It started out to be such a good weekend morning. The oldest spent the night at a friends house. The five and six year-olds were laughing and playing quietly in their room, and the baby was eating happily in his highchair. On went the peppy cleaning music and I moved another load of laundry. Everything was moving along wonderfully, peacefully. As I entered the boys' room to put their clothes away, I was faced with the aftermath of a tornado, or so it seemed. There were broken plastic hangers strewn about. The contents of their closet was behind their dresser. Every toy they owned was piled in the middle of their floor, and the telltale snack wrappers, from their booty dug up from the pantry, were stuffed between their beds and the wall. It was like they were pint-sized drunken rock stars trashing a hotel room, right down to a five inch hole in their wall. How on Earth did they do that in stealth mode? How do you wrap your mind around that. it makes no sense. It defies reason. So much for peaceful.
Except for putting their closet back together, I made them clean the entire thing. It took four hours before it was spotless, four hours of yelling and screaming and crying and carrying on, four hours of time-outs and everything else under the sun. It was four hours, but I refused to let them off the hook. Then when the oldest came home, apparently after not sleeping for two nights, I got attitude for reminding him he had chores. I had to wake him up three times and he the nerve to ask me what my problem was and why can't I just leave him alone. Really? There was no respect to be had that day and there was none given.
However, this is not about our imperfect front. This is not about our lack of patience or understanding. This is not about good parenting vs. bad parenting. As parents, we tend to judge our skills based on our children's worst day. Tantrums, backtalk, screaming fits that pluck that last nerve all serve as proof of our own ineptitude. When our wits' end is frayed, that is when we should be proud of ourselves for not returning our little angel-butts (1/2 angels and 1/2 pains in the butt) to whence they came. Of course we love our children. Of course it is their job to test boundaries, and it is ours to hold fast and teach them. Our actions will give them the tools they'll need to navigate their own paths through life. It's easy enough to say that in writing. Life, however, is made up of lessons that are hard to live.
I've read plenty of books, articles, and blogs by both the "professionals" and regular parents like me. I have come to realize that people, in general, are vain. There are so many people trying to offer help or advice on how to be the best parent you can be. Obviously it is easier to tell someone what they should do or how they should treat and discipline their children. Unfortunately, most of these people put forth their best days effort. Best case scenarios only make us normal, everyday people feel even less deserving of their little gifts from God. Even though, in real life, I have yet to meet a parent who doesn't give kudos to their kids for all the good and blame themselves for all the bad. Whether its bad choices, bad behavior, bad grades or an embarrassing lack of table manners if it isn't good, it is our fault. After all, we are the examples. We are the ones teaching them. They had to learn it from somewhere, right?
No, they are little people that are easily influenced. Fun, is good. They will learn that there are consequences for their actions by acting and reaping the consequences. So each act of willful independence, each shirking of the rules is just them learning. It is harder on us as parents than it is on them. We should not judge ourselves by their worst day. We should take pride in all they do right. We should do our best and do it with love. No one can ask for more. Every day they grow into their own person. Every now and then, they will test us one to many times and we may lose our minds just a little. You are normal. I am normal. Perfectly well behaved children in all circumstances, not so much.
I am grateful that chaotic days like this are few and far between. So, from one sometimes overwhelmed parent to all the others out there. Even whey they are tornadoes, you are a good parent. Even when they do the opposite of what you have taught them, you are a good parent. Even when you look at them and their disasters and want to run screaming in the other direction, you are a good parent. We all need a little help sometimes. We all need a break. Even when those options are not available, and we are not at our best....we are still good parents.
Though the rewards won't come until they are grown, productive members of society, rest assured that generations of parents have and will continue to have those days that make us question what God was thinking giving us kids. Then there are the rest of the days that are filled with silly songs and magic kisses. That is what we hold onto when they are plucking that last nerve.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Grasshoppers: Birth of a Phobia
I have a ridiculous fear of frogs. It is insane how mortified I get. As a child I loved them. I even grew tadpoles and caught babies by the canal. I was fine, until one day I saw a toad that completely filled the dog food bowl. We had a German Shepard, and he had a very big bowl. After that, I stopped with the frogs. It went unnoticed for years. Until one day, my kid brother saw me stop short while walking along the path to our front door. There was a tree frog on the leaf I had to walk by. I had only stopped for a second and then continued on into the house.
Well, little did I know that kid brothers are EVIL. Yeah, I said it. He took a bucket and played outside while I was relaxing in front of the T.V. As usual, my mother turned the television off and demanded that we either go outside to play or clean our rooms. Is that even a real choice? I mean, c'mon who cleans when it's only one of the available options, but I digress. So, of course, my sister and I went outside. I barely got past the drive when I got bombarded with tree frogs of all sizes. Big ones and babies both green and white varieties. I don't know where my brother got so many frogs, I can't imagine they were only from our yard, we barely had any plants. yet, there they were being pegged at me one at a time. From that day forward, I have had some weird frog phobia.
Perhaps it's that when I see a frog, I am transported back in time to that very day, to that very moment. The moment where one highly unlucky frog landed with its leg in my mouth and I tasted frog foot. Perhaps it's that I could not trust my own family to not take advantage of a little fear. I can't say for sure, maybe it is all that and more. All I know is that the very sight of a frog makes my blood run cold and turns me into a screaming, blithering idiot who is lucky to not wet herself in her hysteria over a two inch flippin' froggy.
I tell you this story, because years from now I will look back on today, as I see my 5 year old develop his own phobias from scratch with a little help from all those who love him, and know just where it began. Where we live there is some mutant grasshopper thing that grows to be roughly about 4" from tip to tail. That is a low estimate. I've seen them bigger. Anyway there was one about 3" long on our stack of bags of mulch. I told my oldest to pick it up and feed it to the chickens. He flipped out and said, "no". Then my 6year old looked at it and tried to get it to move by poking it. It didn't budge. Then out comes our 5 yr old. Of course, he wanted to see it too. So he takes a look at it and turns to walk away. Hubby, their dad, picks it up to show the boys that it doesn't bite and is not scary. Then he pretended to throw it ad my 5 year old. Unfortunately, the grasshopper didn't realize he was supposed to stay put on hubbies hand. He pretend to fling his hand in the direction of the child. The grasshopper took off and jumped right on the edge of his shirtsleeve. As soon as the boy noticed it was on him, he went spastic. he screamed bloody murder. He couldn't have been any louder if he were being stabbed in the gut. He flails shamelessly, and jumps and wriggles wildly. He almost runs headfirst into the van.
Now, he is scared to go outside for fear that the giant grasshoppers will eat him alive. it's ridiculous. His big brothers just perpetuate the fear, and hubby can't stop laughing long enough to tell him anything, much less how dinner was. Today, was the birth of a phobia. I feel so bad for the kid.
Well, little did I know that kid brothers are EVIL. Yeah, I said it. He took a bucket and played outside while I was relaxing in front of the T.V. As usual, my mother turned the television off and demanded that we either go outside to play or clean our rooms. Is that even a real choice? I mean, c'mon who cleans when it's only one of the available options, but I digress. So, of course, my sister and I went outside. I barely got past the drive when I got bombarded with tree frogs of all sizes. Big ones and babies both green and white varieties. I don't know where my brother got so many frogs, I can't imagine they were only from our yard, we barely had any plants. yet, there they were being pegged at me one at a time. From that day forward, I have had some weird frog phobia.
Perhaps it's that when I see a frog, I am transported back in time to that very day, to that very moment. The moment where one highly unlucky frog landed with its leg in my mouth and I tasted frog foot. Perhaps it's that I could not trust my own family to not take advantage of a little fear. I can't say for sure, maybe it is all that and more. All I know is that the very sight of a frog makes my blood run cold and turns me into a screaming, blithering idiot who is lucky to not wet herself in her hysteria over a two inch flippin' froggy.
I tell you this story, because years from now I will look back on today, as I see my 5 year old develop his own phobias from scratch with a little help from all those who love him, and know just where it began. Where we live there is some mutant grasshopper thing that grows to be roughly about 4" from tip to tail. That is a low estimate. I've seen them bigger. Anyway there was one about 3" long on our stack of bags of mulch. I told my oldest to pick it up and feed it to the chickens. He flipped out and said, "no". Then my 6year old looked at it and tried to get it to move by poking it. It didn't budge. Then out comes our 5 yr old. Of course, he wanted to see it too. So he takes a look at it and turns to walk away. Hubby, their dad, picks it up to show the boys that it doesn't bite and is not scary. Then he pretended to throw it ad my 5 year old. Unfortunately, the grasshopper didn't realize he was supposed to stay put on hubbies hand. He pretend to fling his hand in the direction of the child. The grasshopper took off and jumped right on the edge of his shirtsleeve. As soon as the boy noticed it was on him, he went spastic. he screamed bloody murder. He couldn't have been any louder if he were being stabbed in the gut. He flails shamelessly, and jumps and wriggles wildly. He almost runs headfirst into the van.
Now, he is scared to go outside for fear that the giant grasshoppers will eat him alive. it's ridiculous. His big brothers just perpetuate the fear, and hubby can't stop laughing long enough to tell him anything, much less how dinner was. Today, was the birth of a phobia. I feel so bad for the kid.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Insomnia Sucks
Sitting here before dawn by the ethereal glow of cyberspace, I can't help but wonder WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME. Seriously, I don't sleep. If there are three solid hours to be had, that is considered success. The human body was not meant to function efficiently on such low recuperation time. Oh, and a severe lack of sleep apparently turns one into a cranky, paranoid beast.
Still, I'm drawn to the almost blinding glow of these stark white pages. My vision blurring in exhaustion, my back aching from this crappy chair, and my mind racing from the influx of crazy facebook dwellers...I am still here. It used to be that I could stumble a bit (love that site btw) and it would numb my mind enough to let the call of slumber be heard. Now, however, my head is spinning so fast that I can't even be bothered pushing that little green and blue circle that stares at me from the tom of my computer. The more I learn about the lives of those that my path in life has left behind, the more I worry about the people I once loved. The more I worry about those people, whom I haven't spoken with in 15-20 years, the more I am sick to my stomach because I can't figure out why they matter at all. I don't know them anymore. Do I want to? Perhaps it's true that once you love someone, you love them for life. At least in my case, I can't think of one person that was ever important to me that I would turn away to this day. I still care. I will always care. It is highly inconvenient, especially when they take stupid chances on stupid things and I'm not yet in a position to tell them off about things.
So I sit hit here by the glow of the screen and my mind races through reasons why I let this effect my life. Why can't I just separate things? Seriously, why do I care? Why do I care that I care? I have lost my mind. I left it on my pillow where it hopes to gain the strength to return to my racing mind. I shall let it rest and do without for the time being. I don't think anyone has noticed yet. How sad is that?
Still, I'm drawn to the almost blinding glow of these stark white pages. My vision blurring in exhaustion, my back aching from this crappy chair, and my mind racing from the influx of crazy facebook dwellers...I am still here. It used to be that I could stumble a bit (love that site btw) and it would numb my mind enough to let the call of slumber be heard. Now, however, my head is spinning so fast that I can't even be bothered pushing that little green and blue circle that stares at me from the tom of my computer. The more I learn about the lives of those that my path in life has left behind, the more I worry about the people I once loved. The more I worry about those people, whom I haven't spoken with in 15-20 years, the more I am sick to my stomach because I can't figure out why they matter at all. I don't know them anymore. Do I want to? Perhaps it's true that once you love someone, you love them for life. At least in my case, I can't think of one person that was ever important to me that I would turn away to this day. I still care. I will always care. It is highly inconvenient, especially when they take stupid chances on stupid things and I'm not yet in a position to tell them off about things.
So I sit hit here by the glow of the screen and my mind races through reasons why I let this effect my life. Why can't I just separate things? Seriously, why do I care? Why do I care that I care? I have lost my mind. I left it on my pillow where it hopes to gain the strength to return to my racing mind. I shall let it rest and do without for the time being. I don't think anyone has noticed yet. How sad is that?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
A Bit of Redemption, Part 2
Where was I? Oh yes dreading the moment in hopeful anticipation of who the heck knows what. Okay, enough of this. Short version: Early in the chat there was an exchange that went something like this (unfortunately, facebook doesn't archive chats and erases them periodically):
Me: It's like you would go out of your way to push my buttons and then laugh when I would get annoyed
Him: Really? I can't imagine why I would've done that, except that guys tend to pick on the ones they like
Me: Really?
Him: Oh, like you didn't know.
Me: I had no idea, honest. Wish I had.
Him: Why?
Me: I had it bad, I must say.
Him: I never knew. That could've been great.
At this point, I think I lost my mind. I was transported into that innocent school girl, running memory slides in fast-forward. These memories came complete with emotion and nerves and ridiculousness. It's embarrassing really. Anyway.
That whole time he liked me, which was unexpected. The hoping and wishing and thinking, "well, maybe", all that time wasted and for what? So, two and half hours of chatting later, and I'm all giddy. It's the next morning and I'm all giddy. I feel like an idiot and I'm all giddy. It's funny how a little hindsight changes your view on so many things.
So, I still am not a fan of facebook and the stalking spies that it creates. However, My self esteem has been elevated. That always seems to happen when a cute boy likes you, even if it is twenty years later. It's a wonderful feeling to feel wanted and remembered. It's always great to be remembered. So now, my neurosis has plunged me into the question of why does it matter. High School was not such a fun place, neither was adolescence. Yet it forges profound connections in the brain. Visceral responses to thoughts of what never was. It's confounding. It's freaking me out is what it is. Hubby, thinks it's funny. He also thinks I'm a dorky kind of gal. He knows me well, that one.
So, maybe facebook isn't so bad after all. Until it annoys me again.
Me: It's like you would go out of your way to push my buttons and then laugh when I would get annoyed
Him: Really? I can't imagine why I would've done that, except that guys tend to pick on the ones they like
Me: Really?
Him: Oh, like you didn't know.
Me: I had no idea, honest. Wish I had.
Him: Why?
Me: I had it bad, I must say.
Him: I never knew. That could've been great.
At this point, I think I lost my mind. I was transported into that innocent school girl, running memory slides in fast-forward. These memories came complete with emotion and nerves and ridiculousness. It's embarrassing really. Anyway.
That whole time he liked me, which was unexpected. The hoping and wishing and thinking, "well, maybe", all that time wasted and for what? So, two and half hours of chatting later, and I'm all giddy. It's the next morning and I'm all giddy. I feel like an idiot and I'm all giddy. It's funny how a little hindsight changes your view on so many things.
So, I still am not a fan of facebook and the stalking spies that it creates. However, My self esteem has been elevated. That always seems to happen when a cute boy likes you, even if it is twenty years later. It's a wonderful feeling to feel wanted and remembered. It's always great to be remembered. So now, my neurosis has plunged me into the question of why does it matter. High School was not such a fun place, neither was adolescence. Yet it forges profound connections in the brain. Visceral responses to thoughts of what never was. It's confounding. It's freaking me out is what it is. Hubby, thinks it's funny. He also thinks I'm a dorky kind of gal. He knows me well, that one.
So, maybe facebook isn't so bad after all. Until it annoys me again.
A Bit of Redemption, Part 1
Hey look, it's a second post in as many days. See, miracles do happen. I needed an update of sorts, of neurotic sorts. In my Facebook email notification hell, there was a ray of sunshine. Okay, a few. First, while perusing pictures of my non-friends friends, I came across someone I used to know. I met this person when I was eleven and we were friends through high school, until the military called and left me there alone for my last two years. Perhaps alone isn't the right word, but it was definitely a much more lonely place. Anyway, there he was a blip in a list of friends that had nothing to do with me. So, like everyone else, I sent a friend request, because, after all, isn't that what facebook is for, seeking friends in the most obscure corners of the universe? That was yesterday. Today, people hopped on and offline and some requested the fake friendship that the site offers, and others accepted mine. Whatever.
However, while speaking to my sister this morning I happened to mention that out of all the people that have been searched, sought, found, and ignored he was the one person I would really like to hear from. Then, wouldn't you know, like magic this afternoon he accepted my friend request, and instantly hopped on my wall with the line "It's been a long time, how have you been". How innocent right. After a quick two sentence update he chatted me up. We were on their for about ten or so minutes. No biggie. Then he asked me if we could chat later and set a time. We had a date to chat. I had never had a date to chat, a cyber-date if you will. Then paranoid me goes all obsessive and thinks that it isn't that, it's just catching up. The thing is, it didn't feel like catching up. Maybe I didn't want it to be just catching up. Maybe, he thinks I'm someone else, and why the hell am I getting so ridiculous. It was bad people. So I call my sister and tell her and she's all nervous for me. Why am I so nervous you ask? It's a long and boring story. Here is the short version.
New quiet kid. Loud talky girl. Girl really likes boy. Boy hangs out with girl, kind of. They argue fairly often, he was bothersome, but so darned cute. Skinny blond kid with the face of an angel and a bit of hell in his eye, he had a deep voice with a hint of a drawl and it didn't suit him. It was the voice of a man. They end the year in an argument and he goes to high school, leaving her behind for another year. When in band camp (yes it's a real thing and it didn't resemble American Pie in the slightest) the summer before freshman year, there he was. A nod and a wave and nothing more. She ignores it, heart a little broken. Maybe they really aren't friends anymore. Apparently, being awkward and neurotic are innate to my nature. By the time school starts, they're back to that flirty not flirty thing that kids do. The kind of flirting that in their own mind is embarrassingly and painfully obvious, and to the rest of the world is clearly visible; but they dared not believe the possibility. What if they were wrong, oh the humiliation of the dreaded rejection. Anyway, he pushed her buttons for fun, she gets annoyed that he can push her buttons at all. Through the years of this non-relationship, she remained clueless as did he. They lived in the hope of one day. School continued, each with their own lives, relishing the overlap and stolen glances, thinking, "if only" and never realizing the truth. Through other crushes and heartbreaks, through family drama that always accompanies growing up, and through the sheer nightmare that is high school, a smile never ceased to brighten her day. They were friends, blind to what could have been. Then one day, he was gone.
Until yesterday that is. So, back to this chat thing. Usually I am not a fan of instant messaging. It's annoying, and gets in the way of whatever I'm trying to do. So, of course, I barely have time to feed, bathe, and sleep the kiddies because facebook kind of sucks that way. People that I have really missed, some friends and some family, are quick to chat. Which is great since no one picks up a phone anymore. But between the other friend that I haven't seen in seven years, and my sister-in-law which I haven't spoken to in three, well, there wasn't much time to get things done. You don't want that first contact to be "hey, how are ya, gotta run". Well, maybe you do, but it seems so rude. So by the time I was done with my sister-in-law, who I knew when the above drama began in middle school by the way. It was time for the date, the much anticipated, in a sick to my stomach dreadful kind of way, non date.
The fact that I was all eager is a bit disturbing, just so you know.
However, while speaking to my sister this morning I happened to mention that out of all the people that have been searched, sought, found, and ignored he was the one person I would really like to hear from. Then, wouldn't you know, like magic this afternoon he accepted my friend request, and instantly hopped on my wall with the line "It's been a long time, how have you been". How innocent right. After a quick two sentence update he chatted me up. We were on their for about ten or so minutes. No biggie. Then he asked me if we could chat later and set a time. We had a date to chat. I had never had a date to chat, a cyber-date if you will. Then paranoid me goes all obsessive and thinks that it isn't that, it's just catching up. The thing is, it didn't feel like catching up. Maybe I didn't want it to be just catching up. Maybe, he thinks I'm someone else, and why the hell am I getting so ridiculous. It was bad people. So I call my sister and tell her and she's all nervous for me. Why am I so nervous you ask? It's a long and boring story. Here is the short version.
New quiet kid. Loud talky girl. Girl really likes boy. Boy hangs out with girl, kind of. They argue fairly often, he was bothersome, but so darned cute. Skinny blond kid with the face of an angel and a bit of hell in his eye, he had a deep voice with a hint of a drawl and it didn't suit him. It was the voice of a man. They end the year in an argument and he goes to high school, leaving her behind for another year. When in band camp (yes it's a real thing and it didn't resemble American Pie in the slightest) the summer before freshman year, there he was. A nod and a wave and nothing more. She ignores it, heart a little broken. Maybe they really aren't friends anymore. Apparently, being awkward and neurotic are innate to my nature. By the time school starts, they're back to that flirty not flirty thing that kids do. The kind of flirting that in their own mind is embarrassingly and painfully obvious, and to the rest of the world is clearly visible; but they dared not believe the possibility. What if they were wrong, oh the humiliation of the dreaded rejection. Anyway, he pushed her buttons for fun, she gets annoyed that he can push her buttons at all. Through the years of this non-relationship, she remained clueless as did he. They lived in the hope of one day. School continued, each with their own lives, relishing the overlap and stolen glances, thinking, "if only" and never realizing the truth. Through other crushes and heartbreaks, through family drama that always accompanies growing up, and through the sheer nightmare that is high school, a smile never ceased to brighten her day. They were friends, blind to what could have been. Then one day, he was gone.
Until yesterday that is. So, back to this chat thing. Usually I am not a fan of instant messaging. It's annoying, and gets in the way of whatever I'm trying to do. So, of course, I barely have time to feed, bathe, and sleep the kiddies because facebook kind of sucks that way. People that I have really missed, some friends and some family, are quick to chat. Which is great since no one picks up a phone anymore. But between the other friend that I haven't seen in seven years, and my sister-in-law which I haven't spoken to in three, well, there wasn't much time to get things done. You don't want that first contact to be "hey, how are ya, gotta run". Well, maybe you do, but it seems so rude. So by the time I was done with my sister-in-law, who I knew when the above drama began in middle school by the way. It was time for the date, the much anticipated, in a sick to my stomach dreadful kind of way, non date.
The fact that I was all eager is a bit disturbing, just so you know.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
So I caved, Sucka
It has been years since my first invitation to join Facebook. I have ignored them all. My email gets a steady influx of requests from my actual friends to join the site. It is understandable, they want easy access to keep up with things. Oh how things escalate. First, after years and years, they finally bully me onto Myspace. Then, that gets passe'. So I have a Myspace page that I haven't visited in months. Then I get talked into twitter. I'm not on there that often, but it's easy enough to keep open while I'm online, so I use it fairly regularly. I find it almost laughable how I'll tweet about my naked chickens, and everyone reads it. How is that any kind of news? Anyway, EVERYONE seems to do the Facebook thing, even my hubby. Personally, I like being incognito in cyberspace. Unfortunately, they make you put a real name down to sign up. I suppose I could have faked my name, but then that would defeat the purpose wouldn't it?
So, after lunch, I received four invitations to Facebook. I figured, what the hay. So I lumbered through the process and changed most everything to private. I may be on there, but you must be one of the privileged few to see my stupidity. Now, in addition to the close friends that I would love to communicate with regularly, I have been searched out by those I barely remember. Okay, that's not quite true. Perhaps it is by those who I never think about. However, I have spent the afternoon reliving high school hell, and I can't help but wonder if this is going to be the continued Facebook experience. I know many people thoroughly enjoy this phenomenon, but I am NOT one of them. Is it interesting to see where they are now? Sure for like a second, but once they are a "friend" they are tapped into your life. I mean, your actual life. If I were to put info on there about my sick kids, then everyone would know. If I say, "Bored and hungry, mmmm pie", then people I barely knew twenty years ago....OK scratch that, ten years ago, haha, will know that I want pie. Then my neurotic mind will go through how fat that makes me sound, because it's not like I will EVER post a picture of myself on the internet. So, my word choice will be scrutinized for clues as to what this present-day me looks like. Yes, I am aware that I am a bit paranoid and seemingly narcissistic. Why else would I truly believe that people would be so obsessed by the nonsense that will be on my wall? Which, by the way, is way too in depth to be open that way. It's one thing to let me and the intended party see my notes and comments, but no one cares what I had for dinner or that it gave me hellacious gas. The few that may care, well, now all their "friends" will now that they have a creepy gassy friend that is not at all lady-like. That's how it will seem anyway.
All I know is, on my end, I'm not interested in what my "friends" say to their other friends. I do not care in the slightest about their postings, as they do not affect me. Now, one day I am sure I will spend hours trying to figure out all the settings and make my wall as bare as possible, Not. Who has the patience for that much tweaking? So now, I have a bunch of people that I perhaps used to know in another life, looking at postings to and from my family who I barely get a chance to keep up with. How are my twisted inside jokes worth fifteen seconds in the life of someone I kind of used to know. More importantly, how is their stupid nonsense worth my fifteen seconds, which grows into two hours at 2 a.m. Oh, did I mention the inordinate amount of time it takes to weed through and inevitably delete all the messages and notifications that are automatically emailed to you. It would be fine if it only sent the emails about the people that I care about, but no, it is for everyone who is a "Facebook friend" and most of them are not friends at all. Unfortunately, I don't plan to be on there often enough to not need the email alerts. It will probably be the only thing that makes me check the page. I can't believe I got bullied into this nonsense. Everyone seems so happy to have found me there. It's so sad. I'm such a sucker. It's almost like they just don't want to suffer alone, they had to drag me their with them. They say misery loves company, well I'm there now.
I swear it's addictive and not at all productive and makes people anonymously nosy. After all, I could spend days checking up on people that were once, however briefly, a part of my life. They would have no idea that I stalk them on the internet. Not that I do, mind you, but I could. And if I could, then they could. Perhaps, it is that very possibility that is freaking me out right about now. There could be people watching me online, queue creepy music. I thought, innocently enough, that why would people be bothered looking me up. Apparently, it's what people do. It is things like this that cut into our outdoor activities and cause our sedentary asses to grow fat and wide. For the love of God people, turn the electronic devices off and go outside. Have a picnic, ride your bike or play with your kids. Just leave my browbeaten Facebook behind alone. You're scaring me back into oblivion and it's only been a few hours.
So, after lunch, I received four invitations to Facebook. I figured, what the hay. So I lumbered through the process and changed most everything to private. I may be on there, but you must be one of the privileged few to see my stupidity. Now, in addition to the close friends that I would love to communicate with regularly, I have been searched out by those I barely remember. Okay, that's not quite true. Perhaps it is by those who I never think about. However, I have spent the afternoon reliving high school hell, and I can't help but wonder if this is going to be the continued Facebook experience. I know many people thoroughly enjoy this phenomenon, but I am NOT one of them. Is it interesting to see where they are now? Sure for like a second, but once they are a "friend" they are tapped into your life. I mean, your actual life. If I were to put info on there about my sick kids, then everyone would know. If I say, "Bored and hungry, mmmm pie", then people I barely knew twenty years ago....OK scratch that, ten years ago, haha, will know that I want pie. Then my neurotic mind will go through how fat that makes me sound, because it's not like I will EVER post a picture of myself on the internet. So, my word choice will be scrutinized for clues as to what this present-day me looks like. Yes, I am aware that I am a bit paranoid and seemingly narcissistic. Why else would I truly believe that people would be so obsessed by the nonsense that will be on my wall? Which, by the way, is way too in depth to be open that way. It's one thing to let me and the intended party see my notes and comments, but no one cares what I had for dinner or that it gave me hellacious gas. The few that may care, well, now all their "friends" will now that they have a creepy gassy friend that is not at all lady-like. That's how it will seem anyway.
All I know is, on my end, I'm not interested in what my "friends" say to their other friends. I do not care in the slightest about their postings, as they do not affect me. Now, one day I am sure I will spend hours trying to figure out all the settings and make my wall as bare as possible, Not. Who has the patience for that much tweaking? So now, I have a bunch of people that I perhaps used to know in another life, looking at postings to and from my family who I barely get a chance to keep up with. How are my twisted inside jokes worth fifteen seconds in the life of someone I kind of used to know. More importantly, how is their stupid nonsense worth my fifteen seconds, which grows into two hours at 2 a.m. Oh, did I mention the inordinate amount of time it takes to weed through and inevitably delete all the messages and notifications that are automatically emailed to you. It would be fine if it only sent the emails about the people that I care about, but no, it is for everyone who is a "Facebook friend" and most of them are not friends at all. Unfortunately, I don't plan to be on there often enough to not need the email alerts. It will probably be the only thing that makes me check the page. I can't believe I got bullied into this nonsense. Everyone seems so happy to have found me there. It's so sad. I'm such a sucker. It's almost like they just don't want to suffer alone, they had to drag me their with them. They say misery loves company, well I'm there now.
I swear it's addictive and not at all productive and makes people anonymously nosy. After all, I could spend days checking up on people that were once, however briefly, a part of my life. They would have no idea that I stalk them on the internet. Not that I do, mind you, but I could. And if I could, then they could. Perhaps, it is that very possibility that is freaking me out right about now. There could be people watching me online, queue creepy music. I thought, innocently enough, that why would people be bothered looking me up. Apparently, it's what people do. It is things like this that cut into our outdoor activities and cause our sedentary asses to grow fat and wide. For the love of God people, turn the electronic devices off and go outside. Have a picnic, ride your bike or play with your kids. Just leave my browbeaten Facebook behind alone. You're scaring me back into oblivion and it's only been a few hours.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Week One
School has begun. The supply lists have been completed and the teachers have been met. Unexpectedly, my pre-k four year old gets to go for the entire day instead of the usual three hours. Woo Hoo, Woo Hoo, Woo Hoo! I thought I would be sad to see him go to school like a big boy. I was sad for the first one, no so much for the second since he had not been home alone and the two always fought (still do). However, the four year old was the baby until last year. He's been stuck to me since day one. When his brother had to have surgery over the summer, I sent him and the oldest to Gramma's house. It was difficult. We both got over it. He was not home a day when I found out that he would be going to school full-time. Even that short amount of time was enough to realize that I had grown accustomed to quasi-quiet. Screaming-tornado children are in direct conflict with my sanity.
On the first day of school, 4 days ago, he was so excited and loved to be there and I was thrilled for him. He's not allowed to ride the bus in the program, so I take him to school in the morning. Usually, I'm not a morning person, but this forces me to be dressed and presentable before 8 a.m. When I got home on Monday, it was unbelievably quiet with just me and the baby. He's such a good baby, only cries when dirty or hungry. I could not believe how much I got done before lunch. I had to stop just to try to pace myself. God forbid I get too much done, Hubby might expect me to do it everyday. Sorry, that's just not going to happen. I even got to spend time with a friend of mine I haven't had a chance to see in months. I used to think it was a hassle carting around my first child. He was an only child for six years. I took him everywhere with me. Then came the next one, and the next one after than came a year later. Now, there are four that I cart around with me everywhere. It makes life...interesting, to say the least. So, the past few days, of me and one very quiet child, have been phenomenal. I get enough accomplished during the day that I'm no longer rushed when they get home from school. They are bathed early with clothes picked out for tomorrow. Dinner is finished and they've eaten with enough time left over to relax before bedtime. If I can keep this up, this year will be fabulous.
Then again, it is only the first week of school
On the first day of school, 4 days ago, he was so excited and loved to be there and I was thrilled for him. He's not allowed to ride the bus in the program, so I take him to school in the morning. Usually, I'm not a morning person, but this forces me to be dressed and presentable before 8 a.m. When I got home on Monday, it was unbelievably quiet with just me and the baby. He's such a good baby, only cries when dirty or hungry. I could not believe how much I got done before lunch. I had to stop just to try to pace myself. God forbid I get too much done, Hubby might expect me to do it everyday. Sorry, that's just not going to happen. I even got to spend time with a friend of mine I haven't had a chance to see in months. I used to think it was a hassle carting around my first child. He was an only child for six years. I took him everywhere with me. Then came the next one, and the next one after than came a year later. Now, there are four that I cart around with me everywhere. It makes life...interesting, to say the least. So, the past few days, of me and one very quiet child, have been phenomenal. I get enough accomplished during the day that I'm no longer rushed when they get home from school. They are bathed early with clothes picked out for tomorrow. Dinner is finished and they've eaten with enough time left over to relax before bedtime. If I can keep this up, this year will be fabulous.
Then again, it is only the first week of school
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