Preparing our children for emergencies

There are few things worse than the feelings of helplessness - when your security has been taken from you.

Being a survivor of more than one close calls with a tornado - including one that hit my office - this Kansas girl has gone from spectator to safety nut. And being a parent makes preparation even more important.

But one thing I've noticed in my seven years of parenting is that kids need to feel that they can control what can't be controlled as well. I remember all too well as a child bringing every blanket, pillow and toy I owned to our basement twice a week in tornado season. My kids are showing that same need to prepare and take ownership.

And yes, even little ones can learn how to prepare for emergencies.

Just as tornado season was starting to kick up, our Brownie troop spent an evening talking about emergency preparedness: everything from what to do when you heard thunder (a considerable worry for many of the girls, who dived under the cafeteria tables as a response) to how you hear about weather - from the internet to TV to sirens to the weather radio. And key among this was the importance of learning information as close to first hand as possible - as the message gets diluted as it is passed along.

The great thing is the girls learned at an early age about basic weather safety - an essential thing. When last spring's devastating tornado in Henryville was still fresh on their minds, the girls took safety tips to heart.

The girls also practiced their emergency reporting skills, made a tornado, and even did a relay on "decontamination" - strange you may think, until you realize that last summer a local pool was evacuated due to a chemical spill. We also sent home activity books on emergency planning and building an emergency kit home with the girls to share with their families.

Yes, you can let kids know it's OK to be scared in a weather emergency. But it's just as important to teach them that they do have some control too.

Teamwork and tornadoes

The tornadoes that hit southern Indiana two weeks ago struck too close to home. And I don't mean geographically.

I grew up in Wichita, where tornado sirens blew twice a week in the worst of the season and you didn't really worry until the crazy weather spotters on the radio spotted something on your end of town. I remember clearly the F-5 that hit the suburb of Anderson just before my senior year and how one house, walking distance from my home, was fine, and the next looked stepped on.

I was blessed that when the F-1 hit our one-stoplight town in Kansas in 2001 that it lifted a block from my home. I still remember the train sound, the destruction, the leaves embedded in my plastic lawn chairs and siding. And I remember the little children hysterical in church the next time it stormed.

And of course the former reporter and tornado survivor (a decade ago at work) watched it all unfold on Twitter and the news. And the children were watching.

You forget how much little ones absorb, even when they're playing. So when my daughter wanted to pray for the people in Henryville two days later, I knew we had to do something. Children need to know that they can pray for results, but they also need to know they have the power to make change.

That was when we decided our Daisy Girl Scout troop needed to do something. The funny thing about tornado relief, though, is that organizations aren't equipped immediately to take things. They need food. And water. And shelter. And cleaning supplies. And, ideally, money. All of which would teach the girls nothing, and impose yet another thing for parents to buy.

Several calls and emails later, we found our answer.

Our troop would do a shoe drive, collecting outgrown shoes from our closets for Soles 4 Souls. (As my pastor put it: Kids lose their shoes on a good day!) My hope? Each family could find one pair to donate.

And then it grew. Our church's disaster committee, who I contacted for possible help in donating them, hooked us up with our pastor, who announced it during a sermon on Girl Scout Sunday. (The first-graders were thrilled!) So we made posters and collection boxes. And the word spread.

Each day, I'd tell my daughter: We have 11 more pairs. We have 20 more pairs.

Officially, our drive is over, but a few donations are trickling in. We've easily exceeded 200 pairs of shoes. More than half are going to Osgood, Indiana, with the church disaster committee this weekend. The rest are being shipped to Soles 4 Souls to help other communities in need.

It's an awesome lesson to share with our girls: By yourself you may not be able to do much, but as a team, you can accomplish a lot.

Meditations on snapping beans

There's something oddly therapeutic about snapping green beans. It's the kind of mindless task that gets things done without a lot of effort. You can wash berries, but you don't feel you are doing anything. You can slice tomatoes or peaches, but your concentration is that of making sure you don't slice your finger yet again.

But beans? Lift, snap, done. Repeat.

It's oddly comforting, and so simple a toddler can do it. Which is probably why I appreciate it. I can listen to the news, talk to my child, pray, listen to the birds, make my list of things I'd forgotten to do at work that day, and not feel that something's been dropped in the process.

Today, I realized just how therapeutic snapping beans can be. We've had a difficult last few months, coupled with a child who's discovered biting as an attention getter, unusual stress with projects and budget season in the office, and a home that's just shy of looking like a tornado whipped about its contents. And yet, after receiving beans not only in the CSA share but also from our sitter, I caved about buying beans today. At the farmers market, I asked my oldest what she'd like to buy after surveying the contents: Green beans, of course.

Well there's always a freezer. And so, I spent nap time standing in the kitchen, feeling the breeze from the unseasonable cool day, listening to the Olympics recapped on the television, snapping beans one by one.

The tomatoes and peaches I'd chopped? Not so therapeutic. Yes, I'll love the Romas in homemade spaghetti sauce this winter, and we'll enjoy the peach cobbler tonight, but I always have that sense that maybe, just maybe, given my clutziness and lack of depth perception that I could wind up a casualty of the process.

But beans? There's a casual easiness to them that's appreciated on the most needed of afternoons. And even more appreciated when my husband cooks them!

Easy Brownie Girl Scout Service Project: Plastic Lid Recycling

I'm a firm believer that service projects should be something the girls can do, not something that requires extra work from mom and dad. That's why I was thrilled to find a simple recycling project that ties into both the Brownie Household Elf badge and the Wonders of Water journey.

Last summer, I was reading Beth Terry's book, Plastic-Free: How I Kicked the Plastic Habit and How You Can Too, and stumbled on a nugget that cried out for girl involvement:

While no organism can digest plastic, there are quite a few animals that are harmed while trying: according to Greenpeace, at least 267 different species are known to have suffered from entanglement or ingestion of ocean plastic debris, including seabirds, turtles, seals, sea lions, whales, and fish.38 Leatherback sea turtles choke on plastic bags they mistake for food; Laysan albatross chicks starve with their bellies full of plastic bottle caps and lighters...

But how can second graders in Indiana make a difference in the world's water? By becoming aware ad learning how recycling can impact our world.

I thought, let's do a plastic project that won't require a lot of space or mess, and will bring to their attention all the plastic that we use.

For a month, the girls were challenged to collect all the plastic lids they could. While we didn't charge them to specifically look for No. 5 plastic, we asked them to look for clean lids from milk jugs, water bottles, soda bottles, prescription bottles, etc. The girls were asked to bring them to the February meeting, with the girl collecting the most winning a water prize (in this case, a "snow" making science kit that we stumbled on at clearance.)

The girls collected more than 300 lids - which, compacted, fits into about a half of a cookie case. The lids will be sent to CapsNCups, based in Evansville, Ind., which collects bottle caps and No. 5 plastic cups to downcycle into an array of secondary products ranging from mud flaps to stadium seats. Even better, since I have family in Evansville, we won't waste the shipping and will just bring the box to them at our next visit.



Need other service project ideas for Daisies or Brownies? Check out previous posts on Christmas shoeboxes and shoe collections for tornado victims through Soles for Souls.

Me, unplugged

Taking time for me is the toughest thing to do. I have work waiting, children to be cared for, a house needing to be scrubbed and a marriage to nurture. But me? It's the last thing on the list.

It's been nearly a month since I really posted on this site, a few prewritten posts not withstanding. While work was the primary reason, our project wrapped up a bit earlier than planned. But it wasn't until the work wound down that I saw the damage that had been done.

I was cranky - that I knew. But there was more.

I hadn't worked out in two months, between a bout of bronchitis and too many work hours late in the night. My house looked like a tornado blew through it. My blood sugars were through the roof from the chocolate I was mindlessly munching. Sleep came with difficulty, the result of too much stress and Diet Cokes.

By week two of the project, coupled with the realities of the family scheduling shift caused by my husband's new job (praise God!) and how my children were affected, I was on the verge of tears more than once.

And so I shut it off. I did the unthinkable. I took time for me.

I slept, even if it meant lying down at 8 o'clock with my kids to make it happen. I cooked some of my first regular meals in three years - and not something that came from the frozen food aisle or Papa Murphy's. And I unplugged.

My reader? Glanced at once or twice in the last month. Facebook? Accessed it only when I was managing it for work. Other blogs? Just said no. My photos? Still stuck on my camera.

I read books from the library. Took a bath and walks with my kids. Dug in the dirt a bit. And slowly, I've eased back into my world. Hopefully I'll spend a little more time there and a little less in the virtual world of work.

Thanks to all of you who waited for me!

A little hail damage never looked so good

Given the craziness of this spring's weather, I'm grateful to live with a little hail damage on my car and a knocked-out porch light after yesterday's three rounds of tornado warnings and storms. Haven't taken a full tour of the property, but my loved ones are safe, and I can live with that.

Recycled denim pet toys

When November brings you tornado watches and warnings, you tuck into the bathroom and work on your Christmas gifts!

My oldest had wanted to make a gift for her "dog cousin" and a pair of well-worn jeans provided just the opportunity to do so. We had seen this great idea for a fleece rope toy from Parents magazine and had tucked the idea away in our "emergency" binder of ideas.

For a few short minutes, we had a great distraction from the day's storms.

Each side of the leg was cut lengthwise into three strips, which were knotted and braided.

We wound up with simple gifts for four of our closest four-legged friends!