As I watch my husband and son interact it makes me think alot about my upbringing. I grew up in a single parent home raised by my mother. There was no father figure in our home. Yes men came and gone and the only thing the brought to my life was more siblings. I never had the opportunity to watch a man teach his child, speak goodness into his child, discipline his child, or simply hold his child and tell him that he loved him.
My husband adores our children and does nothing but prove it to them by his actions. He was there when Mikael took his first shaky steps (while i recorded it) and it was him who was there when Daneya started crawling (while i recorded it). He was there when Mikael said his first sentence ever “I love you dada” and when Daneya first said “I love you dada”. (they both said this around their 6th month of life (i have the recordings to prove it). Mama always came second….;-D
When Mikael was an infant i used to be over protective of Mikael, coming from a childhood of molestation i didnt trust a man at all to be so close to a child so i would always rush to change my son first and i would always volunteer to have Mikael sleep on my side of the bed. Ive never seen a man hold his child and sleep before. Heck, ive never had a daddy to hold me but deep down inside i wish my father was there to hold me. Anyway, it was weird to watch the bonding between them.
When Daneya came a year later i knew that she was a blessed little girl. For she truly had the best dad in the world. She would always know that no matter what she was always loved. She would know not to settle for less from guys because daddy treated her like a princess. She would always know her worth and know that she wont have to be validated by loser guys…She would require the best!
My husband Tavaris is a joy and a blessing of God. He showed me what it means to have a father figure in the home.
The surge of dementia information in the news recently should come as little surprise, with the aging population and increased scrutiny the health of our seniors is placed under. Yes we know more people are developing brain dysfunctions like dementia and we still do not have much to do to effectively treat it, so prevention becomes the key factor. First it has to be said that many theories have been postulated and many ideas proven wrong as to the true cause of dementia. What we do know is that certain people with certain behaviors have a much lower incidence of developing dementia.
The most important thing to do is (and you’ve heard this before) to eat a nutritious diet containing primarily whole raw fruits and vegetables, lean proteins and healthy fats that are as free as possible of herbicides, pesticides, antibiotics, hormones, etc. And again, this diet cannot be provided by a fast food chain. The healthy fats part probably will need to be supplemented with a clean source of omega 3 fatty acid as it is hard these days to consume enough of the right foods to create our ideal fatty acid balance. The whole, raw fruits and vegetables part is also very important because while we need these carbohydrates in our diets what is damaging to our brains (and the rest of our bodies) is the surge of insulin that accompanies the processed sugars and high levels of carbohydrates unbalanced with proteins and fats.
This eating plan has been discussed before; getting closer to nature in our diet will have far reaching benefits to every cell of our bodies and the earth around us. The next thing that we can do is to exercise regularly, both our bodies and our minds. The body exercise is simple, moving our bodies creates reactions that improve our body composition regulate our hormones including insulin and reduce our stress levels. Challenging our minds with reading, puzzles and thought provoking conversation helps to keep us sharp by constantly forming new neural connections and re-firing existing ones extending the plasticity of our brains.
Some of the other factors associated with dementia involve heavy metals in the body; specifically aluminum and mercury. Admittedly the correlations between metals and dementia is controversial but if there is even a small chance of a link, maybe finding a safer deodorant than one containing aluminum, and would check out alternatives for amalgam dental fillings, as well as the flu shot.
So now when we read the headlines about the coming surge of dementia we can understand what we can do to give us the best possible chance of a clear minded life as we age. We do not have to feel scared by the headlines implying that dementia is completely unavoidable. Eat right, exercise your body and mind, and avoid toxins, especially metals, develop a supplement program that includes Omega 3 oils and antioxidants, and know that you are doing your best to protect yourself.
Focus writes about a couple in search of secrets to a successful marriage, the aftermath of the Kelo v. City of New London case, and the drop in the U.S. birthrate.
An email from Focus was critical of the American Library Association’s “so-called Banned Books Week:”
Focus on the Family is encouraging donations of books to neighborhood and school libraries: books that communicate a Christian and socially conservative perspective on hot-button issues such as homosexuality and abortion. The effort coincides with the ALA’s annual twisting of the First Amendment, as it showcases books to which parents have objected — and which libraries have generally not pulled from shelves.
There is this overwheming feeling of having to be able to do everything, you know? You must be strong, take care of the family, the food, the cleaning, the house, the world… Sometimes it just feels like escaping it all. Travelling endlessly into an imaginary fun world where only me, my son, my colors and all the nice people exist. Shutting my eyes to living and giving myself away to painting. Sometimes, reality feels like the real escape from being happy. So be it. Who cares?
You know the story about Robert Oreck who liked the product so much he bought the company. We didn’t buy the company but we were so impressed with the product and services of College Funding Coaches that we added them to our personalized full-service line of family and employee benefits.
Why? Value and Time.
I do not need to tell you about either the value or the expense of quality education. What I can tell you is that with two college students the time it takes to research potential schools, scholarships and funding resources, complete applications and funding packages, keep track of deadlines, and get your student ready for college is daunting for the most disciplined of people, if you have the time as well. College Funding Coaches staff provides the tools and assistance to manage these tasks.
College Funding Coaches provides comprehensive testing designed to align your student with the most fitting majors, careers & schools. This was critical with our two college-bound students. In our daughter’s case she was set on a pre-med course of classes. The tests she took via College Funding Coaches identified that she would be better suited for biomedical engineering and pinpointed four specific colleges with that major program. She was accepted with competitive financial packages to 3 of 4 of her selected colleges including her top choice.
College Funding Coaches provides invaluable information and strategies on financial aid, student loans & waiting lists, admissions pointers, PSAT, SAT & ACT practice testing & tutoring, and parent tax information. CFC is “one stop shopping” for your college-bound student’s needs. One of the neatest seminars my students took via CFC was a Personal Financial program that gave them tips and tools to manage their finances when they were away at college. It is a class that ALL high school students should be required to take as it is about the day to day activity of managing and spending money, something we all do everyday.
CFC offers several other specialized programs: College Concierge, College Cash Flow, and Student-Athlete RX, all designed to help your student create and manage their college gameplan. I believe you can see why we used College Funding Coaches for our own students, and why we recommend them.
College Funding Coaches presents seminars at the CCSD College Fair as well as at southern Nevada high schools, and is available to employers as a benefit for employees.
If you or someone you know has a college-bound 8th, 9th or 10th grader, please call me @ 702-513-0440 or email me @ ted@teddecorte.com. I will set up a consultation (or webinar if they are not in southern Nevada) with CFC Coach Diana or Kristen, or bring a seminar to you and your employees. From a family that knows, it is well worth it.
Spent all of Saturday morning and part of the afternoon yesterday getting “oriented” to the hazards of High School. It was a meeting for parents of 9th graders, facilitated by lawyers, counselors, therapists, and educators, evidently designed to frighten the bejeebers out of Moms and Dads who are sure that their kids are the ”good kids” who would never get into trouble with drugs, alcohol, drivers licenses, inappropriate sexual behavior. The message seemed to be that worst-case-scenarios involving good kids are a commonplace, as are various forms of “parental malpractice.”
It was a good reality check and wake-up call, especially the attorney’s testimonial about the troubled “good kids” he represents week in and week out. But it was also a relief finally to be reassured that it wouldn’t happen to most of our kids, that the point of our session was to raise awareness that– having been raised– would effectively nip deviant adolescent hi-jinx in the bud. The largest message of the morning: talk to your kids and to their friends’ parents, ask questions, challenge false perceptions (”everybody’s drinking/using/going to unsupervised parties…”), be involved in their lives, realize that the teen-age brain is still very much a work in progress with respect not only to knowledge acquisiton but especially on the emotional maturity front. Mostly solid stuff, worth a little Saturday morning startle for the sake of their and our long-term good.
But I took issue with a couple of things one of the counselors had to say.
First, he seemed to endorse a “backlash” he had observed against the late, great Fred Rogers. “That’s just wrong!” I heard myself blurting. And it is. Mr. Rogers gets a lot of unwarranted criticism, mostly from the right, for allegedly padding kids’ self-esteem without a corresponding insistence that they earn it. Don’t tell them they are uniquely special, we heard, unless you also spell out the counter-vailing message that they all are “uniquely ordinary.”
Now, I understand the importance of instilling a feeling of community and compassion for others in young people. Being special does not mean being haughtily superior. And yes, all humans are “ordinary” at most levels. We share DNA and history and mortality and so much else that ought, eventually, to awaken in any normally-developing brain a powerful and comforting sense of solidarity with other people. So much about ordinary experience reinforces feelings of social isolation and difference, and these feelings can be especially painful during adolescence. We need also to tap into the ordinary perceptions that will help us coordinate our respective journeys. You are special, young man, young woman. We all are.
But it’s also a plain fact that every one of us is unique. We all have our distinctive talents, our individual distinctness, and we need to learn from the earliest age to treasure and nurture that distinctiveness. Fred Rogers was a genius at conveying this to the youngest kids, and reassuring them that they are worthy to be loved “just the way they are”– whatever they may accomplish in the classroom, however they may be regarded by peers.
When I taught Philosophy of Childhood and talked about Fred, college students who’d grown up in Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood became misty-eyed and sentimental. Some said Fred was the only adult they got that explicit message of acceptance from, and it had shaped them profoundly. Note, they grew up in the Neighborhood. He did establish that warm kind of intimacy, across the often-cold divide of the television medium. Fred’s young viewers didn’t just watch, they entered his world and carried it back with them into “reality.”
My other bone to pick yesterday: we were told that there is “no psychological, theological, or philosophical basis” for our culture’s preoccupation with the “myth of happiness.” It’s ok for adults to model contentment, but that’s something other than happiness.
Well, that’s interesting. I agree that our culture is badly confused about the real sources of happiness. We spin our wheels and chase false forms of gratification. In Happiness 101 we’re about to read Eric Wilson’s case “Against Happiness.” And Jennifer Hecht will expose “The Happiness Myth” (though she won’t toss the baby with the bath). However…
The counselor then reported his finding, among High Schoolers, that many of them perceive their parents to be stressed out and unhappy– leading lives they do not wish to emulate, and why should they? Most adults– like the ones in attendance yesterday– do seem stressed and clueless much of the time: focused on dysfunction and potential disaster, not so much on what can go right in everyday life.
Those adults are not “contented,” and I’ll bet a lot of them gave up (or fore-swore) the dedicated pursuit of happiness a long time ago. Before they buy into the notion of happiness as a sham and a myth, I say they ought to give it a real shot. And do it ostentatiously. Let your kids see you do it.
And the next time the 9th grade parents are assembled for shock treatment, it might be useful to them to hear a few words from a happiness researcher. Or– is it too wild a dream?– from a happy philosopher. I work cheap.
We visited a group of youngsters today. They are led, or looked after – however you see it, by a committee in their late teens and early twenties. The oldest is twenty-three. Several of the leaders were orphaned in the genocide and the children they look after age from eight upwards. The president and secretary take me to their hall, a hexagonal brick building, where teenagers are practicing their dance steps to a ghetto-blaster. The roof has holes in places but otherwise the building is in good condition.
There are no adults to be seen. The group, perhaps forty in all, are associated with a wider community in the local area supported by Solace Ministries. There are few men and none are involved with the youth. A number suffer from injuries sustained in the genocide and cannot work. Among the women, most of whom are widows, HIV is common and some suffer from gynaecological problems as a result of rape.
So the children are left to fend for themselves. They have formed a self-governing co-operative under government rules. The maturity of the leaders is impressive and they have many ideas about what they want to do with the land around their hall. They would like us to come and take Bible study classes and perhaps also help them arrange a Sunday service. This is Lord of the Flies come alive, except that in Golding’s novel the children’s attempts to govern themselves fail. There is a strong Christian ethos among these young Rwandans and a hint that it is from communities such as this that the country’s leaders of tomorrow will come.
Last month we asked the Government to put climate at the heart of the planning system. You swamped the Department for Local Government with emails and they promised to consider our points. Thank you!
Now we need to convince them that every single council must be required to cut their emissions.
Tom FOE Climate Campaigner
Tell the Government all councils must act on climate
The Government is consulting on a proposal for councils to have stronger role on climate change. This shows the Government takes our campaign seriously. Help persuade them that all councils must be required to take action to cut their emissions.
December 5 – The Wave
Join the Wave on Saturday 5 December for the country’s biggest ever march for action on climate change. We’ll be calling for a safe climate future for everyone ahead of the talks in Copenhagen. There’s also still time to sign our international petition and send it to all your friends.
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With Love & Bright Blessings
“Help Save Our Mother Earth”
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You read my blog. I’m going to guess that the likelihood that you know of Patty Young is pretty high….but just incase…..
In relation to this business of mine, Patty is a fabric designer and pattern writer extraordinaire. Michael Miller Fabrics prints her lovely designs. And her company, ModKid, handles her patterns. Her first line was Andalucia.
This summer she released Mezzanine.
And now on her blog she has revealed her third collection. Flora and Fauna.
So I need to make room for her newest collection….which means that ALL of Andalucia is now on sale. (I need to go get Haley something made with the Mod Bloom corduroy. It’s too cute and perfect for fall. Maybe I’ll do that tonight……)
In fact, the whole Sale Section has been updated. What is left of Sandi Henderson’s Ginger Blossom is also marked WAY WAY down. And as a super extra added bonus – this week all the Sales items get bonus points! More cash back for your future purchases!!!! (Read up on the Reward Points here.) Only 2 weeks until Quilt Market!!!!
The boys have done a few things to ‘amuse’ us this week, I thought I’d share them with you before I forget.
The other day I thought I was going nuts, every time I went into the kitchen I thought I could smell something horrible. So I was going around sniffing everything trying to find what it was, but had no luck. After tea I was doing the dishes and Oliver was playing with the drawers in the table. Hubby suddenly says ‘er, why is there a dirty nappy in the drawer?’. I usually put nappies by the back door, ready to go in the bin next time I go out, Olly had obviously decided to hide it in the meantime. Luckily the bag hadn’t broken, otherwise it would’ve been even more disgusting.
On the same day whilst I was eating my tea, Danny came running through to the kitchen all excited saying ‘Mum, did you know you can now turn your gold into cash?’, one of the adverts had just been on the telly. So I asked him how I could do it, and very seriously he replied ‘well, you add a bit of sugar, and a bit of honey, give it a stir, then put it in the oven.’. So the secret’s out, it’s as easy as that.
Last night, hubby came out of the bathroom after having a shave. It only happens every 5 or 6 weeks, so it’s quite a drastic change. Danny took one look at him and said ‘Yay, you look like a real daddy now!’. I don’t know why he didn’t look like one before, but Dan was very happy.
Last week at his gymnastics class the instructor asked Dan what he liked best about being in ‘big’ school. Danny replied ’school dinners’, she then asked him what he liked best about school dinners, he answered ‘eating them!’. Well obviously.
From the first day I went to Disneyworld, i fell in love. Everything felt so right and all my worries went away. I slipped out of the harsh realities of responsibility and the stress of school. It was a perfect place to be for the summer. Every time I go, the second I leave the park, all I can think about is the next time I come back.
What about theme parks attracts so many people? What different aspects of it targets specific audiences of different ages? Why is it addicting for people, and what were the people building it trying to acheive? Did they have particular intentions?
Posted in Asia with tags Burma, China, Corporatism, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, Falun Gong, globalization, Hillary Clinton, One World Order, Political Prisoners, Tyranny, United Nations on September 23, 2009 by buffalohair
China’s Postergirl
The release of over 7,000 prisoners within Burma’s Gulag system was welcome news. The release of over 200 political prisoners was also welcome news. If only Than Shwe would have released the rest of the political prisoners, if only he released Daw Aung Suu Kyi. Then this would have truly been a humanitarian gesture. But sadly his actions are just a façade or smoke screen as his regime continues to rape and murder their way into the hearts of millions. The fact a U.S. citizen has been severely tortured for weeks while in captivity is proof that it’s business as usual in Burma. In recent years the regime has released thousands of prisoners with great fanfare while covertly increasing the political prisoner population. But for the few families whose loved ones were released this was an unexpected joy.
While politicians make the case for lifting sanctions in Burma and the presses goes wild with speculation and feel good prospects, a 14-year-old girl Ngwa Ma-le was raped and murdered by the Burmese police. Other girls escaped with their lives as Than Shwe’s thugs raped and murdered this *Lisu tribal girl. According to family members she was summons by phone by police who then raped and killed her. In classic Burmese Junta style innocent men were arrested and tortured to the point of death in an apparent smoke screen. Their objective was to cover up the actions of SGT. U Thein Myint and 7 other officers of the Mongkoe territorial police, the culprits in this barbaric and senseless murder.
Though the U.S. State Department is tight lipped about the U.S. Citizen held captive for three weeks. It has already been confirmed Kyaw Zaw Lwin, (a card carrying American Citizen) had been severely beaten and tortured by the junta. Where is Senator Jim Webb or Bill Clinton now? It is obvious the corporate controlled media has been mum about Burma’s atrocitous realities. After all if we follow the money we would discover they are invested in Burma through their parent companies and some point.
There is no mention of the on going campaign of Burmanization and the ethnic wars that have broken out along Burma’s borders. China has failed to show face in dealing with the junta. Their words were just as hollow as the impotent threats from both the UN and the West. The siege of the Karen, Kokang, Kachin and a host of other ethnic minorities has gone unabated as world leaders scramble to find a lucrative solution.
The United Nations has proven to be nothing more than an extension of the international corporate agenda. Focusing on disarming and stripping the free world of industry and sovereignty, the UN has ignored environmental and human rights issues in Asia. The United Nations has become an extension of the World Trade Organization and they purport the cause of globalization. As we all should know by now, globalization is colonization on a grand scale. It’s the international take over of all nations by corporations and forming the “One World Order”. Like it or not, or believe it or not, the one world order has landed and Than Shwe’s regime of Burma is only a microcosm of what is in store for the rest of the globe when globalization has been completed. Soon tyranny will not only be “way over there in Asia”, it will be in Yonkers, Los Angeles and London and you will be asleep at the wheel.
It’s all about the money Paisan, it’s all about the money. With Hillary Clinton, “China’s Premier Ambassador”, making key economical decisions behind closed doors with the axiom of “Economics over Humanity”, Gulags and slave labor will be an excepted practice. Healthy political prisoners will be prized for hard labor and organ harvest like in the case of China where **Falun Gong and other free thinkers are used like cattle. Small wonder Wal-Mart and other U.S. based corporations have capitalized on China’s lack of labor and environmental mandates. Burma will be the next “acceptable” gulag system as the trend towards material and natural resource lusting continues. This trend will undoubtedly plunge Asia into a new era of global colonization and it is all for the corporate bottom line.
Its history repeating itself since this is not a new trend, just ask a Cheyenne or Sioux. Killing and conquest for monetary gain has been here for several millennia only proving one thing, mankind got it all wrong. The line was drawn in the sand, materialism on one side and humanity on the other. The line was then obscured by the use of religion, race and economical concerns. Fortunately, natural events will soon crush the cause of corporate greed, not only in Asia but around the fetid corporate world. And if humanity is plunged back into the Stone Age it will be a good thing since there is nothing “civil” about a society that placed corporate needs before humanity.
Live Through This by Debra Gwartney was not a book I might normally pick up at a book store or listen to, but I was searching through the biography/memoir section of audible.com and came across it. I picked it up because of my recent fascination with memoirs and addictive personality type books.
Once I got into the book, I was pleasantly surprised. As Debra recounts the experience of packing up her four children, divorcing from their dad and heading west to Oregon – she realized that maybe all of these experiences lead to the idea of her two oldest children (Amanda & Stephanie) packing it in, jumping a train, heading to who know’s where for experience that no teenagers should experience.
She was quick to point the finger at her ex-husband for all of his mistakes while taking a backseat view of her own lack of involvement or lack of parenting. Several times throughout the book she launches into more of a third-person viewpoint of an experience which indicated her separation from the experience. She acknowledges that, in some cases, she wasn’t prepared for her daughters to return from whatever misadventure they were on, because she finally had moments of peace.
As a new romance was beginning, her life with her daughters was crumbling. The daughters who were in and out of some form of rehab or wilderness experience, were always planning some quick getaway. The daughters had an unhealthy codependent need for each other until one day, Amanda overdosed on heroine & Stephanie took off.
After an experience in a new type of charter school out of state, Stephanie who was allusive for so long had been near the top of her class and really thrived under the right environment. Once again, my heart hurt for this family – split apart by divorce, seemed to trigger the runaway behavior, was another example that every family is not perfect.
If you are a memoir reader and want to read an experience of runaway, redemption, and healing – you will enjoy this book.
I’d asked everyone to bring their favourite photographs and write down their favourite memories of Jenny so that we could set up a display as a focus for the day.
Jill told me it was important for the children to have their own pictures of Jenny, as well as clothes and mementos that they could keep.
I’d already known that I was building an archive when Jenny’s health had started to deteriorate the autumn before (was it really only nine months ago?).
Now all the guests brought marvellous recollections with them, and the college, its green lawns and the tree-studded gardens were as serene as ever.
It really did feel like the right place for this occasion. Jenny had belonged here, and so had we both.
Emily and William behaved brilliantly – a real credit to Jenny and to me, I thought – and I was the proudest father alive that day.
But if you’ve ever got married, then you’ll know that feeling of being the focus of attention, when everyone has come to see you and yet you’ve very little time to speak to them each in turn.
The day flashed past, but late in the afternoon I found some time to wander through the gardens with Rémi, a Swiss student I’d worked closely with in Spain.
A natural-born optimist with an unlikely mop of dark curly hair, Rémi always had a smile and two jokes on his lips.
He hadn’t always been the favourite of the professors, but I’d appreciated his good humour from the first time we’d met, and he’d been a great friend to Jenny as well.
And standing there by the lake, trying to say a day’s worth of catching up in just a few minutes, in many ways that brought the memories of England and Switzerland all together.
Rémi was thoughtful and reflective, and I could see that he was deeply saddened, too, but it was as easy a conversation as we had always had. He loved us both, and nothing would change that.
For a few minutes, we talked together then, about the years in England, before and after Berne, about the children, and about Jenny’s illness and her death.
And embraced within that sweep across the years, encompassed in that one moment, in that one place, was all the time that Jenny and I had shared.
They say that’s what grief is all about.
You have to bring the past into the present, to put it all together, before you can begin to accept it.
But however much that might bring a different perspective, I’d challenge anyone to make any real sense of it, all the same.
Tetelestai is bound to make anyone uncomfortable, but when I was in college, I somehow could not get enough of it.
As a young woman I could not get enough of it.
It is lush, and it’s all-encompassing. It’s a wild river.
The melancholy, the fear, the tenuousness. The slamming grief.
I had no idea why I would listen to it again and again. Why the words would resonate in me for so long.
“Dig through the interlaced roots — nevermore will you find me;
I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me”
The site on the internet – that writer said the poem is about death. Well, are we dead? It’s about the heart.
This poem, and the poems of Yeats, about aging, old age, gave me the anchor when I was just starting my life. I was never morbid, never suicidal, although I had reason to be. I always, always had hope and optimism about the future. I always searched for things to try, and I always tried them at first opportunity.
I’m not a thrilled person, I’m mad and bitter when I’m out in public. But I’m alive, I’m not a street person, I’m not sick, I’m not hurt or crippled, or a sex professional. I’m not violent, and I have one perfectly delightful substance addiction, to moderate alcohol, which isn’t so bad, all things considered. I can love. I can walk, bend, squat, sprint, lift. I have people who love me. I have pretty much lifelong friends. I had a love. I’m true to my animals. I support myself. I own a house free and clear, and two Toyotas. I have my teeth although a few are fake. And most of the time I actually am happy, most of the time is fun for me. I adore my children. I have hope for the future.
Babies. I’ve spent a lot of time around babies this weekend. Good babies. Quiet babies. Beautiful babies. And a two year old. That was interesting.
The thing I really like about babies is that they don’t move much. Easier to photograph. Like flowers with drool. I constantly have trouble with photographing people – my brain just hasn’t grasped it yet. Babies are a bit easier than big humans but I still stumble through it. Luckily, I have friends that let me click click click away.
The hubs and I watched the UL/UK football this Saturday with friends. Friends with children. So half of the time I was watching the game [and wincing through it] and the other half I was eyeing Baby I and the Tasmanian Toddler. The Tasmanian is two, he can’t help that he’s a constant ball of energy. Oh, and I was eyeing them through my view finder. I took so many pictures of these kiddos; some are OK, some are good but only one was perfect. And I love it. And I had to share it.
This is our pal Patterson and his baby girl. Makes your heart melt, doesn’t it?
Family, if you’re reading this post please know that this baby, nor this picture, has not altered my state of mind when it comes to procreation. In case you already forgot, there was a two year old there. Luz you, Brooke.
Scenario: Weekday night @ 9.30pm, at GP’s place.
Us: Eh, it is late. We need to go home!
kids: Wait… 5 more minutes (watching Tom & Jerry on TV)
[1 minute later]
Us: So can we go yet?
kids: NOoooooo!!!
[30 sec later]
parents: Are we done yet?
kids: Noooo!!
and on it goes, until the ultimatum is given : )
Times like these, we would both turn to each other and grin. As most parents would attest, it is usually the kids who would use this tactic – esp when you want to browse along the shops or are in the car, and then they will start…with the ‘Are we there yet?’ or ‘Are we done yet?’ … better still ‘Can we go yet?’ variety.
I was taught a valuable lesson by a bunch of inner-city kids when I was their 20-year-old summer camp counselor. The lesson was about when and whether to take action and when and whether to do nothing and wait. But let me tell you the story…
The job was in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the home of Harvard and MIT. Although I was attending the U of Illinois, my friend Rich Adelstein was then involved in something called the “MIT Science Camp.” I never really found out what science had to do with it, because it wasn’t much different from any other summer camp, but for a few things having nothing directly to do with science. First, of course, it was at MIT, one of the world’s premier institutions of higher learning; a place where only the elite young minds already proficient in science were allowed to matriculate. And because of that, it was not an “outdoor” oriented summer camp, although we did do the usual things like playing baseball. But perhaps the most important distinction between this summer camp and most of those you might have heard about or attended, was the fact that it was for underprivileged kids from troubled homes and tough neighborhoods. Most of them were in the 12 to 15-year-old range. Some were shy, some were petty criminals, some were learning disabled, some were angry, and some were lost. But, it was thought that all of them might still be helped by the camp experience.
The counselors were all about my age, and all of them were MIT undergraduates with two exceptions: myself and a Harvard student. The kids were recommended by their schools. The project was funded, to the best of my recollection, by funds then available as part of the “Great Society” vision of LBJ, otherwise known as President Lyndon Baines Johnson. The camp itself was supervised by a psychiatrist, Dr. Warren Brody. The year was 1967.
Many of the activities of my group of six kids were done in cooperation with another counselor, Geoff Smith. Geoff was a swell fellow, smart and easy to get along with, and we worked well together. We had money for some outings with the boys (all the kids in the camp were male) and even took them on a day trip to Martha’s Vineyard and another excursion to New York City, where we watched the Rockettes in Radio City Music Hall at Rockefeller Center. As I said, we played some baseball and also put on a play under the direction of a Boston College undergraduate theater major, Betty Rose. It was “Twelve Angry Men,” we had just enough players, and these kids were thereby exposed to performance. It was a fun summer.
But on the day in question, Geoff had a morning dentist appointment and couldn’t do his usual stint at the camp, so I was in charge of both of our groups. Depending on the day, not all the kids would necessarily be there. I imagine on this particular day, there were probably 10 of them present.
I was walking with the kids through Building 7, when one of the older ones quickly instructed the others to run in different directions. We had come to a four way intersection, so there were four possible flight paths from which each kid could choose. And in a flash, they were gone. As I stood at the intersection and looked in each direction, no one was to be seen.
Remember, I was 20 years old and in charge of these lives. Their safety was my responsibility. But what was I to do? Even though I was rattled, I was still smart enough to know that any direction I chose would, at best, avail me the possibility of finding only two or three or four kids. For the life of me, I didn’t know what to do. So I did nothing. Not because I thought that was a clever idea, but because I couldn’t think of any good solution.
Perhaps you’ve guessed that I had stumbled upon precisely the right course: inaction In fact, the only solution. If I had started running down any one of the corridors, I’d probably still be running. But because I didn’t, the kids found that the “chase” they’d hoped for hadn’t materialized, and they weren’t having any fun. In the space of 10 minutes they were all back where they started, and we proceeded on to our appointed destination.
Sometimes life is like that. If you stop chasing a thing or a person, it stops running away from you. You can drive people away in your pursuit, be it romantic or angry.
Slow down. Be patient. See if you can live with uncertainty. Don’t act impulsively. Wait, wait, wait and see… Take a breath. Action for the sake of action doesn’t make sense. You can actually make things worse. Assertiveness is not always the answer. Sometimes inaction is better, much better, than action.
A lot of things in life are like boomerangs–they come back to you.
Yesterday I finally got around to calling the local Lawnmower repairman. It has been quite a few weeks since my fatefull encounter with a tree stump that left me with a thrashing heart and a disabled lawnmower. So after phoning the kindly man , he sent a friend of his around to come collect the damaged thing.
Now, I know I live in “The Country ” now, and there has been much to get used to; but the sight of the rather elderly man getting out of the truck ,with a flatbed trailer attached, should have made me nervous right from the beginning. I watched patiently as he very slowly lowered the ramp of the trailer and mounted my lawnmower . After a few painstaking moments he got it started and began to slowly drive the mower up the ramp.
Just as he reached the top of his ascent, and I don’t know why, the crazy thing reared up like a young stallion and hung there just for a second – suspended in time – and started to tilt over backwards. Everything else after that happened in slow motion, just like in the movies.
In a second I had taken in the whole situation: Old Man( face twisted in fear), Big Heavy Lawnmower, Sloped ramp, BIG PROBLEM!! I knew instinctively that the Mower absolutely could not be allowed to fall, I did not want a tradgedy in front of my eyes! Somehow, I leapt up and managed to grab the the steering wheel ( which was facing high up into the sky) and pulled down. HARD. As the front wheel made contact with the trailer again , I said : ” Lucky I’m a strong girl!”
With much relief , I then helped to manouever the mower into the trailer , without any further incident. Only a loudly thumping heart and silent prayers to those above for the averted disaster. I can only wonder how the mower cowboy felt. I did keep him around with Idle chit-chat for a quite a while longer as I monitored him for signs of possible heart attack ( seriously ). Had it been me on that mower I honestly think I would have had a heart attack , knowing that I was quite possibly about to be crushed , head first . Whew!
I wonder who unloaded the Bucking thing on arrival at its destination. I somehow doubt our Cowboy was rearing to get back in the saddle on that one!
Just another day in this life of mine , folks.
Stay safe everyone. Accidents happen when we least expect them.
This find made my day. I was searching for bibs on etsy and found a shop www.mandolyn.etsy.com and she carries recycled plastic bibs. Are you kidding me?? This is genius! She takes plastic bags from different stores and fuses them together. She puts bias tape on the edges so its soft around the neck and usese velcro for the closure. OK so let me recap here..the bibs are plastic which means easy to clean,and waterproof! The plastic comes from old bags which means reduce, reuse, RECYCLE! Then the selling point that put this little lady over the edge…THEY ARE $4.99 FOR TWO FO THEM!!! I was just at Target the other day looking at plastic bibs and they are selling for $3.99 to $5.99 for ONE.
With all do respect, what does he know about our government with 16 years of residence in the U.S. I am for healthcare reform. Lower costs private care and freedom of choice.
J Preiss
Cardinal Martino applauds universal health care initiative
Posted on September 15, 2009 by Carol Glatz
Cardinal Renato Martino, president of the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace, speaks at a press conference Dec. 11, 2008. (CNS photo/Emanuela De Meo, Catholic Press Photo)
VATICAN CITY — The Vatican hasn’t weighed in very much yet concerning the fierce debate in the United States over health care reform. Some of the opposition in the U.S. centers around whether the government should have such a dominant role in providing affordable coverage for all Americans.
Cardinal Renato Martino, who is head of the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace, lived in the United States for 16 years when he served the Vatican’s permanent observer to the United Nations from 1986-2002.
When I interviewed the cardinal today at the end of a Vatican press conference, I asked him what he thought of the current health care debate in the U.S. and whether the government should be offering universal coverage or if it should just be left up to private businesses. Here’s what he said:
The health of their own citizens belongs to the authorities, to the central government. And so I have been 16 years in the States and I was wondering why a big portion of the American people is deprived, have no health assistance at all. I could never explain this…
And you know that everywhere in the world it is a concern of the government first of all, and after there are possibilities also on the private sector, but those who are without anything… the central government must provide to that. So I cannot but applaud this initiative.
“What if there’s a baby and other issues?” OMB! Reader Chris’ response to Build a Bridge, Get Over Your Ex!
Chris didn’t have to say a lot but for some reason, I felt his pain. Though, I’ve never had this experience (I’m knocking on wood) and I hope to never have to deal with an issue as complex as this—I know a few people who are affected by baby mama/daddy drama everyday.
Whether you are having drama with the mother/father of your child or you’re dating someone whose children’s mother/father is getting on your first and last nerve, you aren’t alone. This kind of drama has been happening since split families first came about.
It’s difficult to offer general advice on this issue because each relationship is unique but I’ll break it down as mentioned above:
You’re Having Drama with Your Baby Mama/Daddy:
Address the Issue: Because there is a child involved, I would first suggest taking the high road. Give your child’s mother/father the benefit of doubt and try to get to the bottom of the issue. Take the time to put yourself in your former mates shoes; what went wrong in your relationship, why did you split, does he/she still have feelings for you? Once you’ve thought and prayed about the situation, try to have a serious sit-down discussion with the other person. Eliminate yelling and the blame game, get to the point and try to fix the problem.
Next Steps: Now of course, some people are extreme cases and are just plain crazy. And for those, I’d suggest that you find a common ground with this person, maybe have a neutral pick-up and drop-off zone for the child, get a protective order and court appointed visitation rights. These measures are sometimes important for your own sanity.
Your Future: The truth is, you should never begin dating someone until you’ve resolved your drama. It’s really not fair to the new person when they have to screen phone calls and park their cars in secret locations to avoid setting your ex off. Until you lay down some ground rules, avoid the confrontations that are sure to take place. Take these measures as soon as possible because you shouldn’t live your life in fear or lonely.
You’re Dating Someone with Baby Mama/Daddy Drama:
Be Aware: Dating someone with this kind of drama can take a toll on a relationship and its very important that you accept the challenges that may come when you take on this situation. You should have a full understanding of what you are getting into and you should establish your position and role in your new lovers life and their child’s life.
Be Supportive: If you’ve decided to continue dating this person and they’ve committed to laying down some ground rules for their ex, it’s a good idea to support them in this process. Stand your ground with the ex but don’t look for a fight. It’s also a good idea to establish a relationship with the child.
Your Future: There’s nothing wrong with marrying someone with children and its actually a noble thing for you to take on BUT if the drama hasn’t ceased before the wedding day, it probably never will.
The bottom line—try your hardest not to procreate with the wrong person but if its too late for that, simply find the best solution for the child’s sake. No child deserves to be in the middle of two fighting parents. Your child’s happiness and sanity is worth the few sacrifices that you may have to make.
What do you think? Do you have any suggestions for people such as Chris?
Oliver and Hazel were arguing over a toy, and Oliver got mad, and said, “Hazel! Go to Time Out!”
Hazel, who has never been sentenced to time out, walked dutifully over to the time out corner and sat down.
… I had to have a conversation with Oliver about how he doesn’t get to be the boss of Hazel, and certainly doesn’t get to send her to time out. I am pretty sure Hazel was just excited to finally get some punishment around here.
A. Craft rooms can easily become disorganized and “stuffed to the gills”. One reason this happens is: you can see a purpose for any and all items throughtout your home. If you don’t throw anything away and put it all into your craft room, ” for a project” it has to go somewhere! Be brutal about which items you will actually use and let everything else leave the space.
When it comes to childbirth, women need to be prepared both mentally and physically. Being physically prepared for labor, engaging in a consistent fitness routine, will make labor much more bearable. Believe me, you will need to be in the best shape possible for the long delivery…takes a lot of strength and stamina to push that big baby out of such a small opening! Here are some great exercises to get you prepared for childbirth and beyond.
Before starting any fitness routine, consult your doctor.
Prenatal exercises:
Squats- Great exercise to master for labor.
Plies
Pelvic tilts
Bridge
Adductor/ Abductors
Abdominals
Back
Post-natal exercises:
Legs
Hamstrings
Quadriceps
Calves
Thighs
Glutes
Core
Upper body
Chest
Back
Shoulders
Biceps
Tricpes
Cardio
Walk
Jog
Swim
Hike
Rollerblade
Yoga
Martial arts
These exercises listed above are just a few of the many exercises recommended to do. I would highly advise any beginner to hire a Personal Trainer to learn proper form, exercise variation and for a personalized fitness program. Having a baby changes the body dramatically, so hiring a Personal Trainer, who is certified as a Pre and Post-natal Trainer, is the best option to building and maintaining a strong body.
I can relate to the pressures of getting your pre-baby body back and I advise women to work out prior to having a child to make it easier to lose the baby weight. Although mothers will never have the same body prior to having kids, I do know moms can feel lean and sexy if following the right fitness and health routine. One who has a strong body, has a strong mind to follow!
Children are impressionable. They soak up everything that is going on around them. During this stage, they form habits and opinions that can stick for the rest of their lifetime. The coal-industry group Families Organized to Represent the Coal Economy (FORCE) is apparently trying to capitalize on this.
I’d first like to acknowledge that, despite its name, FORCE is not actually comprised of families. As stated on its website, FORCE is for “Any Pennsylvania company doing business with the coal industry” and membership is “through coal and coal related company sponsorship.”
That being said, FORCE has released what The Daily Grist accurately described as “a wonderfully crappy coloring book for children,” “Eyes for Frosty.” From the quality of artwork right down to content, this book was clearly not created by a family organization with the best interest of children at its heart. To put it lightly.
“Eyes for Frosty” is the tale of three children who are building a snowman but have no coal for its eyes. The day is saved by Power Rock, a scary-looking superhero made out of coal, and his trusty little sidekick, Spurt.
Power Rock and Spurt take this opportunity to give the children a history of coal, explain how it is mined (completely disregarding mountaintop removal, you might notice), and show how important what it powers is (Video games! Yay!). With their job complete, Power Rock and Spurt then take off into the abyss, leaving the children with not only eyes for Frosty, but also a newfound appreciation for coal.
Now, this coloring book (or should we call it propaganda?) fails to mention that, if our current rate of coal consumption continues, there will be no more Frosty. Power Rock appears more evil with each frame, as he completely neglects to tell the children about the harm that coal is doing on our environment in his low-down on coal.
The irresponsibility of targeting such a vulnerable audience is especially disturbing to me. As adults, don’t we expect to be presented with all sides of an argument before forming opinions? Why not extend the same privilege to kids, who have such limited access to information on their own? They are going to have to live with the negative effects of coal mining and usage, so they have a right to know what they are.
I recently became aware that I have some work that is incomplete. You see when I was a teenaged boy there was a single incident that happened to me that (literally) altered my life.
I wasn’t sexually molested. I wasn’t abandoned (in the traditional sense). I wasn’t bullied everyday at school. But I can see it all unfolding before me right now as I sit behind this keyboard.
You see I was basically raised by my mother. My father was out-of-town four or five nights a week. I had four sisters and did not have a brother until I was thirteen. So for all intense and purposes I lived in a girls’ dormitory. Or at least that was my limited perspective on it as a “boy child.”
I could rarely do anything right. Don’t his your sisters. You don’t know your own strength. Still to this day I can show you the scars on my hands from their fingernails. Now don’t get me wrong, I know I was a handful… probably even two handfuls. But what’s a boy to do when he has a father that wants little or nothing to do with him? When he finally gets to see his dad and can only piss him off?
So I finally got my big chance. I made the highschool JV football team. And I was good too. But I didn’t know how to act. I was always doing things to draw attention to myself. Good or bad attention as long as I got attention that’s all that mattered. I wish I knew then what I know now. As I am sure my adult coaches, teachers and even my siblings and parents do. All I knew how to do then was to (basically) do whatever made me feel good and got me attention. I was just… a jerk.
The final straw was the night we lost our only game of the season. I was cutting up on the bus and the coach told me to knock it off. Well of course I did when he was looking but I kept pushing the envelope. Egging it on and trying to make myself feel good! But when we got back to the school the coach had a surprise for me. He summarily kicked me off the team. Right there in front of the entire team. He just grabbed me by the front of my jersey and told me to get my stuff and get out of their that I was no longer on the team. What? I mean I know I was a jerk and didn’t listen to him on the bus but to kick me off the team for being a jerk and flaunting his authority behind his back in front of the entire team. Oh… yeh well if you put it like that it makes a little sense. I guess.
I remember it was foggy that night. I walked up and down the street that night for literally hours kicking a soda can (still wearing my cleats and football pants.) Up and down. Up and down, crying like a little baby. I can’t remember being so hurt and lost ever.
Now if that wasn’t bad enough. I later found out that my mom called the coach and talked to him about reinstating me on the team. Instead of the coach reinstating me on the team he let the entire team vote me back on or not. I got THREE VOTES for and the rest was against. I was crushed. I mean I knew I was not the most popular guy but to be so soundly rejected by practically all they guys you thought was your friend… You just can not imagine the humiliation, rejection, hurt and yes, anger.
When that school year was over I asked my mom and dad to sign the papers so I could join the US Navy. So at the ripe old age of seventeen and with my tenth grade education I set off to make a man out of myself.
Those first years couple of decades were admittedly rough. I came from a small town in Mississippi and led a pretty sheltered life. I had already begun to drink some beer but didn’t know anything about drugs. However, being young and in the navy I soon learned all about drinking and drugs. I didn’t feel much during those decades. I was either drunk, high or both.
The thing about being drunk/high is that I didn’t have to accept any of the blame or responsibility for where I found myself in life. After all, I was just a kid I wasn’t supposed to be smart enough or have all the “tools” to deal with my abusive, alcoholic, womanizing, absent father. Surely it wasn’t my fault! You know those excuses will only get you so far in life.
I ended up going through an in patient drug/alcohol treatment program put on for veterans. That was my first clue that maybe I should actually look at the choices that I’ve made. Okay so none of the things in my life had changed. I still had every adult I counted on give up on me but heck if I had a kid like me now I would find it easier to give up on him too. Probably.
But back to FORGIVENESS. You know for years and years and years I wondered what ever happened to that coach that kicked me off the football team. I would even hope to run into him one day so I could give him a piece of my mind… or worse. But that was all the alcohol and drugs talking then. Eventually I hit the proverbial “bottom.” I had done the Monty Hall get to know God salvation plan many times. You remember Monty Hall from “Let’s Make a Deal” don’t you? That was me for many years. “Oh God, if You will just get me out of this mess then…” Let’s make a deal God.
Finally the day and circumstance came that I actually heard the Lord say to me, “If not now I won’t ever bother you again.” That was pretty scary stuff. Since that day I have changed my life style. I have NOT been perfect nor will I ever be perfect. But I no longer intentionally hurt people. I do hurt people but not intentionally. I’m still learning.
I have forgiven that coach so many times in my mind and even prayed for him on occasion. I thought I was “up to date” on that forgiveness thing… until I ran into him on line. That incident happened over thirty-seven years ago. I haven’t thought about it much in the last several years. And I thought I had done all the forgiving I needed to do to be “up to date” on my forgiveness card. But honestly when I exchanged a couple of emails with the guy I was like (to myself) “He’s not sorry. It was all about him and he could have cared less for me.” Well duh! Who am I to see into his heart and know what is going on in there? Heck I thought I had my heart all clean and pure with regards to that single issue. I can be pretty good at compartmentalizing my Christianity if I let myself.
So let’s scrape the forgiveness scab off once again and see what it will take to really heal that thing. It would be easier to just place blame and forget about it but that is not what I am called to do. I have had too many people give up on me over the years. I’m not going to be one of them.
Are you a grantmaker concerned with well being of youth and children? Grant Makers for Children, Youth and Families Fall Forum will be hosting their annual conference in Minneapolis and St. Paul September 21 – 24.
At this three day event, grantmakers from across the nation will convene to discuss the current economic context and how it is impacting philanthropy for children, youth and families. In addition to addressing this timely issue, there will be three skill-building institutes on early childhood, youth development, and family and community.
More information on the conference and registration are available on the GCYF website.
I mentally had composed an entire post about pudding, but now I can’t write it. On Wednesday I received a letter I was only semi-pleased with, and I was going to compare it to a semi-sweet treat I find merely semi-satisfactory, but on Friday I received a phone call that negated most of my complaints. Thus, in the span of three days, the words languishing in my brain had reached their expiration date.
Perhaps I had better explain.
Like many Americans, I enjoy a delicious cup of pudding now and again. (Yes, I will admit to occasionally packing it in my lunch. Who doesn’t like chocolaty goodness?) On a recent trip to the grocery store, I reached into the refrigerated section for my usual six-pack of 100-Calorie J-ello Pudding Cups, when I spied the sugar-free variety. Although I’m typically not one to buy sugar-free anything, curiosity got the better of me. I checked the nutritional information, and AHA! The sugarless kind contained only 60 calories! Feeling like I had just outsmarted the J-ello pudding marketing “geniuses” who had jumped on the 100-calorie bandwagon, I opened my prize as soon as I got home. I ripped the tin-foil top off one of the cups, plunged in my spoon, and tasted… well, let’s just say it wasn’t quite the velvety numminess I had hoped for.
I was reminded of that experience this week when I received a letter from our adoption agency. I was fired up as soon as I saw the crimson print on the envelope because I knew exactly what was inside. Or so I thought. I tore open the envelope, grabbed the paper inside, and scanned the words “home,” “study,” and “approved”—SUCCESS! We had officially received the rubber stamp from our adoption agency! But when I went back to read the letter in its entirety, what I saw left a slightly sour taste in my mouth. At the end of the letter, our social worker mentioned that, if a child is not placed in our home within two years, we will need to go through the home-study process again, including personal interviews, medical evaluations, and financial reviews—all of which we just completed. Ugh. First of all, although I generally am a realist, I didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that we could be waiting for our child for two years. Second, I just spent an entire summer trying to refrain from pulling out my eyelashes—I don’t want to have to go through all of that scrutiny again.
However, a couple of days later, our social worker called. She wanted to know what our schedules looked like for the next few weeks because she has two birth mothers who want to meet us. Umm… what?! Holy crap—I’m still riding pretty high from the approval letter, and two birth mothers are interested in us? I had to shake my head to clear out the inrush of trivial blather (But we don’t have any baby furniture! We haven’t even replaced the carpet in the nursery yet!) just so I could pay attention to what she was saying.
After hearing the birth mothers’ situations, I once again have put on my I-refuse-to-get-excited exoskeleton. We are third on Birth Mother #1’s list: Her baby will be biracial, and her top two couples are non-white. She chose us because John was adopted. As our social worker said, “John has the whole adopted thing going for him, but he’s just too white.” (I’m going to assume she was kidding.) Birth Mother #2 is requesting ongoing visits with the child. I’m not sure John and I will fit that bill—if she’s looking to come over on Christmas and birthdays, we’re not the right couple for her. My current mantra is “wait and see.”
Even if neither of these birth mothers are right for us, I’m honestly just excited that someone looked at our profile without tossing it aside. (This must be how Oscar losers feel when they say, “It’s an honor just to be nominated.”) It pretty much justifies my decision not to change the profile after our social worker’s negative comments. Also, meeting Birth Mother #1 while knowing we probably won’t get the child gives me a chance to get rid of those first-time jitters. I can experience the initial birth-mother meeting without that shiny-eyed “this is IT” glimmer of hope and the inevitable crushing disappointment.
All things considered, I have to be pleased with the developments thus far. Only three days of “wait time” before getting a result? I think that calls for a celebratory pudding cup.
Well interesting week 2. Overall I have to say Hubz is still doing a great job mostly. I think there is a real shortage of meals going on. I brought home a gallon of milk one evening at 8pm and by the next morning it was half gone! I guess pasha (our older son’s nickname) woke up a lot in the night and got milk all night long, and of course didn’t eat a thing the next day. This has been going on all week. But in general the house is spotless, toys away, Henry (younger son’s nick name) asleep. Pasha waiting up for me usually in pjs. So not bad. Did have on evening where I got home and clearly Hubz was in a foul mood, didn’t even say hello to me after a whole day in NY, just got up and went to bed when I walked in which was just lovely. But most nights are fine. But this weekend Hubz admitted he’s been a little depressed, just being alone so much with the kids, and feeling his brain with it’s law degree and journalism grad degree does nothing but play with blocks and think up meals to serve (or maybe not this one). I told him that’s half the challenge of parenting. It’s physically exhausting, but it’s so mentally difficult too for those very reasons. So he’s been struggling with that and I feel for him.
As for me, I had a shit day on Friday. I messed up some paperwork at work mainly because I am brand new and wasn’t sure what I was doing and my very expressive Russian boss let me have it between the eyes, including threatening to take my office away and have me sit at someone else’s desk so she could keep an eye on me! Excuse me? I’m not a 6 year old at the principle’s! I just didn’t get shown how to do one insurance billing paper and I messed it up. Just show it to me, I am very smart, have 2 Master’s degrees, just take 30 seconds and explain it to me. Instead he showed up one morning and blasted me out of the office. Let me say my parents are both from Britain. If an English person is really upset they might give you a very stern look and suggest disapproval. We are very buttoned up. So this flailing around the office just shocked the hell out of me. I tried so hard not to cry (not very professional!), and then told him I was sorry, I understood the papers now but I was not going to sit at the other woman’s desk (much to her relief too!) and went back into my office. I mean he can fire me but there’s only so much insulting I will take. So that was my Friday. I was tied in knots from stress and exhaustion by yesterday.
Here’s the kicker of the weekend: It’s been 2 weeks of working FT, commuting to NY and back, and then having the kids 24/7 all weekend. This Friday I said I HAD to have a break this weekend, just a couple of hours to rest or just have to myself. Hubz said no, he couldn’t watch the kids for a couple of hours (all weekend) because he had to work (or look for work rather). Then I had 2 private acupuncture clients call and want treatments this weekend and guess what…? He said I should take them. Suddenly he can watch the kids for 3+ hours!!!!!! So after I’ve worked FT all week far from home, and still done a lot of household work, I can’t rest for 2 hours. But if I’m going to earn some money then it’s just fine. Just if I’m going to bring in some money. Meanwhile I am bringing in 100% of the money in our household and my husband 0%. I am SO mad. How about if he goes out and earns a few extra dollars on the weekend? So I thought, fuck it, I’m going to get a sitter and pay someone to let me rest if I can’t rely on him. But of course my first paycheck is totally gone on bills so we have $100 to live on for almost 2 weeks until my next check arrives and clears. So I slog away like this 7 days a week and still don’t have an extra $20 to spend on myself or a husband who will let me rest for an hour or two. It’s depressing and infuriating.
Hubz also had a fall yesterday while trying to help his brother move and hurt his arm. So now he’s totally out of commission and felt he couldn’t even let me sleep in until my usual 7am today. I have to do 24/7 child care again because his arm hurts. I know it’s mean, I know his arm does hurt, but it’s just so interesting that so far he has managed to not do one hour of childcare on a weekend since I started working FT. I thought things would finally balance out when I became the sole breadwinner in the house, but still it’s ridiculous and imbalanced, and really one of these days I might just have had enough.
Off to take care of the boys now. All of them. I need a nap.
I don’t go out to work and the cleaning is the same every day, so answer me this: why do Saturdays feel different to other days? I have the same routine every day: get up, sit at computer, eat. I ignore my family as much on Saturdays as I do the rest of the week; why does it feel different? Granted, Saturday breakfast is my fingernails – Spud plays rugby on Saturdays – but not much else changes.
Have you ever watched rugby played by real people instead of those butch blokes on the telly? When I say ‘real people’ I mean, of course, my baby. At his last game he played prop and as he is half the size of a normal human being (he’s the image of his father) and belongs to me, it was painful to watch. He tackled an opposite number who usually eats kittens for breakfast, and brought him down so hard it registered on the Richter scale, and then had to be helped from the field as his oppo had flattened him. I didn’t panic and merely stayed frozen to my spot until the Hub reassured me Spud was not going to become a quadriplegic this week. The Hub tells me rugby will make a man of any boy. What he doesn’t say is that will make human jelly of any boy’s mother. Watching his last game reminded me why I stopped going to last year’s games. I don’t mind if he wants to add more photos to his bruise collection, but he can’t expect me to watch.
‘Out of sight is out of mind’ is this mother’s philosophy. It works brilliantly with Tory Boy. He has been home all summer and if he tells me he’s going into Manchester or to a club or pub or to the corner shop, I can’t settle until he’s safe home again, for how will he be safe from the nasty knife-wielding thugs without his diminutive mama by his side? When he was at uni and I had no idea where he was or what time he would be there to, I slept like a child and put on three stone (no nervous energy to burn off cheese & onion crisps, you see). It didn’t matter that he went on fifteen hour bar crawls or wrote provocative articles for his campus newspaper – I didn’t have to see him passed out in the hall or read his hate mail, so I felt great. Roll on 26th September when I can regain my fat!
Talking of earthquakes, TB is a good son. When the last one hit Preston, he phoned to let me know he was okay. I wasn’t worried till then because I didn’t know it had reached so far. He said it sounded like someone had dropped a large skip outside. Not like when we had the earthquake clusters here in Greater Manchester a few years ago. Remember those? The Hub thought the first one was a truck hitting the side of our house. The next one happened at lunch time and it was like being inside a tv’s fuzzy picture. In typical British fashion, the media reported that some people were rather annoyed that they lost their chimney pots. We don’t do great disasters, I’m thankful to say.
My only other experience of an earthquake was actually caused by a gold mine collapse in Jo’burg. I awoke to see my alarm clock and perfumes dancing on my dressing table, and I thought I dreamt it until I read next day’s paper. No-one was hurt in the collapse, I’m glad to report. Sometimes, watching big boys’ rugby is like experiencing an earthquake: lots of thwacking flesh and I’m all atremble.
I have to show off my friend’s adorable kids! Some of our best friends, Tisha & Eric have the cutest (and SWEETEST) kiddos I know! Here’s some pictures of Janey & Eli dressed up and ready for the GA game. We all got together for the game….which was really sad -don’t want to think about the score. Really it’s just a time for the guys to watch the game and grill hamburgers…For us girls its a good excuse to get together and chat, gossip, catch up on stuff. Janey and Eli were all dressed up in their GA colors to show their support. They were SO adorable. Too cute not to share!
I seriously believe that Jo Davis is an absolute twit. Have a look at this story: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/kent/8248718.stm.
“Parents at a Kent primary school are angry that a sheep hand-reared by pupils is to be slaughtered for meat.” the school council, made up of 14 seven to 11-year-olds, voted 13 to one in favour of slaughtering the animal, using the proceeds to buy more animals (pigs, from which sausages will eventually be made). What a brilliant lesson. “You know that McDonalds burger son, that was once a cow”, or “your Chicken McNugget once clucked” and “that meat with mint saice was once cute and fluffy and went baa”. It’s important to know what you’re eating, where it came from and what it was.
But not Jo Davis: “I feel this is the same as my daughter coming home from school to find her pet rabbit bubbling away on the stove in a stew. My daughter was told it was no different to buying lamb from the supermarket. I really don’t think this is the same thing.”
Erm, why not? Because you have to realise that it was once alive?
I’m not going to get into the question about why this is even in the news (I guess not a lot happens in Kent?), but I am going to repeat what I firmly believe. IF YOU CAN’T BEAR TO THINK WHERE YOUR MEAT COMES FROM, YOU SHOULDN’T BE EATING IT!
Most weddings have sweet little mini-brides…the Flower Girl! More often than not, you’ll get a really outgoing little firecracker who wants to follow the bride around, or practice dropping flower petals (and then picking them up again) but most of all, you’ll see a little girl or two, who thinks the Bride is the most beautiful girl ever…and she wants to be just like her.
There are no real tips in taking pictures of the Flower Girl…except this, watch closely and capture as many emotions as you can of this little one. It can be really breathtaking. Enjoy!
Uma’s post on her early influences, Solilo’s post on religious tolerance and some discussion on this blog made me wonder what makes us think the way we do…
A friend in class IV told me she always murmured the words of the aarti during the assembly, instead of ‘Our father who art in heaven’ in our Christian school. I had gone home and told my mother proudly, that I was going to do the same. She told me it did not matter what words or language we used, so long as we prayed from our heart.
Our Moral Science teacher talked to us about praying before we went to bed. Every night, we had to tell God what we did all day, if we did something we shouldn’t have, it was time to promise to ourselves, we won’t repeat it. This prayer time was a time to make promises to God.
She talked to us about ‘conscience’ or a little voice inside us which always tells us if we are wrong. And those who listen to that voice, she said, will never do any wrong.
She talked about compassion. She talked about how, like a loving parent, God was always there for us, his children. (She called God ‘Him’ always )
Were these Christians beliefs? She did not say which God. And under the Amar Chitra Katha influence I used to pray to every God I could remember, for several years, and any new name learnt was promptly added to the list.
We also had a Sanskrit teacher who didn’t approve of us giggling, and said those who laugh too much today were going to cry later. But we loved his stories. We argued when he said every family must have a son to carry forward the family name.
One of his biggest influences was the story of Dhruva – he said the North Star was named after him. I wanted to know how standing on one leg for months could get someone to meet God. He explained that basically ‘tapasya’ meant Will Power and Discipline, that both could get us anything we wanted. I still believe that. As a kid I followed his advice and practiced building a strong Will Power very seriously by giving up Orange Bar ice cream.
Once a friend told me there was a ghost on a tree near our place. I was terrified until my mother said the way Bhootkaal meant, ‘past tense’, bhoot meant past. She must have sounded like she meant it, till today ghosts don’t scare me.
My mom says her dad taught her to be careful of humans instead of fearing ghosts. When she said she was going to tie a rakhi and make a class mate her brother, he told her class mates could only be friends, only her brother could be her brother.
But all early influences are not permanent. Some make us rebel. My mother strongly believed in marrying within the community. She thought we sisters should dote upon our only brother. Our Sanskrit teacher’s talk about religion often veered towards gender bias. My grandfather thought girls should not care for their looks.
So perhaps we just pick some and leave some? I wonder how much can we be influenced. Are these early influences permanent? I guess some people change more easily than others do…
Ever since I was little I’ve had a nudging–gentle, but there–prompting me to act of behalf of those with small voices. Or no voices. I remember vividly lying in bed one night when I was probably 11, drawing a picture of a huge community home I was going to build for homeless folks in our city. Forget counting sheep–I was counting empty beds and dreaming of how something as simple as clean sheets could change an outlook–an attitude–a life.
This nudging progressed to mission trips and two summers spent in South America working with kids and families living in poverty. I loved it–I loved the language, the music, the lifestyle [who can reject mandatory naptime?!] When I got back, one of my college housemates [now best friend] and I planned a fundraising campaign on campus where we asked everyone we knew for $5–the mere cost of a pizza–to purchase Bibles and send them to a mountain church in Peru. Most recently, my Bible-shipping friend and I started our own-nonprofit which we ran for nearly five years. Our focus was to provide for the needs of orphans and vulnerable children affected by HIV in Africa. Because I still believe that clean sheets, a school uniform, a nutritious lunch can change an outlook–and attitude–a life.
This was only further branded on my soul when we traveled to Zambia in 2004. It changed the way that I look at so many things–even to this day. Which brings me to Love…
As often happens in the ever-expanding blogospere, I found myself clicking into infinity one night last weekend. Who knows where I started or how I ended up at Moments With Love, but I did, and I’m so glad. I’ve added a link in my margins to her website [she goes by "Love"] so that you can read her story; a story of God’s great and infinite planning. A story of grace. Of how he brought together two people with a heart for kids and adoption, and placed a desire within them to bring home two little girls from Uganda. Unfortunately, these types of ventures cost money [darn capitalism]. Which is stupid. Why not judge a family by their love and potential to nurture a child emotionally and physically and spiritually–rather than whether or not they have an extra $20 grand in their bank accounts? I’m writing my congressman…
So and if you’re moved [i.e. if your heart is beating within your chest] you can decide if you’d like to cheer her on by making a purchase or donation to help them bring their little girls home.
Check them out and send her a note of encouragement.
PS: the necklaces are made by Ugandan woman and your purchase will help to fund their livelihood, too. We all know that mothers with money mean kids with full bellies. Which is a good thing.
One night, I just laid in bed crying myself to sleep as I had done many times over, but there was something more to it. In the morning, I woke up with a feeling inside. A feeling that I was strong, that I had to leave… no matter what.
You have to realize that being abused is not something that someone can just walk away from and it certainly isn’t something that just starts over night. In the beginning, my husband was a sweet heart. He treated me so good. After we got married and he had that paper in his hands showing him that he had ownership is when things started to go wrong. I then got pregnant for our son. Thinking that he was great with my 2 little girls… I thought things would be ok.
Little names and comments were being made, things that made me think .. but didn’t force me to want to leave. After a bit longer, horrible names and things being said about me being no good were being said.. to which I then started to believe him. Every word, every action had me double thinking my own self. By the time the hitting started, I was a no one in my mind, in my self awareness. I do honestly believe that the main reason that I stayed was because I was abused growing up as a child.. and that is the only life that I knew… abuse.. It was normal for me.
The state of NY stepped in and told me that “I allowed my beatings, therefore, a neglect charge was being place onto me.” Mind you, I not only never ever hit my children but owned my own daycare business for 8 years with a NYS License.
The morning that I left, I put my children in the car and grabbed a small bag of clothes for all of us. I then proceeded to the family court and got an order of protection on my husband. I then took my children and I and went to what we called our “hotel room”. It was a room set up at the domestic violence shelter that had beds and one dresser in it.
After leaving a house that I owned and everything that I owned… school was starting and I wanted my children back into our home. I then went back to family court and got an order removing my husband from my home.
While living back in our home, I started to realize that we were not safe. I was getting phone calls back to back from the abuser. I was noticing that he was breaking into my home and following me all the time around town.
Every time I called the police about this situation, they would tell me .. “everything that he is doing are accidents. he doesn’t mean it.” This was the answer every time I called!
After about 4 months of it, I finally decided to take my children and run for our safety and sound of mind.
After about a months time of finally being free, finally being happy and seeing smiles on my children’s faces, NYS stepped in and said that I violated my neglect charge by moving out of the area in which it was placed in. They removed my children. Placing my son back with his father, the abuser. Placing my oldest daughter with her father and my middle daughter with her father.. in which she never met before. (she was almost 12 years old). Her father has 16 years of abuse under his own belt and has tried to kill his own 2 sons by running them and their mother off the road. But cps will not check into his background due to “him living in another county”.
They didnt care that my abusive husband found us 6 hours away from where we lived before. They only cared that we left the area in which this neglect order was placed. I asked them, if he found us where we were 6 hours away, how safe were we in the same area where he lived? They wouldnt answer me.
Then I found out that my ex husband was dating a CPS worker and she was told either him or her job. She left but the damage was done.
They continued to remove my children. This took place in I believe January 2005. We had a court date after that in which I could not make because I had no car or way down to court. I called the court house several times for an entire week prior, telling them this and the judge refused to care. On the very day of court, I was told that the judge was placing an order of protection on myself to discipline myself so that I would get myself to court from now on. Since then, I have not been able to see my children. The judge actually puts me down in court because my children are from different fathers. It’s not my fault that every time I got pregnant, the daddy’s would leave. It doesnt make me a bad mom. I was threatened by my daughter Stephanie’s father that his family member is on the board with the judge and that I would never see my children ever again, Well its been over 5 years now and I am believing his threat. The Aunt who has my son now as my son kept running away due to wanting to be home keeps going to court with lies and no proof and even though I have physical proof, the judge will not listen to me only her. I miss my children and am having a very hard time finding ways of getting them home. Im afraid to go back to court due to the mistreatment that I receive from the judge.
I also filled out a paper to have the judge removed from my case and have someone else take over, the judge laughed at me and told me that its his choice to step down or not and that he wasnt going anywhere.
With my health issues, missing my children these last 5 years it just doesnt seem fair that my children must suffer like this and have to live with out their mother when all I was doing was running for safety because the order of protection was not helping us. I thought I was doing the right thing and keeping us safe and alive. Now I begin to wonder if maybe I should have stayed with the abuser taking those beatings because atleast I wouldnt have lost my kids and my life with out them.
I have many many laws that were broken. NYS laws that were broken… Amendment rights that have been broken.
I have found that I have a multi million dollar lawsuit against NYS. I have taken these rules and showed them to one of the cps workers who originally took my kids away from me and with in a week, she quit her job. Fear? or guilt? …
I have also found out that when my children turn 18, they too can sue for all the same laws and amendment rights being broken.
I have done everything through family court that they have expected of me.. including doing a domestic violence course of 6 weeks and had a mental evaluation to show that I was sane to take care of my children.. which I found out due to the Hippa law was illegal as well.
But because of the fact that the aunt, who now has my son do to him running away several times… gets a load of money for caring for my son. She has actually cut her hours of work in half…. every time I go to court to get my babies home, she brings up a bunch of lies and even though she has no proof, the judge believes her… and its all do to her not wanting to lose my son’s money.
I have now been diagnosed with a syrinx. Its a tumor that is caused by blunt forced trauma that lies inside of my spinal chord. it is inoperable and is now starting to affect my speech, balance, arms and legs. I have had screws and a plate put in my neck due to an old fracture that was found in which I suffer daily migraines from it. I just want my babies home before this gets worse.
I had an advocate look through my court files and she searched through them several times in which she told me she saw absolutely nothing that shows i should have lost my children. She was really upset at this and wrote the judge a letter on this matter. The judge being the judge passed it through and never cared what she had to say.
All I want is my life back, my children!! I’m tired of the abuser winning. I want justice!!!! I want my children home where they belong! I never harmed my kids ever!! I only loved them as a mom does.
“Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell Gregory a story. Make some light.” – K. DiCamillo, The Tale of Desperaux
Seven is an odd age. Having graduated from a time of kinetic energy focused on the growing of limbs, shedding of baby fat and acquisition of balance, seven is a time for the emotions to take center stage. Most unfortunately, the headliners are most often Anger, Discontent and Sorrow, who have been appearing in standing room only preformances of ”Whining”, “Crying” and the always popular “Sarcasm”.
I had everything figured out last year and then once again, I am reminded that parenting is a learning process…one which never ceases in giving you opportunities to grow.
It was a full and tiring three day holiday weekend. We have had a lot of fun and very little downtime between community festivals, gatherings and a trip to an out of town museum. Therefore it should’ve been no surprise when on Monday during a potluck, J totally lost it. He and an old friend were getting on famously. They ran in circles and climbed on things, making loud proclamations. Then out came the lightsabers for some good ol’ fashioned swashbuckling….which (as these things often do) ended in a hit to the eye.
J shouted, “Ouch!” dropped his saber and emitted a long howl of rage. He ran to me and began accusing his friend of foul play in a fussy voice, “He hit me. He is mean, I am never playing with him again!” All while wailing, loudly.
After examining the injured eye (nothing more than a small pink spot) I advised they play something else….and after about 15 minutes of calming down, they did go off to have a wonderful time again.
This type of overreaction has been happening alot lately. Thus far it has just left me bewildered and exhausted, having no idea what to do about it. The husband and I have just been muddling through hoping for the best.
Today, I had to break a rule. Since the beginning of the year, we have picked up the Bear via the car line. On the first day, he looked up at DP and said, “Daddy, when you park and come and get me it makes me feel like I’m in kindergarten.” So we were happy to help him in his new more independent role. However, today the baby just was not having it. In agony from a new tooth all the little guy wanted was to be held. He had cried for the last five minutes of the ride. I knew it could be turned around by some snuggles and a little walking around so I did the unthinkable: I parked.
J was released. He stood at the playground entrance with a look of utter treason on his face. “How dare you.” his knitted brow accused me. Sweat was dripping down his forehead from running, the lunch box clutched loosely at his side. He began yelling as soon as I crossed the lot. “Why did you park?!” And when I explained myself, he huffed, “You said you wouldn’t.”
I found myself ready to snap back, but instead I sang The Wheels on the Bus to the babe as I buckled him in. Instead of my usual “What did you do today” routine, I began a story. When J was little, he had a hard time with transitions so I used to tell stories about what was going to happen to ease that transition- which worked to great success.
“Once upon a time, there was a little giraffe who was kind and brave. This little giraffe loved to be outside and he loved to play with his friend Hippo. One day the two decided that they should have a sword fight…” In this way, I retold the tale of Monday’s potluck. This time, the little giraffe’s sword was broken instead of him getting hurt but all the rest was pretty much a play by play.
In the end, we had a good discussion on how to handle anger and accidents and forgiveness. When I had satisfied his questions and he mine, we rode in silence for a moment before,
“Could you tell me another story, Mama?”
I then regaled him with the tale of a little squirrel who was very disappointed.
When we arrived home I felt that I had taught that little boy more in one car trip with two stories, than in weeks of nagging or telling him to “walk it off”. I felt good. When he asked me about the little squirrel before bedtime, so we could discuss it again…I felt fabulous.
I will pull Storytelling out of my parenting toolbox again, I am sure.
