Girl Scout Kaper Chart

Hi, I'm Elizabeth. I'm a 36 year old girl scout... leader.

I have a daisy troop with 10 little, amazing first grade girls. They're full of energy, surprises, energy, giggles, energy and love.

One of the things they really enjoy doing, is helping. So for the last year and a half, I've been trying to come up with a unique and creative Kaper Chart.

What's a Kaper Chart? It's a Girl Scout term for a chore chart. It's a way of visually showing the girls who's responsible for which chore at a specific meeting or camping trip.

Why has it taken me a year and a half to come up with something?

Because as kindergarteners, they were still learning to read. I would've had to come up with pictures of the tasks the girls would need to perform in order communicate clearly. There just wasn't a lot that a 6 year old girl could help with beyond passing out materials and helping with clean up.

During last weeks' meeting, we worked on the "Responsible for what I say and do" daisy petal. (There are 10 petals in total that the girls need to earn before they bridge to Brownies in the second grade.)

It was the perfect time to introduce our troop to the Kaper chart. They responded with so much enthusiasm, that they were even disappointed when we couldn't actually start using it the same night. (I introduced it after the lesson)

As I mentioned, I've been combing Google Images and Pinterest for a while, looking for something I could easily make. I had a few requirements in mind.

1. That I not have to spend our limited troop funds (or my own money) on buying supplies. I wanted to be able to use what I had already in our craft stash.
2. That the girls be able to understand it.
3. That it be creative, fun and easily portable.

I noticed some similarities of the visual directions and general shape between the Weasley Clock, from the Harry Potter movies and the daisy petals, pictured above.  So, with those two things in mind, this is what I came up with.

My supply list:
• used cloth or canvas bag
• needle & thread, & scissors
• thin gauge wire
• random buttons (the larger the better)
• silver metallic marker
• pictures of the girls (I laminated color prints)
• hole puncher

When the girls come to a meeting, they'll need to find their picture hanging on the button next to what they're responsible for. When their chore is completed, they'll move their picture from the button and place it inside the bag. Girls who don't show up for the meeting, will have their photos hanging in the middle, where no responsibilities are assigned.

All in all, it was pretty simple to create. The only thing I've not shown above, is the piece of foam core I  cut to the size of the interior of the bag to keep it open and flat while hanging.

As the responsibilities change over time, I can either create a new one, or sew on some patches to cover up the current listings. I figure, the more color, the better. We'll see how it goes, but I'm not going to stress over what the future holds. I'm just excited to enroll each of them, even more, in the process of conducting a meeting.

SAD or just sad?

Like millions of people all over the northern hemisphere, I'm enduring the bitterness and bleakness of the post holiday season with my very own case of seasonal affective disorder. It sucks. But I don't think that's the whole explanation either. The fact is, I've been on anti-depressants for at least two and a half years. Which means it wasn't winter when I first diagnosed with depression. About a year ago, both life and work were so stressful, that I went for weeks without really sleeping. A racing mind and a bad case of insomnia had arrived to make things worse.

After a visit to my family doctor and the addition of Ambien to my nightly bedtime routine, I'm now well rested and my stress level stays pretty low. It's amazing what a change of attitude you can have when you catch some quality z's.

As you may expect from a blended family of six, I lead a busy life. If there's ever a day on the calendar that's open, my mind begins to weigh and measure all the possible things I could fill it with. On paper, I lead an amazing life. I go to church regularly, I volunteer with Girl Scouts, I do the work I love, I read plenty of non-fiction books, I have an amazing fiancee, two beautiful children and a ton of friends. What more could a girl want?

Really... so what's wrong with me? What possible reason do I have to feel as sad and disconnected to people as I do?

For the record, I have an incredible family. Since I was a child, we've gathered every Sunday afternoon and major holidays at grandma's house to enjoy each other's company and let the kids be kids. I believe this is the foundation of what has made me who I am. Each time in my life, when I've lived too far away to make this weekly commute, I've felt... well, as bad as I do right now I guess. Nothing made me happier than being able to enjoy, play and laugh with my family.

Thank God, great-grandma's still with us, and this weekly ritual is still observed. So why don't I feel as happy now?

I think the answer is found within the silence... within the days between the Sunday's. As adults, there are so many things we can't and shouldn't say to each other. The icky parts of life contaminate what should be joyous moments. Once our spirits have been touched by the ickyness, we carry it around with us for months and not realize what it is. It feels impossible to shake that dark cloud that hovers above our hearts and heads. Those around us know something is wrong, but when they ask, we try to protect them from being contaminated. So we don't share. We hold it inside and let the ickyness grow.

Whatever you give your energy to will grow. If you think you're being excluded from social outings with friends, then you will be. You probably were before, but you just didn't care to notice. If you think your boss is over-critical and over-bearing, then he will be even more so. You've entered into a self-fullfilling prophecy that creates the very end you expected to begin with. What does this have to do with depression?

When you're sick, your immune system is down, and you become more susceptible to catching any other bugs that crawl your way. Our spirit is the same way. It's why so many people who are depressed and mentally ill end up in hospitals. Their spirits are already sick, so their physical bodies follow suit.

In my case, I don't believe I'm mentally ill, although some of you may have a different opinion on that. What I do believe, is that whatever childhood, or pre-adolescent baggage we've buried down deep makes it's way back to the surface just when you least expect it. Maybe you're looking at your 20-year high school reunion invitation. Maybe you've just suffered a loss, more traumatic then I'll get into here...

Having repressed resentments, feelings and memories boiling to the surface when you're a grown woman is inconvenient at best, doesn't allow for positive communications between adults or personal self growth. This is what happens when depression makes your emotional skin so damned thin, that the smallest little prick can set off time bombs you didn't even know were there.

So, in the days between the Sundays, when living life with depression, I believe we respond as a child would to situations we should normally brush off. And like a child, we don't know how to deal with the repercussions of our actions or words. Our hurt feelings should really be the least of our problems. The damage, caused by running someone else's actions and words through our childhood filter instead of the experiences of a grown adult, destroys self-confidence and any positive self-image we had left.

The more silent remarks and conversations I have with you inside my head, leaves thicker emotional scar tissue and higher walls, which perpetuates the cycle of depression no matter what season it is.

Senior Picture, 1994

Why I unfriended you on Facebook

Unfortunately, there are no classes in high school to prepare us for what life is like inside the social media bubble. Since man first inked the location of the local hunting spots, in less than 160 stick figures, on the cave wall, we've had the desire to share our our life's journey with the world. We have an innate need to share what we love, think, do, witness, believe and create.

The concept of social media in the digital age is a pretty new one. As mature members of society, it's our responsibility to determine the ground rules for acceptable behavior. Ideally, we would seek to inspire each other, grow in our relationships and enjoy the perks of being an affluent nation.

That, however, has not been my experience when using Facebook & Twitter. Instead, it's become a narrative of the mundane, inappropriate and uninspiring. So, I've decided to exact some control over the personal space inside my little bubble by removing any toxic, unneeded and undesirable participants.

Without further adieu, here are the rules I've set to determine who gets bumped from my friends list.

1. You share too much. This can be in frequency as well as content. The world doesn't want to know what you're doing every minute of every day. Do you narrate what you do out loud while you're doing it too? "Elizabeth walks to the refrigerator to get a glass of milk. I'm drinking the milk. Gulp... putting the glass in the sink..." Blah!

Also, and this is important... I don't want to know what happened the last time you had a bowel movement, and I certainly don't want details about it.

2. You lean either too far to the left, or too far to the right politically. If you have the common sense not to talk politics during family gatherings, then why would you force those same people, and many more, to listen to the same stump speech in their news feeds? People who have nothing better to do than spout political rhetoric day after day never really move forward. They end up 'walking' in circles becoming too predictable, bitter and unreachable. Stand up straight and branch out. Or don't, I've already removed you from my friends list.

3. Your status updates come with a black bar covering words or part of photos. Seriously, if you wouldn't say something that vulgar at your grandma's house, why would you want your sweet Aunt Edna to see it on Facebook? Your 13 year-old cousin doesn't need any help from you in sex-ed. Keep your porn under your mattress like your dad used to and off my iPad.

4. You're so angry, bitter and whiny that I have to take Prozac to get through one of your rants. Every post you make pushes both of us one step closer to seeing the inside of a padded room. If you're so miserable and life sucks so badly, why would you want to share that with the rest of us? You're just making the rest of us miserable too.

5. You're unbelievable. No, not like the hit song from EMF... as in, I can't believe anything you tweet. You lie. You exaggerate so much that not even your own mother is friends with you on Facebook. Be real. Social media is about being social, not making you the next cover story for the Enquirer.

Since you're now singing the lyrics to Unbelievable in your head, here's the link to the YouTube video http://youtu.be/waacof2saZw

If you've somehow found this blog and then realized that we're no longer friends on Facebook...

Well, this is awkward.


Can you think of other reasons why you would unfriend someone on social media? Feel free to add them in the comments below.

Good will always win over evil

Mothers and fathers all over the world are hugging their kids longer and tighter today. That's what we do when unthinkable things happen. Unthinkable, unspeakable... unforeseeable.

We send our children off to school in the mornings believing and praying that they will safely return to us at the end of the day. We pray the bus driver will deliver them to and from school safely. We hope that their school is indeed a safe place. We expect actual heaven-sent angels will be at their side, every step of the way.

I have first and fourth grade children. The idea that there could ever be a day touched by such horrific actions, had never before entered even the worst of my nightmares. Who could possibly contemplate a gunman walking into an elementary school and taking the lives of so many?

20 precious children, ages 6 and 7, didn't get to go home yesterday. 27 families and an entire nation scared forever by another senseless tragedy.

As a parent, you spend your entire life trying to protect your kids... trying to teach them to make good choices so that one day, they can be successful, happy adults with families of their own. It's hard-wired into our DNA; the idea that we have the ability to control what happens to us... but we don't.

My first instinct was to immediately pull my kids out of school and homeschool them until they're 30. Unfortunately,  news headlines also flashed through my head from this past year, of mall and movie theater shootings. The reality of it is, there is no true safe place. Home invasions and car accidents happen every day.

So, what do we do now?

The only thing we can. Teach our kids to pray and to enjoy life.

The world is a scary, uncontrollable place. Our children, as well as adults, need somewhere they can be 100% secure. The belief that we have an eternity to spend with our loved-ones in heaven is so powerful, that we gain strength and peace in times of great sorrow.

Do I believe the world is a more violent place today than it was two days ago?

Probably not. There have always been evil people in the world, but there have always been so many more of the good. I refuse to raise my children in fear. I'll give them the tools they need, to live the best lives they can. I'll do my best to direct their futures to fulfill their dreams. I will not raise them to think the worst in people. I will always believe good will always win over evil.

My heart aches for the families affected from the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. They will not mourn alone. Their great loss will not be forgotten. My prayers are for them tonight. May their little angels find peace in the arms of our heavenly Father.

Painting: Serenity by David Bowman

In memory of Scott Guffey

This may be hard for some to read, you won't hurt my feelings if you don't. I wanted to document my thoughts and feelings, as well as moments I witnessed during this last week.

My family has been blessed for many years, in the way that we've suffered very few pre-mature deaths. Believe me, I count those blessings daily... my great-grandma lived well into her 90's, grandpa had a massive heart attack two days before his 71st birthday, and both grandmothers are thankfully still living. Maybe that's why I'm not really sure how I feel right now. I'm not even sure how I should feel.

As many of you know, we lost my cousin, Scott Guffey, after a relatively short battle with Leukemia. He was 35.

Love birds, Scott & Kris Guffey, May 2011

Less than six months after his diagnosis, we found ourselves celebrating his life, along with hundreds of  people we'd never before met, but whom loved him. In the time he had, he was able to affect the lives of so many. He became, not only a rock star daddy to his three girls, Alley, Natalie & Jaleigh and devoted husband to Kris, but a safe place for anyone who needed advice, friendship or just some good ol' tough love.

He was one of the healthiest, strongest and virile men you'd ever know. He was a hard-worker, a strong leader and lived life to its fullest, his way... usually involving as much adrenaline as possible. He drove way too fast, drank too much, and was constantly in a state of motion. Yet he never missed a chance to enjoy his friends and family, making it his goal to live life without regrets.

Gray Family Reunion in October, 2012. Alley, Kris, Scott, Jaleigh, Natalie, Shannon, Garret & Matt.

He raised his girls to be strong, independent young ladies, and I know they'll be alright. Sure, they'll make their own rules for many things, but they'll figure out their way in life just as Scott and Kris did.

Attending his funeral yesterday, I witnessed incredible maturity, emotional strength and love for their daddy in their dry eyes, sure actions and words. I can tell you that many adults in the room were able to remain strong because they were. Scott wouldn't have wanted tears, but laughter at his funeral. They were amazing, and I know he's very proud.

So why am I confused? Why do I find myself snapping at Todd and getting so irritated with my own kids?

I think it's because, after all is said and done, I didn't really know him... not really. For many years, I wouldn't have been able to pick him out of a line-up, and it makes me angry. I lived ten minutes from him, and yet, there was no foundation laid during our childhoods to build a friendship on. I lived my life, and he lived his.

As these things tend to happen, years ago, adults in our families made choices. Choices that put us children on different life paths. So despite spending the early years of our lives actually being playmates and learning about life together, we wouldn't really meet again until we had kids of our own. Sure, there were those random family gatherings, when we'd see each other and be cordial, but it was more like we were just polite strangers. Eventually, he stopped coming to family functions, and we stopped calling. We become strangers.

It wasn't until about 5 years ago, during an indoor soccer game at a gym in Mooresville that our paths would cross again. I was bringing Jocey to the bathroom while Zander played, and a very large, 6' 3", very red, very sweaty man holding a basket ball walked up to me and said hello. I must have had a strange look on my face, because he said, "It's me Scott."

I was stunned. "Bubba?"

Wow, Scott got old. Wait... we got old.

Scott was there with his girls & Kris, watching Jaleigh play in her own soccer game. I sat with them and made small talk for awhile. I felt awkward, like I was intruding on their space, like I was someone that they would try to avoid. Which, knowing what I know now about Scott, is ridiculous. He was the kind of guy who wanted to make everyone feel good and welcome. I know whatever weird feelings I had that day were from my own inner crazy. I had told myself for years, that they didn't really want to be part of our family, that we weren't good enough for them. I don't know why I thought this, considering that I never once reached out to call him and Shannon. I was an adult, but I was still expecting the real adults around me to determine my relationships and arrangements.

I'm so very grateful that over the last five years, we would see each other at least once or twice a year at a family get-together. Family gatherings were never boring... Christmas dinners almost always involved wrestling matches, mixed drinks, sweat and laughter. Summer functions would involve RTV's, water balloons and a hose. But this is where my account of his life stops. He was my first cousin, and I didn't really know him. 

All the cousins. Back row: Alex, Elizabeth, Shannon, Tara, Scott
Front row: Summer Joy, Melissa, Sasha, Kyndra & Max

How can you mourn the loss of someone you don't really know?

It provides you with a reality check... a wake-up call, that any day could be your last.

I wish for more time.

I wish I didn't have regrets.

I wish I was stronger... a better mother, friend, sister, daughter, person.

Scott's battle with Leukemia

When we first learned that he had an aggressive form of Leukemia, and was undergoing chemotherapy, I was lucky enough to get to visit him in the hospital. Again, I felt awkward, like I wasn't worthy of taking his valuable time. Like I was intruding on his family. Like I didn't belong there. But he greeted me with a smile, and a warm hug. (I learned in the last few days, he didn't really like to touch people, so I'm even more grateful) He made me feel welcome, and that he appreciated me stopping in to see him. He didn't have to do that. He was the one with cancer... it was just who he was.

His first round of chemo didn't rid his body of the cancer, so he would have to stay there, in isolation and undergo something called super-chemo. Which did force the cancer into remission, but it almost killed him. I don't remember all the details at this point, but I know he had to be placed in a coma for about two weeks, and then later have heart surgery to repair the damage the chemo had caused. He was placed on the bone marrow transplant list. So they waited.

He was able to go home again and regain some of his strength, but all too soon, the cancer would come back. I hear that the doctors told him he wouldn't have much longer to live, a year at most... After receiving that devastating news, he would get a phone call just hours later, that a match had been found. So, they would do chemo again, and then he would have a chance at life.

However, this time, the chemo didn't work. He couldn't get a bone marrow transplant until the cancer went back into remission. He was determined to go down fighting, so they opted for a medical trial.

I woke up Sunday morning and looked at my cell phone. There were about 20 text messages from my aunts and sister. They were batched by person, so I didn't understand any of them, but one.

"They coded Scott..."

I called my Aunt and she told me what was going on. I asked her what exactly "coded" meant. She said he had died. They worked on him for 20 minutes to bring him back.

I'm not proud of this... but I spent the rest of the day in tears between panic attacks. I don't know if it was the fact that it was really happening, if it was that he had died, if I was feeling sorry for myself, if I was worried about his girls, or if he was a Believer or not. As a Christian woman, this is the biggest thing that weighs on my heart. I just have to pray that such a great man, who did so much good in the world would be welcomed into arms of a loving Father.

As mothers often do, mine knew the best way to help me, was to bring me to the hospital to see things for myself. We went and sat with his wife, Kris, his mother, Corkey (Trevelyn), his sister, Shannon, his dad, Jeff, and his brother-in-law Matt.

If they were holding it together, then what right did I have to fall apart? Although I couldn't actaully see Scott, I felt comforted by the fact that his loved ones were right there... waiting, watching, hoping. 

At 3:30am the next morning, my phone rang. Mom tells me the doctor asked the family to come in to say their good-byes. By 3:55am, I was pulling into the parking garage right next to my mom on one side, and my sister on the other. We walked into the ICU together. Aunt Tonya greeted us with hugs and brought us up to date on his state. Kris, was sitting at his bedside holding him and family wept silently in the dark hallway outside his little room. There was a window, large enough that you could see in to from the hallway. His eyes were closed, and he was bundled up like a newborn baby. 

Scott would pass away at 11:30 that morning. His body just couldn't take any more punishment. His spirit will live on through all the people he touched, and in the hearts and minds of his girls.

I pray that I can allow myself to live life as he did. Without any regrets, with complete confidence in myself and compassion for others. I hope one day I can say that I too and #GuffeyStrong

Balloon release at Scott's funeral. Each one written with a message for him.

Gray Family Reunion, October, 2012

In typical Guffey-fashion, he and his family asks you to sign-up to be a bone marrow donor. You could be a match for someone's daddy, someone's brother, someone's son... http://marrow.org/HomeOld.aspx It just takes 10-15 minutes to complete the online registration form. They'll mail you a kit to swab the inside of your cheek and send back to them.

If you're unable to register, please consider making a donation. You could save a life and give someone a chance.