advent season into a series of tasks -- things to check off rather than experience.

In the final week before Christmas, my plan needs to be fortified. It’s time to scale back the Martha Stewart expectations and refocus on the humility and faith of the Holy Family -- the real source of Christmas spirit.

Have a beautiful and peaceful Christmas. May your Christmas lights burn bright.

Free Play: Batteries Not Necessary

My friend was attempting to wrestle her three young children out the door for swimming lessons. She held her toddler on one hip while trying, rather unsuccessfully, to direct her other kids into their coats.

I would have helped but I was corralling my own kids to our car for guitar lessons.

As we exchanged exasperated looks, I blurted out the one thought popped into my mind, “Our moms did not do this.”

Actually, they did few of the activities that are common place for today’s parents. No pre-school at age three, music lessons for infants or all-day kindergarten. No swimming lessons for diaper-wearing babies or Itty Bitty anything.

Instead I cruised around with neighborhood friends, immersed in a world of make-believe games like “house on bikes” where our block was our city, our bikes were our cars and each house was a different store or location.

When I was bored or unruly, my parents usually offered two choices. Go outside or get to work. Today, parents have an entirely different box of tools: Nickelodeon, Nintendo, Wii, Webkinz, structured activities like sports and lessons and super stores brimming with passive toys that come with pre-written scripts.

A report last year from the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) takes a hard look at today’s child-rearing practices and concludes that unstructured playtime for American children is seriously suffering. A variety of causes are to blame -- changing family structures, passive toys, increasing pressure for kids to perform, and education policies that have led to less recess and phy ed in many schools.

Author Kenneth R. Ginsburg, MD, says free play is vital in developing strong parent-child bonds and well-adjusted children. It helps children develop socially, emotionally, physically and cognitively and teaches them how to manage stress, solve problems and get along with others.

And I thought we were just having fun.

Authors were careful to note that organized activities have many benefits, but said it’s unclear when a child (or mom, I might add) may be “overscheduled” to their detriment, leading to anxiety, depression and other things that have no place in childhood.

Personally, I wish organized sports didn’t start so young. I love athletics, but right now my kids are perfectly satisfied with a shovel and snow bank. I hate to give that up and our limited family time when they are so young.

But if we wait too long, our kids will be too far behind to play some sports. This is the “treadmill” that Ginsburg said parents struggle to step off.

“The downtime that allows parents and children some of the most productive time for interaction is at a premium when schedules become highly packed with adult-supervised or adult-driven activities,” Ginsburg cautions.

These highly packed schedules have another downside. It takes away some of the pleasures of parenting. Hussling kids to and fro, in and out of cars and car seats isn’t a fun way to spend time with your family.

Obviously, times have changed. Most parents are employed now, and children can’t safely roam about town like I did as a child. Still, there are plenty of steps we can take to provide balance and room for free play. Here are some ideas from the AAP:

• Play and family togetherness are tried, trusted, and traditional methods of promoting success and happiness in children. Ignore messages that suggest otherwise.
• Chose “true toys”, such as blocks and dolls, in which children use their imagination fully.
• Read to your children, even at young ages.
• Allow children to explore a variety of interests in a balanced way without feeling pressured to excel at all of them.
• Seek a balanced schedule based on each child’s unique needs, skills, and temperament.
• Choose child care and early education programs that offer more than “academic preparedness.”

The website www.playborhood.com offers a wide variety of insights on this subject. The material was worth considering prior to Christmas shopping for my kids. Pass by the “baby Einstein” videos and reach instead for books, blocks and other battery-free classics.

Now excuse me. I have some shovels and gloves to wrap for two little warriors who are plotting a snowball attack on bad guys across the street.

Thank You America

I attended my daughter’s kindergarten class recently and filled up with tears as the chorus of young voices boldly recited the Pledge of Allegiance, “And to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

Liberty and justice for all. What awesome ideals.

I’ve been a unabashed patriot for a long time. I can’t sing any patriotic ballads without choking up. In high school, my basketball team blasted Lee Greenwood’s “Proud to be an American” as pre-game locker room pep music. This was 15 years before 9-11 made the song famous and popular.

So I’ve really struggled to accept news in recent years about Americans being “hated” by the world for being arrogant, greedy, spoiled and any number of offensive qualities. This theme is so prevalent in news I believe it has noticeably dampened the collective American spirit.

Recently, however, the flame of American pride that is smoldering in even the most diehard patriots has received a burst of needed oxygen from a most unlikely source: a Frenchman! That’s hard to imagine considering just three years ago all references to “French” were removed from the menu at our nation’s capital. But, it’s true, America has an expressive and eloquent admirer in the new French President Nicolas Sarkozy.

His recent historic speech to a joint session of Congress was a valuable reminder of what the United States represents to the rest of world.

“America did not teach men the idea of freedom; she taught them how to practice it,” he said. “And she fought for this freedom whenever she felt it to be threatened somewhere in the world. It was by watching America grow that men and women understood that freedom was possible.”

President Sarkozy reminded Americans how we saved France in World War I and II and how thousands of young American soldiers marched to their death on the beaches of France “not to defend their own freedom but the freedom of all others, not to defend their own families, their own homeland, but to defend humanity as a whole.”

He sited the Marshall Plan, the Cold War, and the Berlin Crisis as ways in which America, at countless key moments in history, has led the world in the fight for freedom.

“From the very beginning, the American dream meant proving to all mankind that freedom, justice, human rights and democracy were no utopia but were rather the most realistic policy there is and the most likely to improve the fate of each and every person.

“America did not tell the millions of men and women who came from every country in the world and who—with their hands, their intelligence and their heart -- built the greatest nation in the world: ‘Come, and everything will be given to you.’ She said: ‘Come, and the only limits to what you'll be able to achieve will be your own courage and your own talent.’ America embodies this extraordinary ability to grant each and every person a second chance,” Sarkozy declared.

I’ve been struck of late by a realization that virtually all the blessings for which I am most grateful, save God himself, are made possible by the freedom I enjoy as an American. Without this, my family and I could not live, work or worship where we chose. Our economic stability would be threatened. Our access to health care choices jeopardized, even our decision to freely bear children could be taken from us.

So, while I’m humbled by countless blessings this Thanksgiving, I am most grateful for the gift of America.

Timeless Wisdom from Mr. Rogers

More often than I care to admit, Sunday mornings find me fuming in our car, steaming mad at my family. In the process of getting ready for church, I usually blow my gasket at least once at an uncooperative child (or husband). We squeal down the street to worship, five minutes later than we should be leaving with very unholy thoughts about each other on our minds.

Scenes like this gave birth to the phrase, “Do as I say, not as I do.”

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Perhaps it’s the way my daughter can emulate with perfect pitch my most unpleasant voice as she scolds her brothers for this or that minor infraction. Or maybe it’s the fact that my five year old stood at the door last week putting on his coat and declared with utter frustration, “This d#%* zipper.”

Fred Rogers said it best, “We speak with more than our mouths. We listen with more than our ears.”

Parenting probably offers the most brutal lessons in this truism, but Mr. Roger’s wisdom applies to everyone, in all settings -- the cheerful waiter serving coffee, the brusque doctor making rounds, the friendly teenager teaching little kids to skate.

Even perfect strangers on the street can communicate without talking, like the woman I see running around my neighborhood every morning. Some days I pass her as a fellow jogger. Most often, regrettably, I watch her through the windows of my car.

She’s notable for several reasons. She’s incredibly consistent. She’s very fit -- thin and muscular. And, she’s probably pushing 70 years old.

She passed one day when I was talking to a friend. “That woman makes me feel guilty,” my friend confessed. I’ve felt the same way a time or two when I’ve glimpsed her gliding by as I peered over the rim of my grande brew with extra cream.

But generally, her affect on me has been positive. The only word we’ve ever exchanged is “hello” and yet I’ve caught myself thinking about this dedicated jogger when I’m trying to justify going back to sleep instead of exercising.

I’m sure she has no idea the example she is setting for people she has never met just by getting up every morning to jog. I don’t even know her name, yet she has prompted me out of bed at dawn to workout.

Everyday, our actions send powerful messages to people around us. They describe our values and priorities, what we believe and cherish. I scan my current “to-do” list.

Hang Christmas lights. Pay bills. Respond to email. Fix drawers. Write news release.

My actions are talking and some important people in my life are listening closely with their eyes. What are they hearing?

I ponder the list. The things I hold most dear are poorly represented, yet it’s my list. I wrote it. What’s missing? What should be first? What can come off?

I add a few new things to the top, scratch off the tasks that can wait, and end with some final thoughts: Get up earlier for church. Quit saying “d#%*.”

60 Minutes of Solitude

This fall, I did something I will remember all winter. Two of my kids were playing with friends and my youngest child had fallen asleep in the car on our after school dash. The weather was beautiful, so I left him sleeping in the car with the windows down and perched myself nearby on our porch with my laptop.

I was ready to use these unexpected free moments for productive purposes. But after about 10 minutes, I was so relaxed and drowsy I could hardly stay awake. “Maybe I’ll just rest for a minute,” I thought. Then I leaned over, curled up and fell asleep in the sun.

As I laid there soaking in what could have been the last warm rays of the season, I remember thinking I had never been so perfectly comfortable. The sky was royal blue and cloudless. The neighborhood was quiet. A soft breeze was just enough to keep the sun from becoming hot.

I’ve always thought if I could be any animal, I’d be an eagle. Perhaps I’ve overlooked the benefits of life as a cat.

Sadly, this was an indulgent act for me, as it would be for most American adults. Yet I am so glad I allowed myself to enjoy it. I can’t recall anything about the computer work I neglected in exchange for that catnap. But I vividly remember the peace, solitude and warmth of those 60 quiet minutes in the sun.

I felt a bit like Frederick the field mouse from the children’s book. His family works day and night to gather corn and nuts and straw for the winter. But not Frederick. He stares into the pretty meadow.

“Why don’t you work Frederick,” his family says reproachfully.

“I do work,” he insists, and then relates how he’s soaking in sun rays for cold dark winter days, gathering colors from the meadow because winter is gray, and gathering words to share on long winter days when all of them have run out of things to say.

When the snow begins to fall, the field mice are content at first. They have plenty of food to eat and stories to share. But as winter drags on, their supplies dwindle. They become cold and quiet. Then they remember Frederick.

“What about your supplies Frederick?” they ask. Frederick, true to his promise, is eager to share his plentiful stores. He tells them to shut their eyes and relates in vivid detail the feeling of the warm sun and the look of the colorful meadow. His words and poetry carry them through the remaining hard days of winter.

We ought to take a cue from Frederick. Work is important, of course. But rather than always running busily through our days, rushing through work and errands and home life, we ought to allow ourselves to pause and appreciate the gifts of the present more often. To enjoy the smell or feel of the air, the beauty of a pink striped sunrise, the taste of our food or maybe the feeling of our child’s cheek or spouse’s hand.

I asked my kids last night to tell me something fun that happened to them that day. My three-year-old thought about this for a few seconds. As his dark brown eyes looked at me intently I wondered if he would just copy the response of one of his older siblings.

But his eyes twinkled when he settled on his decision. “Eating TWO pieces of candy,” he declared, the smile on his face clearly reflecting his delight with this simple, fun memory.

I hope you pause today and everyday to feel the sun on your face, to savor some candy or to recognize whatever simple gifts comes your way.

Promises, Promises

Two weeks from now, we will have a new president, I hope. That’s assuming the election is actually decided by the voters not the courts. Please let that be the case.

As much as I’ve enjoyed this 12-month Olympic Games of politics, I’m ready for it to be over. I am weary of the process. The pundits are annoying. The campaign “surrogates” are predictable and offer no interesting insights. And the stunts, pandering and platitudes are so transparent sometimes all a person can do is laugh.

In an earnest website video, McCain promises to “rebuild our savings and make our investments grow again.” A cornerstone of his plan is allowing homeowners the chance to trade in “burdensome” mortgages for “manageable” ones.

While he’s at it, he may as well just erase those darned mortgages altogether. Not only are they burdensome, they are irritating. And I could buy a lot more fun stuff if it weren’t for that tiresome house payment every, single, month.

McCain also promises to create a National Commission on Workplace Flexibility and Choice. Their purpose isn’t entirely clear, but I believe they will explore ways to ensure that not only are we free to choose where we work, but when, how much and what we will be paid. I’ll be giving myself a huge raise if McCain wins.

Because he’s behind in the polls, McCain’s floating a real game changer -- a “Jeans Day, Every Day,” mandate. But don’t go stocking up on Levi’s yet. The Workplace Flexibility Commission won’t convene until the Straight Talk Express concludes a nationwide schedule of Volunteerism Summits. McCain wants to complete the “Thousand Points of Light” by Christmas.

As for Obama, it’s not surprising he’s ahead in the polls. When elected president, he will end discrimination and poverty, eliminate high school drop outs and ensure that all students receive a quality education.

And that’s just the first 100 days.

After that, he promises a living wage for all working families, mandatory retirement accounts for everyone and a week’s worth of paid sick leave in every job -- guaranteed. I heard he might even eliminate sickness altogether.

Have no fear all you business people who are worried about these requirements. You can always take up farming. When Obama is president his website said he will make farming both stable and predictable. The head of his new Climate Control Commission will be Mother Nature. Brilliant!

Obama has a lot of goodies in store for parents too. His “Zero to Five” plan calls for universal pre-school beginning at age zero. Read my lips, “NO MORE PARENTING!” Cool -- because the thing about parenting is, it’s such a big responsibility, and so much work.

My favorite Obama promise is “pain-free deliveries.” Where was he the last eight years when I was having babies?

Obama’s speech writers have already begun working on his inaugural address. It will be a moving speech, flawlessly delivered, echoing the words of beloved past American leaders with a modern twist.

“Ask not what you can do for your country,” our new president will say. “Ask what your country can do for you.”

Saving the Best for Last

Every once in a while, for no apparent reason, a chance of a lifetime falls in your lap. Mine came last week, packaged in a mysterious email from a Washington contact that contained a phone number and two words, “Call me.”

This triggered a chain of events that landed my daughter’s first grade class at the foot of the First Lady’s plane “Bright Star” to welcome her to North Dakota. And later that day, found me sharing “Cloud Nine” with a few others, all of us visiting with the First Lady over an intimate dinner at the University of Mary.

First, the airport. When organizers were looking for kids to meet the plane, I did what most mothers would do. I offered my child’s class.

One student excitedly told his mom about their pending field trip. “Mom, we’re going to meet the president’s wife tomorrow,” he said after school. “The president of what, Connor?” she replied. “The president of the UNITED STATES mom!” he said indignantly. Like, duh? Who else?

When these first graders arrived at the airport, they exploded out of their transport vans -- this despite the fact that most of them hardly knew of the First Lady and certainly didn’t realize what a cool plane she would have.

With the BHS band filling the air, these pint-sized patriots dressed head to toe in red, white, and blue marched toward the plane. They held a banner, “Welcome to North Dakota. Your 50^th State.” And my favorite part, “The Best for Last.”

The band played, “This is My Country” while the kids stood on the tarmac eagerly waving their flags and the impressive “blue top” plane taxied toward them. Many of the mom’s watching welled up with tears.

As the First Lady walked down those famous steps, I remembered what these innocent little kids were chanting minutes before. “Wel-come to A-mer-i-ca! Wel-come to A-mer-i-ca!”

I might be a little biased, but with the music, the kids, the sun radiating off the golden autumn fields and a cloudless blue sky enveloping us above, the sign seemed right on. “The Best for Last.” This is America.

Now, to the dinner. I don’t know what the credentials were for this event, but of this I’m sure. I did not have them. However, I wasn’t about to let the staffer who called to invite me in on that little secret. “North Dakota nice,” is one thing. That would be North Dakota stupid.

First Lady Bush looks exactly as she appears on television except for two things. Her stature is smaller, and her presence is larger. This is a strong woman who has seen and experienced a lot. She knows what she can do, what she wants to do, and she enjoys doing it.

My husband and others have asked, “What is she like?” The best way to describe her is with her familiar title. She is a teacher – the consummate teacher. Bright, inquisitive, kind, knowledgeable, friendly, relaxed, commanding.

What I really liked about Laura Bush was how unaffected she appears to be by the challenging and charmed life she has had as First Lady. She has no airs about her.

When she entered the room, she immediately set about trying to make us comfortable. She seemed genuinely interested in learning about North Dakota and North Dakota people. When I introduced myself, she was able to connect my name with the background I had supplied to her office. Cool! I want to do that when I grow up.

Mrs. Bush relayed how touched she was when women at the Sims Church broke out in a round of “God Bless America.” She also delighted in the after dinner performance of, “Come Home to North Dakota,” by Medora’s Job Christensen and Jan Gilbertson of Bismarck.

I loved how she talked about the White House like it is ours, not hers. She shared some fun stories about Theodore Roosevelt’s days there. And when Gov. Hoeven confessed to exploring the White House one night when he and Mikey were guests, Mrs. Bush chuckled and said in her distinctive Texas tone, “Of course – you might not get another chance.”

The role of First Lady doesn’t come with a job description, but Laura Bush has filled the position gracefully and effectively from the very beginning. We haven’t been subject to her wrangling over offices or roles or hairstyles for that matter.

For eight years, she has persistently promoted her passions – reading, education, history, art – and she has left her stamp on every state in the nation.

Thank you, Mrs. Bush, for making North Dakota your last, best stop.

Wrinkles of Life Add Meaning

My birthday party was over, so I released the remaining balloon off the deck of the beautiful Oahe Ranch overlooking the Missouri River. As I watched it float away the writing on the balloon struck me for the first time.

40! That balloon said 40.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed harassing all of my siblings and many friends on their 40^th birthdays. Grim Reapers, wheel chairs, Rogaine, Viagra -- I delighted in every “Over the Hill” cliché I could find.

So, as my 40^th birthday approached, I expected to feel some dread or sadness. Oddly enough, I’m amazed to realize I’m completely fine with it.

Don’t get me wrong -- the drawbacks of aging are undeniable. My back and neck ache from the slightest change of pillow or chair. I have to die my hair back to its natural color at much more frequent intervals. And I find myself buying goops and potions that promise to keep me young.

But these physical challenges and the passing of my youth aren’t at the top of my mind. What I’m noticing are the benefits of growing older.

I have much greater clarity about my strengths and weaknesses and what value I might add to this world. I still don’t have a sheet of goals or a “bucket list” for middle age, but I think I understand where and how I might make a difference.

This clarity comes in handy for prioritizing tasks and making choices. I can embrace new projects that fit my values and say “no” with much less guilt.

Similarly, gone are the grandiose expectations of youth that I must be good at everything I touch. At 40, I’m much better at celebrating the good and the gifts in others than I was at age 30 or even 35. Rather than doing everything myself, I can recognize when to hire or delegate someone better to do it.

I might suffer from more back aches today, but my backbone is much stronger. I’m not afraid to stand up for things that matter to me, even when it isn’t fashionable or popular or the same as other people whose opinion counts.

That’s nice too – realizing whose opinion counts and being able to ignore those who don’t.

But one of the most amazing gifts of age is the depth it gives to relationships. My husband and I invited some friends to join us last weekend for a birthday party. These people drove from far and wide and arranged care for dozens of children to attend -- a touching expression of friendship.

As I looked around the room, I saw people who stood by me at high school graduation, at college parties, or on the alter at our wedding. We have celebrated new life, sobbed at death, and laughed ourselves to tears on many occasions.

We aren’t as pretty as we once were. Like the Velveteen Rabbit, our hair has worn off in places and our bodies are getting lumpy. But these people and other dear friends and family are real, and the history I have with them is precious.

Relationships are the most fulfilling part of life, and the passing of time adds amazing color to relationships we share. This is perhaps the greatest gift of growing older.

Our culture is obsessed with physical beauty and staying young, but like so many cultural promises, this too is an empty one.

The clarity, experience and meaningful relationships that come with age are far more valuable. Worth every wrinkle.

Palin May Prove a Good Pick

Conventional wisdom received a hearty hip-check last week from a young governor and hockey mom of five who comes not from a swing state, but one that is rural and remote.

Governors, with their executive experience and budget background, have long-been desirable candidates for VP. Let’s consider a few of the additional qualities this young mother will bring to the job.

Work Ethic: Five children, including an infant. Demanding executive job. Political career. This woman has a master’s degree in multi tasking and must not need sleep. She already works around the clock, so Washington’s time demands will be nothing new.

Negotiating skills: Law school breeds good arguers and debaters – people who know how to work the system because they designed it. People who don’t like to lose.

On the other hand, compromising and negotiating are survival skill for moms. Convincing a young child to be quiet in church or a teenager to be respectful – this is an art. So is knowing when not to negotiate. Never negotiate with a terrorist, especially one disguised as a two-year-old throwing a tantrum.

Patience and Persistence: Bad behavior, at home or in government, isn’t going to change overnight. Small, consistent steps forward can produce dramatic long-term results. Eliminating earmarks might not be possible in one year, but they can be gradually phased out. Good things take time.

Moderation: Too much TV, Intranet, video games and junk food can corrupt the mind. The same is true in Washington. Too many parties, perks, special interests, money and prestige can corrupt the leader. We need leaders who are willing to take on the power establishment in Washington like Palin did with Big Oil in Alaska.

I was among the throngs of people who initially dismissed Sarah Palin as too inexperienced. Now I’m among those who are cheering her entrance into this race.

Washington has armies of people who hold the law degrees, the MBAs, the decades of business and political experience that supposedly provides the proper background for a leadership. Yet our government today is a mess.

Maybe it’s time to consider a candidate like Palin who has a different set of credentials. Someone who is serving in one of our nation’s highest executive offices with the overwhelming approval of the people who elected her, and still embraces her experiences as a mother, a PTO member and mayor of a small town.

The unapologetic way in which Sarah Palin combines active motherhood and a successful political career is an entirely new model for women, made possible through a strong partnership with her husband Todd. Feminists are deriding her pro-life example – this is not who they want shattering the glass ceiling. Yet Palin offers a compelling new vision for embracing family and work.

Many Americans applauded her persona and speech at the Republican convention because she gave voice to a basic conservative philosophy that has been lost in recent years. Lost in the spending, scandals and gridlock of Washington. Lost in the marketing of Karl Rove’s “compassionate conservatism” that turned out to be big government with a feel-good name.

People are excited about Sarah Palin because she represents the kind of feisty, sensible, relatable candidate we want but were beginning to believe could not exist in today’s political culture.

She’ll need every bit of pitbull (and plenty of lipstick) to survive.

Journey to Norway Leads Home

Hilsen fra Norge!

I’m sitting at my grandfather’s childhood home in the majestic mountains of Norway’s Valdres Valley.

I arrived here with two siblings, two nieces and the leader of our 10-day expedition, my fearless Norsk mother. For years we have enjoyed her lefse and flatbread, now we have the precious opportunity to accompany her on her final trip to her father’s homeland. Her goal is to forge relationships between the next generation of Hermundstad descendants living in the U.S. and Norway.

It’s difficult to adequately describe the spectacular landscape of this country. I have explored the Rocky Mountains and visited the Swiss Alps. As handsome as these ranges are they don’t begin to match the striking beauty of the mountains, valleys, farms and fjords of Norway.

The countryside is the cleanest I’ve ever seen. A patchwork quilt of yellow and green fields covers the lower regions of the mountain ranges providing the perfect setting for quaint farm houses, barns and grazing sheep.

It looks and feels completely authentic, but I wonder if there is a national ordinance regulating the colors of homes and rooftop shingles. Virtually every farm home is the same shade of red, yellow, cream, white, or black. Where’s the crazy neighbor with the lavender or teal home?

Turns out my suspicion isn’t too far from the truth. According to our relatives, property owners are not allowed to sell their farm land for development. Fields must remain in the same shape and use in order to maintain the picturesque countryside. The term “strip mall” must be a curse word in this country.

As if the mountains and vegetation aren’t impressive enough, Norway is filled with water. Crystal clear lakes lie both in the valleys and on top of the mountains. Fjords creep inland from the North Sea and can be 10,000 feet deep while only a few hundred yards wide.

And then there are the waterfalls. It’s not unusual to see three, four or more waterfalls at any given time. So abundant are they that Norway produces virtually all of its electricity from hydroelectric power generated by waterfalls.

I’m observing some cultural surprises as well. Norwegians love the outdoors and exude health and vitality. “Bunads” may be the traditional dress, but spandex and athletic shoes are Norway’s modern-day costume.

At the same time, another national pastime appears to be smoking, despite massive efforts to discourage it. One pack of cigarettes costs about $12, and each boasts bold, oversized warnings like, “Smoking Kills” or “Smoking is highly addictive and difficult to stop. Don’t start smoking.”

We were warned about the high cost of traveling in Norway. It is rated the most expensive place in the world. But nothing could prepare me for paying more than $20 for a pack of four “AA” batteries, $10 for a gallon of gasoline or $12 for a small draft beer. Fortunately, we are so confused by the exchange rate we rarely know how much we are actually paying.

There are noticeable differences in the practice of marriage in Norway versus the U.S. Very few couples here bother with marriage. They live together for years, share possessions and property and even raise multiple children, but they don’t get married.

The nearest thing to an explanation we’ve heard is that hosting a wedding in Norway is really expensive. Apparently, potluck receptions in the church basement were invented by immigrants after arriving in America.

The biggest surprise of all is the quick affinity I’ve developed for my Norwegian relatives. I barely knew of these people a few days ago, and have already tears while saying goodbye to some of them. I look forward to nurturing these relationships through the internet and having these gracious people in my life forever.

My grandfather was born and raised in this country. In 1904, not even 20 years old, he left the safety of his family and lavish beauty of Norway to start new in America. He landed in the flat and open prairies of North Dakota -- poor, alone and unable to speak English.

He struggled, worked insanely hard, and eventually made it. I’ve often wondered if he ever regretted his decision to leave.

I’m sure he missed his family and the landscape of Norway, but today as I stand under the same towering mountains where he pondered his decision more than 100 years ago, I can better understand why he left.

While I’m awestruck by my surroundings, I find myself longing for the freedom of sight, movement and spirit that is available in abundance on the North Dakota plains.

I wish my grandparents were here today so I could say, “Tusen takk,” a thousand thanks, for the Norwegian American heritage they so proudly passed along.

We can all Go for the Gold

The Olympics have always captivated me. “The thrill of victory … and the agony of defeat.” I so wanted to be Mary Lou Retton landing two “perfect 10s” on the vault to secure a gold medal.

When I was in college, I had the unique experience of seeing the life of Olympic athletes up close as a journalism intern at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs. I lived, ate and played at the Olympic training complex just like all the athletes – with one distinct difference. They spent five hours a day testing the limits of their minds and bodies for the prospect of Olympic gold. And I sat in a desk writing press releases for five dollars a day.

Despite the meager wages, it was a fair trade. I lived for free at the foot of Pikes Peak and gained a real lesson in what it means to be completely focused, truly committed to a singular purpose. To believe that a crazy dream is not only possible but worth making significant sacrifices to achieve.

Most of the athletes I met were living a long way from home. They were investing time, money, freedom and their youth for a remote chance to be among the world’s elite in their sport.

While carefree interns like me were going out dancing, they were going to bed early for rest. While we explored the Rockies, they stayed home to avoid risking an injury.

Day in and day out, years before their next chance to try out for the Olympics, they were risking everything to accomplish their goal. It seemed a fairly lonely pursuit, often monotonous, and filled with ups and downs and factors that were often beyond their control.

The smiles on those who achieve the ultimate dream, reach their full potential and earn Olympic gold, tell of the incredible personal investment involved.

Few of us are called to this level of athletic achievement. Daily struggles and the inertia of past decisions can certainly bog us down, making us feel like we are destined for mediocrity. But at this time when the demise of yet another political statesman, John Edwards, is front page news, we can learn from other, more genuine examples of excellence offered by our Olympic sportsmen and women.

Through incredible discipline, focus, hard work and sacrifice, they are shattering world records, setting new standards of distinction in their sport and ultimately achieving their own potential for greatness.

The playing fields for most of us are in our kitchens, classrooms and businesses. But the potential for greatness in each one of us, and the formula for achieving it, is much the same.

Bailouts Costing More than Money

Last week’s passage of the home mortgage bailout has received a fair amount of media attention. However, between the comic-book like characters involved – Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac – and the general complexity of banking and finance terms, it’s tempting to hear the news and think, “Oh good. That’s taken care of. Now … what am I making for dinner?”

The home mortgage crisis has irritated me since it first hit the news. I am no economist or finance expert but I do understand this much. The issue, at its core, is that people received loans who should not have from banks and credit agencies that should have known better.

Most of problems stemmed from the use of “ARM” (adjustable rate mortgages) loans. These tempting buggers start out with a “teaser” rate that’s typically lower than a fixed-rate loan. These low initial rates make a house seem more affordable, at first. After the initial period, however, the interest rate can fluctuate, sometimes significantly.

And that’s exactly what happened. Faced with much higher interest rates, many “subprime” borrowers (people who were not “prime” candidates for loans because of their low credit rating) can’t afford their home mortgages. The “what ifs” that these borrowers, their lenders and credit analysts should have considered before closing the sale, became not just an inconvenient detail but the cold, hard reality.

It’s an ugly situation – made worse by job losses and high prices for food, gas and other essentials.

The solution, although it promises to save up to 400,000 people from losing their homes, could be even uglier for our nation long term. Our leaders in Congress authorized the Federal Housing Administration, a.k.a. the U.S. government, a.k.a. you and me, to insure up to $300 billion in refinanced mortgages to help prevent foreclosures.

They also approved billions of future potential investments into the “quasi-private” mortgage giants Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac – entities that already receive preferential treatment from the government. Sounds like the federal government is taking another giant leap into the home loan business.

I’m not in favor of hundreds of thousands of people losing their homes. But allow me some anger and frustration when “we the people” have to spend potentially billions of dollars to compensate for lousy decisions made by financiers and borrowers who could have, should have, and I believe did, know better.

If a child had exercised such a poor decision, it would be a powerful learning opportunity. But apparently, the ramifications to our economy and our politicians in an election year are too devastating to allow anyone to seriously suffer from these bad choices.

A few in Congress issued warnings against these bold steps. Representative Jeff Flake of Arizona said during the House debate, “This bill has moral hazard written all over it. We are pretending to chain a monster here, and we are, instead, letting that monster loose.”

The monster looms in the question, if Congress, not the marketplace, is going to determine winners and losers, where do the bailouts end? Our system is based on profits and losses. The potential for loss keeps people from taking irresponsible risks.

If the government has our back, what’s stopping millions of Americans who took a more conservative (and expensive) loan from the more risky route next time?

The lopsided vote by which the measure passed in the Senate (72-13) sugarcoats the disturbing precedent this legislation creates.

Wait a minute. I guess it’s not really a new precedent. After the Bear and Stearns bail out a few months ago maybe it’s more like a trend.

Let’s hope not.

Putting Some "Farm" Into our Kids

Pulitzer Prize winning author Thomas Friedman has said when he was a child his parents told him to finish his vegetables because there were kids in China and India who were starving. Today, Friedman tells his own kids to finish their math and science homework because there are kids in China and India who are starving for their jobs.

America has lost millions of manufacturing jobs to emerging nations. Now our higher skilled jobs and professions -- computer programming, accounting, engineering and legal services – are subject to outsourcing.

These are unnerving trends, devastating to those who have lost their jobs. It remains to be seen what role American workers will play in the global economy. For me today, I worry about what my kids and grandkids will do to provide for themselves.

Part of securing a strong future for our kids is certainly what Friedman suggests – better education with more rigorous science and math skills.

But I believe there is another value at play here that’s just as important as academics, and is likely contributing to the sluggish academic performance of our youth. It’s what sends me searching for a way to get my kids on a farm, not really to learn how to mass-produce commodities.

I want them to learn how to work.

Really work -- not just unloading the dishwasher, collecting household trash or dusting a shelf -- but working from dawn to dusk, learning how to fix machines, haul manure and pitch in when all hands are needed for harvest or round up.

People who live on a farm learn how to solve problems, be resourceful and innovative, self-start and work hard without complaining. These are not the lessons you learn playing video games, watching TV or even engaging in many of the organized activities that dominate our children’s schedules.

The problem is, I haven’t met very many (or any) farmers who are real interested in employing my kids even when they are old enough. So, short of abandoning our professions and joining an Amish colony, how can we instill farm values in city kids? Can we foster a rural work ethic in our urban children?

Here are three ways to try:

Every family member helps: Children are valuable helpers on a farm, and should be in our homes too. Ditch the cleaning and lawn services and delegate these chores to the kids whenever possible. Who are we helping when an able bodied teenager is watching TV while a paid cleaning lady vacuums under their feet?

Do it yourself: Rather than throwing broken items away or calling a repair man, let your kids attempt to fix the busted chair, unclog the drain, or change the oil in your car. Consider the extra patience (and even money) it may cost an investment in the satisfaction your child will gain in trying and maybe even solving the problem.

Work first, play second: Our culture places high value on entertainment and fun. As parents we are the only ones who can provide the healthy and necessary balance our kids need through a reasonable dose of work and responsibility. Free time is the reward for a job well done.

We might not be able to raise our kids on a farm. But with some effort and firm resolve to ignore their inevitable complaints, we can instill some valuable farm-like work ethics and ingenuity in our kids. Businesses will always be starving for that.

Lessons Learned on Summer Vacation

The title of this story is, “How I drove 2,000 miles and learned to appreciate North Dakota wind.”

Last winter, my brother in Texas called and asked us to partake in a big family vacation at Lake of the Ozarks near Branson, Mo. With minimal consideration, my husband agreed, so I paid the deposit and happily left the arrangements to my brother.

We began to think about the trip, in earnest, about one week before we were scheduled depart. I logged onto Mapquest to plan our route and discovered how many miles exist between Bismarck and Branson: 1,007. That’s 16 ½ hours with stops.

I gingerly told my husband, sitting across from me with his computer, who promptly logged on to Mapquest himself to verify my facts. Next year, I suspect vacation planning will be a joint venture.

The next day, a friend said, “I hope you’re going to change your position on DVDs in the car. You can borrow ours.” Which is what I intended to do. We were just past Sterling when I realized I forgot to take her up on the offer. Oh well, only 1,989 miles to go.

The night before we left I searched for any possible excuse to get out of it. Not the trip really, but the two-page list of tasks leading up to it – completing work projects in advance, packing clothes and toys and food, preparing the car and the house and the yard, finding caretakers for the dogs and the plants.

Staying home is always an appealing prospect the day before a trip.

But as soon as we were on I-94 heading east I remembered something. I love road trips. And this one, it turns out, was to be our most successful venture yet.

Traveling is a learning experience. Here are a couple insights – new or reinforced –from our recent journey.

After dragging kids who can’t swim down water slides or toddlers who need a nap to museums I have finally learned that less is more when traveling with kids. They enjoy splashing in the pool or playing in the lake as much if not more than expensive, crowded, and all-too-often disappointing attractions.

I have multiple friends who have returned from Disneyworld to say their kids enjoyed the hotel pool as much as the theme parks. Maybe it’s all just too much?

On this trip we tried to resist paid attractions and leisurely hung out by the pool and the lake, played cards, read books, swam, walked and ate simple meals without looking at the clock.

My four year old, who was previously scared to go underwater, declared with gusto that his favorite part of the trip was, “Jumping in the pool.” That’ll be a sweet memory when he’s 14 and we’re paying $50 for his admission into an amusement park.

This trip also renewed my appreciation for the Midwest. We drove 2,000 miles across four plains states and I never got tired of the landscape – lush green fields, rolling hills, quaint farms with warm red barns, quiet little towns or friendly cities that aren’t too big or too busy.

We watched enormous thunderstorms and vivid rainbows form miles across the horizon. These sites aren’t just spectacular for their beauty but for the comfort and serenity they invoke in the beholder.

As I was roasting by the pool with my sister one afternoon, I raved about the Ozark’s hot, still, mosquito-free climate. She told me about a friend of hers who moved to Williston from Missouri. This woman’s favorite thing about North Dakota isn’t the friendly people, the good schools or affordable housing. She loves the wind.

This seems almost impossible after the spring we just endured. But I thought about it during our remaining days of vacation. Sitting by the pool was glorious, but as I imagined mowing the lawn in that heavy air I wanted to turn my head and feel a gust of fresh, crisp North Dakota wind.

Dorothy was right. There’s no place like home.

Bowden plows fields of scorn

Award-winning author Charles Bowden, who wrote the National Geographic article “The Emptied Prairie” about North Dakota’s dismal hopes, visited our state last week and offended our good nature once again.

Let me start by saying, Bowden offered some thought-provoking observations about geography and the errors humans are making in an effort to defy the natural limitations of our earth. I’m glad I heard him speak and have been contemplating many of his points.

But his lecture provided little context for the “Emptied Prairie” piece. And his defensive attitude – calling those like the Governor who object to the article “dishonest” and “illiterate” because “even a 10 year old in Arkansas” can understand it -- discredits him as a writer.

The record created by this story needs to be corrected in two ways.

First, from the minute the article appeared and North Dakotans cried foul, Bowden and Geographic editors have insisted that “The Emptied Prairie” was not about North Dakota. The photos for the story came first and Bowden crafted his story around them. It was supposed to be a piece about abandoned buildings.

Perhaps. But in its published form, the article is very much a commentary on life in North Dakota. Bowden’s impressive credentials obviously haven’t earned him any manners, but he should realize that when he specifically names a place 25 times in one article, his observations will paint a very strong picture about that place and the people who live there.

A publication with the reputation of National Geographic ought to be honest enough to admit the article went far beyond an exploration of abandoned buildings.

Second, the core premise of the article is wrong. He concludes that in most places, “abandoned buildings are a sign of change and shifting economic opportunities.” But on the “High Plains” (like North Dakota) “they always mean that something in the earth and sky mutinied against the settlers.”

Bowden said homesteaders believed rain would follow the plow, “but learned better.”

The message of these poetic statements is that the land, the geography here, is unsuitable for farming or habitation in general. The fact that North Dakota is the top producer of 16 different agriculture commodities is apparently just a pesky, dismissible little detail.

The decline of North Dakota’s small towns and the abandoned buildings that remain are most certainly the result of shifting economic opportunities, just like the rest of the country. My own family is an example of this.

My dad grew up on a small grain farm near Ryder, N.D., an hour southwest of Minot. As the oldest son of six children, he spent his childhood toiling on that land and dreamed of farming himself someday. But his father had other plans.

Despite having only a sixth-grade education, my grandpa recognized the changing economics of farming. In less than 20 years, he saw his own operation grow from 160 acres worked entirely by horse-drawn equipment, to 800 acres farmed by fully automated tractors and combines.

He boarded my dad on a train to UND saying, “Get an education Duane. You can always farm, but no one can ever take your education away from you.”

My dad and countless other farm kids never returned to the farm, but that same land is still in production. And so is my dad. He has remained in North Dakota his entire life, creating a successful career and raising a happy family here.

North Dakotans are proof that you can certainly live a prosperous life in this state. You just can’t make it on a 160-acre parcel of land like the original settlers thought. Economic opportunities changed that plan.

This isn’t the dramatic story penned by Bowden of a land dominated by suicides, emptiness and unfulfilled dreams caused by a relentless, unlivable geography. But it is the truth.

Any 10-year-old can understand that.

Is expensive gas a real bargain?

I drove past a local Starbucks last week and noticed a line for the drive through that wrapped around the entire building, out of the parking lot and into the adjoining service road where two more cars waited with blinkers on to join the parade of coffee seekers.

Just beyond this line, a neighboring gas station declared the price of gasoline at $3.83/gallon.

I suspect most of the people in those cars were like me, and bemoaned paying nearly $4 a gallon for gasoline. Yet, I doubt many of them hesitated to pay just as much for 16 ounces of high-octane coffee.

I had to ask myself which product is really overpriced? Filling my 20-gallon tank with Starbucks mocha would cost about $640.

Soaring gas prices are lowering the balance on everyone’s bank account. Not just at gas stations but everywhere we turn prices are up. A basic round of errands like filling up the car, buying groceries and replenishing household necessities can quickly consume $300.

This is a serious, unsettling, painful matter. Economists estimate that every additional penny at the pump takes roughly $1 billion out of overall spending. Half of all adults say the rising cost of gasoline has had a big impact on their personal lifestyle, and low-income people are suffering the most.

What’s most disturbing is there are no apparent quick fixes. There’s no “federal bail out of the housing finance system” available on this issue.

Today’s high gas prices may well be the beginning of a Great Depression of our generation. Or perhaps expensive gas is a blessing for America and the world. The fact that there are no “easy ways out” of this crisis is triggering three important, long-overdue actions.

First, gas and energy prices are prompting necessary, realistic discussions on the local, state and national level about our energy needs and how to meet them.

An alarm went off on this issue 30 years ago and we’ve been hitting snooze ever since. Now we must wake up and get real. Extremists on all sides will be forced to either compromise or become irrelevant.

If we’re going to heat and light our homes, operate our vehicles and fuel a viable economy, we must begin to aggressively employ all of our potential energy sources – everything from geothermal and wind to nuclear, coal and our domestic oil supplies.

Second, high energy prices are forcing us to be more efficient, at home, in business and in government. Sales of motorized scooters increased 24 percent nationwide in the first quarter of the year, while sales of SUVs are plummeting.

People are searching for ways to drive less – coordinating rides with friends, consolidating errands, or just staying home. High operating costs are prompting farmers to employ high-tech innovations that decrease expenses by using less fertilizer, less water and less fuel.

The biggest beneficiary of efforts to use less energy, spend less money and meet our long-term energy needs will be the environment. Saving money is a much better motivator than even the direst warnings of global warming. I can easily ignore climate change but I might walk or bike to work to lower my gas bill.

Our energy challenges are daunting, but they have huge potential to trigger American innovation. As Plato said, necessity is the mother of invention. We are a nation of inventors.

I have great faith that American ingenuity unleashed in force on this challenge will create new energy solutions that will forever change the way we work, play and live. We are going to suffer along the way, but the changes will make us more efficient, more active, and will be good for our planet.

In the long run, expensive gas may be a bargain for all of us.

Thoughts on nesting and letting go

This week I embraced a spring ritual, common for many but new to me -- spring cleaning. A book I stumbled across at the library titled, “How to Cheat at Organizing” inspired me.

Over the last few days, I have attacked several of our home’s catchall places for stuff using the author’s “Four S” organizing scheme – strip, scrap, sort, store. Unfortunately, I’ve discovered in the process that just about every storage place in our house could be mistaken as a “junk drawer.”

This weekend I took the “4S” mantra to the garage, tackling step one -- strip -- on one of the windiest days of the year. As I chased an extra-large dog kennel that was tumbling rapidly uncontrollably down the street and fought back several runaway bikes and lids, I decided this probably wasn’t my best moment in front of the neighbors.

But it wasn’t my worst either. Last month, they watched me run barefoot through the snow in my pajamas chasing after an errant puppy and screaming in a voice more shrill than Hillary Clinton at a political rally.

As I was weeding through our dusty possessions and shuffling things into piles in the garage, it occurred to me that I wasn’t just simplifying, I was un-nesting. Baby gadgets that we’ve outgrown and no longer need to save for another hopeful little life dominated a large pile of give-away items. The jog stroller given to me by my sisters, a baby buggy, baby swing, even many of the baby manuals that were like a Bible to me as a new mom are now looking for another home.

For the record, I am too sentimental than is reasonably healthy for one human being. So, transitions like this definitely give me reason to pause.

As I drove through town this weekend, I saw evidence of others facing a far bigger transition: moms and dads living in homes draped with “Congratulations Graduate” banners. They welcome guests with a brave smile, but I suspect many wear a heavy heart inside.

And rightly so … Think back to the nesting parallel. Expecting parents work so hard to build a comfortable and loving “nest” for their new babies. Family and friends fill it with gear. When babies arrive, we wrap our wings around them and provide for their every need. We feed, carry, clothe, nurture, discipline and console. We teach them how to eat, walk, talk, run, bike, read, pray, write, and countless other essential, unique or just-plain-handy skills.

While the moments as a parent sometimes seem like eternity, the years pass us by in a flash. All too quickly, our babies are ready to fly on their own. They take off to build their own nest, leaving ours all too empty.

As I struggle now to part with baby gear and say good-bye to my era of childbearing, I realize it’s just another small step on the amazing, challenging, emotional journey as a parent.

We might be able to cheat at organizing, but there’s no cheating on this job.

I’m thankful for now that I’m not my neighbor down the hill who has a “Congratulations Graduate” sign on their front door. I’m tempted to walk down and add another, more appropriate sign, beside it. Mine would read, “Congratulations Parents”. Enjoy your new era as free birds!

Motherhood is a Most Important Job

I was in the kitchen when an urgent declaration from my two-year-old drew me upstairs. As I neared the top, I saw him standing on the landing, wearing a huge smile and holding a plastic cup overflowing with Number 2. The rest was spread, like only a toddler can do, throughout our upper level.

That pretty much ended early potty training efforts with our youngest child. As I was cleaning up this mess, I remembered someone telling me once, “I work because I want to do something more important than changing dirty diapers.” At that point, I would have rejoiced at a dirty diaper.

Every parent, whether working outside or inside the home, feels exasperated by the job at times. But this statement, “I want to do something more important than changing dirty diapers,” saddens me. It represents an attitude all too prevalent in our culture -- an attitude that diminishes the importance of motherhood in order to elevate the value of women in the workplace.

The biggest problem with this statement is that it is simply wrong. Not wrong to want or need a job or career, but wrong and completely unnecessary to demean the relevance of mothering in the process.

Let’s be honest, considering the challenges children face today with hard-core drugs, violence, depression and any number of issues relating to the Internet, I can’t imagine a time when there was a greater demand or urgency for active, nosey moms (and dads) who are well-connected to their children.

Our society needs parents who are engaged, inspired and supported in their calling. We would be well-served by uplifting them in their duties through more initiatives like job sharing, flexible work schedules and even tax breaks for families who chose to devote one parent to full-time childrearing.

The truth about parenting is that it is plain hard work. It demands patience, creativity, commitment, and the ability to find value in the daily grind of serving others with very little immediate gratification. Our culture should offer unwavering support and encouragement for this essential vocation.

With Mother’s Day fast approaching on Sunday, my thoughts are on my mom. Aside from one year of teaching immediately after college, she never “worked.” But her resume boasts a list of accomplishments I will never be able to repeat.

For starters, between her kids and grandchildren, she has had a powerful hand in the development of 46 individuals. Her resume includes service to shut-ins, elderly, our church, friends and neighbors. All of this would have been lost had she chosen to do something “more important.”

True, she had to change some dirty diapers along the way – thousands of them. And since disposable diapers weren’t available back then, she washed all of those diapers too. In this respect, it wasn’t a very glamorous job.

But my mom took great pride in her work and I have wonderful childhood memories as a result of her extra effort. What I remember most though is simply that she was there. I remember walking through the door after school and yelling, “Hi mom!” and she was always there for me.

Her job title might not impress people at a cocktail party. But if you measure “importance” in terms of value to society, it’s virtually impossible to put a price tag on her accomplishments.

To that I say, thanks mom. I’m glad you didn’t let a few dirty diapers discourage you from the most important job on earth.

Higher Ed Budget Uninspired

Count me among the many North Dakotans who raised their eyebrows last month when state higher education leaders requested a $250 million funding increase for their 2009-11 budget cycle. That’s 57 percent more than their current base budget.

This was a bold move, to put it mildly. I had to read the news story twice, thinking surely I had misunderstood it the first time.

This budget request troubles me on three levels. First, it is selfish. It calls for devoting about half of the state’s revenue surplus (as projected today) toward higher education, leaving all other state functions like caring for the elderly and disabled, K-12 education, law enforcement, infrastructure, or even tax relief, to share the rest.

When I was a child, my parents gave me and my seven siblings one box of sweet cereal to share on Saturday mornings. We rushed to the kitchen to get our fair share. Similarly, higher ed rushed to the table and helped themselves to almost half the box.

Professors would receive a 14 percent raise, or more in some cases. Meanwhile, people who care for our developmentally disabled citizens – a job that requires incredible compassion and patience -- might be lucky to receive any pay increase.

Second, this budget request is uninspired. College inflation has increased at almost twice the rate of inflation nationally since 1982. Over the last 20 years, state funding for higher education in North Dakota has increased 86 percent or 4.3 percent each year. Again, well exceeding inflation in all but three of those years.

Over that same time period, tuition at UND, my alma mater, has increased more than 300 percent.

For our University System to request a 57 percent budget increase represents more of the same … on hyper drive. What is the justification for these steady and significant increases? Why should we devote a majority of the state’s potential budget surplus to one function?

To be fair, the University System did request measures to “Maintain Student Affordability,” such as a $14 million increase for needs-based financial aid and another $12.5 million to support two and four-year college affordability.

This is similar to Hillary Clinton’s solution to increase government funds for Pell Grants and provide tax credits for families who pay for college. These ideas make more money available to help families pay the expensive college bills, but they do nothing to address rising costs.

In fact, these solutions accept higher-than-inflation cost increases as inevitable and provide more government funding that will likely ensure the trend continues.

What’s missing, I believe, is evidence that college administrators in North Dakota are making every effort to restrain cost increases -- which leads to my final frustration. This budget request shows very little evidence of restraint or prioritization.

It’s difficult to argue that campuses are so far behind in funding that a 56 percent increase is justified when, as just one small example, both UND and NDSU are constructing new, million-dollar homes for their presidents.

I realize these homes are being paid for by a generous private donation. But who’s to say the donor wouldn’t have given the same amount for a different, more student-related purpose like constructing a new science lab or updating computers.

My husband and I are planning to pay for our children to attend college at a state school. I always considered this goal rather reasonable. In recent years, I have learned otherwise. This “reasonable” expectation called for us to begin saving $635 per month, every month, beginning in January 2006 (when two of our three kids were still in diapers) until 2026.

If costs continue rising as projected, the year 2023 could find all of us eating Ramen noodles and instant oatmeal cooked in a hotpot. That’s the year we’ll face a $75,000 bill to cover their tuition and expenses for one year at UND.

Parents today who want to pay for part or all of their children’s college education need to plan decades ahead. They have to work harder, do without the newest or the best, or sometimes simply do without.

That same spirit is sorely missing from the North Dakota University System’s recent budget request.

Can We Fix It? Yes We can!

I’ve been cleaning up a lot of messes lately – the product of little boys more focused on destruction than construction. One recent disaster resulted from a war waged with Styrofoam weapons they fashioned from a large box of packing materials awaiting garbage pickup.

I spent several hours with a vacuum sucking little white foam dots out of the garage and our house. Nothing was safe from that hose. I even vacuumed my kids – it was the only way I could get those clingy little beads out of their hair.

Despite my vacuuming prowess, Styrofoam snow continues to appear everywhere. In our beds, washing machine, yard, my neighbor’s house and virtually the entire block. Apparently Styrofoam is like hair, you pluck one and two more come out for its funeral.

The next day, my wrecking crew took to the basement with a rousing round of toy dumping. Every parent’s favorite. If it was plastic or wood and made in China, it was on my floor -- hundreds of disparate pieces.

While evaluating the damage, a shattered basement window I had discovered earlier in the week stared me in the face. I know I heard it say, “Don’t kid yourself lady. The damage has just begun.”

During a few moments of calm before his nap, my four-year-old and I had the first in what promises to be a series of talks about being a builder not a breaker. As we were discussing ways to be constructive rather than destructive, it dawned on me that this behavior – the urge to break down rather than build up – is hardly limited to children.

We see it in our work places, where people often choose to criticize or deflate rather than applaud the work of coworkers or the intentions of their boss.

We see it among friends, neighbors or acquaintances who choose to let jealousy rather than joy rule their reaction when good things happen to someone else.

And we certainly see it in politics. So polarized and competitive are today’s political parties that it’s a rare and notable occasion when one side reacts positively to a smart policy decision or idea from the opposing party.

In both children and adults, our actions are a clear and personal choice. We choose to be constructive or destructive, and live with the results. This is what I’m hoping my children learn.

There’s one obvious difference between the destruction caused by kids and adults however. Adults typically harm a person rather than a pile of plastic toys. And the damage can’t be fixed by a few hours of sorting or vacuuming.

As I sat with my earnest little pre-schooler, my mind flashed to him as teenager. I remembered the pack of young men my husband and I heard tipping over garbage dumpster’s downtown recently, and I imagined any number of dangerous and destructive behaviors that will tempt him throughout his life.

Driving cars or motorcycles just a little bit too fast. Dating girls just a little too fast. Alcohol, drugs, violence, pornography.

All of a sudden, my frustration over the messy Styrofoam, mixed-up toys and broken window seemed ridiculous. And I had the overwhelming urge to surround my son with Legos and spend the afternoon promoting the advantages of construction vs destruction. Maybe I should throw in a little Bob the Builder, just for good measure.

“Can we fix it? Yes we can!”

The Power of Forgiveness

The image of Silda Wall Spitzer is something I can’t forget -- a once mighty corporate attorney with a Harvard law degree wilting like a dying flower next to the man she once adored.

When news broke of now former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer’s habitual trysts with “posh” prostitutes, I went into search mode trying to find something that would explain it. An estranged marriage, a bitter wife, anything that might tell why a man who had everything, and promise for even more, would wreak such pain and devastation on his family and himself.

What I discovered made his actions even more senseless. All reports told of a happy marriage and family. All testimonials about his wife describe a woman who is extremely smart, kind, witty and fun to be around.

And pictures to support this portrait are plentiful – a beautiful wife beaming with pride at his side or looking admiringly at him. Smiles, smiles everywhere – such a contrast to the grim photos of her looking deflated and disheveled at his side while he confirmed for the world the truth about his numerous infidelities.

In a 2005 New York Times article, Spitzer talked about his wife’s “deeply held sense of ethics,” and said he relies on her very much as someone to talk to “in order to resolve a tough issue.” Too bad he didn’t talk to her about whatever “tough issues” were driving him to pay other women a lot of money for sex.

As I look at pictures of this devastated woman, I wonder if forgiveness will be possible for her. Is it possible to forgive such selfish and reckless behavior? A small part of me, I’m sorry to admit, hopes it is not.

I stumbled recently across an interesting effort called “The Forgiveness Project.” It gathers stories about forgiveness from people throughout the world – people who have endured horrific pain and injustice.

The organizer of the project has concluded that the idea of forgiveness causes dramatically different reactions in people.

Some, perhaps many, people see forgiveness as a weakness, a cop out, a way to let their enemies off the hook. To people in this camp, forgiving an awful deed shelters perpetrators from the justice they are due.

This project has created an exhibition about forgiveness. Its provocative title, “The F Word” is intended to speak to those who think forgiveness is a dirty word.

But others see forgiveness in the opposite light -- as the ultimate form of power. Mariane Pearl falls into this category. Remember her husband Daniel Pearl? He was the Wall Street Journal reporter who was kidnapped and subsequently beheaded by terrorists in Pakistan a few years ago. A video of his brutal murder was posted on the Internet for everyone to see.

Mariane Pearl said of her husband’s killers, “The only way to oppose them is by demonstrating the strength that they think they have taken from you.”

Archbishop Desmond Tutu is another believer in the liberating power of forgiveness. “Forgiveness does not mean condoning what has been done,” he told The Forgiveness Project. “It means taking what has happened seriously and not minimizing it; drawing out the sting in the memory that threatens to poison our entire existence.”

I like these ideas. Forgiving does not mean surrendering or crawling into a pit with the weak and timid.

Forgiveness is an expression of power – that’s why it’s so difficult to do. Remaining bitter and angry and oppressed is easy, natural. But to forgive? That requires strength. You must be strong to forgive.

This is the message of Christ at Easter – our most powerful role model of forgiveness. It’s a message of hope for Silda Wall Spitzer and everyone facing wrongs large and small that challenge us, in due time, to forgive and live.

Defined by a Word, a Pooh or a Shoe

When I was in college a friend of mine once declared, “Julie, if you were a shoe you’d be a plain, brown wedge!”

Those of us gathered at the time proceeded to have an amusing discussion about what kind of shoe best described each of us – a spiky patent-leather pump, a penny loafer, a running shoe, or perhaps a comfy slipper … We were able to capture each personality with a shoe type amazingly well.

My children recently hit me with a different kind of personality profile – this one had a distinct pre-school twist. “Mom,” they said. “You’re just like Rabbit in Winnie the Pooh.”

Rabbit? Grouchy, humorless, all-business-no-play Rabbit?

OUCH! This is considerably more troubling than being a plain, brown wedge. So, I responded defensively, “OK, if I’m Rabbit, what’s daddy?”

You already know their response. “Tigger,” they chimed in unison, as if I should already know that. I rolled my eyes and briefly wondered if they had premeditated the entire conversation to destroy my self-image as a mother. Then I remembered one of them is eyeing a career as Santa Claus and another still worries about falling down the toilet.

It could be worse, I thought, at least they didn’t call me Eeyore. I have since overcome this heartless assault by convincing myself this is the plight of all mothers. We are the schedule keepers and task masters. Daddies bounce in for fun and games – wrestling, chasing, and whipping everyone into a frenzy right before bedtime. Moms assume the thankless job of restoring order and calm, just like trusty ole, underappreciated Rabbit.

The Pooh personality test is an entertaining exercise. With a little generalization, just about everyone can be cast as a character in Pooh. Hillary Clinton is quintessential Rabbit -- purposeful, policy-oriented, serious. Barack Obama personifies Roo – young, energetic and optimistic. George Bush could be Pooh – friendly and affable. John Kerry was Eeyore – negative and naysaying. John Hoeven is Christopher Robin – deliberate and astute, like an older brother.

The book “Eat Pray Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert briefly explores a similar notion, that people and places can be defined by a single word. For example, New York City’s word is ACHIEVE. Los Angeles is SUCCESS. John McCain is SURVIVE.

I’ve enjoyed trying to find the perfect words to define people and places near me. Fargo is AMBITION. Bismarck is HOME. Dickinson is RESOURCEFUL. My mom’s word is FAMILY, while my dad’s is clearly PROVIDE. My husband is PLAYFUL.

As for me, I’ve somewhat begrudgingly accepted that my word is SENSIBLE. I tried hard to find a more captivating term, but ultimately sensible is what I am. I love a good bargain, a meaningful conversation, and saving time and money. I live for schedules and lists, although I certainly am not ORGANIZED. I enjoy going out but rarely have “too much fun.” Suffering ill consequences the next day is just not sensible.

Interestingly, my friends essentially pegged me with this term 20 years ago when they called me a “plain brown wedge.”

This begs the question, how much can we change our basic nature? Can Bismarck become “hip?” Probably. Can I? Probably not. But I can appreciate others around me who embody different words, shoe types or characters from the Hundred Acre Wood. I need Tiggers around to make me step out of my sensible, plain-brown wedges from time to time.