Okay, so my first grader comes home all happy as usual. I go through his folder and find a very neatly written list of rules. As I read them, he proceeds to tell me how everyone in his class had to come up with rules for behavior. Apparently, the class had been unruly for awhile. So, they all had to write down the rules that the students came up with. There were the usual; "raise your hand", "wait your turn", "no kicking", "no name calling", etc. Then I come to one that made me take pause. I asked my son, though I really didn't have to, "which one did you come up with". Apparently, just as I thought, his was number fourteen. His rule, which is now on everyone's rule list being read by everyone's parents, states...wait for it..."Do not say ASS to the teacher". Hmmmmm. I'm so proud, hahahaha. Now, he is "that" kid and we are "those" parents. Ahhh the joy.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Redemption Revisited
It has been a very long time since I have posted on my little mini-drama. In that time, I have found a way to become close to and alienated from my little crush. My crush that took no time to grow into a friendship. It has become something I cherish, we both do. All caught up and still drawn together, we have laughed and cried and laughed until we cried. I would like to think that my little blue-eyed angel will be a part of our lives forever. Unfortunately, life is never truly that easy. There is a lot between us. Friends for life, for now it seems that way anyway. It has been a roller coaster at times trying to drudge through what could have been to get to a place that is settled firmly in the here and now. If I never go on fb again, I will always be thankful that it did what we could never seem to do in real life, bring us together. It's a means to an end I suppose. A way that the story has come full circle...almost.
I do exist
It has been a long time since I've posted here. I apologize for my absence. Life has a way of swishing you around like a washing machine. Up, down, and sideways. I'll try to update, in a series of short posts, the jist of what's been going on. Quick update, I've been ill. In and out of doctor's, hospitals, and nightmares. All is well. I am fine and healing and hopefully on my way to a much better existence in my own body. Family is well for the most part. Kiddies have been troopers and Hubby, well, he's hubby. Gotta love him, he does try.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Judging by Their Worst Day
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.
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.
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.
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