"Wave your hands in the air
Like you don’t care.
Glide by the people as they start to look and stare.
Do you dance, do your dance quick!
Mama, come on baby, tell me what’s the Word.
Ah – word up, everybody say. . .
When you hear the call you got to get it underway.
Word up, it’s the code word,
No matter where you say it,
You’ll know that you’ll be heard." - Cameo (or Korn)
The word of the day is "indolent." As in, "Get your indolent butt up out of the bed, Fred!"
Teenagers love to try that whole, "You can't make me!" thing out every now and again.
They're right. I can't MAKE you do anything. I never could. Oh, I could lift you and toss you about when you were smaller, but I never could really MAKE you do what I asked you to do.
However, I can PREVENT you from doing certain things. Like watching television, talking on the phone, heck, even OWNING a cell phone, etc. etc. Because I am and older and have the POWER. . .in my name.
I love the scene from "Fried Green Tomatoes" where Kathy Bates is waiting for the parking space. Two rude young women in a convertible zip in and holler, "Face it, we're younger and faster!"
Kathy waits while they go inside, then proceeds to smash the tar out of their zippy little vehicle with her own behemoth. The girls come running back out of the store screaming, "What are you doing??"
Kathy very calmly looks at them and says, "Face it, I'm older and I have better insurance."
Yep, I'm giving them the word this morning. Enough of your indolent attitudes. . .word up!
3.17.2008
3.16.2008
All My Children
"Good actions give strength to ourselves and inspire good actions in others." - Plato
I am not much on formal volunteerism and the accolades that accompany it. That's not why I do it. Instead, I prefer to do my thing in the background, and I teach my kids to do the same. Fourteen and I went up to the school to do a project with the kindergarten class. Once we finished, they broke out the play-dough.
The teacher, who has skooled a few McKnights in her time, commented that he was quite a popular fixture.
"Well," he said, "I COULD be at home watching t.v."
"Yeah," the teacher replied, "You're missing 'All My Children.'"
I joined in, "Instead, we're here with 'Half My Children!'" We giggled and the other two walked in the door. "NOW it's all of 'em!"
Kindergarteners are an easy group to please, and teenagers who take the time to do play-dough with them are always admired. I think it is nice that the older ones think enough of their little sis to spend time with her.
I worried about that (well, I worry about EVERYTHING!) often during the early years - that she'd have no relationship with her older sibs. But it's turned out okay.
I hope that our small gesture inspires these kids to do the same with the next gang to come along. . .it's all laid out in the philosophy of Play-dough. . .
I am not much on formal volunteerism and the accolades that accompany it. That's not why I do it. Instead, I prefer to do my thing in the background, and I teach my kids to do the same. Fourteen and I went up to the school to do a project with the kindergarten class. Once we finished, they broke out the play-dough.
The teacher, who has skooled a few McKnights in her time, commented that he was quite a popular fixture.
"Well," he said, "I COULD be at home watching t.v."
"Yeah," the teacher replied, "You're missing 'All My Children.'"
I joined in, "Instead, we're here with 'Half My Children!'" We giggled and the other two walked in the door. "NOW it's all of 'em!"
Kindergarteners are an easy group to please, and teenagers who take the time to do play-dough with them are always admired. I think it is nice that the older ones think enough of their little sis to spend time with her.
I worried about that (well, I worry about EVERYTHING!) often during the early years - that she'd have no relationship with her older sibs. But it's turned out okay.
I hope that our small gesture inspires these kids to do the same with the next gang to come along. . .it's all laid out in the philosophy of Play-dough. . .
3.14.2008
I Love You All the Ritz
"Dressed up like a million dollar trouper -
Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper (super duper!)
. . .Puttin' on the Ritz." - Taco
When Double Decades was a baby, my husband would tell him, "I love you all there is!"
Then my little man would respond, "Daddy, I love YOU all the ritz!"
I frequently remind them of the sloppy affection that existed between them before they started locking horns. I guess it's a man-thing. . .I just hope all the boys return from their upcoming "guy's weekend." Turkey season or something - the laundry was full of camo this morning. Maybe they need some time in the woods to sort it out.
I get so used to seeing my kids in their "natural state" that I am taken aback when they put on their "Ritz." We had an important function to attend last night which required belts and pressed dress shirts and clean fingernails and all my teens, past and present, rose to the occasion. There was nary an AC/DC t-shirt nor a flip-flop in sight!
Of course I did not take a picture as we were in a frenzied rush.
For as much as I complain about their shortcomings, I feel as though I should take pause to celebrate their triumphs.
You guys are wonderful and I am so proud of you.
(Okay. . .now clean your rooms before you leave. . .)
Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper (super duper!)
. . .Puttin' on the Ritz." - Taco
When Double Decades was a baby, my husband would tell him, "I love you all there is!"
Then my little man would respond, "Daddy, I love YOU all the ritz!"
I frequently remind them of the sloppy affection that existed between them before they started locking horns. I guess it's a man-thing. . .I just hope all the boys return from their upcoming "guy's weekend." Turkey season or something - the laundry was full of camo this morning. Maybe they need some time in the woods to sort it out.
I get so used to seeing my kids in their "natural state" that I am taken aback when they put on their "Ritz." We had an important function to attend last night which required belts and pressed dress shirts and clean fingernails and all my teens, past and present, rose to the occasion. There was nary an AC/DC t-shirt nor a flip-flop in sight!
Of course I did not take a picture as we were in a frenzied rush.
For as much as I complain about their shortcomings, I feel as though I should take pause to celebrate their triumphs.
You guys are wonderful and I am so proud of you.
(Okay. . .now clean your rooms before you leave. . .)
3.13.2008
Cut it Out!
"You walked into the party
Like you were walking onto a yacht -
Your hair strategically dipped below one eye,
Your scarf it was apricot. . ." - Carly Simon
Few things inspire pride in Fourteen like his hair.
His auburn locks cascade gracefully beyond his ears, over the top of his collar, where they end in a stunning flip. I can't decide if he looks like a supermodel or a character from a "Dickens" novel. "Alms for the poor, sir?"
Few things insprire the rest of the family to ridicule Fourteen like his hair.
Double Decades has been sporting his ROTC fade for six years now, never letting his crowning glory grow beyond a quarter inch. Fifteen for a Moment, her brain having been similarly washed in the military fashion, believes that running her fingers through a boy's hair should be no more than a short jog.
And what the heck happened to that guy I married? Twenty plus years ago, he was all I knew of the "Big Bang" theory! "A Flock of Seagulls" had nothing on his blow-dried, moussed do . . .now, if his scalp doesn't show, it's gotta go!
My husband tells a story about finding his detatched ponytail on the pillow one morning many years ago. As time has gone by, the perspective has changed: first told by a teenager and later by a father of teens, his own father's role in the story has gone from that of villian to hero.
I guess I am the odd one in the bunch. . .I figure it's his hair, he should wear it the way he wants (within reason, of course.) When they all start in on him, I tell them to cut it out.
"But Honey," Your Daddy Don't Rock and Roll pleads with me, "he looks like nobody loves him. He needs to do something with that hair. . ." So, being the "great compromiser" that I am, I took him to see my stylist, The Magic Man.
(I should add that my husband thinks the Magic Man is a "hair-genius" and has a great deal of respect for his work, but refuses to pay more than ten bucks for a cut or he'd use him too!)
The Magic Man did his thing, first listening to what we wanted, then achieving a balance between the long flowing mane and making my son look like the child of someone who cares. He even left the "flip" just beyond Fourteen's right eye.
I know there are more important things in the world - believe me, I am thankful that my child's worries are as minor as they are. Still, I'm glad I stood my ground on his behalf.
After all, you know what they say about kids - hair today, gone tomorrow.
Like you were walking onto a yacht -
Your hair strategically dipped below one eye,
Your scarf it was apricot. . ." - Carly Simon
Few things inspire pride in Fourteen like his hair.
His auburn locks cascade gracefully beyond his ears, over the top of his collar, where they end in a stunning flip. I can't decide if he looks like a supermodel or a character from a "Dickens" novel. "Alms for the poor, sir?"
Few things insprire the rest of the family to ridicule Fourteen like his hair.
Double Decades has been sporting his ROTC fade for six years now, never letting his crowning glory grow beyond a quarter inch. Fifteen for a Moment, her brain having been similarly washed in the military fashion, believes that running her fingers through a boy's hair should be no more than a short jog.
And what the heck happened to that guy I married? Twenty plus years ago, he was all I knew of the "Big Bang" theory! "A Flock of Seagulls" had nothing on his blow-dried, moussed do . . .now, if his scalp doesn't show, it's gotta go!
My husband tells a story about finding his detatched ponytail on the pillow one morning many years ago. As time has gone by, the perspective has changed: first told by a teenager and later by a father of teens, his own father's role in the story has gone from that of villian to hero.
I guess I am the odd one in the bunch. . .I figure it's his hair, he should wear it the way he wants (within reason, of course.) When they all start in on him, I tell them to cut it out.
"But Honey," Your Daddy Don't Rock and Roll pleads with me, "he looks like nobody loves him. He needs to do something with that hair. . ." So, being the "great compromiser" that I am, I took him to see my stylist, The Magic Man.
(I should add that my husband thinks the Magic Man is a "hair-genius" and has a great deal of respect for his work, but refuses to pay more than ten bucks for a cut or he'd use him too!)
The Magic Man did his thing, first listening to what we wanted, then achieving a balance between the long flowing mane and making my son look like the child of someone who cares. He even left the "flip" just beyond Fourteen's right eye.
I know there are more important things in the world - believe me, I am thankful that my child's worries are as minor as they are. Still, I'm glad I stood my ground on his behalf.
After all, you know what they say about kids - hair today, gone tomorrow.
3.12.2008
Raiders of the Lost Art
Some day I will figure out how to add music to this blog. However, for those of you who are reading this on the sly, maybe that's not such a good idea. Let's just keep it in our heads, shall we?
Cue theme from "Raiders of the Lost Ark"
I've been taking Fifteen for a Moment up to take her FCAT. Yes, yes I have. Wait! There's a good reason. Well, a couple of them.
Now that she's homeschooled, she's not required by law to take it. BUT, if she is going to receive a real diploma, she'll have to have it (I think.) I've also heard rumor that we can use her ACT or SAT scores as a substitute. . .I'll have to do more research and get back to you. Why do they have to make it so dang confusing???
From my moderately educated position, I told her, "Hey, it doesn't matter how you do on it anyway!"
"Really? Cool!"
"Yep, this year, your FCAT is moot!"
"Mom, why do you always use those big words??" If I hadn't been driving, I'd have closed my eyes and shaken my head.
We've also been waiting for her classes at FLVS to activate - it can sometimes take a couple of weeks. Monday morning, I suggested to her that we read a book.
"Why would I read a book, Mom?" She talks to me while texting someone else.
"For information! For entertainment! It doesn't matter what book, let's go find something that you'll wind up reading anyway. Orwell, Fitzgerald, Austen. . ." The way her thumbs were moving looked unnatural.
"Ugh! That sounds sooooo exciting. . .NOT!" Well, sarcasm while thumbing. At least she can multi-task.
"PUT THAT PHONE DOWN!" Oh! Hello. Eye contact! I dragged her reluctant self to the bookstore where,after a good hour and a half, we chose a timeless classic from the "It Girl" series. (Yes, she comes by that sarcasm honestly.) Her criteria was "something thin, not old, with short words."
Smut will have to do in the interim. My plan is to get Miss "Switched at Birth" reading, then drop in something worthwhile when she's not looking.
Recently, we read the assigned works (someone send me a note and tell me how to underline on this thing, please!) "Anthem" and "Farenheit 451" - I wish I'd have insisted on going through "Julius Ceasar" with her, but she suffered through it with her English teacher and it came off as "stupid." If I don't stay on her about it, she'd never read anything more compelling than "Teen Vogue." Between the frenzy of school, work and the extra-curricular, reading has just gotten lost.
Oh, but "nutenymure." (In my best Pepe Le Pew.)
I figured it wouldn't hurt for her to get out of the house for a couple of mornings and fill in some bubbles. It will be interesting to see if this no-pressure angle improves her scores any. And being away from me for a few hours may save her life!
So here I go, the Raider of the Lost Art of Reading. Like Indy, I'm just making this up as I go! Throw me my whip. . .
Have fun.
Cue theme from "Raiders of the Lost Ark"
I've been taking Fifteen for a Moment up to take her FCAT. Yes, yes I have. Wait! There's a good reason. Well, a couple of them.
Now that she's homeschooled, she's not required by law to take it. BUT, if she is going to receive a real diploma, she'll have to have it (I think.) I've also heard rumor that we can use her ACT or SAT scores as a substitute. . .I'll have to do more research and get back to you. Why do they have to make it so dang confusing???
From my moderately educated position, I told her, "Hey, it doesn't matter how you do on it anyway!"
"Really? Cool!"
"Yep, this year, your FCAT is moot!"
"Mom, why do you always use those big words??" If I hadn't been driving, I'd have closed my eyes and shaken my head.
We've also been waiting for her classes at FLVS to activate - it can sometimes take a couple of weeks. Monday morning, I suggested to her that we read a book.
"Why would I read a book, Mom?" She talks to me while texting someone else.
"For information! For entertainment! It doesn't matter what book, let's go find something that you'll wind up reading anyway. Orwell, Fitzgerald, Austen. . ." The way her thumbs were moving looked unnatural.
"Ugh! That sounds sooooo exciting. . .NOT!" Well, sarcasm while thumbing. At least she can multi-task.
"PUT THAT PHONE DOWN!" Oh! Hello. Eye contact! I dragged her reluctant self to the bookstore where,after a good hour and a half, we chose a timeless classic from the "It Girl" series. (Yes, she comes by that sarcasm honestly.) Her criteria was "something thin, not old, with short words."
Smut will have to do in the interim. My plan is to get Miss "Switched at Birth" reading, then drop in something worthwhile when she's not looking.
Recently, we read the assigned works (someone send me a note and tell me how to underline on this thing, please!) "Anthem" and "Farenheit 451" - I wish I'd have insisted on going through "Julius Ceasar" with her, but she suffered through it with her English teacher and it came off as "stupid." If I don't stay on her about it, she'd never read anything more compelling than "Teen Vogue." Between the frenzy of school, work and the extra-curricular, reading has just gotten lost.
Oh, but "nutenymure." (In my best Pepe Le Pew.)
I figured it wouldn't hurt for her to get out of the house for a couple of mornings and fill in some bubbles. It will be interesting to see if this no-pressure angle improves her scores any. And being away from me for a few hours may save her life!
So here I go, the Raider of the Lost Art of Reading. Like Indy, I'm just making this up as I go! Throw me my whip. . .
Have fun.
3.11.2008
Finding A Better Wetter
"Under the sea. . . under the sea. . .
Darling it's better
Down where it's wetter,
Take it from me. . ." - Sebastian the Crab, from "Little Mermaid"
I'll bet you expect me to write about the FCAT this morning, don't you?
Nope, instead I am going to tell you a story about swimming.
Yesterday, we took Six up to the Washington Aquatic Center - they'd advertised a swim team for kids. I called first, "What do we need to do?"
"Well, she'll need to come up and jump in. . .they just want to make sure she can dog paddle."
Before I'd even hung up the phone, she was digging out her bathing suit and giggling.
We arrived at the pool and filled out the appropriate paperwork. Fifteen met us there (she and her friend Lulu had just finished driver's ed class) to cheer her sister on.
"Can I get in, Mommy? Wait, I have to go to the bathroom!" My Six is writing a book entitled "Great Potties of America." We've got a lengthy list of them under our belts.
She came back and jumped in. "Okay, I'm going to see if you can pass the test," the young man said, "Now you need to swim to the end of the pool." We all turned and looked at him. No one had said anything about swimming to the end of the pool!
"Give her a minute," I said. "She's a good swimmer, but she hasn't been in the water since last summer." He waited patiently.
She looked fearful as she tried and tried again, each time sinking below the water in a panic.
"I'll get in with her, " Fifteen said. She took off her sweatshirt and jumped in, fully clothed. "Come on, Sweetie, you can do it." Lulu, not one to miss a wet t-shirt opportunity, jumped in too.
"Okay." Puff puff puff. "Okay." Paddle paddle paddle. "O-blub-kay." She just wasn't up to the challenge.
"You know what, we'll try later. . .come on out, pal."
"I couldn't do it, Mommy." She cried as I wrapped her in her towel. I felt so bad.
"You tried, baby. It's okay." I looked at Fifteen and friend, who stood beside us dripping defeatedly. "You're a good sister. Thanks guys."
I'd watched her swim like a fish last summer - jumping off the back of the boat, confidently bobbing along with her arms and legs paddling ninety to nothing. Doing tricks off the diving board and swimming from one end of the pool to the other. She is one joyful swimmer.
But I guess somehow all the pressure and feeling as though she were being put on the spot, the weirdness of two teens in wet jeans cheering her on and mom and a coach looking at her worriedly and expectantly were just too much.
Does it mean that we need to keep her out of the water? Of course not! It just means that she doesn't perform well as a swimmer when she's under the gun. Once we get her in the right environment, where she can just do her thing, we'll have to nail that girl's fins to the floor!
When you dump all that stress on a kid, you're just not going to get the same result.
And you thought I was going to write about the FCAT. . .
Darling it's better
Down where it's wetter,
Take it from me. . ." - Sebastian the Crab, from "Little Mermaid"
I'll bet you expect me to write about the FCAT this morning, don't you?
Nope, instead I am going to tell you a story about swimming.
Yesterday, we took Six up to the Washington Aquatic Center - they'd advertised a swim team for kids. I called first, "What do we need to do?"
"Well, she'll need to come up and jump in. . .they just want to make sure she can dog paddle."
Before I'd even hung up the phone, she was digging out her bathing suit and giggling.
We arrived at the pool and filled out the appropriate paperwork. Fifteen met us there (she and her friend Lulu had just finished driver's ed class) to cheer her sister on.
"Can I get in, Mommy? Wait, I have to go to the bathroom!" My Six is writing a book entitled "Great Potties of America." We've got a lengthy list of them under our belts.
She came back and jumped in. "Okay, I'm going to see if you can pass the test," the young man said, "Now you need to swim to the end of the pool." We all turned and looked at him. No one had said anything about swimming to the end of the pool!
"Give her a minute," I said. "She's a good swimmer, but she hasn't been in the water since last summer." He waited patiently.
She looked fearful as she tried and tried again, each time sinking below the water in a panic.
"I'll get in with her, " Fifteen said. She took off her sweatshirt and jumped in, fully clothed. "Come on, Sweetie, you can do it." Lulu, not one to miss a wet t-shirt opportunity, jumped in too.
"Okay." Puff puff puff. "Okay." Paddle paddle paddle. "O-blub-kay." She just wasn't up to the challenge.
"You know what, we'll try later. . .come on out, pal."
"I couldn't do it, Mommy." She cried as I wrapped her in her towel. I felt so bad.
"You tried, baby. It's okay." I looked at Fifteen and friend, who stood beside us dripping defeatedly. "You're a good sister. Thanks guys."
I'd watched her swim like a fish last summer - jumping off the back of the boat, confidently bobbing along with her arms and legs paddling ninety to nothing. Doing tricks off the diving board and swimming from one end of the pool to the other. She is one joyful swimmer.
But I guess somehow all the pressure and feeling as though she were being put on the spot, the weirdness of two teens in wet jeans cheering her on and mom and a coach looking at her worriedly and expectantly were just too much.
Does it mean that we need to keep her out of the water? Of course not! It just means that she doesn't perform well as a swimmer when she's under the gun. Once we get her in the right environment, where she can just do her thing, we'll have to nail that girl's fins to the floor!
When you dump all that stress on a kid, you're just not going to get the same result.
And you thought I was going to write about the FCAT. . .
3.10.2008
Spring Forward Gets You to Five Faster
"At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder,
What would Jimmy Buffet do?" - Alan Jackson
The Monday after "Spring Foward" is usually my least favorite day of the year.
Nobody wants to get up, everyone is grumbly and I feel like I am running behind all day! Oh snap, I'll have to come back and finish this in a few minutes. . .
So, it's what, like 8:15am?? No, it's 5:15pm. . .and here I am.
I HAVE learned something very important today that I would like to share. There is a reason that Teens do not see things the same way we do. Would you like to know what it is?
It's because they've all got their heads up their -
Note: this blog has been pre-empted by the author's afternoon cocktail. It's five o'clock somewhere, oh, here! (even if it only feels like four!)
Have fun - and remember, you are a human and it is illegal to eat your young.
What would Jimmy Buffet do?" - Alan Jackson
The Monday after "Spring Foward" is usually my least favorite day of the year.
Nobody wants to get up, everyone is grumbly and I feel like I am running behind all day! Oh snap, I'll have to come back and finish this in a few minutes. . .
So, it's what, like 8:15am?? No, it's 5:15pm. . .and here I am.
I HAVE learned something very important today that I would like to share. There is a reason that Teens do not see things the same way we do. Would you like to know what it is?
It's because they've all got their heads up their -
Note: this blog has been pre-empted by the author's afternoon cocktail. It's five o'clock somewhere, oh, here! (even if it only feels like four!)
Have fun - and remember, you are a human and it is illegal to eat your young.
3.07.2008
What You Need
"Hey, here is the story:
Forget about your troubles in life.
Don't you know it's not easy
When you've gotta walk upon that line?
That's why -
You need
That's what - this is what you need.
I'll give you what you need.
Don't you get sad and lonely.
You need a change from what you do all day.
Ain't no sense in all your crying,
Just pick it up and throw it into shape.
That's why - you need.
That's what - this is what you need. . ." - INXS
Can you tell I was a teen in the eighties?
When I write my blog each day for you, dear reader, it serves a dual purpose. The first is theraputic. When I see my life in words on a screen with the pretty pink and green background, it doesn't seem so dark and crazy.
The second is that I have spent years getting to a point in my life where I feel comfortable with who I am as a Mom. When they hand you a squirmy pink human in the hospital for the first time, suddenly everything you thought you knew about your competence and place in the universe goes flying right out of your head. Recovering who you are can be a process!
I would love to save some other Mom from all the self-doubt and worry that I had to go through to get to my Happy Place. My Mom always says that free advice is worth what it is worth. When you're a Mom, free advice exists in abundance. I wish I'd have spent less time fretting over advice and more time following my heart. . .and learned earlier to let the water flow on under the bridge. There is no "Perfect." Learning to accept that and move on is the best gift a Mom can give herself.
That doesn't mean that I don't have my moments. But at least I can see them coming on and deal with them - before I start all my crying, I pick it up and throw it into shape. And rocking out to a little INXS helps, too. Sometimes that's all you need. . .
Have fun!
Forget about your troubles in life.
Don't you know it's not easy
When you've gotta walk upon that line?
That's why -
You need
That's what - this is what you need.
I'll give you what you need.
Don't you get sad and lonely.
You need a change from what you do all day.
Ain't no sense in all your crying,
Just pick it up and throw it into shape.
That's why - you need.
That's what - this is what you need. . ." - INXS
Can you tell I was a teen in the eighties?
When I write my blog each day for you, dear reader, it serves a dual purpose. The first is theraputic. When I see my life in words on a screen with the pretty pink and green background, it doesn't seem so dark and crazy.
The second is that I have spent years getting to a point in my life where I feel comfortable with who I am as a Mom. When they hand you a squirmy pink human in the hospital for the first time, suddenly everything you thought you knew about your competence and place in the universe goes flying right out of your head. Recovering who you are can be a process!
I would love to save some other Mom from all the self-doubt and worry that I had to go through to get to my Happy Place. My Mom always says that free advice is worth what it is worth. When you're a Mom, free advice exists in abundance. I wish I'd have spent less time fretting over advice and more time following my heart. . .and learned earlier to let the water flow on under the bridge. There is no "Perfect." Learning to accept that and move on is the best gift a Mom can give herself.
That doesn't mean that I don't have my moments. But at least I can see them coming on and deal with them - before I start all my crying, I pick it up and throw it into shape. And rocking out to a little INXS helps, too. Sometimes that's all you need. . .
Have fun!
3.06.2008
Zeroing In
When Fifteen for a Moment needs a new outfit, we can point at the one in the window, find her a size ZERO, put it on her and TAH-DAH! Sock it to me!
When your's truly, Twenty Nineteen, needs a new outfit, she looks at the ones in the store window and sighs, finds ZERO options that are appropriate, tries on something matronly in disgust and can't see past the sock prints on her ankles.
Mwa Mwa Mwa Mwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. . .
When your's truly, Twenty Nineteen, needs a new outfit, she looks at the ones in the store window and sighs, finds ZERO options that are appropriate, tries on something matronly in disgust and can't see past the sock prints on her ankles.
Mwa Mwa Mwa Mwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. . .
3.05.2008
You Ain't No Friend of Mine
"You just call out my name
And you know, wherever I am,
I'll come running. . .
You've got a friend." - James Taylor
Billy Ray Cyrus, the Achy Breaky real-life dad of "Hannah Montana," is quoted as saying that he wants to be his daughter Miley's best friend.
My first reaction was to roll my eyes.
"You can't be a parent AND a friend." I thought to myself. Then I remebered one of my favorite Erma Bombeck quips - "Parents who are critical of other people's children and publicly admit they can do better are asking for it." So, uh, good luck, there, Billy Ray.
My daughter's Myspace profile is all about the people who matter the most to her in her life. . .her friends. I listened to her read it aloud. With passion in her voice, she celebrated the way her friends are "always there for her" and "never let her down."
I waited for the part where she celebrated the person she runs to when those great and wonderful friends decide that they are NOT her friends anymore because someone said that she said something about someone who said that what she supposedly said meant that they were no longer friends.
Certainly the words of devotion and admiration for that person were forthcoming. She got to the end of her homage and looked at me. "Well?"
"And?" I asked.
"And what? What do you think? Am I a good writer?"
"Well, yes... you did a great job of honoring your friends...but..."
"But what?"
"What about The Mom? I am always there for you. I never turn my back on you."
"Mom, people don't put 'I love my Mommy' on their Myspace page. . . that's dorky!"
"Oh, okay. Well, looks good, Baby."
I wondered to myself how many of her friends lay awake in the wee hours worrying about her. How many of those friends would have gone without food or new clothes or watched "The Lion King" five thousand times with her like I did? Which of those friends would have rubbed her leg cramps at three in the morning or held her while she was sick or given their life for her?
I guess it's my own fault. I've said to her, "I am NOT your friend, I am your Mother." And I don't really want to be her friend in the context of giggling over boys or slamming back a few sasparillas or listening to rap music while carrying on a phone conversation about how bored we are.
But I'd like for her to feel like I am there for her, like I have her best interest at heart all the time regardless of my own personal agenda. If only there were a way to convey to her the true depth of my love and concern for her. . .ahhh, one day she'll have kids and then she'll get it.
Hmmmm, maybe I WILL let her get that tattoo. . . on one condition - "I love my MOTHER" spelled out in big letters across her backside. After all, she already sees me as a pain there, so what the heck?
Have fun!
And you know, wherever I am,
I'll come running. . .
You've got a friend." - James Taylor
Billy Ray Cyrus, the Achy Breaky real-life dad of "Hannah Montana," is quoted as saying that he wants to be his daughter Miley's best friend.
My first reaction was to roll my eyes.
"You can't be a parent AND a friend." I thought to myself. Then I remebered one of my favorite Erma Bombeck quips - "Parents who are critical of other people's children and publicly admit they can do better are asking for it." So, uh, good luck, there, Billy Ray.
My daughter's Myspace profile is all about the people who matter the most to her in her life. . .her friends. I listened to her read it aloud. With passion in her voice, she celebrated the way her friends are "always there for her" and "never let her down."
I waited for the part where she celebrated the person she runs to when those great and wonderful friends decide that they are NOT her friends anymore because someone said that she said something about someone who said that what she supposedly said meant that they were no longer friends.
Certainly the words of devotion and admiration for that person were forthcoming. She got to the end of her homage and looked at me. "Well?"
"And?" I asked.
"And what? What do you think? Am I a good writer?"
"Well, yes... you did a great job of honoring your friends...but..."
"But what?"
"What about The Mom? I am always there for you. I never turn my back on you."
"Mom, people don't put 'I love my Mommy' on their Myspace page. . . that's dorky!"
"Oh, okay. Well, looks good, Baby."
I wondered to myself how many of her friends lay awake in the wee hours worrying about her. How many of those friends would have gone without food or new clothes or watched "The Lion King" five thousand times with her like I did? Which of those friends would have rubbed her leg cramps at three in the morning or held her while she was sick or given their life for her?
I guess it's my own fault. I've said to her, "I am NOT your friend, I am your Mother." And I don't really want to be her friend in the context of giggling over boys or slamming back a few sasparillas or listening to rap music while carrying on a phone conversation about how bored we are.
But I'd like for her to feel like I am there for her, like I have her best interest at heart all the time regardless of my own personal agenda. If only there were a way to convey to her the true depth of my love and concern for her. . .ahhh, one day she'll have kids and then she'll get it.
Hmmmm, maybe I WILL let her get that tattoo. . . on one condition - "I love my MOTHER" spelled out in big letters across her backside. After all, she already sees me as a pain there, so what the heck?
Have fun!
3.04.2008
Happy Anniversary, Baby!
"A good marriage is my reward for not having committed murder in the early years." - me
Yesterday we quietly celebrated our anniversary.
It feels like we've always been "us" - I can't imagine my life without him. I reckon he feels that same way. . .after all, he has a fishin' buddy that he can not only smooch on, but who will fix his dinner and wash his socks! Does it get any better?
Of course, I hold my parent's marriage up as an example - my Mom and stepDad were married for 27 1/2 years when he died. They disagreed (often!), but never fought. There was never "his" or "hers" - we were all "theirs." And there was never any question as to where the affection belonged. . .through cancer, through kids (and grandkids), through illness and even death. They are the love of each other's lives.
What a wonderful gift they've given to us. . .to know that real love is not only a possibility, but can become a reality with a little work and a lot of knowing when to just smile and nod!!!
Another lesson I learned from my parents is that EVERY day is a cause for celebration, not just the "special occasions." Although, it was nice to get all dolled up and share a quiet dinner.
Hmmmm. . . maybe tonight I'll throw on a little lipstick with my pot roast, just for giggles.
Celebrate today. . .and have fun!
Yesterday we quietly celebrated our anniversary.
It feels like we've always been "us" - I can't imagine my life without him. I reckon he feels that same way. . .after all, he has a fishin' buddy that he can not only smooch on, but who will fix his dinner and wash his socks! Does it get any better?
Of course, I hold my parent's marriage up as an example - my Mom and stepDad were married for 27 1/2 years when he died. They disagreed (often!), but never fought. There was never "his" or "hers" - we were all "theirs." And there was never any question as to where the affection belonged. . .through cancer, through kids (and grandkids), through illness and even death. They are the love of each other's lives.
What a wonderful gift they've given to us. . .to know that real love is not only a possibility, but can become a reality with a little work and a lot of knowing when to just smile and nod!!!
Another lesson I learned from my parents is that EVERY day is a cause for celebration, not just the "special occasions." Although, it was nice to get all dolled up and share a quiet dinner.
Hmmmm. . . maybe tonight I'll throw on a little lipstick with my pot roast, just for giggles.
Celebrate today. . .and have fun!
3.03.2008
Ice Ice Baby
"Ice ice baby, too cold. . ." - Vanilla Ice
(okay, you can stop doing the little dance now. . .)
Last night we attended a fist fight and the Ice Pilots game broke out. We made it just in time for the "puck off." (I explained to my husband, football has a kick-of, basketball has a jump-off, hockey obviously has a puck-off. . .duh!)
There was a guy on the other team named "Czech" - he was good for a few laughs:
"Hey, Czech him out!"
"Ooops, he fell on the ice - looks like a bounced Czech!"
"You think he has a twin? Maybe we should Double Czech. . ."
"You know how he got to America? By parcel post, probably. Yeah, I heard the Czech was in the mail!"
We had a great time (thanks to our connections in the CIA who gave us the tix!) However, we were sans the two oldest of the gang.
It's always weird to go places with a "portion" of my children. I feel that they are a badge of honor, if not an explanation. "Oh, THAT's why that woman has the pained look on her face!"
The young ladies would not stop staring at Fourteen. And I don't just mean the YOUNG ladies, I mean tall girls with boobies. I was tempted a few times to holler at them - "Jailbait! Keep on moving." It's rather disconcerting as I still think of him as being about four.
Once we were all back home, Fifteen for a Moment shared that she met a guy at work who could be the illegitimate love child of Brad Pitt and Ben Affleck. "And we even have the same birthday, Mom, how cool is that???"
She repeated her birth day and month, lest I'd forgotten.
"Yeah, but his is in what year?" I asked.
"Um, 1988. . ."
"Oh no, don't EVEN go there!" We giggled. At least, I HOPE she was giggling out of silliness and not in an attempt to cover up the wheels that were spinning wildly in her pretty little head - that she might actually GO OUT with someone who was born in the eighties.
Meanwhile, Fourteen was chronicling his latest dilemma as he perused his MySpace messages. "I've got like FIVE girls who like me. . ."
"You know that you are capable of getting someone pregnant, right?"
"Ack, pffftht, ugh! Mom, YES, I know. . .do we have to go THERE? I just said they LIKED me, not that we were, you know, INTIMATE. . ." he waved his spirit fingers for emphasis.
"Just a friendly reminder from the poster woman for birth control."
It is extrememly difficult to navigate this stuff again, especially since Double Decades has made it over "wall" - his actions are no longer my responsibility (in theory, anyway.) I try to keep it light, but I don't believe that any of my children are ready to handle the overwhelming onus of parenthood, much less the complications of sex.
I tucked the baby in last night and kissed her. "I wish you could stay six forever."
"But Mommy, I want to grow up to be a mommy and have three thousand kids like you!"
Dang! The consequences that arise from being just too darn good at something. . .
"If there was a problem, Yo, I'll solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it. . .
Ice ice baby. . ."
Have fun!
(okay, you can stop doing the little dance now. . .)
Last night we attended a fist fight and the Ice Pilots game broke out. We made it just in time for the "puck off." (I explained to my husband, football has a kick-of, basketball has a jump-off, hockey obviously has a puck-off. . .duh!)
There was a guy on the other team named "Czech" - he was good for a few laughs:
"Hey, Czech him out!"
"Ooops, he fell on the ice - looks like a bounced Czech!"
"You think he has a twin? Maybe we should Double Czech. . ."
"You know how he got to America? By parcel post, probably. Yeah, I heard the Czech was in the mail!"
We had a great time (thanks to our connections in the CIA who gave us the tix!) However, we were sans the two oldest of the gang.
It's always weird to go places with a "portion" of my children. I feel that they are a badge of honor, if not an explanation. "Oh, THAT's why that woman has the pained look on her face!"
The young ladies would not stop staring at Fourteen. And I don't just mean the YOUNG ladies, I mean tall girls with boobies. I was tempted a few times to holler at them - "Jailbait! Keep on moving." It's rather disconcerting as I still think of him as being about four.
Once we were all back home, Fifteen for a Moment shared that she met a guy at work who could be the illegitimate love child of Brad Pitt and Ben Affleck. "And we even have the same birthday, Mom, how cool is that???"
She repeated her birth day and month, lest I'd forgotten.
"Yeah, but his is in what year?" I asked.
"Um, 1988. . ."
"Oh no, don't EVEN go there!" We giggled. At least, I HOPE she was giggling out of silliness and not in an attempt to cover up the wheels that were spinning wildly in her pretty little head - that she might actually GO OUT with someone who was born in the eighties.
Meanwhile, Fourteen was chronicling his latest dilemma as he perused his MySpace messages. "I've got like FIVE girls who like me. . ."
"You know that you are capable of getting someone pregnant, right?"
"Ack, pffftht, ugh! Mom, YES, I know. . .do we have to go THERE? I just said they LIKED me, not that we were, you know, INTIMATE. . ." he waved his spirit fingers for emphasis.
"Just a friendly reminder from the poster woman for birth control."
It is extrememly difficult to navigate this stuff again, especially since Double Decades has made it over "wall" - his actions are no longer my responsibility (in theory, anyway.) I try to keep it light, but I don't believe that any of my children are ready to handle the overwhelming onus of parenthood, much less the complications of sex.
I tucked the baby in last night and kissed her. "I wish you could stay six forever."
"But Mommy, I want to grow up to be a mommy and have three thousand kids like you!"
Dang! The consequences that arise from being just too darn good at something. . .
"If there was a problem, Yo, I'll solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it. . .
Ice ice baby. . ."
Have fun!
3.01.2008
Great Expectations
"It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair." - Charles Dickens
Ah, spring is in the air.
And the pregnant women are all over Wally World.
They stand amidst the racks of tiny clothing, abesntmindedly stroking their melonous bellies with a peaceful contentedness.
Why should I take affront to their fronts? "Yes Ma'am, I do stroke my belly, Ma'am. But not at you, Ma'am."
After four children, I think I have done my part. My poor tummy has been stretched from hither to yon and bears the marks to prove it. It looks like a relief map of downtown Houston, for cryin out loud!
And there is no way in HELL I'd ever go through labor again. . . what is wrong with me???
I guess it is just a passing hormonal whim, like a star that has burned out long ago but who's light is still visible from earth. A ghostly craving. . .boom boom boom, let's go back to my womb.
Really, by the time I made the checkout line, which was chock-full of screaming infants, I was completely over it. I should, at this point in my life, be bracing myself for impending grandparenthood.
Oh my gosh, I hope my teens will wait a while and let me catch my breath from the first round!
Have fun!
Ah, spring is in the air.
And the pregnant women are all over Wally World.
They stand amidst the racks of tiny clothing, abesntmindedly stroking their melonous bellies with a peaceful contentedness.
Why should I take affront to their fronts? "Yes Ma'am, I do stroke my belly, Ma'am. But not at you, Ma'am."
After four children, I think I have done my part. My poor tummy has been stretched from hither to yon and bears the marks to prove it. It looks like a relief map of downtown Houston, for cryin out loud!
And there is no way in HELL I'd ever go through labor again. . . what is wrong with me???
I guess it is just a passing hormonal whim, like a star that has burned out long ago but who's light is still visible from earth. A ghostly craving. . .boom boom boom, let's go back to my womb.
Really, by the time I made the checkout line, which was chock-full of screaming infants, I was completely over it. I should, at this point in my life, be bracing myself for impending grandparenthood.
Oh my gosh, I hope my teens will wait a while and let me catch my breath from the first round!
Have fun!
2.29.2008
Weird Is All Relative
"Worry is like a rocking chair--it gives you something to do but it doesn't get you anywhere." - Anonymous
Sometimes seven days can make one weak.
And reflecting on the last week leaves me in Awwww of myself (yes, I know how I spelled it.)
I have a tendancy to "overthink" everything I do. I always want to look at the other side of things, consider all the angles. It's so easy to view things in black and white and ignore the subtle shades of gray. . .I just want to cover my generous behind, you know?
I live in a world of "what ifs" - what if I would have homeschooled Double Decades? What if I had listened to more classical music while they were in utero? What if Michael Jackson is just misunderstood??
Okay, you get my point. Second-guessing is often second-nature for a parent. But like I told my own Dad yesterday, we all just do the best we can. (Dad, I'm almost forty and I am not on crack. . .you are a fine parent!)
With my decision to "wreck" the life of Fifteen for a Moment, I am actually becoming more comfortable with it the more thinking I do. I've been surprised at the number of parents who have come to me this week asking me - yeah, ME - for advice, saying "You know, I've secretly been thinking about doing the same thing. . .but I couldn't get past the 'weirdness' of it."
Weird is all relative (and believe me, I have some weird relatives!) - you're not going to "mess your kids up" by homeschooling them, or by leaving them in the public schools. Your kids are going to be who they are - what homeschooling is offering me is a chance to do what I think is right for my children. I am not changing the education, I am changing the environment.
And if it does turn out that I've made all the wrong choices and flaked them all out. . .well, they can always make money on the talk-show circuit.
Have fun!
Sometimes seven days can make one weak.
And reflecting on the last week leaves me in Awwww of myself (yes, I know how I spelled it.)
I have a tendancy to "overthink" everything I do. I always want to look at the other side of things, consider all the angles. It's so easy to view things in black and white and ignore the subtle shades of gray. . .I just want to cover my generous behind, you know?
I live in a world of "what ifs" - what if I would have homeschooled Double Decades? What if I had listened to more classical music while they were in utero? What if Michael Jackson is just misunderstood??
Okay, you get my point. Second-guessing is often second-nature for a parent. But like I told my own Dad yesterday, we all just do the best we can. (Dad, I'm almost forty and I am not on crack. . .you are a fine parent!)
With my decision to "wreck" the life of Fifteen for a Moment, I am actually becoming more comfortable with it the more thinking I do. I've been surprised at the number of parents who have come to me this week asking me - yeah, ME - for advice, saying "You know, I've secretly been thinking about doing the same thing. . .but I couldn't get past the 'weirdness' of it."
Weird is all relative (and believe me, I have some weird relatives!) - you're not going to "mess your kids up" by homeschooling them, or by leaving them in the public schools. Your kids are going to be who they are - what homeschooling is offering me is a chance to do what I think is right for my children. I am not changing the education, I am changing the environment.
And if it does turn out that I've made all the wrong choices and flaked them all out. . .well, they can always make money on the talk-show circuit.
Have fun!
2.27.2008
Whine, With a Little Cheese
"Go ahead. Make my day."
I have had the crazy day from hell today.
But just when I was very busy feeling sorry for myself, my whole outlook on things changed.
I didn't really have the time, but I had promised Fourteen that I would take him to the hospital to see his friend - the one who had been hit by a car over the weekend. I stopped by Wally World to pick up a Skateboard Magazine, some chapstick and a card. I brought it all home, took it inside, looked longingly at my lonely sofa and sighed. I had promised. I grudgingly got BACK in the car and drove him up there.
It's five o'clock. I'm tired. I just want to sit down for a minute. Wah wah wah. I felt sorry for myself the whole way.
I limped into the hospital (I'd pulled a muscle in my calf at Six's "Fitness Club" on Monday - what a dork!) and we made our way to the Pediatric ICU. My son talked with the nurse on the phone and they admitted him through the double doors.
While I waited in the hallway, a lovely, tiny, soft-spoken young woman walked past. "Are you K's Mom?"
"Yes. . ." It turns out she was the friend's sister.
"They just took out his ventillator and moved him to a bigger room. He's been waiting all day to see your son!"
Right then and there I realized that my "inconvenience" had meant the world to that young man. My son's visit had probably really lifted his spirits. And I had almost talked myself out of going.
But that's life, isn't it? Sometimes the stuff that seems like a chore turns out to be the thing that we need the most.
I know his family is going through a really tough time, and they remain in our prayers. But I think I also owe them MY gratitude today - for helping me keep it in perspective.
Thanks, you made my day.
I have had the crazy day from hell today.
But just when I was very busy feeling sorry for myself, my whole outlook on things changed.
I didn't really have the time, but I had promised Fourteen that I would take him to the hospital to see his friend - the one who had been hit by a car over the weekend. I stopped by Wally World to pick up a Skateboard Magazine, some chapstick and a card. I brought it all home, took it inside, looked longingly at my lonely sofa and sighed. I had promised. I grudgingly got BACK in the car and drove him up there.
It's five o'clock. I'm tired. I just want to sit down for a minute. Wah wah wah. I felt sorry for myself the whole way.
I limped into the hospital (I'd pulled a muscle in my calf at Six's "Fitness Club" on Monday - what a dork!) and we made our way to the Pediatric ICU. My son talked with the nurse on the phone and they admitted him through the double doors.
While I waited in the hallway, a lovely, tiny, soft-spoken young woman walked past. "Are you K's Mom?"
"Yes. . ." It turns out she was the friend's sister.
"They just took out his ventillator and moved him to a bigger room. He's been waiting all day to see your son!"
Right then and there I realized that my "inconvenience" had meant the world to that young man. My son's visit had probably really lifted his spirits. And I had almost talked myself out of going.
But that's life, isn't it? Sometimes the stuff that seems like a chore turns out to be the thing that we need the most.
I know his family is going through a really tough time, and they remain in our prayers. But I think I also owe them MY gratitude today - for helping me keep it in perspective.
Thanks, you made my day.
Withdrawn
It's official, we're withdrawn.
In many ways.
Now, the fun stuff begins: contacting virtual school guidance, setting up our classes, following up with the homeschool office and PJC for extracurricular stuff, etc.
This is going to be fun. . .will someone please send Miss Withdrawn a Memo??
In many ways.
Now, the fun stuff begins: contacting virtual school guidance, setting up our classes, following up with the homeschool office and PJC for extracurricular stuff, etc.
This is going to be fun. . .will someone please send Miss Withdrawn a Memo??
2.26.2008
Gettin' Skooled
"If I go there will be trouble
But if I stay it could be double. . ." - The Clash
It is the instinct of the mother to protect her young. Some days, it's as simple as protecting them from eating too much candy, or from the horror of having a messy room.
But what do you do when you feel like you need to protect them from going to school?
Fifteen for a Moment is so distraught - her dad and I have decided that she's not going back to public school. "But what about my friends? What about ROTC? It's NOT FAIR!"
No, darling, it's not. I hope she understands that our decision has not come lightly, or without a great deal of thought.
We've just had enough.
Who's to blame? The school district, the government, society? I guess it doesn't matter. Because whoever is to blame, it's up to us to make our own choices.
Even if it stinks.
But if I stay it could be double. . ." - The Clash
It is the instinct of the mother to protect her young. Some days, it's as simple as protecting them from eating too much candy, or from the horror of having a messy room.
But what do you do when you feel like you need to protect them from going to school?
Fifteen for a Moment is so distraught - her dad and I have decided that she's not going back to public school. "But what about my friends? What about ROTC? It's NOT FAIR!"
No, darling, it's not. I hope she understands that our decision has not come lightly, or without a great deal of thought.
We've just had enough.
Who's to blame? The school district, the government, society? I guess it doesn't matter. Because whoever is to blame, it's up to us to make our own choices.
Even if it stinks.
2.23.2008
Turn Me Loose
"Turn me loose, turn me loose.
I've gotta do it my way. . .
Or no way at all!" - Loverboy
We've had a house-full all day!
A smashing princess party for Sweet Six, young teenage boys selflessly offering to serve "clean-up" on the food, a visit from Double Decades' friend "Moochie" before he heads off to the Marine Corps tomorrow, and some older teen girls in the mix for kicks. . .
As Double Decades was leaving with one of the girls, I asked the young lady if her parents minded her riding on the back of his motorcycle. After all, I don't let MY kids ride there. Heck, even HE's not "allowed" to ride that motorcycle! (Adulthood totally wrecks my parental control!)
"No, they don't care about me. . ." she replied.
"Well," I started, knowing perspective is all a matter of, well, perspective, "maybe they just feel like you're mature and responsible enough to make good choices."
They left for points unknown and I called the rest of the gang to the table.
"S'EAT!" The McKnight equivalent of the dinner bell.
Fourteen stopped us before we got to the "Amen" to ask us to say a prayer for a freind of his who'd been hit by a car.
"Was it the boy who was hit last night at 9th and Creighton. . .at 9:30 in the rain??" my husband asked. "What was he doing out that late at night?"
"Probably." Fourteen replied, "His parents just let him go wherever he wants to go. A lot of my friends are like that. You know R-? His mom lets him stay out all night and just says 'hey' when he walks in the next morning. . .no big deal."
Mr. McKnight and I exchanged a glance. He's only fourteen!
"Yeah," Fifteen joined in. "My friends get to do what they want. Their parents TRUST them. They're not strict like y'all." Everyone Else's Parents strike again!
"Well, dear, you got to ride around in a car today with your friends, go to Wal Mart and Taco Bell - we didn't ask for your itinerary or call you a hundred times. . .baby steps, okay?"
Later, my husband and I marveled at the way our kids view us. Sure, it would be a lot easier to just turn them loose and hope for the best! But that makes as much sense to me as not paying my power bill and assuming that the lights won't go out. I'm hoping the severe pain they provide in my posterior region will pay off...they need to live long enough to have kids of their own!
Yes, someday, I'll turn them loose - but I'm going to do it my way.
I've gotta do it my way. . .
Or no way at all!" - Loverboy
We've had a house-full all day!
A smashing princess party for Sweet Six, young teenage boys selflessly offering to serve "clean-up" on the food, a visit from Double Decades' friend "Moochie" before he heads off to the Marine Corps tomorrow, and some older teen girls in the mix for kicks. . .
As Double Decades was leaving with one of the girls, I asked the young lady if her parents minded her riding on the back of his motorcycle. After all, I don't let MY kids ride there. Heck, even HE's not "allowed" to ride that motorcycle! (Adulthood totally wrecks my parental control!)
"No, they don't care about me. . ." she replied.
"Well," I started, knowing perspective is all a matter of, well, perspective, "maybe they just feel like you're mature and responsible enough to make good choices."
They left for points unknown and I called the rest of the gang to the table.
"S'EAT!" The McKnight equivalent of the dinner bell.
Fourteen stopped us before we got to the "Amen" to ask us to say a prayer for a freind of his who'd been hit by a car.
"Was it the boy who was hit last night at 9th and Creighton. . .at 9:30 in the rain??" my husband asked. "What was he doing out that late at night?"
"Probably." Fourteen replied, "His parents just let him go wherever he wants to go. A lot of my friends are like that. You know R-? His mom lets him stay out all night and just says 'hey' when he walks in the next morning. . .no big deal."
Mr. McKnight and I exchanged a glance. He's only fourteen!
"Yeah," Fifteen joined in. "My friends get to do what they want. Their parents TRUST them. They're not strict like y'all." Everyone Else's Parents strike again!
"Well, dear, you got to ride around in a car today with your friends, go to Wal Mart and Taco Bell - we didn't ask for your itinerary or call you a hundred times. . .baby steps, okay?"
Later, my husband and I marveled at the way our kids view us. Sure, it would be a lot easier to just turn them loose and hope for the best! But that makes as much sense to me as not paying my power bill and assuming that the lights won't go out. I'm hoping the severe pain they provide in my posterior region will pay off...they need to live long enough to have kids of their own!
Yes, someday, I'll turn them loose - but I'm going to do it my way.
2.22.2008
Hit the Road
"Well, it's allright
Yeah, I'll be fine.
Don't worry about this heart of mine. . .
Take your love and hit the road." - Wreckers
I don't care much for long goodbyes. I'd braced myself for the departure of Double Decades this Sunday, but it looks like he's here for another week or so until they get paperwork issues straight.
While I still hate to see him go. . .I think he is ready. And maybe I am ready, too.
I don't like my home being his 3 a.m. crash pad, if you know what I mean. It's weird when they move out then move back in (Uh, yeah, this is where I inject another one of those belated "sorry" messages to my parents - love y'all!!!)
Yep, we'll all be fine. . . and maybe I can get some sleep!
Yeah, I'll be fine.
Don't worry about this heart of mine. . .
Take your love and hit the road." - Wreckers
I don't care much for long goodbyes. I'd braced myself for the departure of Double Decades this Sunday, but it looks like he's here for another week or so until they get paperwork issues straight.
While I still hate to see him go. . .I think he is ready. And maybe I am ready, too.
I don't like my home being his 3 a.m. crash pad, if you know what I mean. It's weird when they move out then move back in (Uh, yeah, this is where I inject another one of those belated "sorry" messages to my parents - love y'all!!!)
Yep, we'll all be fine. . . and maybe I can get some sleep!
2.21.2008
Date Night!
"I'm gonna stick like glue. . .
Stick, because I'm (bomp bomp) stuck on you!" - Elvis
There's a sticky note on the calendar. . .tonight is date night!!
Once a week, usually on Thursdays, that dude who sleeps with me takes me out for whatever we can afford - usually a cup a' joe - and we spend an hour or two enjoying our time alone.
That brief bonding in the middle of our busy week is the glue that holds us together. . .my husband agrees that it cements our relationship. I guess you could say the feeling is mucilage!
Stick, because I'm (bomp bomp) stuck on you!" - Elvis
There's a sticky note on the calendar. . .tonight is date night!!
Once a week, usually on Thursdays, that dude who sleeps with me takes me out for whatever we can afford - usually a cup a' joe - and we spend an hour or two enjoying our time alone.
That brief bonding in the middle of our busy week is the glue that holds us together. . .my husband agrees that it cements our relationship. I guess you could say the feeling is mucilage!
2.20.2008
Eyeballs Deep
“Every man alone is sincere. At the entrance of a second person, hypocrisy begins.” - Ralph Waldo Emmerson
I deplore hypocrisy. . .and yet, I think parents of teens are hypocrites by definition.
I was certainly no saint as a teen. As an adult, I'm afraid to go to church lest I spontaneously combust upon entering. . .but do I expect my children to be perfect? I try to justify it by saying that my circumstances were different, harder - but, between you and me, that's really no excuse, is it?
Some days just deserve an expletive in my book, usually uttered as I slip below the water in my bathtub, "Flub me!". . .and yet, when Double Decades forgets that he's talking to his mother and drops a bomb, it really bothers me and I fuss at him.
Fifteen for a Moment broaches the subject of decorating (mutilating, I say!) her body with holes and jewelry and maybe a tattoo. . .all I can do is tell her, "Well, when you are eighteen, you can make that decision for yourself." I hope the fad will have passed by then.
Every day I encounter the "decorated" - their artful tattoos or trendy piercings - and I don't think to myself, "Oh, what an awful person!" Lately, I don't notice it so much as to even give it a thought.
(Although, sometimes it is a little distracting to order dinner while spittle dangles off of the server's lip ring. . .)
But do I want my lovely daughter to become a "work" of art - heck no!
Don't even get me started on sex. . .although it is convenient to say, "I did it, and look how well I turned out!" That's good for a scare!
So why does it feel like I am eyeballs deep in muddy water when it comes to my own children? Too much thinking for a Wednesday. . .
Have fun!
I deplore hypocrisy. . .and yet, I think parents of teens are hypocrites by definition.
I was certainly no saint as a teen. As an adult, I'm afraid to go to church lest I spontaneously combust upon entering. . .but do I expect my children to be perfect? I try to justify it by saying that my circumstances were different, harder - but, between you and me, that's really no excuse, is it?
Some days just deserve an expletive in my book, usually uttered as I slip below the water in my bathtub, "Flub me!". . .and yet, when Double Decades forgets that he's talking to his mother and drops a bomb, it really bothers me and I fuss at him.
Fifteen for a Moment broaches the subject of decorating (mutilating, I say!) her body with holes and jewelry and maybe a tattoo. . .all I can do is tell her, "Well, when you are eighteen, you can make that decision for yourself." I hope the fad will have passed by then.
Every day I encounter the "decorated" - their artful tattoos or trendy piercings - and I don't think to myself, "Oh, what an awful person!" Lately, I don't notice it so much as to even give it a thought.
(Although, sometimes it is a little distracting to order dinner while spittle dangles off of the server's lip ring. . .)
But do I want my lovely daughter to become a "work" of art - heck no!
Don't even get me started on sex. . .although it is convenient to say, "I did it, and look how well I turned out!" That's good for a scare!
So why does it feel like I am eyeballs deep in muddy water when it comes to my own children? Too much thinking for a Wednesday. . .
Have fun!
2.19.2008
Dream-weaver
"Give me fuel,
Give me fire,
Give me that which I desire!"
I am standing on stage, holding the guitar. I realize two things: there is scrambled egg stuck to my guitar because I didn't run the dishwasher and I don't know how to play. My biggest concern, though, is not that I am mumbling the words because I can't remember them or the odd noise issuing defeatedly from my impotent instrument. I am, instead, terrified that my brastrap will show when I start headbanging.
Wow. I'm a-Freud to analyze THAT dream!
It's enough to make a chick want a second cup of coffee. . .
Today Five turns Six. That sure went by fast. Fourteen and I will join her for lunch. We'll enjoy a little Olive Garden Salad amidst the kindergartenters. They are an easy crowd to please. . .and they don't care if my brastrap shows.
Have fun!
Give me fire,
Give me that which I desire!"
I am standing on stage, holding the guitar. I realize two things: there is scrambled egg stuck to my guitar because I didn't run the dishwasher and I don't know how to play. My biggest concern, though, is not that I am mumbling the words because I can't remember them or the odd noise issuing defeatedly from my impotent instrument. I am, instead, terrified that my brastrap will show when I start headbanging.
Wow. I'm a-Freud to analyze THAT dream!
It's enough to make a chick want a second cup of coffee. . .
Today Five turns Six. That sure went by fast. Fourteen and I will join her for lunch. We'll enjoy a little Olive Garden Salad amidst the kindergartenters. They are an easy crowd to please. . .and they don't care if my brastrap shows.
Have fun!
2.18.2008
In Charge
"Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear
And I can't help but ask myself how much I let the fear
Take the wheel and steer." - Incubus
Twenty is an age that is wasted on the twenty year old.
"Son, who is in charge of YOU?" I asked.
"Ummmm, you and dad?"
"NO! YOU! You're in charge of you!"
I give him this speech, then I spend the afternoon thinking too hard.
Lately, I don't feel "fine." I feel very far from "fine" actually.
I often compare parenthood to those guys at the circus who spin plates on sticks. Even if I were to get all those plates spinning in synch, I have to tap dance on gravel while doing my balancing act.
And the guy that I would call, the guy who would say to me, "Lollipop, who is in charge of YOU?" isn't there to call. My plates are wobbly. . .help! Boy, I miss him!
I was pretty proud of my little speech: "Son, we all have to make our own choices. Every day, every minute, you have to choose what you are going to do, how you are going to respond to the events in your life. You can choose to be a victim of your circumstances, or you can choose to deal with them. You are in the driver's seat."
It occurs to me that, even though he is not at the end of my phone line, my step-Dad is getting his message through - through me. I guess he's here after all.
So, technically, I need to take my own advice - but I'll hear it in my head as HIS voice.
Who's in charge of YOU?
And I can't help but ask myself how much I let the fear
Take the wheel and steer." - Incubus
Twenty is an age that is wasted on the twenty year old.
"Son, who is in charge of YOU?" I asked.
"Ummmm, you and dad?"
"NO! YOU! You're in charge of you!"
I give him this speech, then I spend the afternoon thinking too hard.
Lately, I don't feel "fine." I feel very far from "fine" actually.
I often compare parenthood to those guys at the circus who spin plates on sticks. Even if I were to get all those plates spinning in synch, I have to tap dance on gravel while doing my balancing act.
And the guy that I would call, the guy who would say to me, "Lollipop, who is in charge of YOU?" isn't there to call. My plates are wobbly. . .help! Boy, I miss him!
I was pretty proud of my little speech: "Son, we all have to make our own choices. Every day, every minute, you have to choose what you are going to do, how you are going to respond to the events in your life. You can choose to be a victim of your circumstances, or you can choose to deal with them. You are in the driver's seat."
It occurs to me that, even though he is not at the end of my phone line, my step-Dad is getting his message through - through me. I guess he's here after all.
So, technically, I need to take my own advice - but I'll hear it in my head as HIS voice.
Who's in charge of YOU?
2.15.2008
Check!
And exhale. . .
Hot on the heels of a crazy Valentine's Day comes Fried-day. . .I've made my list, and checked it twice. Time to get out the door even though a nap would be nice. (But it's only 8:30. . .miles to go and all!!) I know there's another 8:30(PM!) looming in the distance, and by that time I won't even have any idea where that list is.
Sometimes, I put things on the list that I've already done, just so I can feel good about crossing something off. Sure, I'm goofy. . .but I'm running on giggles!
As an added bonus, I can't get my teens out of the bed. Perhaps a little inspirational singing will help. . .
"OH! What a beautiful MORNIN'!
OH! What a beautiful DAY!
Get your sad butt out of your bed
Or, you'll be sorry today!"
Snicker if you must, oh sleepy teenagers. But there will come a moment when you realize that you are becoming your mother. It happens to me with increasing frequency. . .
Write blog. . .check!
Instill fear in my children. . .check!
Oooh, a two-fer! Now, I have to go call my mom.
Have fun!!
Hot on the heels of a crazy Valentine's Day comes Fried-day. . .I've made my list, and checked it twice. Time to get out the door even though a nap would be nice. (But it's only 8:30. . .miles to go and all!!) I know there's another 8:30(PM!) looming in the distance, and by that time I won't even have any idea where that list is.
Sometimes, I put things on the list that I've already done, just so I can feel good about crossing something off. Sure, I'm goofy. . .but I'm running on giggles!
As an added bonus, I can't get my teens out of the bed. Perhaps a little inspirational singing will help. . .
"OH! What a beautiful MORNIN'!
OH! What a beautiful DAY!
Get your sad butt out of your bed
Or, you'll be sorry today!"
Snicker if you must, oh sleepy teenagers. But there will come a moment when you realize that you are becoming your mother. It happens to me with increasing frequency. . .
Write blog. . .check!
Instill fear in my children. . .check!
Oooh, a two-fer! Now, I have to go call my mom.
Have fun!!
2.14.2008
My Endless Love
"And I (IIIIIIII), I want to share
All my loooove with you. . .
No one else will do. . . " - Lionel and Diana
There are a lot of people I love. I love the people who read this blog. After all, I am writing to you every day!
Some of the people I love drive me nuts.. I think I'll borrow something I found on the counter from Double Decades (speaking of a few right here). . .his five year-old sister loves to write love notes. She carefully spaced her words and wrote, "I love you becus you are my bst brother in the hole wide world!"
His penned response, "I love you because you are my sister and its kind of required."
I feel that way about some of the people I love some days, but I still love them.
Some of the people I love haven't heard from me in a while. Beginning around Thanksgiving, I always say, "This will be the year that the Christmas cards go out!!!" By Valentine's Day, I'm thinking about the plausibility of an Easter Card. . .then summer comes and goes and we're back to Thanksgiving again! My step-Mom ALWAYS sends a card for everything. . .I love her.
Some of the people I love don't even know that I love them. I have pictures stored precariously on my computer of neices and nephews and numerically removed cousins scattered here and there. . .if I am lucky we see them a few times a year. Some I haven't seen in years, some I may never see. But I love them all.
We hand-made Valentines for the kindergarten class, baked some heart-shaped cupcakes that look more like butts (I know. . .) and the kids and the husband will all get a little something. Besides, I show them I love them every day by doing everything for them and then thinking to myself that they never do anything for themselves. :)
And there are so many people in the world who I love who may not hear it from me as often as I think it.
And to those people, HEY! I love you!!!
Happy Valentine's Day!!!
All my loooove with you. . .
No one else will do. . . " - Lionel and Diana
There are a lot of people I love. I love the people who read this blog. After all, I am writing to you every day!
Some of the people I love drive me nuts.. I think I'll borrow something I found on the counter from Double Decades (speaking of a few right here). . .his five year-old sister loves to write love notes. She carefully spaced her words and wrote, "I love you becus you are my bst brother in the hole wide world!"
His penned response, "I love you because you are my sister and its kind of required."
I feel that way about some of the people I love some days, but I still love them.
Some of the people I love haven't heard from me in a while. Beginning around Thanksgiving, I always say, "This will be the year that the Christmas cards go out!!!" By Valentine's Day, I'm thinking about the plausibility of an Easter Card. . .then summer comes and goes and we're back to Thanksgiving again! My step-Mom ALWAYS sends a card for everything. . .I love her.
Some of the people I love don't even know that I love them. I have pictures stored precariously on my computer of neices and nephews and numerically removed cousins scattered here and there. . .if I am lucky we see them a few times a year. Some I haven't seen in years, some I may never see. But I love them all.
We hand-made Valentines for the kindergarten class, baked some heart-shaped cupcakes that look more like butts (I know. . .) and the kids and the husband will all get a little something. Besides, I show them I love them every day by doing everything for them and then thinking to myself that they never do anything for themselves. :)
And there are so many people in the world who I love who may not hear it from me as often as I think it.
And to those people, HEY! I love you!!!
Happy Valentine's Day!!!
2.13.2008
Suspension of Disbelief!
"Tell the truth
Tell the truth
Well, you know what you done to me. . ." - Ray Charles
The dean and assistant principal are upholding the teacher's punishment for being "disrespectful" - a three day suspension.
I have reason to believe that something is amiss - something just doesn't sit right with me about the whole situation.
I visited with the assistant principal yesterday, and he has agreed to let me speak with the teacher before he imposes sentence.
Fifteen for a Moment is not generally characterized as being disrespectful - by anyone! And she maintains that she did not do anything to warrant such harsh consequences. The teacher says she falls asleep in class and doesn't do her work, but she has all her notes and good grades - even a comment on her last report card about her good study habits!
So, here I go, witholding final judgement until I get the whole story. It is not that I feel that my children are infallable, but this one is generally prone to saying, "Yeah, I did it" and taking her lumps. This time, that is not the case.
How far will I go with this? Well, three days suspension can foul up her grades and goes on her permanent record - it's not just about hanging out and baking cookies! So I guess I'll go as far as I need to.
And, there's always the chance that the teacher will produce some sort of irrefutable proof. . .in which case, I'll quietly say, "Oh. Okay. Well, then, keep up the good work!" (Thanks to my girlfriend for helping me prepare ahead with my "out.")
Have fun!
****Update - well, after speaking with the teacher, I understand the situation a little better. I am still left with many questions and still feel the punishment to be excessive. . .but my daughter was not completely disassociated from some other students who were disrespectful and therefore it is hard to argue with the "guilt by association" that was being maintained.
It sure would be nice if things were cut and dried - if she'd danced naked on the desktop or something, I could understand.
Just add it to the list of things that stink some days about being a parent. . .
Ugh. . .
Tell the truth
Well, you know what you done to me. . ." - Ray Charles
The dean and assistant principal are upholding the teacher's punishment for being "disrespectful" - a three day suspension.
I have reason to believe that something is amiss - something just doesn't sit right with me about the whole situation.
I visited with the assistant principal yesterday, and he has agreed to let me speak with the teacher before he imposes sentence.
Fifteen for a Moment is not generally characterized as being disrespectful - by anyone! And she maintains that she did not do anything to warrant such harsh consequences. The teacher says she falls asleep in class and doesn't do her work, but she has all her notes and good grades - even a comment on her last report card about her good study habits!
So, here I go, witholding final judgement until I get the whole story. It is not that I feel that my children are infallable, but this one is generally prone to saying, "Yeah, I did it" and taking her lumps. This time, that is not the case.
How far will I go with this? Well, three days suspension can foul up her grades and goes on her permanent record - it's not just about hanging out and baking cookies! So I guess I'll go as far as I need to.
And, there's always the chance that the teacher will produce some sort of irrefutable proof. . .in which case, I'll quietly say, "Oh. Okay. Well, then, keep up the good work!" (Thanks to my girlfriend for helping me prepare ahead with my "out.")
Have fun!
****Update - well, after speaking with the teacher, I understand the situation a little better. I am still left with many questions and still feel the punishment to be excessive. . .but my daughter was not completely disassociated from some other students who were disrespectful and therefore it is hard to argue with the "guilt by association" that was being maintained.
It sure would be nice if things were cut and dried - if she'd danced naked on the desktop or something, I could understand.
Just add it to the list of things that stink some days about being a parent. . .
Ugh. . .
2.12.2008
"Teaching" vs. "Taking Notes"
"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing." - Socrates
I received a call from a teacher.
"Your daughter is very disrespectful in my class."
MY daughter? I thought to myself. Have you called the right number??
"Well, that doesn't sound like her. We insist that our children conduct themselves accordingly. I will certainly talk to her."
So, here's the deal: Fifteen for a Moment had a wonderful and engaging teacher for World History. . .the nerve of the woman to move away! The new teacher is a "take the notes, take the test" sort-of girl. The students, well, don't care much for her. I guess it shows.
But hey, that's life, right? We all have to deal with people and circumstances that are less than ideal.
Still, when the purpose is to educate someone, why wouldn't we want to find a way that is not so gosh-awful boring? I've had those kinds of classes before. . .teachers who bragged about the low percentage of students who passed their class, pages upon pages of meaningless notes. If the medium you are using to impart your wisdom is not effective, wouldn't that mean you're not TEACHING?
I've always been supportive of the efforts of my children's teachers - I cannot begin to imagine how difficult their job is. I tell my children, when you are in that class, the teacher is the honcho and you, the student, are to sit there and do your job. Even if it bores you to sleep.
In "Perfect" all of the classes are interesting and all of the students are inspired to learn.
What IS the zip code for "Perfect" anyway? I think I am ready to make the move. . .
I received a call from a teacher.
"Your daughter is very disrespectful in my class."
MY daughter? I thought to myself. Have you called the right number??
"Well, that doesn't sound like her. We insist that our children conduct themselves accordingly. I will certainly talk to her."
So, here's the deal: Fifteen for a Moment had a wonderful and engaging teacher for World History. . .the nerve of the woman to move away! The new teacher is a "take the notes, take the test" sort-of girl. The students, well, don't care much for her. I guess it shows.
But hey, that's life, right? We all have to deal with people and circumstances that are less than ideal.
Still, when the purpose is to educate someone, why wouldn't we want to find a way that is not so gosh-awful boring? I've had those kinds of classes before. . .teachers who bragged about the low percentage of students who passed their class, pages upon pages of meaningless notes. If the medium you are using to impart your wisdom is not effective, wouldn't that mean you're not TEACHING?
I've always been supportive of the efforts of my children's teachers - I cannot begin to imagine how difficult their job is. I tell my children, when you are in that class, the teacher is the honcho and you, the student, are to sit there and do your job. Even if it bores you to sleep.
In "Perfect" all of the classes are interesting and all of the students are inspired to learn.
What IS the zip code for "Perfect" anyway? I think I am ready to make the move. . .
2.11.2008
Hard to Handle
"Hey little thing, let me light your candle
'Cuz Momma, I'm sure hard to handle . . ." - The Black Crowes
What a busy weekend! From 6:30 a.m. Saturday until 6p.m. on Sunday, all I did was take kids to and from places. Don't remind me that I said this, but I'll be so glad when they can drive themselves. . .
And my poor husband, just when he thought he had a handle on things, the one on the front door fell off. We'd only had it about eight months, one of the screws on it was bad. It had a lifetime warranty, but the clerk at Lowe's said we'd have to return it to the manufacturer ourselves. I took the nice man aside and said, "He's pretty angry about this, we just bought it. We've spent thousands of dollars in this store, and will probably spend thousands more. Just give him a new doorknob and let us go home - keep your good cutomers happy." Bless his heart. . .he did just that. Kudos to Lowe's on Airport. . .
I am a pretty strong-minded person. I have some definite ideas about things. But when it comes to parenting, I find that sometimes I defer to my husband.
For instance, I have this habit of treating and speaking to my kids like they are adults. "Oh NO!! You can't do that. . ." he says, "You have to keep that distance. I don't like it when they talk to you the way they do."
So, when they start getting a little "smart," I remind them to be respectful. I understand what he means - and while I don't agree completely, it does more good to be on the same wave.
It is not that I "give up" who I am, but it is essential in cooperative parenting that sometimes, someone has the "final word." Sometimes I am the one who brings it down, but mostly, the buck stops with him. And, if we disagree, we wait until we're alone to have our disagreement - out of earshot of potential manipulators. Sure, we argue in front of the kids, but we keep it courteous and friendly - otherwise, they don't learn how to argue with a spouse! We don't, however, agrue ABOUT the kids in front of them.
It's been a hard-leaned lesson, but I believe its a valuable one. Parenting is sure a lot easier when we present a united front, and support each other's efforts.
Like the door, when you need to get a handle on things, sometimes all it takes is a little negotiation to resolve the problem. And, sooner or later, you'll get your turn. :)
Have fun.
'Cuz Momma, I'm sure hard to handle . . ." - The Black Crowes
What a busy weekend! From 6:30 a.m. Saturday until 6p.m. on Sunday, all I did was take kids to and from places. Don't remind me that I said this, but I'll be so glad when they can drive themselves. . .
And my poor husband, just when he thought he had a handle on things, the one on the front door fell off. We'd only had it about eight months, one of the screws on it was bad. It had a lifetime warranty, but the clerk at Lowe's said we'd have to return it to the manufacturer ourselves. I took the nice man aside and said, "He's pretty angry about this, we just bought it. We've spent thousands of dollars in this store, and will probably spend thousands more. Just give him a new doorknob and let us go home - keep your good cutomers happy." Bless his heart. . .he did just that. Kudos to Lowe's on Airport. . .
I am a pretty strong-minded person. I have some definite ideas about things. But when it comes to parenting, I find that sometimes I defer to my husband.
For instance, I have this habit of treating and speaking to my kids like they are adults. "Oh NO!! You can't do that. . ." he says, "You have to keep that distance. I don't like it when they talk to you the way they do."
So, when they start getting a little "smart," I remind them to be respectful. I understand what he means - and while I don't agree completely, it does more good to be on the same wave.
It is not that I "give up" who I am, but it is essential in cooperative parenting that sometimes, someone has the "final word." Sometimes I am the one who brings it down, but mostly, the buck stops with him. And, if we disagree, we wait until we're alone to have our disagreement - out of earshot of potential manipulators. Sure, we argue in front of the kids, but we keep it courteous and friendly - otherwise, they don't learn how to argue with a spouse! We don't, however, agrue ABOUT the kids in front of them.
It's been a hard-leaned lesson, but I believe its a valuable one. Parenting is sure a lot easier when we present a united front, and support each other's efforts.
Like the door, when you need to get a handle on things, sometimes all it takes is a little negotiation to resolve the problem. And, sooner or later, you'll get your turn. :)
Have fun.
2.08.2008
Ear Today, Gone Tomorrow
"Take out the papers and the trash
Or you don't get no spendin' cash!
If you don't scrub that kitchen floor
You ain't gonna rock and roll no more!
Yakety yak (don't talk back!)" - The Coasters
I can hear the fourteener making his omelette du fromage in the kitchen.
Poor guy, he was up all night with a bad ear - we'll go see the doc today.
He feels well enough to make a fancy breakfast, but I'm willing to bet he'll feel too bad to take out the garbage. Let's see. . .
"Hey man, that garbage needs to go. . ."
"Uhhhh."
"What?"
"Uhhhhh."
"You okay?"
"It hurts to talk. . ."
Poor baby, how does he make his whole face turn upside down like that???? "Hey, I got it, man. . ."
"Uhhhhhh." I think that means "Thank You, oh beautiful Mother!"
I hope he remembers this when I am old :) The sacrifice of his garbage-toting mother.
Or you don't get no spendin' cash!
If you don't scrub that kitchen floor
You ain't gonna rock and roll no more!
Yakety yak (don't talk back!)" - The Coasters
I can hear the fourteener making his omelette du fromage in the kitchen.
Poor guy, he was up all night with a bad ear - we'll go see the doc today.
He feels well enough to make a fancy breakfast, but I'm willing to bet he'll feel too bad to take out the garbage. Let's see. . .
"Hey man, that garbage needs to go. . ."
"Uhhhh."
"What?"
"Uhhhhh."
"You okay?"
"It hurts to talk. . ."
Poor baby, how does he make his whole face turn upside down like that???? "Hey, I got it, man. . ."
"Uhhhhhh." I think that means "Thank You, oh beautiful Mother!"
I hope he remembers this when I am old :) The sacrifice of his garbage-toting mother.
2.07.2008
Ready, Set, Don't GO!!!!
"I'm at the startin' line of the rest of my life,
As ready as I've ever been. . .
Baby, get ready, get set. . .don't go!" - Miley and Billy Ray Cyrus
Oh my gosh!
I am so hormonal today and I have heard that song on the radio five times and every time I hear it I cry. . .that's me, doing my Hannah Montana Blatherama. . .waaaaaaah!
Double Decades, College Student, Firefighter, Son, Baby. . .he's leaving for the Air Force Reserve at the end of this month. He's been so anxious and I've held on as long as I could - now it's really almost time for him to go.
I am excited for him and heartbroken for me. As much as he has driven me NUTS over the last few years, you'd think I'd leave my flip-flop print on his backside. But all I want to do is holler, "Wait!!!!!"
I'm secretly hoping that something else comes up, as it has in the past, to change his mind. But I guess what will be will be. Case of rum, case of rum.
In the meantime, I will have to stop listening to country music.
Does anyone have a tissue??
As ready as I've ever been. . .
Baby, get ready, get set. . .don't go!" - Miley and Billy Ray Cyrus
Oh my gosh!
I am so hormonal today and I have heard that song on the radio five times and every time I hear it I cry. . .that's me, doing my Hannah Montana Blatherama. . .waaaaaaah!
Double Decades, College Student, Firefighter, Son, Baby. . .he's leaving for the Air Force Reserve at the end of this month. He's been so anxious and I've held on as long as I could - now it's really almost time for him to go.
I am excited for him and heartbroken for me. As much as he has driven me NUTS over the last few years, you'd think I'd leave my flip-flop print on his backside. But all I want to do is holler, "Wait!!!!!"
I'm secretly hoping that something else comes up, as it has in the past, to change his mind. But I guess what will be will be. Case of rum, case of rum.
In the meantime, I will have to stop listening to country music.
Does anyone have a tissue??
Another Brick in the Wall
"We don't need no education.
We don't need no thought control. . .
All in all you're just another brick in the wall." - Pink Floyd
I like to drive my daughter to school. It gives us ten uninterrupted minutes to talk to each other.
"Mom, my friends got suspended for three days for walking with their arms around each other!"
Wow. That seems a little harsh. I listened as she went on.
"And the principal came on the announcements and said 'Blah blah blah blah.'" She dropped her voice about eight octaves, "'Teachers, we're taking the school back!'"
Is it that bad? I thought about walking through the hallways on my way to guidance the other day. Kids shuffling six abreast, cursing like sailors, one throwing a shoulder into me when I said, "Excuse me." Yeah, I guess it is that bad.
"Well, honey, it's sad that kids who are there to do their thing have to suffer because of the ones who can't behave."
"Yeah, they've been arresting people for fighting. The police are there, like, every day."
I relayed my experience to her, including the shoulder. "Oh, Mom, you were lucky they didn't knock you down or tell you they were gonna cut you. I used to say 'excuse me,' now I just drop my shoulder and give it back."
It's certainly not the high school I remember. . .and I attended three different high schools! This one sounds more like a dang battle zone. Forget learning, try just surviving.
"Oh, and THEN he said to remember that we were there to get an education."
"Well, isn't that why you are there, dear?"
"Heck no! I'm there for ROTC and to see my friends. The education is just a bonus!"
Well, at least MY child has her priorities straight.
Keep your head low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low baby! (She's got the legs with no FUR, and the baggy sweat pants!)
We don't need no thought control. . .
All in all you're just another brick in the wall." - Pink Floyd
I like to drive my daughter to school. It gives us ten uninterrupted minutes to talk to each other.
"Mom, my friends got suspended for three days for walking with their arms around each other!"
Wow. That seems a little harsh. I listened as she went on.
"And the principal came on the announcements and said 'Blah blah blah blah.'" She dropped her voice about eight octaves, "'Teachers, we're taking the school back!'"
Is it that bad? I thought about walking through the hallways on my way to guidance the other day. Kids shuffling six abreast, cursing like sailors, one throwing a shoulder into me when I said, "Excuse me." Yeah, I guess it is that bad.
"Well, honey, it's sad that kids who are there to do their thing have to suffer because of the ones who can't behave."
"Yeah, they've been arresting people for fighting. The police are there, like, every day."
I relayed my experience to her, including the shoulder. "Oh, Mom, you were lucky they didn't knock you down or tell you they were gonna cut you. I used to say 'excuse me,' now I just drop my shoulder and give it back."
It's certainly not the high school I remember. . .and I attended three different high schools! This one sounds more like a dang battle zone. Forget learning, try just surviving.
"Oh, and THEN he said to remember that we were there to get an education."
"Well, isn't that why you are there, dear?"
"Heck no! I'm there for ROTC and to see my friends. The education is just a bonus!"
Well, at least MY child has her priorities straight.
Keep your head low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low baby! (She's got the legs with no FUR, and the baggy sweat pants!)
2.04.2008
201
Happy Mardi Gras!
This is my two hundred and FIRST blog entry.
Yeah, I realized I had hit a milestone back at two hundred. But I like the idea of celebrating here, at ole 201. Instead of reaching an end, I'm starting a new beginning. Ewwww, sometimes I can be so sappy. . .
I hope that all the craziness in my life has made you readers feel a little more "normal" (as if there is such a thing!)
And I hope that the concept of taking it easy on ourselves and our teens have been evident in the previous two hundred. None of us are perfect, we just do the best we can. The hardest thing to accept sometimes is that our children are PEOPLE, too. Not "Mini-Me's."
Perhaps the best advice for parenting (whether you are religious or not) would be the following, from 1 Corinthians -
"Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. . ."
Have fun!
This is my two hundred and FIRST blog entry.
Yeah, I realized I had hit a milestone back at two hundred. But I like the idea of celebrating here, at ole 201. Instead of reaching an end, I'm starting a new beginning. Ewwww, sometimes I can be so sappy. . .
I hope that all the craziness in my life has made you readers feel a little more "normal" (as if there is such a thing!)
And I hope that the concept of taking it easy on ourselves and our teens have been evident in the previous two hundred. None of us are perfect, we just do the best we can. The hardest thing to accept sometimes is that our children are PEOPLE, too. Not "Mini-Me's."
Perhaps the best advice for parenting (whether you are religious or not) would be the following, from 1 Corinthians -
"Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. . ."
Have fun!
Monday Morning Mom Meltdown
"This is our last dance -
This is ourselves
Under pressure. . ." _ Queen
I am still recovering from a night of dancing and a four a.m. bedtime followed by an eight a.m. wakeup call (pop my tarts, Mommy!)
Sensing that my guard is down, the teen pounces. . .
"You have no idea of the pressure I am under!"
I believe I will have T-shirts made for the whole family.
You know, the truth is that I DO have some idea. . .I was a teenager myself, once. Only I had to walk five miles through the snow to do everything I ever did from the time I could crawl, so don't tell ME about pressure.
The fact is that I just don't care about pressure as it pertains to this topic. We're all under pressure, okay? So get yourself together and take care of business!
Oh, no, not the tears. . .I think we're both too emotional to talk right now. Let's save this discussion for later, shall we?
Maybe I am too harsh. . .I should never have asked such a tortured soul to make her bed. What was I thinking?
I'm Lara, the Teen Talk Mom, covering the big issues and important topics facing today's teens. . .
Have fun!
This is ourselves
Under pressure. . ." _ Queen
I am still recovering from a night of dancing and a four a.m. bedtime followed by an eight a.m. wakeup call (pop my tarts, Mommy!)
Sensing that my guard is down, the teen pounces. . .
"You have no idea of the pressure I am under!"
I believe I will have T-shirts made for the whole family.
You know, the truth is that I DO have some idea. . .I was a teenager myself, once. Only I had to walk five miles through the snow to do everything I ever did from the time I could crawl, so don't tell ME about pressure.
The fact is that I just don't care about pressure as it pertains to this topic. We're all under pressure, okay? So get yourself together and take care of business!
Oh, no, not the tears. . .I think we're both too emotional to talk right now. Let's save this discussion for later, shall we?
Maybe I am too harsh. . .I should never have asked such a tortured soul to make her bed. What was I thinking?
I'm Lara, the Teen Talk Mom, covering the big issues and important topics facing today's teens. . .
Have fun!
2.02.2008
Done
It's official. . .we have raised one teenager to completion.
Okay. . .
Well, I guess that was that.
(sigh)
Okay. . .
Well, I guess that was that.
(sigh)
2.01.2008
Reason to rhyme. . .
Today. . .
Payroll, bank and PEO,
Then off to Wal Mart I will go
To pick up squeezies and king cake
(It's a good thing I don't bake!)
To the school to make the masks,
Then back to my appointed tasks:
Find lipgloss to match my gown
Get prepared to head downtown
Do some schooling, make some calls,
A boutonniere for the ball,
Pick up some kids for their party. . .
(And better eat, lest I get farty!)
I really need to clean my house -
Hey, anybody seen my spouse?
Holy cow, I need to get goin'!
No time to even finish my poem. . .
Have fun!
Payroll, bank and PEO,
Then off to Wal Mart I will go
To pick up squeezies and king cake
(It's a good thing I don't bake!)
To the school to make the masks,
Then back to my appointed tasks:
Find lipgloss to match my gown
Get prepared to head downtown
Do some schooling, make some calls,
A boutonniere for the ball,
Pick up some kids for their party. . .
(And better eat, lest I get farty!)
I really need to clean my house -
Hey, anybody seen my spouse?
Holy cow, I need to get goin'!
No time to even finish my poem. . .
Have fun!
1.31.2008
It's a smile, not a grimace!
"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." - Dr. Seuss
Old mothers always tell new mothers, "Enjoy it. It goes by fast."
It begins to register as they approach teenness. You don't notice it at first. . .one day, you just wake up and they're going to high school. Wait a minute, weren't WE in high school not too long ago? Then come the dances and the cars and dating and jobs and sometimes, sadly, "I don't NEED YOU!"
A couple of moms are stressing with me as our adolescents and young teens begin the long, drawn-out and often painful process of flying the coop. I've been a mother of a teenager for seven years now (and counting) and with every "milestone" you realize that it doesn't get any easier. . .you just become more accepting of the unavoidable.
My oldest child will no longer be a teenager as of 8:24a.m. on Saturday. The memory of holding him for the first time is so fresh in my mind. . .wondering what he'd look like when he grew up. Well, now I know. My baby boy is such a cutie. ..mwa. . .oh, sorry. . .
I can't believe two decades have flown by like they have. Sometimes, I wish that I could go back and do it all over. But, I reckon things have turned out pretty well -I don't know I'd want to mess with changing anything. As parents, we need all that learning and growing. By the time we get really good at BEING parents, we'll be grandparents. I'll remind myself to keep the laughter to a minimum once they have kids of their own - or at least save any maniacle cackling for a private moment, as do my own parents. (Thanks, guys!)
Wow, I gotta tell you, I'm typing this all teary-eyed and verklempt. For twenty years I've been totally focused on "raising" this person. . .okay, he's raised. NOW what? No, on second thought, don't answer that. We'll just play it by ear and see where it goes. . .more fun that way. . .
For those of you on the starting end of this process, with your twelve, thirteen, fourteen year-olds - don't fret too much. They'll still need you to wipe their bottoms (metaphorically speaking) - only the messes will be bigger and harder to clean up.
More old mom advice - the "letting go" should be in baby steps, not too much too soon. It's a hard thing to balance, and personally I find it best to err on the side of caution - hence frequent accusations by my kids of "not fair" or "too strict." Hey, they can make parental choices for their own children and be as fair and free as they want to someday. (Oh, happy day!)
But looking at Double Decades (the firefighter formerly known as Hey Nineteen!) now as I do, I am really proud of the man that he has become. I won't take too much credit - he's made his own choices and learned from his own mistakes (hopefully!!) But I like to think that I had some small part in leading him to be who he is.
And that makes me smile.
Have fun!
Old mothers always tell new mothers, "Enjoy it. It goes by fast."
It begins to register as they approach teenness. You don't notice it at first. . .one day, you just wake up and they're going to high school. Wait a minute, weren't WE in high school not too long ago? Then come the dances and the cars and dating and jobs and sometimes, sadly, "I don't NEED YOU!"
A couple of moms are stressing with me as our adolescents and young teens begin the long, drawn-out and often painful process of flying the coop. I've been a mother of a teenager for seven years now (and counting) and with every "milestone" you realize that it doesn't get any easier. . .you just become more accepting of the unavoidable.
My oldest child will no longer be a teenager as of 8:24a.m. on Saturday. The memory of holding him for the first time is so fresh in my mind. . .wondering what he'd look like when he grew up. Well, now I know. My baby boy is such a cutie. ..mwa. . .oh, sorry. . .
I can't believe two decades have flown by like they have. Sometimes, I wish that I could go back and do it all over. But, I reckon things have turned out pretty well -I don't know I'd want to mess with changing anything. As parents, we need all that learning and growing. By the time we get really good at BEING parents, we'll be grandparents. I'll remind myself to keep the laughter to a minimum once they have kids of their own - or at least save any maniacle cackling for a private moment, as do my own parents. (Thanks, guys!)
Wow, I gotta tell you, I'm typing this all teary-eyed and verklempt. For twenty years I've been totally focused on "raising" this person. . .okay, he's raised. NOW what? No, on second thought, don't answer that. We'll just play it by ear and see where it goes. . .more fun that way. . .
For those of you on the starting end of this process, with your twelve, thirteen, fourteen year-olds - don't fret too much. They'll still need you to wipe their bottoms (metaphorically speaking) - only the messes will be bigger and harder to clean up.
More old mom advice - the "letting go" should be in baby steps, not too much too soon. It's a hard thing to balance, and personally I find it best to err on the side of caution - hence frequent accusations by my kids of "not fair" or "too strict." Hey, they can make parental choices for their own children and be as fair and free as they want to someday. (Oh, happy day!)
But looking at Double Decades (the firefighter formerly known as Hey Nineteen!) now as I do, I am really proud of the man that he has become. I won't take too much credit - he's made his own choices and learned from his own mistakes (hopefully!!) But I like to think that I had some small part in leading him to be who he is.
And that makes me smile.
Have fun!
1.30.2008
Cheers and Tears
"Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name. . . " - Theme song from Cheers!
When the Fourteener started Kindergarten many years ago, everyone at the school already knew him. He'd been there volunteering in classrooms and at carnivals and in the car where the principal greeted his older brother and sister every day. Plus, he wore a 3-piece suit and tie with loafers (no socks) and carried a brief case. He was hard to miss.
(I'll save the Blue Angel jumpsuit and black rain boots for another story.)
He's just a really likeable guy. And he enjoys socializing with his friends.
That was one big reason that I was so apprehensive about homeschooling at first. (The other reason was that I figured I would turn him into an axe murderer!)
Once we started using Virtual School, it seemed like everything just fell right into place. I've enjoyed learning WITH him. It's so easy to fit discussions about his work into other parts of the day. And I've loved the way his confidence has grown - which has ultimately affected the quality of his work.
Working with him one-on-one has given me insight into the way that he learns best - with pictures and stories and discussions instead of just statistics - and we've found ways around and over and between the things that were holding him back. He's learned to manage his time and often flies through math in a day - which gives him the extra time he needs for Language Arts and History during the rest of the week. He finds Science to be fun and interesting, so he sometimes saves it for last.
Many of us have had teachers in the past who bragged about the high percentage of failures in their class. And that challenge may be what some kids need. But if the purpose is to educate someone, then why wouldn't we find a way to reach each child? Labeling someone a "failure" accomplishes nothing. (Does someone smell an f-CAT?)
OW! I think my head just left a dent on my desk.
So, anyway, he wants to go to high school next year and I want to hang on to him just a little longer. He's going to have to work really hard to keep up. But I think he can do it.
And what if it's the worst idea ever? Well, then we try something else, or maybe we'll go back to Virtual School. That's the advice I would give a new parent - learn to swim! Just when you think you've got it all neat and tidy, the dam breaks.
So I am making phone calls and doing researching and planning so that he can go hang out where everybody knows his name. What am I gonna do with myself when he's gone?? Hmmm. . . Cheers!
Have fun!
Where everybody knows your name. . . " - Theme song from Cheers!
When the Fourteener started Kindergarten many years ago, everyone at the school already knew him. He'd been there volunteering in classrooms and at carnivals and in the car where the principal greeted his older brother and sister every day. Plus, he wore a 3-piece suit and tie with loafers (no socks) and carried a brief case. He was hard to miss.
(I'll save the Blue Angel jumpsuit and black rain boots for another story.)
He's just a really likeable guy. And he enjoys socializing with his friends.
That was one big reason that I was so apprehensive about homeschooling at first. (The other reason was that I figured I would turn him into an axe murderer!)
Once we started using Virtual School, it seemed like everything just fell right into place. I've enjoyed learning WITH him. It's so easy to fit discussions about his work into other parts of the day. And I've loved the way his confidence has grown - which has ultimately affected the quality of his work.
Working with him one-on-one has given me insight into the way that he learns best - with pictures and stories and discussions instead of just statistics - and we've found ways around and over and between the things that were holding him back. He's learned to manage his time and often flies through math in a day - which gives him the extra time he needs for Language Arts and History during the rest of the week. He finds Science to be fun and interesting, so he sometimes saves it for last.
Many of us have had teachers in the past who bragged about the high percentage of failures in their class. And that challenge may be what some kids need. But if the purpose is to educate someone, then why wouldn't we find a way to reach each child? Labeling someone a "failure" accomplishes nothing. (Does someone smell an f-CAT?)
OW! I think my head just left a dent on my desk.
So, anyway, he wants to go to high school next year and I want to hang on to him just a little longer. He's going to have to work really hard to keep up. But I think he can do it.
And what if it's the worst idea ever? Well, then we try something else, or maybe we'll go back to Virtual School. That's the advice I would give a new parent - learn to swim! Just when you think you've got it all neat and tidy, the dam breaks.
So I am making phone calls and doing researching and planning so that he can go hang out where everybody knows his name. What am I gonna do with myself when he's gone?? Hmmm. . . Cheers!
Have fun!
1.29.2008
Textual Revolution
"To read between the lines was easier than to follow the text.” - Henry James
I dragged my sick daughter out for approval on my ball gown (ha! my ball gown!) She managed to keep the conversation going with me while casting her eyes at the text messages she was receiving.
Yeah, she's rude. It's a good thing she is cute.
"What's it say? Share with me!" I'd have tried to just covertly peek, but my eyesight isn't what it used to be.
"Oh, my friend is mad at me." She explained a lot of what sounded like, "Nyah, nyah."
I felt a Mother/Daughter talk coming on. . . I explained how I'd had "friendships" where I felt as though I was always apologizing or explaining myself. What a drag! A friendship should be uplifting for both parties, not a constant game of imagined slights and clipped remarks. A friend should like you as you are. . .not pick you apart for what you aren't. And, while a friend should be honest with you up front, that friend shouldn't talk badly about you behind your back!
"But all my friends are like that!" she argued.
I gave her "the look."
"Then maybe you need to get some new friends. . ."
"Mom!"
"No? Okay, I guess that understanding comes with maturity. You could always just ignore them when that crap starts. Eventually, you'll grow out of playing the games. You just have to hope that they do too."
"Yeah, I know."
She returned her attention to the texting.
Wouldn't it be nice if you could just impart your motherly wisdom intravenously? I thought. Ah, but then it wouldn't be as much fun.
Maybe I should just send her a text message with everything she needs to know. Perhaps a little Kipling this morning?? It would kill my thumbs to text this, let's just hope she reads the blog today!
"If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise. . .
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it. . ."
Go get 'em, girl. I love you!
I dragged my sick daughter out for approval on my ball gown (ha! my ball gown!) She managed to keep the conversation going with me while casting her eyes at the text messages she was receiving.
Yeah, she's rude. It's a good thing she is cute.
"What's it say? Share with me!" I'd have tried to just covertly peek, but my eyesight isn't what it used to be.
"Oh, my friend is mad at me." She explained a lot of what sounded like, "Nyah, nyah."
I felt a Mother/Daughter talk coming on. . . I explained how I'd had "friendships" where I felt as though I was always apologizing or explaining myself. What a drag! A friendship should be uplifting for both parties, not a constant game of imagined slights and clipped remarks. A friend should like you as you are. . .not pick you apart for what you aren't. And, while a friend should be honest with you up front, that friend shouldn't talk badly about you behind your back!
"But all my friends are like that!" she argued.
I gave her "the look."
"Then maybe you need to get some new friends. . ."
"Mom!"
"No? Okay, I guess that understanding comes with maturity. You could always just ignore them when that crap starts. Eventually, you'll grow out of playing the games. You just have to hope that they do too."
"Yeah, I know."
She returned her attention to the texting.
Wouldn't it be nice if you could just impart your motherly wisdom intravenously? I thought. Ah, but then it wouldn't be as much fun.
Maybe I should just send her a text message with everything she needs to know. Perhaps a little Kipling this morning?? It would kill my thumbs to text this, let's just hope she reads the blog today!
"If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise. . .
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it. . ."
Go get 'em, girl. I love you!
1.27.2008
Life's a Ball!
"I've got two tickets to paradise. . ." - Eddie Money
Life is short. I don't know how I am going to do this, but I am going to do this.
Next Saturday, Groundhog's Day, we have Fifteen for a Moment's ROTC meet at Pine Forest, then the Mardi Gras Parade and the Marching Moms, followed by dinner with my family as Hey Nineteen goes Twenty (ack!) and then. . .I am going to a ball in Mobile.
Yep, me. Going to the ball. I have to get my hair done and go find a dress and rent a white tie and tails for my husband. . .I feel like Cinderella and my husband's buddy is our "Fairly Odd Brother" (he gave us the tickets.)
I'll need a little luck to find a dress, a bit of spackle and a lot of coffee, but I think I can pull this off. If only I had some little mice to help me out. . . Bippity Boppity Boo!!!
Life is short. I don't know how I am going to do this, but I am going to do this.
Next Saturday, Groundhog's Day, we have Fifteen for a Moment's ROTC meet at Pine Forest, then the Mardi Gras Parade and the Marching Moms, followed by dinner with my family as Hey Nineteen goes Twenty (ack!) and then. . .I am going to a ball in Mobile.
Yep, me. Going to the ball. I have to get my hair done and go find a dress and rent a white tie and tails for my husband. . .I feel like Cinderella and my husband's buddy is our "Fairly Odd Brother" (he gave us the tickets.)
I'll need a little luck to find a dress, a bit of spackle and a lot of coffee, but I think I can pull this off. If only I had some little mice to help me out. . . Bippity Boppity Boo!!!
1.25.2008
Weirdos
"You're so very special.
I wish I was special. . .
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.
I don't belong here." - Radiohead
“If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment.” - Henry David Thoreau
January is usually the time when I start making appointments. But alas, amidst the doctor's appointments, the dentist's appointments, the hair appointments - there exist disappointments.
My young Thespian has answered THE question. . .a spot on the Spring Improv Troupe is not to be. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, some have greatness thrust upon them and some just say, "Well, I had a great time trying," and move on to the next thing. There was no, "It's not fair!" or "Those people suck!" (well, not from him. . .my baby is too good for their dumb production, anyway. . .don't tell him I said that, just my mommy reflex!!!)
The Dater has discovered that sometimes just being really cute is not enough. If there is no chemistry between the datees, it's probably best for all parties to begin a Journey on their Seperate Ways ("Some day, love will find you. . ." does anyone have a lighter I can hold in the air??)
I believe she is handling the situation with kindness and compassion. I reminded her that, no matter how nice she was, there was bound to be hurt. She said she'd accept any angry words for what they were, but she ran through her delivery of the news with me and I can't imagine there would be any ugliness.
I'm often told by others that it is nice that my teens are courteous and genuinely concerned about the feelings of others. I think that characteristic in them is more important to me than any of their achievments or awards or affiliations. It seems that being aware helps them recognize and forgive their own disappointments - and inspires them to look beyond to the windows that open when doors close.
So, between dis-appointment and dat-appointment, we recognize that, just because you don't belong somewhere, it doesn't mean you're a weirdo. Or, maybe it does. Maybe being a weirdo isn't such a bad thing. . .
Have fun!
I wish I was special. . .
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.
I don't belong here." - Radiohead
“If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment.” - Henry David Thoreau
January is usually the time when I start making appointments. But alas, amidst the doctor's appointments, the dentist's appointments, the hair appointments - there exist disappointments.
My young Thespian has answered THE question. . .a spot on the Spring Improv Troupe is not to be. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, some have greatness thrust upon them and some just say, "Well, I had a great time trying," and move on to the next thing. There was no, "It's not fair!" or "Those people suck!" (well, not from him. . .my baby is too good for their dumb production, anyway. . .don't tell him I said that, just my mommy reflex!!!)
The Dater has discovered that sometimes just being really cute is not enough. If there is no chemistry between the datees, it's probably best for all parties to begin a Journey on their Seperate Ways ("Some day, love will find you. . ." does anyone have a lighter I can hold in the air??)
I believe she is handling the situation with kindness and compassion. I reminded her that, no matter how nice she was, there was bound to be hurt. She said she'd accept any angry words for what they were, but she ran through her delivery of the news with me and I can't imagine there would be any ugliness.
I'm often told by others that it is nice that my teens are courteous and genuinely concerned about the feelings of others. I think that characteristic in them is more important to me than any of their achievments or awards or affiliations. It seems that being aware helps them recognize and forgive their own disappointments - and inspires them to look beyond to the windows that open when doors close.
So, between dis-appointment and dat-appointment, we recognize that, just because you don't belong somewhere, it doesn't mean you're a weirdo. Or, maybe it does. Maybe being a weirdo isn't such a bad thing. . .
Have fun!
1.24.2008
My Family is Bananas, But They Have a Strange Appeal
"So, he asked me if I wanted a frozen banana and I said,'No. . .but later, I might want a regular banana. . .so. . .yeah. . .'"
My sons and my husband were trying to out-"Mitch Hedberg" each other at dinner last night.
"With a stop light, green means 'go' and yellow means 'slow down.' With a banana, however, it is quite the opposite. Yellow means 'go,' green means 'whoa, slow down,' and red means 'where the heck did you get that banana?' "
A few people turned to look at us as if to say, "We are trying to EAT here." I'm afraid my kids have had their dinner training at home. And, there ARE six of us (well, seven if you count the moochie friend.) It was a birthday celebration, too, so we celebrated.
I look forward to dinner time. I always enjoy it when the kids help in the preparation. . .lately, the teens have been noticeably absent from this portion of the ritual with their "impooooortant social schedules" and all - but, with the exception of "Hey Nineteen," we're all at the table on most evenings.
Having a daily family ritual helps to keep us in the know with who's going where when and why and what they were thinking when they did what. Even if it's over grilled cheese and tomato soup (which sounds kinda good, actually.) We dine together between four and seven nights a week.
Yeah, last night's dinner out left me all warm and fuzzy. . .and broke. How can two old people, four teenagers and a five-year-old eat so much?? And why didn't "Hey Nineteen" pick up the tab??
He offers another "Mitchism": "If I'm out to dinner with a group of friends, and somebody offers to pay for the check, I immediately reach for my wallet. Inside is a note that says, 'Say thanks!'. . .So, uh, thanks Mom."
Have fun!
My sons and my husband were trying to out-"Mitch Hedberg" each other at dinner last night.
"With a stop light, green means 'go' and yellow means 'slow down.' With a banana, however, it is quite the opposite. Yellow means 'go,' green means 'whoa, slow down,' and red means 'where the heck did you get that banana?' "
A few people turned to look at us as if to say, "We are trying to EAT here." I'm afraid my kids have had their dinner training at home. And, there ARE six of us (well, seven if you count the moochie friend.) It was a birthday celebration, too, so we celebrated.
I look forward to dinner time. I always enjoy it when the kids help in the preparation. . .lately, the teens have been noticeably absent from this portion of the ritual with their "impooooortant social schedules" and all - but, with the exception of "Hey Nineteen," we're all at the table on most evenings.
Having a daily family ritual helps to keep us in the know with who's going where when and why and what they were thinking when they did what. Even if it's over grilled cheese and tomato soup (which sounds kinda good, actually.) We dine together between four and seven nights a week.
Yeah, last night's dinner out left me all warm and fuzzy. . .and broke. How can two old people, four teenagers and a five-year-old eat so much?? And why didn't "Hey Nineteen" pick up the tab??
He offers another "Mitchism": "If I'm out to dinner with a group of friends, and somebody offers to pay for the check, I immediately reach for my wallet. Inside is a note that says, 'Say thanks!'. . .So, uh, thanks Mom."
Have fun!
1.23.2008
Velcro
"Hey, look at the hooks
On your pants - makes you wanna dance.
I say yeah yeah,
I say yeah yeah.
There ain't never a catch, all you got to do is snatch,
Do the velcro fly,
Do the velcro fly." - ZZ Top
Today is my husband's birthday, so I guess I will go shave my legs.
It's not much of a gift, but it will have to do.
You see, he wears these flannel pajamas. . .so. . .when his leg touches mine it's like velcro. . .and now his pants legs are all fuzzy from the contact.
Okay. FIRST, I'll shave my legs. THEN, I'll go shopping for a gift.
Maybe some new flannel pajamas?
Have fun!
On your pants - makes you wanna dance.
I say yeah yeah,
I say yeah yeah.
There ain't never a catch, all you got to do is snatch,
Do the velcro fly,
Do the velcro fly." - ZZ Top
Today is my husband's birthday, so I guess I will go shave my legs.
It's not much of a gift, but it will have to do.
You see, he wears these flannel pajamas. . .so. . .when his leg touches mine it's like velcro. . .and now his pants legs are all fuzzy from the contact.
Okay. FIRST, I'll shave my legs. THEN, I'll go shopping for a gift.
Maybe some new flannel pajamas?
Have fun!
1.22.2008
An Evening At the Improv
"Indubitably. Indubitably. Dub. Dub. Weeeeeeowwwwwww. Indubitably."
I looked at my passenger out of the corner of my eye.
"Bubbles, bubbles. Indubitable bubbles. Yes, hmmmmm. . .I say, old chap! Kewl. Kewl. Kewl."
"You know, son, I don't know whether to feel flattered that you are comfortable enough to do that around me. . .or frightened."
He grinned. "You should probably be both, Mom. I am just warming up my mouth."
Tryouts for the Lab Rats, Pensacola Little Theater's Junior Improv Troupe, are in full-swing. My son, who claims that acting is his life, is hoping that he is chosen.
While he made the troupe in their first season, he didn't make the cut for the Fall. He was a little disappointed, but he shrugged it off and set his focus on trying again.
He has a good grasp of "win some, lose some." Maybe its a third-kid-in-the-birth-order thing. He's just learned to roll with the punches. Still, I really hope he makes it this time.
Regardless, he's already a Star in my book. Indubitably.
I looked at my passenger out of the corner of my eye.
"Bubbles, bubbles. Indubitable bubbles. Yes, hmmmmm. . .I say, old chap! Kewl. Kewl. Kewl."
"You know, son, I don't know whether to feel flattered that you are comfortable enough to do that around me. . .or frightened."
He grinned. "You should probably be both, Mom. I am just warming up my mouth."
Tryouts for the Lab Rats, Pensacola Little Theater's Junior Improv Troupe, are in full-swing. My son, who claims that acting is his life, is hoping that he is chosen.
While he made the troupe in their first season, he didn't make the cut for the Fall. He was a little disappointed, but he shrugged it off and set his focus on trying again.
He has a good grasp of "win some, lose some." Maybe its a third-kid-in-the-birth-order thing. He's just learned to roll with the punches. Still, I really hope he makes it this time.
Regardless, he's already a Star in my book. Indubitably.
1.21.2008
Gone
"Gone like a freight train.
Gone like yesterday. . .
Like all the good things that ain't never comin' back,
She's gone!" - Montgomery Gentry
If you blink, you'll miss it - the moment where everything changes.
One minute, you're fussing at her for being on the phone too much or watching "The Cheetah Girls" for the fifteenth time, the next - hey, didn't we have a teenage girl around here somewhere?
First, it was school. And the friends. Then came the activities. Then the job. And more activities. And then the boyfriend.
Now, the only indication she was ever here is the empty lavender bedroom and the pile of dirty clothing next to her computer desk.
If I didn't have to drive her to school and work, I would never see her! Dang, she's fairly well-behaved, too, so I can't even ground her.
Oh, well, it was nice while it lasted. . .
Gone.
Gone like yesterday. . .
Like all the good things that ain't never comin' back,
She's gone!" - Montgomery Gentry
If you blink, you'll miss it - the moment where everything changes.
One minute, you're fussing at her for being on the phone too much or watching "The Cheetah Girls" for the fifteenth time, the next - hey, didn't we have a teenage girl around here somewhere?
First, it was school. And the friends. Then came the activities. Then the job. And more activities. And then the boyfriend.
Now, the only indication she was ever here is the empty lavender bedroom and the pile of dirty clothing next to her computer desk.
If I didn't have to drive her to school and work, I would never see her! Dang, she's fairly well-behaved, too, so I can't even ground her.
Oh, well, it was nice while it lasted. . .
Gone.
1.20.2008
Shooting From the Hypocrisy
"Good God, you’re comin’ up with reasons.
Good God, you’re draggin’ it out.
Good God, it’s the changin’ of the seasons.
I feel so raped man,
Follow me down. . .
And just fake it, if you’re out of direction.
Fake it, if you don’t belong here.
Fake it, if you feel like infection.
Whoa, you’re such a (Bleepin') hypocrite!" - Seether
Public figures have tough time saying 'I'm sorry'
http://www.pnj.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080120/NEWS01/801200323/1006
The above link is to Troy Moon's spin on the latest in a string of public officials gone wild. . .or rather, Mr. Moon's spin on the spin.
It bothers me that anyone drives drunk. . .especially knowing that my Teens are out driving amongst the impaired. And it bothers me that the Superintendent was caught DUI. But it's not a surprise - someone commented in the PNJ forums that people who drink could wind up behind the wheel deciding they are "okay" to drive. Hey, it happens.
I don't envision Jim Paul as being some sort of irresponsible letch, he made a mistake and was lucky it turned out as well as it did. One mistake, where no harm was done, shouldn't cause irreparable damage to your life, should it? Give a guy a break, right? But I think Mr. Paul wants something he's not willing to give of himself.
I've watched my own kids suffer what I thought were stupid consequences under the auspices of ZERO TOLERANCE. I find it hard to reconcile Mr. Paul asking for mercy in the public's judgement. I think it strenghtens the drive of those who are on a witch hunt, calling for a boot in the seat for the hard-nosed buck-stopper, that his own Zero Tolerance stance has also employed Zero Common Sense.
I don't know that the guy should resign or be terminated, but I do believe he should recognize that the black and white world he lives in would have him on the losing end in this scenario. Maybe this will lead to some changes in the way our schools dole out their brand of justice. In the end, I hope Mr. Paul realizes that it is better to be known as a sinner than a hypocrite.
Good God, you’re draggin’ it out.
Good God, it’s the changin’ of the seasons.
I feel so raped man,
Follow me down. . .
And just fake it, if you’re out of direction.
Fake it, if you don’t belong here.
Fake it, if you feel like infection.
Whoa, you’re such a (Bleepin') hypocrite!" - Seether
Public figures have tough time saying 'I'm sorry'
http://www.pnj.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080120/NEWS01/801200323/1006
The above link is to Troy Moon's spin on the latest in a string of public officials gone wild. . .or rather, Mr. Moon's spin on the spin.
It bothers me that anyone drives drunk. . .especially knowing that my Teens are out driving amongst the impaired. And it bothers me that the Superintendent was caught DUI. But it's not a surprise - someone commented in the PNJ forums that people who drink could wind up behind the wheel deciding they are "okay" to drive. Hey, it happens.
I don't envision Jim Paul as being some sort of irresponsible letch, he made a mistake and was lucky it turned out as well as it did. One mistake, where no harm was done, shouldn't cause irreparable damage to your life, should it? Give a guy a break, right? But I think Mr. Paul wants something he's not willing to give of himself.
I've watched my own kids suffer what I thought were stupid consequences under the auspices of ZERO TOLERANCE. I find it hard to reconcile Mr. Paul asking for mercy in the public's judgement. I think it strenghtens the drive of those who are on a witch hunt, calling for a boot in the seat for the hard-nosed buck-stopper, that his own Zero Tolerance stance has also employed Zero Common Sense.
I don't know that the guy should resign or be terminated, but I do believe he should recognize that the black and white world he lives in would have him on the losing end in this scenario. Maybe this will lead to some changes in the way our schools dole out their brand of justice. In the end, I hope Mr. Paul realizes that it is better to be known as a sinner than a hypocrite.
1.18.2008
Deep Conversations. . .
"Mom, what happens when you get a monogram?" Fifteen for a Moment asked earnestly.
"Ummmmmmm. . .you get initialed????"
"Oh, no, I meant. . .
"You meant a Mammogram??"
"Yeah." She giggled.
"They smash your boob and take a picture of it."
"Ew! I think I'd rather get initialed!"
Which reminds me. . the time to have one done is abreast. Boy, getting older can be so confusing, but it sure beats the alternative.
Have fun!!!
"Ummmmmmm. . .you get initialed????"
"Oh, no, I meant. . .
"You meant a Mammogram??"
"Yeah." She giggled.
"They smash your boob and take a picture of it."
"Ew! I think I'd rather get initialed!"
Which reminds me. . the time to have one done is abreast. Boy, getting older can be so confusing, but it sure beats the alternative.
Have fun!!!
1.17.2008
That's Entertainment
"Six o'clock - TV hour. Don't get caught in foreign towers.
Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn.
Locking in, uniforming, book burning, blood letting.
Every motive escalate. Automotive incinerate.
Light a candle, light a votive. Step down, step down.
Watch your heel crush, crushed. Uh-oh, this means no fear cavalier.
Renegade steer clear! A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies.
Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline.
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine. . ." - R.E.M.
A moment of realization came to me as I sat watching "American Idol" with my family last night: the world as we know it is coming to an end.
For entertainment, we sit around and watch Randy, Simon and Paula make fun of people's talent (or lack thereof.) The commercial breaks were even more enticing. Soon, we'll be able to enjoy our fellow man (or woman) as they squirm under interrogation while hooked to a lie detector - for money.
Then came the news promo about how our community is mourning over the "Tragedy on the Bridge. . . " complete with fancy graphic and pictures of the children's heartbroken mother sobbing, rescue workers sobbing, little kids sobbing. . .
Yes, it is an horriffic situation - but do we need to see the poor woman's reaction plastered all over the media? Certainly, we have all been touched by this terrible murder and disgusted by the whack who killed his own children, but are we so hungry for a "good story" that we are overdoing it a little?
Then again, consider what constitutes "entertainment" these days - shows about murder (SVU, CSI, etc.), "reality" shows about spoiled people with few morals and fewer bouts of conscience, "news" shows with their special graphics and in-depth coverage.
I don't know. . .maybe "American Idol" isn't so bad in comparison. Offer me alternatives and I decline. . .
Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn.
Locking in, uniforming, book burning, blood letting.
Every motive escalate. Automotive incinerate.
Light a candle, light a votive. Step down, step down.
Watch your heel crush, crushed. Uh-oh, this means no fear cavalier.
Renegade steer clear! A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies.
Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline.
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine. . ." - R.E.M.
A moment of realization came to me as I sat watching "American Idol" with my family last night: the world as we know it is coming to an end.
For entertainment, we sit around and watch Randy, Simon and Paula make fun of people's talent (or lack thereof.) The commercial breaks were even more enticing. Soon, we'll be able to enjoy our fellow man (or woman) as they squirm under interrogation while hooked to a lie detector - for money.
Then came the news promo about how our community is mourning over the "Tragedy on the Bridge. . . " complete with fancy graphic and pictures of the children's heartbroken mother sobbing, rescue workers sobbing, little kids sobbing. . .
Yes, it is an horriffic situation - but do we need to see the poor woman's reaction plastered all over the media? Certainly, we have all been touched by this terrible murder and disgusted by the whack who killed his own children, but are we so hungry for a "good story" that we are overdoing it a little?
Then again, consider what constitutes "entertainment" these days - shows about murder (SVU, CSI, etc.), "reality" shows about spoiled people with few morals and fewer bouts of conscience, "news" shows with their special graphics and in-depth coverage.
I don't know. . .maybe "American Idol" isn't so bad in comparison. Offer me alternatives and I decline. . .
1.14.2008
Instant Karma
"Okay!" Fourteeny throws open the door. "I go out into the garage to get some pizza rolls and dad sees me and now I gotta help him work on the car!"
He he he. . .I snickered, that's a good one. I gotta put that in the blog. He slammed the door. And now it is opening again. . .
"Mom, Dad needs your help, now!"
Ooops, gotta go. Dang!
He he he. . .I snickered, that's a good one. I gotta put that in the blog. He slammed the door. And now it is opening again. . .
"Mom, Dad needs your help, now!"
Ooops, gotta go. Dang!
1.13.2008
Rock On!
"Our love is like a ship on the ocean -
We've been sailing with a cargo full of love and devotion. . .
Don't rock the boat, baby!" - Hues Corporation
I remember days last summer when the Gulf looked like a swimming pool - completely flat, brilliant blue. And others, when its waters churned gray-green and the white-capped waves crashed angrily on the shore.
Same Gulf, different days.
Does that mean that I'll never skim across at the behest of my little Johnson again? Nope. It just means that some days are better than others.
Such is the way with teenagers. Today's tempest is tomorrow's smooth ride. Just remember that when you are feeling the tickle of the fringe at the end of your rope.
And, just in case, always keep your flotation device handy. Even when it appears to be smooth sailing ahead, there's always a chance that someone's gonna rock the boat!
C'mon summer! Have fun!
We've been sailing with a cargo full of love and devotion. . .
Don't rock the boat, baby!" - Hues Corporation
I remember days last summer when the Gulf looked like a swimming pool - completely flat, brilliant blue. And others, when its waters churned gray-green and the white-capped waves crashed angrily on the shore.
Same Gulf, different days.
Does that mean that I'll never skim across at the behest of my little Johnson again? Nope. It just means that some days are better than others.
Such is the way with teenagers. Today's tempest is tomorrow's smooth ride. Just remember that when you are feeling the tickle of the fringe at the end of your rope.
And, just in case, always keep your flotation device handy. Even when it appears to be smooth sailing ahead, there's always a chance that someone's gonna rock the boat!
C'mon summer! Have fun!
1.12.2008
Lumpy
"Lump sat alone in a boggy marsh,
Totally motionless except for her heart.
Mud flowed up into Lump's pajamas.
She totally confused all the passing piranhas
She's lump, she's lump.
She's in my head. . .
Lump lingered last in line for brains
and the one she got was sorta rotten and insane!
Small thing's so sad that birds could land. . .
Is Lump fast asleep or rockin' out with the band?" - Presidents of the United States of America
I am such a lump.
I took Fifteen for a Moment to Saturday school today. The offense - smoking in the boys room? Hanging the Prinicpal's boxers from the flagpole? Nope, it was. . .I'm so ashamed. . .crying in the library. (note: author drips with sarcasm.)
During the friend-with-the-too-old-boyfriend saga (which has since resolved itself and all is right with the world again), which played out smack-dab in the aftermath of her grandfather's passing, she broke into tears one day in Spanish class. The teacher sent her to the guidance office. She sat waiting for twenty minutes before someone informed her that the counselor she was waiting for wasn't in.
Her English class had begun, but she was still quite distraught. She made her way to the library, where she sat crying for a while. She dried her eyes, regained her composure and waited for the bell to ring.
Her English teacher had notified the dean of her absence. I got the call in the middle of a funk of my own. "This is the dean and I have your daughter in my office. She skipped a class and will have to serve Saturday detention. If she'd left campus, we could expel her." While close, it's not verbatim, but I do remember noting the disappointment in her voice. I didn't argue. I talked to my daughter, decided she was okay, and wrote it on my calendar.
As I drove her in today, I kept thinking, "Why didn't I stand up for her?" And not because I took issue with driving her in on a Saturday, but because it was handled in such a cold and efficient manner, without regard for the fact that my daughter is a person. Zero tolerance and all (well, unless you're the Superintendent!)
I beat myself up over my personal shortcomings all the way home: I should have taken issue with the dean. I never did call my sister yesterday, it was her birthday. I wish I'd been in Houston to get my mom's cat out of the tree for her. I am such a lump!
Maybe, like a lump of silly putty, I'm just stretched a little thin lately. In the middle of yesterday's cat-in-the-tree saga, and while I was in Wal Mart for the second time in one day, Hey Nineteen called. "I called the dispatcher for the fire department near Grandma. Did they get there yet?"
"No. . .but thank you, son. Hey, is something wrong??"
"I can't talk about it. I am just a total screw-up." Click.
What was it now?? I wanted to call him back, but my phone was dead. The Kindergartner was looking for ways to spend her gift card and I had to pick up Fifteen from the mall and get home so she could get ready for a date and Fourteen needed help with an essay. By the time I got to call back, he'd left for class. I'd dropped the Mom-ball again.
I lay awake all night wondering what IT was. . .he'd gotten someone pregnant. . .he'd wrecked his motorcycle. . .he'd messed up his scholarship. . .with teenagers, the possibilities are endless. Short of his killing someone, I figured we'd work it out.
I called him this morning when I got in.
"The kitty has landed!"
"Oh, good."
"Okay, I was awake all night worrying about you. . .what is it? It's okay, you can tell me anything, I am braced."
"Mom, it wasn't anything. I just got yelled at. Don't worry about it."
Some days, being a mom makes me feel like my lumpy butt is being chewed by tiny teethy fish. And yet, with all of that mental activity, I still feel like a bit of a lump. Not really making much of a difference except in my own mind, confusing all of the passing piranhas. At least I can spell piranha. Piranha, piranha, piranha. . .ha ha ha!
Have fun!
Totally motionless except for her heart.
Mud flowed up into Lump's pajamas.
She totally confused all the passing piranhas
She's lump, she's lump.
She's in my head. . .
Lump lingered last in line for brains
and the one she got was sorta rotten and insane!
Small thing's so sad that birds could land. . .
Is Lump fast asleep or rockin' out with the band?" - Presidents of the United States of America
I am such a lump.
I took Fifteen for a Moment to Saturday school today. The offense - smoking in the boys room? Hanging the Prinicpal's boxers from the flagpole? Nope, it was. . .I'm so ashamed. . .crying in the library. (note: author drips with sarcasm.)
During the friend-with-the-too-old-boyfriend saga (which has since resolved itself and all is right with the world again), which played out smack-dab in the aftermath of her grandfather's passing, she broke into tears one day in Spanish class. The teacher sent her to the guidance office. She sat waiting for twenty minutes before someone informed her that the counselor she was waiting for wasn't in.
Her English class had begun, but she was still quite distraught. She made her way to the library, where she sat crying for a while. She dried her eyes, regained her composure and waited for the bell to ring.
Her English teacher had notified the dean of her absence. I got the call in the middle of a funk of my own. "This is the dean and I have your daughter in my office. She skipped a class and will have to serve Saturday detention. If she'd left campus, we could expel her." While close, it's not verbatim, but I do remember noting the disappointment in her voice. I didn't argue. I talked to my daughter, decided she was okay, and wrote it on my calendar.
As I drove her in today, I kept thinking, "Why didn't I stand up for her?" And not because I took issue with driving her in on a Saturday, but because it was handled in such a cold and efficient manner, without regard for the fact that my daughter is a person. Zero tolerance and all (well, unless you're the Superintendent!)
I beat myself up over my personal shortcomings all the way home: I should have taken issue with the dean. I never did call my sister yesterday, it was her birthday. I wish I'd been in Houston to get my mom's cat out of the tree for her. I am such a lump!
Maybe, like a lump of silly putty, I'm just stretched a little thin lately. In the middle of yesterday's cat-in-the-tree saga, and while I was in Wal Mart for the second time in one day, Hey Nineteen called. "I called the dispatcher for the fire department near Grandma. Did they get there yet?"
"No. . .but thank you, son. Hey, is something wrong??"
"I can't talk about it. I am just a total screw-up." Click.
What was it now?? I wanted to call him back, but my phone was dead. The Kindergartner was looking for ways to spend her gift card and I had to pick up Fifteen from the mall and get home so she could get ready for a date and Fourteen needed help with an essay. By the time I got to call back, he'd left for class. I'd dropped the Mom-ball again.
I lay awake all night wondering what IT was. . .he'd gotten someone pregnant. . .he'd wrecked his motorcycle. . .he'd messed up his scholarship. . .with teenagers, the possibilities are endless. Short of his killing someone, I figured we'd work it out.
I called him this morning when I got in.
"The kitty has landed!"
"Oh, good."
"Okay, I was awake all night worrying about you. . .what is it? It's okay, you can tell me anything, I am braced."
"Mom, it wasn't anything. I just got yelled at. Don't worry about it."
Some days, being a mom makes me feel like my lumpy butt is being chewed by tiny teethy fish. And yet, with all of that mental activity, I still feel like a bit of a lump. Not really making much of a difference except in my own mind, confusing all of the passing piranhas. At least I can spell piranha. Piranha, piranha, piranha. . .ha ha ha!
Have fun!
1.10.2008
A Little Testy. . .
"Oh, you got so much goin' for you,
Goin' right,
But I know at 17
It's hard to see past Friday night.
Tonight's the bonfire rally,
But you're staying home instead,
Because if you fail algebra,
Mom and Dad'll kill you dead!
Trust me, you'll squeak by and get a C -
And you're still around to write this letter to me." - Brad Paisley
Today we take our Algebra 2 test. Having found math to be a little too, well, mathematical myself, I can certainly identify with my daughter's anxiety.
We've studied, prepared a sanctioned "cheat sheet," prayed. . . now it's all up to her. This is her make or break moment, an event that could change her entire life, the determining factor in whether she's a CEO or a bagger forever. . .
I can't write a letter to me like Brad did, but I can pass a little wisdom on to my lovely daughter. No, it's just another test. And life is full of them. Go get 'em on this one and move on to the next, girl! I am proud of you.
Goin' right,
But I know at 17
It's hard to see past Friday night.
Tonight's the bonfire rally,
But you're staying home instead,
Because if you fail algebra,
Mom and Dad'll kill you dead!
Trust me, you'll squeak by and get a C -
And you're still around to write this letter to me." - Brad Paisley
Today we take our Algebra 2 test. Having found math to be a little too, well, mathematical myself, I can certainly identify with my daughter's anxiety.
We've studied, prepared a sanctioned "cheat sheet," prayed. . . now it's all up to her. This is her make or break moment, an event that could change her entire life, the determining factor in whether she's a CEO or a bagger forever. . .
I can't write a letter to me like Brad did, but I can pass a little wisdom on to my lovely daughter. No, it's just another test. And life is full of them. Go get 'em on this one and move on to the next, girl! I am proud of you.
1.09.2008
My Oh My
"Memories are just where you laid them.
Drag the waters ’till the depths give up their dead.
What did you expect to find?
Was there something you left behind?
Don’t you remember anything I said when I said
Don’t fall away, and leave me to myself. . ." - Fuel
I rolled home on the return from dropping Fifteen for a Moment at the High School of Doom this morning, loudly singing the dismal tune to the dismal fog, ". . .And leave love bleeding in my hands again!" It inspired Pcola Lola, my border collie, to leave her spot at shotgun and jump into the back seat.
My headlights reflected in the soup and I eased into the driveway. "Uhhh, " I said to the dog, and threw it in park. The porch lights gave my front door a golden, almost unearthly glow. I literally walked out of my fog and into another world.
The kindergartener was at the table, gnawing on a pop tart. "I'm soooooooo excited, it's a PE day!!!!! What's for lunch, Mommy?"
"Well, let's check the menu. . ." I pirouetted to the fridge. "Girl, you are high cotton today! Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, mixed greens and cornbread. . .yum, yum! So, trayer or lunch boxer??"
"Oh, man, can it get any better? Trayer for sure!" She giggled. Five year olds are definitely funk-killers.
We took a couple of whacks at her hair, brushed her teeth, gathered the accesories and headed off for school. "Number nine, MOM!" she announced as she buckled her seatbelt.
Being the Wonder-Mom that I am, I had the CD cued for her, "Zippity doo dah, zippity - A !" We sang loudly and badly for four blocks.
Sometimes, when you repeat "My oh my, what a wonderful day!" enough, you start to believe it.
Have fun!
Drag the waters ’till the depths give up their dead.
What did you expect to find?
Was there something you left behind?
Don’t you remember anything I said when I said
Don’t fall away, and leave me to myself. . ." - Fuel
I rolled home on the return from dropping Fifteen for a Moment at the High School of Doom this morning, loudly singing the dismal tune to the dismal fog, ". . .And leave love bleeding in my hands again!" It inspired Pcola Lola, my border collie, to leave her spot at shotgun and jump into the back seat.
My headlights reflected in the soup and I eased into the driveway. "Uhhh, " I said to the dog, and threw it in park. The porch lights gave my front door a golden, almost unearthly glow. I literally walked out of my fog and into another world.
The kindergartener was at the table, gnawing on a pop tart. "I'm soooooooo excited, it's a PE day!!!!! What's for lunch, Mommy?"
"Well, let's check the menu. . ." I pirouetted to the fridge. "Girl, you are high cotton today! Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, mixed greens and cornbread. . .yum, yum! So, trayer or lunch boxer??"
"Oh, man, can it get any better? Trayer for sure!" She giggled. Five year olds are definitely funk-killers.
We took a couple of whacks at her hair, brushed her teeth, gathered the accesories and headed off for school. "Number nine, MOM!" she announced as she buckled her seatbelt.
Being the Wonder-Mom that I am, I had the CD cued for her, "Zippity doo dah, zippity - A !" We sang loudly and badly for four blocks.
Sometimes, when you repeat "My oh my, what a wonderful day!" enough, you start to believe it.
Have fun!
1.08.2008
Old School
"I'm never going back to my old school. . ." - Steely Dan
In mountaineering terminology, a fourteener is a mountain that exceeds 14,000 feet above sea level. In motherhood terminology, a fourteener only has two feet, but they don't smell so nice.
We're into our third year of homeschooling, and the excitement has waned. While there are days when we lament the toil of those lost in a sea of FCAT prep and celebrate virtual school's adage of "Any time, any place, any path, any pace," it does not go unnoticed that a crucial element is missing: chicks.
We'll keep you posted as we explore our options. . .
We also have semester exams this week for Fifteen for a Moment. . .nothing like coming back from two weeks' vacation and taking a bunch of crucial tests. My less-than-sympathetic "You either know it or you don't, right?" was met with excessive eye-rolling and puffing, so I guess it's a little stressful. Pile it on, we can handle it!
It is a matter of perspective - the kindergartener was bummed that they didn't get a "bonus P.E." yesterday. Even Hey Nineteen found himself in some mandatory fireman education meeting last night when he just wanted to watch t.v.
Oh, yeah, hey, did anyone watch that football game last night? (Hee hee hee!) Since I don't have a NEW "NATIONAL CHAMPION" shirt, I had to wear my old one. . .
Have fun!
In mountaineering terminology, a fourteener is a mountain that exceeds 14,000 feet above sea level. In motherhood terminology, a fourteener only has two feet, but they don't smell so nice.
We're into our third year of homeschooling, and the excitement has waned. While there are days when we lament the toil of those lost in a sea of FCAT prep and celebrate virtual school's adage of "Any time, any place, any path, any pace," it does not go unnoticed that a crucial element is missing: chicks.
We'll keep you posted as we explore our options. . .
We also have semester exams this week for Fifteen for a Moment. . .nothing like coming back from two weeks' vacation and taking a bunch of crucial tests. My less-than-sympathetic "You either know it or you don't, right?" was met with excessive eye-rolling and puffing, so I guess it's a little stressful. Pile it on, we can handle it!
It is a matter of perspective - the kindergartener was bummed that they didn't get a "bonus P.E." yesterday. Even Hey Nineteen found himself in some mandatory fireman education meeting last night when he just wanted to watch t.v.
Oh, yeah, hey, did anyone watch that football game last night? (Hee hee hee!) Since I don't have a NEW "NATIONAL CHAMPION" shirt, I had to wear my old one. . .
Have fun!
1.04.2008
Necessity is the Mother of Teenagers
From the woman who brought you "Five Minutes Alone"
"If you'd like to ask Mom a question, please wait for the flush!"
comes the "Teen Ticker."
Simply plug the "Teen Ticker" cord into any Ipod, use the convenient velcro apparatus to attach to your child's forehead, and VOILA!
Yes, with the "Teen Ticker" you can read your teen's mind, picking up on even the subliminal messages that you SHOULD have gotten with all the ease of reading the Menu at McDonald's.
"So, sweetie, how was your day?"
"Fine."
Tick, tick, tick: I set fire to the neighbor's cat and sold my little brother to the circus.
*************************
"Honey, is something wrong?"
"No."
Tick, tick, tick: I have a whole list of things that are wrong, but I am going to make you wait four days and possibly secure a "feel better" shopping trip out of you before I divulge them in a tearful meltdown.
**************************
"Mom, I'm hungry!"
Tick, tick, tick: Mom, I'm hungry.
Order in the next five minutes and you'll also receive the "Bed of Nails Alarm Clock." Put an end to those irritating late mornings. . .forever!
"If you'd like to ask Mom a question, please wait for the flush!"
comes the "Teen Ticker."
Simply plug the "Teen Ticker" cord into any Ipod, use the convenient velcro apparatus to attach to your child's forehead, and VOILA!
Yes, with the "Teen Ticker" you can read your teen's mind, picking up on even the subliminal messages that you SHOULD have gotten with all the ease of reading the Menu at McDonald's.
"So, sweetie, how was your day?"
"Fine."
Tick, tick, tick: I set fire to the neighbor's cat and sold my little brother to the circus.
*************************
"Honey, is something wrong?"
"No."
Tick, tick, tick: I have a whole list of things that are wrong, but I am going to make you wait four days and possibly secure a "feel better" shopping trip out of you before I divulge them in a tearful meltdown.
**************************
"Mom, I'm hungry!"
Tick, tick, tick: Mom, I'm hungry.
Order in the next five minutes and you'll also receive the "Bed of Nails Alarm Clock." Put an end to those irritating late mornings. . .forever!
1.03.2008
Your Momma Doesn't Work Here!
The phone rang this morning - where was the employee?
"I didn't know I was scheduled!" She said. "I just told them I wasn't coming in."
"Did you call yesterday to check the schedule?" I asked.
"No."
"Well, then you need to go in. They are counting on you to be there."
She grudgingly called them back, then grudgingly started to get ready.
"It's not like they need me anyway. . ."
"Well, if they didn't 'need' you, then they wouldn't pay you to work there. . .think about it. They don't exist for your benefit. . ."
Being a teenager, poised on the brink of adulthood but still dangling a toe in childhood, is a tough transition. We talked about how, in the adult world, you can't continue to look at things from a child's perspective.
"If you approach your job with the same attitude, whether you are the CEO or the Bagger, your reputation will be that of a go-getter. Sure, you're probably not going to work here forever, but your reputaion IS yours forever."
I was proud of her eye-roll control. I had also bought her breakfast, so that probably helped.
Having dealt with the modern-day workforce from the perspective of a customer as well as an employer, I see the need for all of us to say these things to our teens as they enter the working world:
If you're going to do a job, do a good job, no matter what your job is.
Be on time. Be courteous. Leave your personal business at home.
The customer is the most important part of a retail business.
Learn to count change.
Notice as you hit the grocery store, the mall, the gas station how many "employees" lack such basics as actually SPEAKING to you or making eye contact. It is up to us to teach the next generation that employment is NOT an entitlement, it is up to them to earn the position then work hard to keep it.
Now, can someone lend me a hand as I step-down from my soapbox?
Have fun.
"I didn't know I was scheduled!" She said. "I just told them I wasn't coming in."
"Did you call yesterday to check the schedule?" I asked.
"No."
"Well, then you need to go in. They are counting on you to be there."
She grudgingly called them back, then grudgingly started to get ready.
"It's not like they need me anyway. . ."
"Well, if they didn't 'need' you, then they wouldn't pay you to work there. . .think about it. They don't exist for your benefit. . ."
Being a teenager, poised on the brink of adulthood but still dangling a toe in childhood, is a tough transition. We talked about how, in the adult world, you can't continue to look at things from a child's perspective.
"If you approach your job with the same attitude, whether you are the CEO or the Bagger, your reputation will be that of a go-getter. Sure, you're probably not going to work here forever, but your reputaion IS yours forever."
I was proud of her eye-roll control. I had also bought her breakfast, so that probably helped.
Having dealt with the modern-day workforce from the perspective of a customer as well as an employer, I see the need for all of us to say these things to our teens as they enter the working world:
If you're going to do a job, do a good job, no matter what your job is.
Be on time. Be courteous. Leave your personal business at home.
The customer is the most important part of a retail business.
Learn to count change.
Notice as you hit the grocery store, the mall, the gas station how many "employees" lack such basics as actually SPEAKING to you or making eye contact. It is up to us to teach the next generation that employment is NOT an entitlement, it is up to them to earn the position then work hard to keep it.
Now, can someone lend me a hand as I step-down from my soapbox?
Have fun.
1.02.2008
Bed-Head
"I was dreamin' when I wrote this,
Forgive me if it goes astray. . ." - Prince
Uhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnn. Is there any more depressing time of year than the post-holiday doldrums?
Do you think anyone would notice if I just stayed in bed with my head under the covers?
Oh, no, not me. . . the kids have practices and parties and an irritating habit of wanting to eat, so I guess I have to keep going.
I get these far-down funky blues every now and then - often enough to recognize them when they come. That makes it a little easier to navigate. And the world doesn't stop just because I would like for it to do so - bah!
Soon I will be my old perky self (although I am NOT old!) Being depressed is not a crime. . .it's only when you let it control you that you start to lose. I think I'll just dance it off. . .
Wow, I feel better already. . .Everybody say "Paaar-tay!"
Have fun!
Forgive me if it goes astray. . ." - Prince
Uhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnn. Is there any more depressing time of year than the post-holiday doldrums?
Do you think anyone would notice if I just stayed in bed with my head under the covers?
Oh, no, not me. . . the kids have practices and parties and an irritating habit of wanting to eat, so I guess I have to keep going.
I get these far-down funky blues every now and then - often enough to recognize them when they come. That makes it a little easier to navigate. And the world doesn't stop just because I would like for it to do so - bah!
Soon I will be my old perky self (although I am NOT old!) Being depressed is not a crime. . .it's only when you let it control you that you start to lose. I think I'll just dance it off. . .
Wow, I feel better already. . .Everybody say "Paaar-tay!"
Have fun!
1.01.2008
My Gump, My Gump, My Gump
"Run, Forest. Run!" - Jenny, "Forest Gump"
Fifteen for a Moment has been pulling the 8-2 carts for several days. My suggestion that she just run to work was met with the dead stare.
"It's only two miles, honey. You're on the weight-lifting team. . .it will be good for you!"
"MOOOOOM, you can't be serious."
Oh, that's the weight LIFTING team, not the weight MOVING team.
Remember the last scene in Forest Gump? Tom Hanks puts his son on the bus then sits on a stump to await his return. My kids believe that I must be either driving them or waiting to drive them.
Yesterday, I picked the mad bagger up at two. I was thinking about how fun it was going to be for us to cook dinner together when she asked, "Can you take me to Lu-lu's house?"
I sniffed my pits in search of the offense! "Fer cryin' out loud! I just picked you up!"
She let me off the hook, "No offense, Mom. I just wanted to hang out with my friend for a while. And please stop sniffing, you're embarassing me!"
What kind of fifteen year old girl would rather hang out with her friends than prepare a nutritious meal for her family with her Mommy at her side?? Tell me, will you, because I just do not know.
I have begun 2008 the way I finished 2007, conveying kids to and from their appointed destinations, trying to maintain my low profile lest they begin to see me as anything more than a Gump on a log.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Have Fun!
Fifteen for a Moment has been pulling the 8-2 carts for several days. My suggestion that she just run to work was met with the dead stare.
"It's only two miles, honey. You're on the weight-lifting team. . .it will be good for you!"
"MOOOOOM, you can't be serious."
Oh, that's the weight LIFTING team, not the weight MOVING team.
Remember the last scene in Forest Gump? Tom Hanks puts his son on the bus then sits on a stump to await his return. My kids believe that I must be either driving them or waiting to drive them.
Yesterday, I picked the mad bagger up at two. I was thinking about how fun it was going to be for us to cook dinner together when she asked, "Can you take me to Lu-lu's house?"
I sniffed my pits in search of the offense! "Fer cryin' out loud! I just picked you up!"
She let me off the hook, "No offense, Mom. I just wanted to hang out with my friend for a while. And please stop sniffing, you're embarassing me!"
What kind of fifteen year old girl would rather hang out with her friends than prepare a nutritious meal for her family with her Mommy at her side?? Tell me, will you, because I just do not know.
I have begun 2008 the way I finished 2007, conveying kids to and from their appointed destinations, trying to maintain my low profile lest they begin to see me as anything more than a Gump on a log.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Have Fun!
12.31.2007
I Feel So Dang Auld!
"We drank a toast to innocence,
We drank a toast to now.
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness,
But neither one knew how.
We drank a toast to innocence,
We drank a toast to time.
Reliving in our eloquence,
Another 'auld lang syne'..." - Dan Fogelberg
"And its been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last.
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass. . ." -Counting Crowes
I'll be spending the waning hours of 2007 surrounded by two-thirds of my adoring children. . . well, the five year old still thinks I'm the stuff.
We were able to secure the presence of the younger teens by bribing them with twenty bucks-worth of firecrackers, but the oldest is going to be working (or so he claims.) As much as I love to have all four in one place at one time, it is becoming harder to do so. I am the "auld-acquaintance" they're talking about. . .the mom of a teenager, never brought to mind. Have a drink for me, will ya?
I am not one for reflection or resolutions. . .I try to take each day as it comes (it hurts less that way.) It is exciting and frightening to be alive in 2007 and I am sure that things will keep moving along thusly in 2008 (although boring and uneventful would be a nice break for a while.)
Ah, it's not that bad. 2007 has been 365 ordinary days, with a smattering of festivity, a joyful reunion and a heartbreaking loss and a lot of "keep on moving" in-between. No use in worrying about the days that are past, or the days that are coming. . .they'll come and go anyway.
Tonight, I will simply enjoy the moment (with MOST of my children): the smell of gunpowder, the taste of cheap champagne, the sound of laughter. . .same auld lang syne. . .
So, here's a toast to innocence. Have fun. See you next year!
We drank a toast to now.
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness,
But neither one knew how.
We drank a toast to innocence,
We drank a toast to time.
Reliving in our eloquence,
Another 'auld lang syne'..." - Dan Fogelberg
"And its been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last.
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass. . ." -Counting Crowes
I'll be spending the waning hours of 2007 surrounded by two-thirds of my adoring children. . . well, the five year old still thinks I'm the stuff.
We were able to secure the presence of the younger teens by bribing them with twenty bucks-worth of firecrackers, but the oldest is going to be working (or so he claims.) As much as I love to have all four in one place at one time, it is becoming harder to do so. I am the "auld-acquaintance" they're talking about. . .the mom of a teenager, never brought to mind. Have a drink for me, will ya?
I am not one for reflection or resolutions. . .I try to take each day as it comes (it hurts less that way.) It is exciting and frightening to be alive in 2007 and I am sure that things will keep moving along thusly in 2008 (although boring and uneventful would be a nice break for a while.)
Ah, it's not that bad. 2007 has been 365 ordinary days, with a smattering of festivity, a joyful reunion and a heartbreaking loss and a lot of "keep on moving" in-between. No use in worrying about the days that are past, or the days that are coming. . .they'll come and go anyway.
Tonight, I will simply enjoy the moment (with MOST of my children): the smell of gunpowder, the taste of cheap champagne, the sound of laughter. . .same auld lang syne. . .
So, here's a toast to innocence. Have fun. See you next year!
12.29.2007
Alone
"I never said, 'I want to be alone.' I only said, 'I want to be left alone.' There is all the difference." - Greta Garbo
In the early years, we were blessed with a cool/cheap triplex in an old house on Reed Ave. in Mobile - located in the up-and-coming historic district. It was choc-full of young families with kids - and I would allow my four-year-old to play outside all day, knowing the mothers up and down the street were keeping moderate supervision.
Times have changed. The current five-year-old is not allowed to sit on the front porch unsupervised. I have to schedule a "play date" or hover over her at the park. I walk her to class each day and pick her up at the corner every afternoon.
I don't even want my teenagers going to someone's house if I don't know the parents - FORGET about riding in a car with some newbie driving (that's the big grievance lately - Everyone Else's Parents strike again!) And the oldest living on his own provides plenty of anxiety in the wee-hours.
When I was a child, I would spend hours alone walking through the woods, running around the neighborhood with friends, riding my bike through the golf course near my grandparents' home. . . no one could have known where I was, but I showed up for meals and at dark, so it was okay. When I was fourteen, I rode all over Central Louisiana in cars with my friends and no one gave me a second thought!
I wonder what the long-term effects are of our kids having constant supervision. Perhaps, "Here we are. Now, entertain us!" is not so much an entitlement issue as a cultivated consequence.
And as for being alone, I haven't been "alone" in twenty years. . .but I think I remember that it was kinda nice every now and then. . .
In the early years, we were blessed with a cool/cheap triplex in an old house on Reed Ave. in Mobile - located in the up-and-coming historic district. It was choc-full of young families with kids - and I would allow my four-year-old to play outside all day, knowing the mothers up and down the street were keeping moderate supervision.
Times have changed. The current five-year-old is not allowed to sit on the front porch unsupervised. I have to schedule a "play date" or hover over her at the park. I walk her to class each day and pick her up at the corner every afternoon.
I don't even want my teenagers going to someone's house if I don't know the parents - FORGET about riding in a car with some newbie driving (that's the big grievance lately - Everyone Else's Parents strike again!) And the oldest living on his own provides plenty of anxiety in the wee-hours.
When I was a child, I would spend hours alone walking through the woods, running around the neighborhood with friends, riding my bike through the golf course near my grandparents' home. . . no one could have known where I was, but I showed up for meals and at dark, so it was okay. When I was fourteen, I rode all over Central Louisiana in cars with my friends and no one gave me a second thought!
I wonder what the long-term effects are of our kids having constant supervision. Perhaps, "Here we are. Now, entertain us!" is not so much an entitlement issue as a cultivated consequence.
And as for being alone, I haven't been "alone" in twenty years. . .but I think I remember that it was kinda nice every now and then. . .
Making Plans
Jeff Foxworthy proclaimed his hunting experience to be "More fun'n runnin' nekkid through a state park!"
As we enjoyed our "date" over coffee and the VS outdoor shows, my husband and I pondered our plans for New Year's Eve.
"So, " he asked, "whatcha wanna do?"
"Running nekkid through a state park sounds good to me!"
Since the kids have grown into teenagers, our ability to just pack up and run off to the woods has steadily diminished. Now we have to negotiate work and school schedules, extracurricular activities and that most powerful deterrent to good ole' family time - friends.
"We can do that." He said, excitedly.
"No, we can't. Two have to work, one has lessons to finish, one THINKS she is going to a party, another has plans with his friends. . .dude, we're suffering from 'Nudus precludus.' "
The days of chunking stuff into the pop-up camper and heading to Krul Lake or Big Lagoon or points beyond have fallen victim to the teenage commitment. I can hear them now, "MOM! I don't want to spend New Year's Eve in the middle of NOWHERE! With my PARENTS!" The horror.
I can remember the days when they were 6,2 and new, times when I commented aloud, "I just wish they weren't always ON me!" As I type this, my five y/o is happily hanging on to my arm and doing some sort of floppy dance. . .but she's awfully warm. . .and I DO have a backspace button and spell-check. . .
I guess wisdom comes with age and experience. And my computer comes with a backspace button and spell-check. And chiggers come with running nekkid through the woods.
Have fun!
As we enjoyed our "date" over coffee and the VS outdoor shows, my husband and I pondered our plans for New Year's Eve.
"So, " he asked, "whatcha wanna do?"
"Running nekkid through a state park sounds good to me!"
Since the kids have grown into teenagers, our ability to just pack up and run off to the woods has steadily diminished. Now we have to negotiate work and school schedules, extracurricular activities and that most powerful deterrent to good ole' family time - friends.
"We can do that." He said, excitedly.
"No, we can't. Two have to work, one has lessons to finish, one THINKS she is going to a party, another has plans with his friends. . .dude, we're suffering from 'Nudus precludus.' "
The days of chunking stuff into the pop-up camper and heading to Krul Lake or Big Lagoon or points beyond have fallen victim to the teenage commitment. I can hear them now, "MOM! I don't want to spend New Year's Eve in the middle of NOWHERE! With my PARENTS!" The horror.
I can remember the days when they were 6,2 and new, times when I commented aloud, "I just wish they weren't always ON me!" As I type this, my five y/o is happily hanging on to my arm and doing some sort of floppy dance. . .but she's awfully warm. . .and I DO have a backspace button and spell-check. . .
I guess wisdom comes with age and experience. And my computer comes with a backspace button and spell-check. And chiggers come with running nekkid through the woods.
Have fun!
12.27.2007
I Could Have Been an Actor, But I Wound Up Here
"Kick 'em when they're up,
Kick 'em when they're down. . .
We all know that crap is king!
Give us dirty laundry!" - Don Henley
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be the next Lois Lane. My Dad's Mother tells stories of her days as a reporter for the Arkansas Democrat. . .how she told my grandfather, the young up-and-coming catcher for the Travellers, to "Get over there and let me take your picture!" the day she met him. It sounded so romantical and all. . .what girl doesn't want a Superman to sweep her off her feet. . .I need a hero! I'm holding out for a Hero. . . oh, sorry, lost my train for a sec. . .
I was a reporter for the "Galaxy Gazette" in the early years, finding print media my preferred outlet. A hodge-podge of school publications followed as I moved from school to school, seeking out the newspaper and yearbook types as "my" types, consistently "on my wave" in my ever-changing surroundings.
By the time I hit high-school, my focus and figure had shifted. I created my character, "Lara Balters" and performed my one-woman show on stage. I interviewed myself as an elf. . .okay, well, it came off better than it sounds! It got me the "Miss Landmark" crown, also better than it sounds. Following that, a three-night run as Patty the Cheerleader from Grease sealed the deal and I was going to be a star.
Yes, I could have been an actor, but I wound up here, sitting in my furry pink bathrobe sipping a cuppa joe and watching the morning news. Every channel had the parents of a young man who had been killed by a tiger, the morning anchors firing the "tough" questions at them: "How did you find out?" click "Did you hear someone may have let the tiger out intentionally?" click "What do you want to say to America about your son?"
Bah! Enough! Click, click, click. . .(ten minutes and eight hundred channels later) click. . .Ah, the eighties station. . .a little Don Henley to get your motor going. . .
Is my own life not full enough that I have to feed on the sensationalized grief of others? Have we really become the kind of people who love it when others lose? Are we creating this over-dose of reality through our own need for dirty laundry?
Am I going to have to stop watching "American Idol?"
I can't think about it right now. I think I'll go wash some clothes. Nothing like a little dirty laundry to get your morning going. Hey, this load is mine - go get your own!
Have fun!
Kick 'em when they're down. . .
We all know that crap is king!
Give us dirty laundry!" - Don Henley
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be the next Lois Lane. My Dad's Mother tells stories of her days as a reporter for the Arkansas Democrat. . .how she told my grandfather, the young up-and-coming catcher for the Travellers, to "Get over there and let me take your picture!" the day she met him. It sounded so romantical and all. . .what girl doesn't want a Superman to sweep her off her feet. . .I need a hero! I'm holding out for a Hero. . . oh, sorry, lost my train for a sec. . .
I was a reporter for the "Galaxy Gazette" in the early years, finding print media my preferred outlet. A hodge-podge of school publications followed as I moved from school to school, seeking out the newspaper and yearbook types as "my" types, consistently "on my wave" in my ever-changing surroundings.
By the time I hit high-school, my focus and figure had shifted. I created my character, "Lara Balters" and performed my one-woman show on stage. I interviewed myself as an elf. . .okay, well, it came off better than it sounds! It got me the "Miss Landmark" crown, also better than it sounds. Following that, a three-night run as Patty the Cheerleader from Grease sealed the deal and I was going to be a star.
Yes, I could have been an actor, but I wound up here, sitting in my furry pink bathrobe sipping a cuppa joe and watching the morning news. Every channel had the parents of a young man who had been killed by a tiger, the morning anchors firing the "tough" questions at them: "How did you find out?" click "Did you hear someone may have let the tiger out intentionally?" click "What do you want to say to America about your son?"
Bah! Enough! Click, click, click. . .(ten minutes and eight hundred channels later) click. . .Ah, the eighties station. . .a little Don Henley to get your motor going. . .
Is my own life not full enough that I have to feed on the sensationalized grief of others? Have we really become the kind of people who love it when others lose? Are we creating this over-dose of reality through our own need for dirty laundry?
Am I going to have to stop watching "American Idol?"
I can't think about it right now. I think I'll go wash some clothes. Nothing like a little dirty laundry to get your morning going. Hey, this load is mine - go get your own!
Have fun!
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