Happy Holidays!

 From the Farm:

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Published in the Casper Journal April 26, 2011

Happy New Year! Happy Valentine’s Day! Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Happy Easter! At our house, we love holidays and celebrate them to the fullest. From green pancakes on St. Patrick’s Day, to egg hunts at Easter, we do it all.
Holidays in Wyoming are a bit different than in Las Vegas. Be it Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day or Easter, Vegas celebrates holidays with a bit of a twist.
The first clue I had that Vegas wasn’t “holiday happy” was when my son was in kindergarten. As my first school child, I was excited to celebrate the holidays in his classroom. A week before Halloween, we received a note from the teacher explaining the school would celebrate “Nevada Day” on Oct. 31 in memory of Nevada’s statehood. (Yes, Nevada became a state on Halloween.) Only western costumes were allowed. I swallowed my disappointment that he would have to save his official costume for trick-or-treating and helped him pick out a pair of chaps, western vest and a cowboy hat to wear to school. When we arrived, I expected to see cowboys and cowgirls milling around everywhere. Instead, all of the other boys were wearing sombreros! My son was the odd man out.
The next holiday was Thanksgiving. I recalled my own “Thanksgiving Feast” as a first-grader and anticipated helping out in the classroom with a festive meal. However, when the note from the teacher came home, the holiday was called a “harvest feast.” Yes, fall is definitely harvest time, so the teacher was politically correct. “What about the Thanksgiving feast of the pilgrims?” I wondered.
In December, I began to grow wary of school holidays. Sure enough, a note came home about a “Winter Concert.” At the concert we heard the children sing about Santa Claus and Rudolph, dreidels and Kwanzaa. At the end of the evening, the music director stood and invited us to sing “Silent Night,” as a standard American tradition. I breathed a sigh of relief. There was a touch of Christmas in the concert.
When February rolled around, we learned all about Black History Month, with barely a mention of Presidents Lincoln or Washington. On Feb. 14, the children were invited to exchange “friendship cards.” No, I’m not Catholic. I don’t know much about St. Valentine, but our family certainly celebrates Valentine’s Day. At home that night we decorated our sugar cookies and exchanged pink hearts.
In April, another note invited the children to bring filled, plastic eggs for the “Dinosaur Hunt.” I must admit, I’ve never seen a real, live Easter Bunny. But then again, aside from bones in a museum, I’ve never seen a dinosaur either.
Yes, I’m glad to be in Wyoming. Our family celebrates Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, President’s Day, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day and Easter. We do all of them whole-heartedly. We dress up. We cook special food. We hang decorations. All of the holidays didn’t stem from our personal religious beliefs, but they’re American, and we are, too.
When I lived in Japan, I wore a yukata in August and enjoyed the Obon parades. I watched families set lights on the water in memory of their dead. Over New Year’s I ate mochi and gathered with friends at the temples to observe. I’m not Buddhist, but I enjoyed the celebration. It was Japan!
This is America, and some celebrations are just American. I don’t mind adding holidays to represent a variety of nationalities, but let’s not forget some of our original customs. Besides, traditions provide comfort and stability to children. I don’t want that comfort watered down.
So, if you see me on the street some time, I may just say, “Happy President’s Day!”, “Happy St. Patrick’s Day!”, “Happy Easter.” No political correctness here. We celebrate as often as we can. Can I say it again? Glad to be in Wyoming, proud to be an American.

Money Matters

From the Farm:

MONEY MATTERS

Published in the Casper Journal April 12, 2011

I had an argument with my husband last week. It was about our family budget. He wanted to cut spending. I wanted to expand it. He thought we should spend less on oatmeal. I wanted to spend more on paper plates. He threatened to shut down our family. I threatened to stop making meals. We held a conference behind closed doors. The kids waited outside, breathlessly. Finally, we exited the room with an agreement in hand.
“Well,” my husband began, “instead of cutting out oatmeal, we’re just reducing to once a week.”
“And,” I added, “we’ll now be using paper plates every weekend.” The kids cheered. The compromise was accepted and signed into law.
Really? No. Although I do fix more oatmeal than my husband cares for, and we all wish we could use paper plates every day, I doubt that either issue would shut down our family. Besides, how do you shut down a family? No matter what disagreements are had, people need to eat, sleep and be clothed. I’d suggest that the government act a little more like family.
Does money matter? Of course it does. However, money may not matter as much as some people think. I remember when we were expecting our sixth child, one well-meaning friend asked, “But how will you afford another baby?” Others questioned, “What does your husband do for a living?” For some people, “children” is synonymous with “money.”
I’ll be the first to admit, children do cost money. It takes resources to keep 10 people going. We often subsist on hand-me-down clothes, second hand furniture and large doses of homemade bread. However, I don’t believe we’re any worse for the wear. Daily entertainment involves playing outside or with siblings, while the X-Box doesn’t exist in our house. All of our babies have slept comfortably in the same wooden cradle (the one I slept in) and shared many of the same blankets and sleepers. Birthdays are simple, with lots of cake and singing, and a few memorable gifts. Weekends are rarely spent at the roller rink, but at the nearby park or building a fort in the back yard.
Yet, despite our lack of “worldly goods,” we’re all rather happy. In fact, I’d say that our happiness comes in large part from our simple lifestyle. Singing together while washing a stack of dishes, a good family swim and a side-splitting game of charades are memories likely to last a long time.
As you can imagine, anyone with eight children qualifies for every government program under the sun (unless, of course, you’re a millionaire.) Still, I was raised old-fashioned and taught to do without government handouts. Our family chooses liberty over dependence. We don’t mind eating beans for a few meals at the end of a month.
I also appreciate the work ethic my children are learning. When my son went to the National Scout Jamboree, he sold popcorn and did odd jobs for nearly two years to pay his way. My daughter bakes homemade bread to finance her violin lessons.
I’m certainly not opposed to money. I love quoting Mark Twain who said, “I despise people who have money, but it would be dangerous to offer me the position.” I wouldn’t mind a little extra cash to take a trip to Disneyland or go out to eat on nights I don’t feel like cooking. Sometimes I’d rather purchase name-brand clothes at the store, instead of saving hand-me-downs. These things would be nice, but would we be any happier? I doubt it.
Money can buy convenience, but it doesn’t buy happiness. Wasn’t that what the Revolutionary War was all about? Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness? Those opportunities are priceless and cost little.
Then listen up, folks in Washington. We depend on you to ensure our rights. Leave the other details up to us. We can choose our own financial compromises along our pursuit to happiness. It’s time to get in, get out and get on with it. I’m sure most people would agree. Our family would.

Wyoming Wildlife

From the Farm:

WYOMING WILDLIFE

Published in the Casper Journal March 22, 2011

We recently moved to Wyoming from Las Vegas. For that reason, I’m not totally “up” on my Wyoming wildlife. In fact, it took me a while before I could differentiate between an antelope and a deer. (Don’t worry ... I’ve got it down now.)
Still, in Las Vegas we generally saw roadrunners and tortoises in our neighborhood. Now we have a plethora of deer, antelope, Canada geese and rabbits.
Although I’m a bit slow at figuring out the wildlife, I was still surprised when I was awakened early one morning last week. It was dark, about 4:30 a.m., and I heard a loud barking outside my window. It was one of those freezing “negative teen” nights, and I wondered why a dog would be out and about the neighborhood. My husband was gone, and I lay in bed listening to the barking for another minute before I sensed that something was wrong.
Hurrying to the back door, I flipped on the light and saw a pack (well, several) animals just outside the window. One of them, his hindquarters covered in blood, was barking a loud, odd bark at two others who were circling him.
I woke up my two oldest boys. “There’s a pack of wolves outside of our house,” I said. The boys were awake immediately and followed me to the back door.
“Those aren’t wolves, those are coyotes,” my son corrected, a bit exasperated at my lack of intelligence. “My mistake,” I murmured, wondering what the difference was.
My daughter joined us then. “We just watched a movie about coyotes in school yesterday,” she said excitedly.
“How timely,” I replied. “Now we’ve got our very own pack at our house.” More of the children gathered, their noses pressed to the glass door.
“What about the chickens?” exclaimed my son. We ran upstairs and peered out at the chicken coop. Although coyote tracks were all around our house in the fresh snow, there weren’t any tracks heading towards the coop. I was grateful for my diligent son who’d closed the hen house late the night before in his pajamas and boots.
Back downstairs, we watched the fierce animals barking and circling. They didn’t seem at all interested in the faces pressed up against the glass behind them.
“What are we going to do?” asked my son. We had been so enthralled in watching the coyotes that we hadn’t felt any fear.
After a few more minutes of watching, I decided that the coyotes were indeed fierce and dangerous, and I should act.Casper Journal
I called Metro Animal Control, and told the nice operator lady what we were witnessing.
“Are you sure they aren’t dogs?” she asked, kindly. “No. I’m sure.” I responded. Give me some credit.
“Then I’ll have to call Game and Fish,” she said. “We only deal with domesticated animals.” We waited a few more minutes, cameras in hand, watching the coyotes, until they backed off of the injured one and drifted off into the field next to us. Just then, two trucks pulled up at the house.
The wardens at the front door had guns and were ready for adventure. “The coyotes just left,” I explained. Still, the men took their spotlights and weapons and went up and down the road, peering into the dark fields.
When they came to the door again, they told us that coyote tracks were everywhere, but the animals were gone.
“Next time, just shoot them,” one officer told me. “You don’t need a license to kill predators.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, not wanting to admit that I was a city girl. Shooting coyotes was mentally added to my “can do” list.
The trucks left and we all tried to sleep for the last few minutes of the night, but our eyes were wide open. When the kids left for school, no animals were in sight, and the children all walked safely to the bus stop.
When my husband came home that night there were no coyotes to shoot, and unfortunately the excitement was over. But, we can report that we’ve had another experience with Wyoming wildlife, a good Casper tale to send back to Las Vegas.
Don’t worry. Next time I’ll correctly differentiate between a wolf and a coyote. And if I adjust to Wyoming wildlife a bit more, I may even have a gun ready.

Prayers for Japan

From the Farm:

PRAYERS FOR JAPAN

Published in the Casper Journal March 16, 2011

I’m Japanese.  I know, I know, my hair is brown and my eyes are green.  And, my ancestors come from Germany and France.  Still, I like to consider myself Japanese. I lived in Japan as a college student for a year and a half.  I ate their food.  I lived with Japanese people.  I spoke their language.  And, I came to love the people. 

My heart stopped when I turned on the news Friday morning and heard about the massive earthquake and tsunami there.  I could picture it all:  the manicured rice fields; the ornate homes; the small cars; the organized cities.  I could picture school children walking to school, their crisp uniforms worn to perfection.  I could picture the mailmen on their green motorbikes, delivering mail quickly and efficiently.  I could picture the shopkeepers personally welcoming each guest into their stores.  I could picture mothers, with a child on the front and the back of their bikes, pedaling the narrow streets to take a child to preschool.  And I could picture the devastation of an earthquake.

When I first received my assignment to Japan, the land seemed foreign and strange.  Friends assured us that Japan is one of the safest countries in the world.  They were right.  During my time there, I was never afraid.  Even when I was out after dark, or sprained my ankle, or was alone on a train, I knew I was in good company.  I did experience one, large earthquake, but was unharmed.  There is something very dignified and kind about the Japanese people.  The friends I made and the culture I learned have shaped my life since then.

It was difficult to return to America after living there.  When our plane landed in San Francisco, everyone around me looked big, boisterous, pushy, and a bit rude.  Americans tend to gobble their food down, instead of enjoying it bite by bite.  Americans barge into homes, muddy shoes on their feet, as if carpet will last forever.  Americans want everything big, and bigger, instead of being grateful for what we have. 

The Japanese culture I learned there now permeates my home and my family.  We leave our shoes in the “genkan” (entryway).  We often eat with chopsticks.  My children are all relatively talented at Origami.  And, we eat rice daily.  Our large rice cooker has a permanent spot on the kitchen counter.

Once, when our favorite Botan Rice was on sale at the grocery store, I stocked up.  When I arrived at the cash register, the cashier eyed my shopping cart full of rice.  “Do you own a restaurant?” She asked with raised eyebrows.  “Oh, no,” I responded.  “I’m Japanese.”  “Oh,” she said, glancing at my eyes, my hair, and my skin.  She silently checked me through the register.  

Seven years ago, my husband and I returned to Japan to attend the International Rotary Convention.  Although it had been ten years since I had stayed there, the people were still as gracious and polite as I remembered them.  And, the food was just as delicious.  We took the country train back through the small towns where I had lived.  The terraced rice fields were just as green and neat as ever.  It seemed that the same, old grandmas, their heads covered in scarves, were bending to plant the seedlings.  Bikes still crowded the train stations and the roads, although most people now had a cell phone to their ear. 

We took a day and toured the Hiroshima Peace Memorial.  After several hours inside of the museum, my heart was ready to burst for the terrible tragedies caused by the atomic bomb.  As we exited the museum, a choir of school children—dressed in uniform—was singing a beautiful song on the patio.  Their voices were clear and unified.  It seemed they were singing victory; the victory of a broken people who had risen from the ashes. 

It’s been several days since the quake.  Thankfully, I’ve made contact with friends and family members in Japan, and have found that they are safe.  There are still others that I worry about.  However, I have no doubt about the resilience of the Japanese people.  They came back strong after the devastating Second World War.  They will come back again—organized, polite and grateful for what they have.  Their culture teaches them patience, hard work, and service.  It will bring them through this tragedy.  That’s the Japanese way.  A way Americans might take note of.  Until they recover, my prayers are with them; prayers for my beloved people of Japan.

Freedom to Choose

From the Farm

FREEDOM TO CHOOSE

Published in the Casper Journal March 9, 2011

I have a new favorite definition of freedom:  Freedom is the opportunity to choose.  Freedom is not a free-for-all.  It does not mean, “Do whatever you want to.”  Freedom is simply a choice between at least two options.

As a parent, this definition is worth a lot.  As long as I give my children two, viable options, they are free to choose and act.  Those choices can be, “Do your homework and then you can play,” or “Don’t do your homework and miss out on free time.”  Even then, my kids are free.  They still have choices.

In America, we love choices.  We love choosing our occupation, taking time off when we want to, traveling to places we want to see, eating what we want to, and living where we want to.  We love electing our officials.  We love expressing ourselves when we are displeased.  We love choosing our religion.  We love voting on the laws of the land.  We are drunk on freedom.  But we must not get so intoxicated with choices that we forget one fact:  Freedom isn’t free.  Freedom requires moral leaders who will continue to provide choices, just as my children’s agency depends upon me to give them options.

Wyoming is especially good at providing freedom, at offering choices.  And Natrona County Schools are a perfect example.  Parents and students had until January 28^th to make their educational choices for the following school year.  During January, every school in Natrona County held an open house, where parents and prospective students could visit with staff, tour the facility, and ask questions.

With five Natrona County students, we attended a few open houses.  The best part was that they were all impressive!  Natrona County is filled with great, educational choices.  Every school was unique, with different educational approaches, styles of teaching, and building layouts. 

The buzz among decision-making mothers was heavy.  “I like Summit Elementary because of the ‘Leader in Me’ program.”  “I prefer Fort Casper and the intense curriculum.”  “I like Woods and the friendly atmosphere.”  “I was impressed with Verda James and the staff.”   “Dean Morgan has a convenient location.”  “Casper Classical Academy has a small student body.”  “Natrona County High School offers a lot of extra options.”  “Kelly Walsh seemed very organized.” 

The phone calls, emails, and chatter buzzed throughout the month.  My friends called, shared opinions, discussed decisions, and gathered input from past attendees.

“Everywhere I go, I’m impressed!” one friend wailed.  “I don’t know which school to choose.”  Isn’t that great!?!  There are so many wonderful options.  In Natrona County we truly understand freedom.  We have choices…and good ones!

Well, the deadline is here, the online request forms have been submitted, and now parents and students will wait for their choices to become official when notification letters arrive in the mail.  Nothing is set in stone, and students and parents can always apply to other schools, even when decisions have been made.  But for now, the discussion flurry is over for a bit. 

No matter what the outcome, it will be good.  I have five Natrona County School Students.  Everywhere we have toured, attended or observed in the past two years has been impressive.  Every place has pros and cons, with every school heavy on the pros.

I’m glad for freedom.  I’m glad for choice.  I’m glad for options, which put the decisions into the hands of parents.  I’m an American, and I love freedom.  I drink it deeply, especially when it involves decisions regarding my children.  Thank you, moral educators of Natrona County who provide choices.  You meet my definition of “free.”

Nettie Francis is Editor of The Wyoming Woman Magazine

Scouting Success

From the Farm:

SCOUTING SUCCESS

Published in the Casper Journal February 16, 2011

On February 8, 2011, the Boy Scouts of America celebrated its 101^st birthday.  Although I am not a Boy Scout, or even a boy, I still whole-heartedly celebrate Scouting.

Founded in England by Lord Robert Baden-Powell in 1907, the Scouting program was brought to the United States in 1910 by American journalist William Boyce.  Stuck in the London fog one night, he was assisted by a young Scout.  Boyce was so impressed with the helpful boy, that he learned more of the English Scouting movement and eventually founded the Boy Scouts of America. 

There are not many similarities between the lives of boys in 1910 and the lives of boys in 2011.  Boys today are more familiar with computers than camping, Ipods than ice-skating, and the internet than insect identification; yet they still benefit from being trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.  And, despite shifting world values, the goals of the Boy Scouts of America are still to build character, citizenship and fitness. 

            Yet the real celebration is that whether or not we are boys or men, or are active in the Scouting organization, the Boy Scouts of America—even the Boy Scouts of Wyoming—have likely touched our lives in a positive way. 

In Wyoming, we are direct recipients of Scouting leadership.  On February 9, 2010, our own Senator Mike Enzi, an Eagle Scout himself, spoke on the United States Senate floor in honor of the Scouting Centennial. He noted that there are currently eleven Eagle Scouts in the United States Senate. 

Eagle Scouts aren’t just news in federal government halls.  On January 21^st 2011, Wyoming Eagle Scouts gave a report to Governor Matt Mead.  They were also introduced on the House floor and in the Senate chambers, where they received a prolonged standing ovation from state legislators.

But more deeply than senate speeches or Eagle Scout reports, our life in Casper has been touched by Scouting. When young men reach the trail to Eagle, Scouting’s highest award, they organize an Eagle Scout Leadership Service Project which must directly benefit their community.  In 2010, 94 young men in the Central Wyoming Council achieved the rank of Eagle Scout.  Fourteen of those boys were from Natrona County.  These boys and their projects are making a difference every day.

Boy Scout Paul Ortega, Troop 1060, organized volunteers to improve the Alpine Ski Trail on Casper Mountain.  Ethan Sheffield, Troop 1435, made display boxes for the Nicolaysen Art Museum.  Cameron Budak, Troop 1167, made improvements at the Putt-Putt Golf Course.  Clayton Dexter, Troop 1060, gathered supplies for Healthcare for the Homeless.  Perhaps we’ve benefited from Trenton Hoover, Troop 1030, who built a picnic shelter at Fort Caspar Campground, or Nathan Higginson, who made emergency preparedness kits for NOWCAP, or Joseph Zeitner who improved the garden at Shepherd of the Valley Care Center.  These Scouts gave a total of 1367 hours of service in Natrona County during 2010.  And the list goes on…  Even our favorite Troopers Drum and Bugle Corps are a Scouting unit.

Good turns didn’t just happen in 2010.  Scouting touched the lives of seven Scout troops of Japanese-American boys, living at Heart Mountain Relocation Camp near Cody in the 1940s.  This summer, many of those Japanese-American Boy Scouts, now over 80-years-old, will reconvene to once again raise the United States Flag at the dedication of the Heart Mountain Interpretive Learning Center.

The Boy Scouts are not a ‘facility-based’ organization.  There isn’t a Scout building where boys go to learn outdoor skills.  Rather, Scouts are dependent on community organizations—churches, schools, service clubs—to provide the facility and leaders.  Many thanks to the Casper Elks Lodge, the Five Trails Rotary Club, the American Legion, and the many churches and schools who sponsor Scout groups.  As a 98% volunteer organization, Scouting depends on good citizens to take an interest in our youth. 

Did I mention?  I’m not a Boy Scout.  But, as a mother I am grateful for Scouting.  Last year, my oldest son went to his first, week-long Scout camp.  He packed his own back pack.  He set up his own tent.  He built his own fire.  He wrote his own skit.  He made his own arrow.  He crafted his own cardboard boat.  He rowed himself across the lake…and sank.  But he grabbed his paddle and swam to safety.  He cried.  He wanted to come home early.  He stuck it out…and came home a different boy.  The following week he conducted a Court of Honor, planned a service project, and performed a good turn.

Last week, two of my sons went on a snow campout.  Planning, packing, and more planning took place at several troop meetings.  On the night of the campout, my boys had enough adrenalin flowing to keep them warm through any freezing weather.  They kissed me goodbye, and went out the door with their packs, their snow gear, and their hot cocoa packets.

At home that night by our fire, I was grateful for good Scout leaders willing to go the distance and tough it out with boys who wanted adventure.  Thank goodness for Scouting activities which provide productive, moral ways to use their hands and minds.    

Founder Baden-Powell said that “Scouting is a game with a purpose.”  Scouting’s purposes have always supported my purposes—as a mother and as a citizen of Wyoming.  And so, even though I’m a girl, I am grateful for Boy Scouting.  I look forward to 100 more years of this inspired program, for my benefit, my children’s benefit, and the benefit of our community, state and nation.  Happy 101^st Birthday Boy Scouts of America!

Nettie Francis is Editor of The Wyoming Woman Magazine

CEO

From the Farm:

CONFESSIONS OF A CEO

Published in the Casper Journal February 2, 2011

I am a CEO.  I manage the personal schedules, finances, needs and lives of ten people.  (Well, almost ten.  My husband manages his own most of the time.)

For me, like any other CEO, it’s all about the numbers.

Yesterday I did 20 minutes of aerobic exercise, read 26 verses of scripture, made breakfast for ten people, packed five lunches, sent six people out the door, washed one batch of dishes, did three loads of laundry, gave three children baths, and shampooed three bedroom carpets, all before 10am!  Those sound like pretty good stats to me.

I then drove to the store and spent exactly 50% of my monthly grocery budget on 45 meals. I saved $12 buying non-brand products, and $10 of next month’s grocery money buying butter on sale. (Did I mark that in the notebook?)  I also set aside cash for two weeks of piano lessons and school book orders (due tomorrow).

Back at home, I fed four people lunch, put three children down for nap and then spent 98 minutes catching up on personal projects.  At exactly 3:35, I turned off the computer, started dinner and welcomed home two middle school students.  During the next two hours, three more children walked through the front door, I listened to five different versions of a ‘day at school,’ baked eight loaves of bread, and cooked dinner for ten, making an additional casserole to go in the freezer.  After calling “time to eat” exactly four times, we had ten people sitting at the table, where we spent 18 minutes eating what had taken me 78 minutes to prepare. 

I then gave five children baths, sent the other three to the shower, signed three homework sheets, drilled 28 phonograms, listened to forty minutes of piano practice, changed an additional two diapers, and checked and trimmed 160 (yes…160) fingernails and toenails.

By 9:00, eight children were tucked into four bedrooms, complete with teeth brushed, pajamas on, drinks had (well…almost), and prayers said.

Did I mention?  Being a CEO is all about the numbers.

But more than numbers, it’s the growth.  How many eggs did we get today?  What grade did you get on your test?  Did you study your spelling words?  When does swim team start?  What book are you reading right now?  And, did you make your bed? 

My clients are my responsibility, and I aim to help them succeed.

Being a CEO also means I can make the tough calls. “No, we’re not watching that movie.”  “Yes, we are eating our beans.”  “It’s time to come in and do chores.” 

In addition to my clients, I have responsibility for our business facility, as well.  I sweep, mop, scrub, clean, polish, vacuum and cook…every day.

Oh, what I would sometimes give for a janitor, cook, maid, nanny, or…  Weren’t those common in the olden days?  Even the Brady Bunch had a housekeeper.  And, I certainly could use Mary Poppins sometimes.  Or, a good, resident cook. 

Despite my dreaming, I’ll be the first to explain that my husband is extremely helpful.  That’s the only way it works.  When I’m tired and cranky—and even when I’m not—he steps in, washing dishes, giving baths, folding laundry, even fixing meals when I ask him to.   And, in the business world, I suppose he’s the one with the “real” CEO title.  Isn’t it nice that CEOs aren’t above changing diapers and vacuuming floors?  His support is a key factor in this company’s survival. 

Like every CEO, my job has its perks:  ice cream after 9pm, always sitting in the front seat of the car, and choosing pancakes over oatmeal for breakfast.   Those decisions are all up to me. 

When it’s all said and done, who dares to claim that mothers aren’t business savy?  We juggle more balls than most executives can imagine.  And, I’d say we do it fairly well.  In my book, every mother is a hero, eight kids or one. 

Tonight there are five report cards on my desk…all A’s and B’s.  An encouraging quarterly report and a parent’s payday.   This deserves a company celebration!  I just checked the budget and am making an executive decision:  we’re ordering pizza out tomorrow night.  And, there’s even enough money left over for ice cream.  Success?  Most definitely.

Nettie Francis is Editor of The Wyoming Woman Magazine