I had a rough parenting day today. One of my sons embarrassed me in front of friends by telling them that the bouncy party place they had taken us to was boring. Another brought home news of a bad behavior day at school for the second day in a row. And two were found to have cavities...again. Big ones that I can see without any dental training whatsoever.
The blows were spaced throughout the day so that they didn't hit all at once, but by the time the cavities came about I couldn't take any more and flipped out on the neglectful toothbrusher who happens to be a repeat offender. I wanted him to feel badly for the money he will cost us so close to Christmas when there really isn't money to spare. I wanted him to wish he had done better. I wanted him to feel horrible because I was feeling horrible.
When I was done letting Ethan have what I thought he was due I bathed the younger boys, brushed their teeth, and brushed the cavity-riddled ten-year-old boy's teeth because apparently I have to do that. Then I went to my bedroom to finish being furious. On my bed I found Ethan's wallet with a ten dollar bill, a handful of coins and a note that simply said, "yours". It was the last of the money Ethan had made from selling his Nook.
All the steam went out of me, all the muttered curse words vanished, and the absence of anger left me with just the simple feeling of defeat. Why is this so hard? How can I have been a mother for almost thirteen years and still have no clue how to do this right? Why can't I handle disappointment or anger or regret or humiliation without making them problems that consume me? Every time I get arrogant enough to think I have parenting figured out it slaps me with a hundred more things I don't know. How can my sons possibly survive this, let alone become the men I hope they'll be? How can they when I am not the mother I know I need to be?
And not one of today's three problems is the end of the world.
We have insurance, crappy insurance, but insurance nonetheless that will help offset the cost of Ethan's dental work. And a hundred or two dollars this close to Christmas hurts, but it doesn't hurt like not having the money to fix it at all would hurt.
Drew has been in school for three and a half months with only positive green behavior days until yesterday. It could have been orange or red, but it was yellow - the color of a kid who asked a sick friend if he was feeling better when he should have been quietly doing math. And my two-day yellow boy is getting two awards in school this month for being inclusive, not leaving anyone out. Why was I so angry about two days of yellow on a scale of green to red?
As for Trent and the "this is boring I want to go home" embarrassment - he's five. What can I do? He was hungry, not bored, so I guess I could teach him the difference between the two feelings and have a heart-to-heart about emotional eating. But letting him cry himself to sleep during his time out might have been a little harsh for an innocent five-year-old mistake.
These tiny little struggles amount to nothing in the long run. I won't even remember them in a month or a year. But what they have done, along with all the struggles of all the days that came before today, is reminded me of the mom I have always wanted to be but haven't yet figured out how to become. I hope someday my kids have that mom. And I hope I figure out how to be her before all they remember is the one they have now.
Showing posts with label why so serious?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label why so serious?. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Bully
Cameron came bursting in the front door after school last week hardly able to keep the grin off his face as he shouted that Ethan had gotten in a fight at school. I kind of laughed at how excited Cameron was about it. I think he thought Ethan was destined for the biggest punishment our house had ever known. But I know my Ethan, and I wasn't worried.
It seems that Ethan had been enduring a couple of days of bullying by a boy in his class who, from what I hear, a lot of kids have had trouble with. In fact, Ethan brought up this boys name at our first parent-teacher conference back in October, telling his teacher that he was being picked on by this classmate. Physically.
When explaining the "fight", Ethan told me that this boy kept tackling him on the playground, and this time he scratched Ethan's finger with a piece of ice. (There was no ice on the ground that day, so I'll have to assume it was a piece of clear plastic.) Having already asked the boy repeatedly not to do that, Ethan decided that he had put up with enough, so he returned the kid's tackle, twisted his arm behind his back until he cried, and scratched his face with a bark chip.
After listening to Ethan's story and asking what the teachers had done, (taken the other boy to the office and sent Ethan on his merry way), I told him that his actions were fine, except for maybe the bark chip scratching, which was, perhaps, taking things a bit too far.
At the beginning of the school year Andrew and I told our kids that if ever someone hit them or hurt them at school, they had our permission to beat that kid into submission. *Within reason.* We told them to end it. Because that's the only way the bullying stops.
We told both our boys that if ever they saw someone else being hurt, we expected them to defend that person, verbally at least, physically if need be. And in either situation, they had our blessing. There would be no punishment, regardless of what the school said or did. We believe that our kids have the right to defend themselves and the responsibility to stick up for anyone weaker than them.
We also told them that if ever they were the one doing the bullying, they would live to regret it, but just barely.
Schools do a really good job of putting up signs and talking about being a "bully-free zone", but a lot of times it's just talk. They'd rather ignore it and avoid a law-suit from a parent who thinks their bully-child can do no wrong. They let it go on and on until there is irreparable damage. That's why our kids were told to stick up for themselves, yes, physically, if they had to.
It seems that Dr. Laura, (who I think is just about the smartest woman around), agrees with us.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Revolution
I've long felt that video games are a curse of our generation. They consume so much of our childrens' time and thoughts. Time that could be better spent experiencing life.
For my kids, video games are addicting. Andrew and I have tried a plethora of systems for allotting video game time: minute for minute with their reading, rewards for extra chores or good behavior, only allowing them on Friday afternoons, etc. All of our experiments left me feeling like it was still an unnecessary evil for my kids.
And so they are gone.
We will not have video games in our house anymore. There are so many things that are more worthwhile and healthy.
Originally I felt guilt that my kids would not have what other kids have, or do what other kids do, but since when do I want my kids to be like other kids?
Have you ever stepped back and looked at what our kids do these days?
They can't put their cell phones down for even half an hour without texting someone, regardless of who they might be ignoring in their physical presence.
They have to have the DVD player turned on in the car, even for short little trips around town.
Kids, and even some parents, turn on their MP3 players whenever they are alone together, and thanks to the handy earphones, they can ignore each other and waste an opportunity to have an honest to goodness conversation. (The car is the best place to talk to your kids! They are trapped! No distractions! Turn the radio off and talk!!)
Kids are allowed to bring portable video games to social engagements and completely withdraw from what's going on around them because it's easier for parents to not have to supervise or discipline them.
Kids today have an endless supply of entertainment at their fingertips, but very few books, very few responsibilities. They are not taught proper social behavior. They consider themselves entitled to whatever they want. They think they are equal to their elders. They are lazy. They are disobedient and disrespectful.
I wonder why?
I apologize that I cannot talk about this subject without coming across as self-righteous. And I know there is the argument that all things should be in moderation. But for my kids, it can't be. It's all or nothing, and I pick nothing. I feel so strongly that we are doing our kids a disservice by making electronic entertainment such a priority in our lives. I think about what kind of men I want my kids to grow into, and nothing that is popular or cool or accepted as "the norm" these days is going to help them be what I want them to be.
So Andrew and I are going to turn our backs on most of these things. We are going to provide our kids with the things they need to be good, productive men. Not grown-up kids.
End rant. Tomorrow I'll talk about all the ways in which I am not perfect. Deal?
For my kids, video games are addicting. Andrew and I have tried a plethora of systems for allotting video game time: minute for minute with their reading, rewards for extra chores or good behavior, only allowing them on Friday afternoons, etc. All of our experiments left me feeling like it was still an unnecessary evil for my kids.
And so they are gone.
We will not have video games in our house anymore. There are so many things that are more worthwhile and healthy.
Originally I felt guilt that my kids would not have what other kids have, or do what other kids do, but since when do I want my kids to be like other kids?
Have you ever stepped back and looked at what our kids do these days?
They can't put their cell phones down for even half an hour without texting someone, regardless of who they might be ignoring in their physical presence.
Kids and grown-ups alike talk on their cell phones while in the check out line at the grocery store or in a restaurant. They check their Facebook accounts and surf the internet while they are out with their spouses or friends. It's rude, people! Rude!
They have to have the DVD player turned on in the car, even for short little trips around town.
Kids, and even some parents, turn on their MP3 players whenever they are alone together, and thanks to the handy earphones, they can ignore each other and waste an opportunity to have an honest to goodness conversation. (The car is the best place to talk to your kids! They are trapped! No distractions! Turn the radio off and talk!!)
Kids are allowed to bring portable video games to social engagements and completely withdraw from what's going on around them because it's easier for parents to not have to supervise or discipline them.
Kids today have an endless supply of entertainment at their fingertips, but very few books, very few responsibilities. They are not taught proper social behavior. They consider themselves entitled to whatever they want. They think they are equal to their elders. They are lazy. They are disobedient and disrespectful.
I wonder why?
I apologize that I cannot talk about this subject without coming across as self-righteous. And I know there is the argument that all things should be in moderation. But for my kids, it can't be. It's all or nothing, and I pick nothing. I feel so strongly that we are doing our kids a disservice by making electronic entertainment such a priority in our lives. I think about what kind of men I want my kids to grow into, and nothing that is popular or cool or accepted as "the norm" these days is going to help them be what I want them to be.
So Andrew and I are going to turn our backs on most of these things. We are going to provide our kids with the things they need to be good, productive men. Not grown-up kids.
End rant. Tomorrow I'll talk about all the ways in which I am not perfect. Deal?
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Wishing for simple.
I am saddened by books on Kindle or whatever other devices there are for reading a book on an electronic gadget.
I like turning pages. Real ones made of paper.
I miss the era of good, old fashioned letters. Getting the mail now is usually so drab.
I am amazed by and grateful for technology, and at the same time, I dislike it.
It's ok for saving lives and purifying water and securing communities...
But my DVD collection will soon be as obsolete as all my VHS tapes. It's annoying and expensive to have to keep replacing things. I like my i-pod, (which is actually a Sony brand - not an i-pod), but I don't want an i-phone. Who needs all that junk?
And I hate texting. Nothing is human anymore. I have seen people sit in a room with real, live people and completely ignore them in favor of conversing via technological gadget with someone not present. We are becoming a rude and desensitized society.
I detest the phrase LOL. We can't even be bothered to write the whole thing. And more often than not, people type it without having actually laughed out loud. But we feel obligated to tell someone what our reaction was to their comment, because they aren't there to see it for themselves.
Are we are forgetting how to distinguish and express real emotion? Do we remember how to read body language and facial expressions?
Here's a question for you - What is the point of a Wii? To pretend to be doing physically active things? Why not just go do them? Like, for real? (We have video games, too, so I'm not judging. I just don't understand it.)
And everyone has fancy tv's with pictures so life-like that they could almost reach out and touch whatever is on their screen. I like them, too. I think they are pretty cool. But how often do we all get outside, or even inside, and really see things? Feel fresh air on our faces, smell nature, notice when someone in the room is speaking to us? Because that world, you really can reach out and touch.
When does it all become enough? What is coming next? What part of actual living will the next invention take away?
Anyone else miss humanity? (Just in case anyone needed clarification.)
I like turning pages. Real ones made of paper.
I miss the era of good, old fashioned letters. Getting the mail now is usually so drab.
I am amazed by and grateful for technology, and at the same time, I dislike it.
It's ok for saving lives and purifying water and securing communities...
But my DVD collection will soon be as obsolete as all my VHS tapes. It's annoying and expensive to have to keep replacing things. I like my i-pod, (which is actually a Sony brand - not an i-pod), but I don't want an i-phone. Who needs all that junk?
And I hate texting. Nothing is human anymore. I have seen people sit in a room with real, live people and completely ignore them in favor of conversing via technological gadget with someone not present. We are becoming a rude and desensitized society.
I detest the phrase LOL. We can't even be bothered to write the whole thing. And more often than not, people type it without having actually laughed out loud. But we feel obligated to tell someone what our reaction was to their comment, because they aren't there to see it for themselves.
Are we are forgetting how to distinguish and express real emotion? Do we remember how to read body language and facial expressions?
Here's a question for you - What is the point of a Wii? To pretend to be doing physically active things? Why not just go do them? Like, for real? (We have video games, too, so I'm not judging. I just don't understand it.)
And everyone has fancy tv's with pictures so life-like that they could almost reach out and touch whatever is on their screen. I like them, too. I think they are pretty cool. But how often do we all get outside, or even inside, and really see things? Feel fresh air on our faces, smell nature, notice when someone in the room is speaking to us? Because that world, you really can reach out and touch.
When does it all become enough? What is coming next? What part of actual living will the next invention take away?
Anyone else miss humanity? (Just in case anyone needed clarification.)
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
In serious hopes that today was the beginning of the end.
I may not be good at many things, but I have been doing a fantastic job of teaching my kids to sweat the small stuff. If there were an Olympic event in flipping out, I would have a case in my living room full of gold medals. I am just that good.
This morning, I lost it big time, but I think I learned a lesson from it all.
Cameron and Drew were in the living room being rowdy, as usual, while Andrew finished getting ready for work so that he could take the older boys to school. I came into the room to make sure they had shoes and backpacks on, and found Cameron and Drew atop the mountainous pile of laundry on the loveseat, looking through the clothes for something.
"What are you doing up there??" I exclaimed.
"We're looking for my glasses," came Cameron's reply. "Drew tore them off my face and threw them."
"What is the matter with you!?" was the opening sentence of my hour long rant.
It seems that they were horsing around, Drew went for Cameron's weak spot, the glasses, and chucked them as hard as he could. Ethan informed me that they must have landed somewhere soft, because no one heard them hit anything. Thus the search through the pile of clothes waiting to be folded.
We looked through the entire laundry pile three times, checked under couches, in the fireplace, I checked the window blinds, thinking that they may have gotten hung up there. We checked behind couch cushions, in the armchair, under the armchair...everywhere. I could not think of another place to look, soft or otherwise. I had already yelled at Drew and sent him to his room. I yelled at Cameron for letting Drew do such a thing. I yelled at Cameron again for being so dense as to not have a clue where the glasses landed, and I yelled at myself for not having folded those clothes on the couch days ago. There they were, mocking me and my lack of appropriate time management. We tried to coax out of Drew a clue as to where he might have chucked the specs, but he looked at us like we were crazy and he wasn't giving up anything.
So after the most frustrating forty-five minutes of my life, with no satisfaction, Cameron and Ethan were late for school, Drew had been sent to his room for his own safety, and I had yelled and cursed and cried until I didn't know what to do anymore. I finally told Cameron to keep looking until he found his stupid glasses, and I sat on the couch to try and regain control of my rage and breathing.
Cameron wandered around the living room for about five more minutes and then looks at me with a confused and yet thoughtful expression and says, "Maybe I didn't have my glasses on yet."
I then became aware that a possible side effect of anger is the body's spontaneous attempt to violently expel all internal organs via an explosion somewhere behind the sternum. I think I had to swallow my heart and lungs to get them to go back where they came from.
I took a very, very deep and deliberate breath and walked as calmly as I could into the bathroom, opened a drawer, retrieved Cameron's glasses from their case and walked back to the living room. I closed my eyes and held the glasses out for Cameron, waited until I was sure he was out of my reach and then opened my eyes, thinking that if I couldn't reach him, I wouldn't kill him and would be able to control my irrational temper. I was wrong.
I yelled a lot. I am not in any way proud of it, nor do I think it did any good, but I had completely lost it. Honestly, how does a kid remain convinced for over an hour that his little brother has snatched his glasses and thrown them across the room, when he never had them on his face in the first place?
So in the process of venting all of my frustrations over the matter, I squashed every ounce of self esteem and respect that Cameron might have possessed. And if ever there was a kid who did not need his mother to tear him down several notches, it was Cameron.
When I had finally calmed down and was drained of tears over the ridiculous incident, I didn't want to send my kids to school. I knew that my over-reaction would cause both Cameron and Ethan to have a terrible day and I didn't want to send them into the world while I was still unable to apologize. But I did it anyway because I knew it would be hours before I was calm enough to say the right things to patch where I had wounded.
My day remained a disaster until the boys returned from school and I could apologize for so explosively losing my temper.
I learned two things today. The first thing I learned was that I am a bigger idiot than I accused Cameron of being, (yes, I did, and I can only hope that time will erase that from his memory). Not only because I didn't put two and two together, (Drew claimed he didn't know where the glasses were, no one saw where they went or heard them hit anything, Cameron is a notorious scatterbrain...Hello?? I should have known that the glasses were never part of the equation), but mainly because I belittled my child repeatedly as my frustration and irritation grew, because I couldn't get my emotions under control. Cameron and I will probably both be tormented by the way I treated him for a long time, and I did it over a $40 pair of glasses that I knew full well when we got them would only survive this house for a few months at best.
I also learned that my temper may have seemed like a small pest a few weeks ago when I would occasionally lose my mind over a wrestling match gone too far or a box of cereal scattered all over the floor, but I've been feeding that pest more often than I should have lately, and it has grown into a beast of gargantuan proportions. I am going to have to work so hard to shrink it back to it's rightful size. It won't be easy, but it is long overdue.
So for as long as it takes, I'll be tackling this problem with all kinds of deep breathing exercises, counting to ten or ten million, humming of churchy songs, and trying to find the bright spot in my woes, even if I have to make one up. Wish me luck, cause I'm gonna need it.
This morning, I lost it big time, but I think I learned a lesson from it all.
Cameron and Drew were in the living room being rowdy, as usual, while Andrew finished getting ready for work so that he could take the older boys to school. I came into the room to make sure they had shoes and backpacks on, and found Cameron and Drew atop the mountainous pile of laundry on the loveseat, looking through the clothes for something.
"What are you doing up there??" I exclaimed.
"We're looking for my glasses," came Cameron's reply. "Drew tore them off my face and threw them."
"What is the matter with you!?" was the opening sentence of my hour long rant.
It seems that they were horsing around, Drew went for Cameron's weak spot, the glasses, and chucked them as hard as he could. Ethan informed me that they must have landed somewhere soft, because no one heard them hit anything. Thus the search through the pile of clothes waiting to be folded.
We looked through the entire laundry pile three times, checked under couches, in the fireplace, I checked the window blinds, thinking that they may have gotten hung up there. We checked behind couch cushions, in the armchair, under the armchair...everywhere. I could not think of another place to look, soft or otherwise. I had already yelled at Drew and sent him to his room. I yelled at Cameron for letting Drew do such a thing. I yelled at Cameron again for being so dense as to not have a clue where the glasses landed, and I yelled at myself for not having folded those clothes on the couch days ago. There they were, mocking me and my lack of appropriate time management. We tried to coax out of Drew a clue as to where he might have chucked the specs, but he looked at us like we were crazy and he wasn't giving up anything.
So after the most frustrating forty-five minutes of my life, with no satisfaction, Cameron and Ethan were late for school, Drew had been sent to his room for his own safety, and I had yelled and cursed and cried until I didn't know what to do anymore. I finally told Cameron to keep looking until he found his stupid glasses, and I sat on the couch to try and regain control of my rage and breathing.
Cameron wandered around the living room for about five more minutes and then looks at me with a confused and yet thoughtful expression and says, "Maybe I didn't have my glasses on yet."
I then became aware that a possible side effect of anger is the body's spontaneous attempt to violently expel all internal organs via an explosion somewhere behind the sternum. I think I had to swallow my heart and lungs to get them to go back where they came from.
I took a very, very deep and deliberate breath and walked as calmly as I could into the bathroom, opened a drawer, retrieved Cameron's glasses from their case and walked back to the living room. I closed my eyes and held the glasses out for Cameron, waited until I was sure he was out of my reach and then opened my eyes, thinking that if I couldn't reach him, I wouldn't kill him and would be able to control my irrational temper. I was wrong.
I yelled a lot. I am not in any way proud of it, nor do I think it did any good, but I had completely lost it. Honestly, how does a kid remain convinced for over an hour that his little brother has snatched his glasses and thrown them across the room, when he never had them on his face in the first place?
So in the process of venting all of my frustrations over the matter, I squashed every ounce of self esteem and respect that Cameron might have possessed. And if ever there was a kid who did not need his mother to tear him down several notches, it was Cameron.
When I had finally calmed down and was drained of tears over the ridiculous incident, I didn't want to send my kids to school. I knew that my over-reaction would cause both Cameron and Ethan to have a terrible day and I didn't want to send them into the world while I was still unable to apologize. But I did it anyway because I knew it would be hours before I was calm enough to say the right things to patch where I had wounded.
My day remained a disaster until the boys returned from school and I could apologize for so explosively losing my temper.
I learned two things today. The first thing I learned was that I am a bigger idiot than I accused Cameron of being, (yes, I did, and I can only hope that time will erase that from his memory). Not only because I didn't put two and two together, (Drew claimed he didn't know where the glasses were, no one saw where they went or heard them hit anything, Cameron is a notorious scatterbrain...Hello?? I should have known that the glasses were never part of the equation), but mainly because I belittled my child repeatedly as my frustration and irritation grew, because I couldn't get my emotions under control. Cameron and I will probably both be tormented by the way I treated him for a long time, and I did it over a $40 pair of glasses that I knew full well when we got them would only survive this house for a few months at best.
I also learned that my temper may have seemed like a small pest a few weeks ago when I would occasionally lose my mind over a wrestling match gone too far or a box of cereal scattered all over the floor, but I've been feeding that pest more often than I should have lately, and it has grown into a beast of gargantuan proportions. I am going to have to work so hard to shrink it back to it's rightful size. It won't be easy, but it is long overdue.
So for as long as it takes, I'll be tackling this problem with all kinds of deep breathing exercises, counting to ten or ten million, humming of churchy songs, and trying to find the bright spot in my woes, even if I have to make one up. Wish me luck, cause I'm gonna need it.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Concerning our President
Once again, I am delving into the realm of the taboo. Politics. My cousin, Erin, brought this to my attention last night, (I don't watch the news lately, I put the kids to bed and then cry while I try to re-assemble my house, and then I waste time blogging, and then I crawl in bed and die), and then I saw it brought up again on Facebook by Marcy.
Let's all start this lecture by watching this video on you tube.
Done? Okay. My opinion.
1. A good deal of the pledges these people claim to be making are admirable. Good for them, if they really are doing them. But if they consider me to be a poor citizen of the United States of America because I teach my kids to flush the toilet after they "do a single", as the gentleman put it, then I will just have to live with that label, because I don't care for the smell of urine.
2. I do not need Hollywood actors or professional athletes to tell me how to be a good, responsible citizen. I do think that most celebrities could take a lesson from the general public on how to be resourceful and charitable, and how to conduct their lives in a moral and responsible fashion.
3. I will not pledge to be a "servant to" or even "of service to" any PRESIDENT. I will pledge to be OF SERVICE TO my COUNTRY. Any president who's aims and values coincide with what is best for our country will also be served by my patriotism. Patriotism is not support of or loyalty to one man, but to one nation. If we have an honorable president, then the two become one and the same. People pledged loyalty to a man called Hitler, and look where it got them. (That was not a comparison of Obama to Hitler, but make of it what you will.)
And now on to President Obama's upcoming address to the children of our country. Here's a link if you need to be brought up to speed.
I do not know what, exactly, President Obama plans to say to our children. My immediate reaction is to scream NO!! and then wonder what kind of subliminal messages will be hidden in his speech. This can be looked at as either paranoia or intuition. Whatever you like. I simply wish that we parents could hear this address before it is presented to our impressionable youth. Obama, is after all, a politician, and they all have an agenda which usually involves re-election. (Some of you may recognize my thoughts from reading my comment on Marcy's Facebook Status where I pretended to be Andrew, and then was chewed out by my husband for doing it. And rightly so.)
I don't imagine that my kids have the attention span to listen to Obama's entire speech, which we are told will last for 15 to 20 minutes. I would hope that no political ideas or pleas will be subtly placed on the table for my kids to partake of. I would hope that his address will be exactly what it is being billed as: encouragement. If it is, then ultimately, I can't see it making much difference anyway. Kindergarten through fourth grades will be asleep or zoned out within thirty seconds, 5th through 8th grade will possibly be inspired for a day or two, but their lives are focused in the now - sports, TV, chores, friends and making fun of the lunch lady's hair net and jiggly arms - not in the future that seems a lifetime away to them. The high school crowd may or may not heed his words, but I would guess that that will largely depend on whether their parents are Democrats or Republicans and whether or not they like their parents. Kids that age should be mature enough to think for themselves and decide if they agree with our President or not. We'll see.
I am trying my hardest to not see deception in this issue, and have decided that the best thing FOR ME AND MY KIDS is to use this as a teaching opportunity. I believe there are two options.
First, you can keep your kids out of school while the address is made, or let them participate in any alternate activities that are being offered. You have every right to do so. If I were to choose this option, I would make sure to discuss my decision with my children. Kids are smart.
Or, (and this will be my choice), you can keep your kids in school, but be there to watch the address with them, or watch it from home. Parent's should know what is being presented to their children. If you agree with any part of President Obama's message then talk about it, reinforce it at home.
If you disagree with any part of Obama's message, then talk to your kids about it, correct what needs to be corrected. It is an opportunity to teach your children.
Finally, I want my children to have respect for the Office of President. Respect for the office does not mean that we have to support things that we disagree with. It does not mean that we have to like the man, (or woman), sitting behind the desk. Respect for the Office means that people stand when the president enters a room. It means that we should do anything we can to support the President in the cases that we believe he is doing the right thing. It means understanding that because all people have the right to believe what they will, you can't please everyone. It means knowing that being President is a hard job. It means that you have a responsibility to vote.
I want my children to grow into responsible, informed adults. I want them to be able to decide for themselves what is right. I want them to feel confident in standing up for what they believe in. I want them to know that they do not have to agree with everything that an elected official says, but they won't know what or who they believe if they don't listen. My job as a parent is, first, to protect them, but also to help them interpret, understand and then help them to do the right thing.
Thoughts?
Let's all start this lecture by watching this video on you tube.
Done? Okay. My opinion.
1. A good deal of the pledges these people claim to be making are admirable. Good for them, if they really are doing them. But if they consider me to be a poor citizen of the United States of America because I teach my kids to flush the toilet after they "do a single", as the gentleman put it, then I will just have to live with that label, because I don't care for the smell of urine.
2. I do not need Hollywood actors or professional athletes to tell me how to be a good, responsible citizen. I do think that most celebrities could take a lesson from the general public on how to be resourceful and charitable, and how to conduct their lives in a moral and responsible fashion.
3. I will not pledge to be a "servant to" or even "of service to" any PRESIDENT. I will pledge to be OF SERVICE TO my COUNTRY. Any president who's aims and values coincide with what is best for our country will also be served by my patriotism. Patriotism is not support of or loyalty to one man, but to one nation. If we have an honorable president, then the two become one and the same. People pledged loyalty to a man called Hitler, and look where it got them. (That was not a comparison of Obama to Hitler, but make of it what you will.)
And now on to President Obama's upcoming address to the children of our country. Here's a link if you need to be brought up to speed.
I do not know what, exactly, President Obama plans to say to our children. My immediate reaction is to scream NO!! and then wonder what kind of subliminal messages will be hidden in his speech. This can be looked at as either paranoia or intuition. Whatever you like. I simply wish that we parents could hear this address before it is presented to our impressionable youth. Obama, is after all, a politician, and they all have an agenda which usually involves re-election. (Some of you may recognize my thoughts from reading my comment on Marcy's Facebook Status where I pretended to be Andrew, and then was chewed out by my husband for doing it. And rightly so.)
I don't imagine that my kids have the attention span to listen to Obama's entire speech, which we are told will last for 15 to 20 minutes. I would hope that no political ideas or pleas will be subtly placed on the table for my kids to partake of. I would hope that his address will be exactly what it is being billed as: encouragement. If it is, then ultimately, I can't see it making much difference anyway. Kindergarten through fourth grades will be asleep or zoned out within thirty seconds, 5th through 8th grade will possibly be inspired for a day or two, but their lives are focused in the now - sports, TV, chores, friends and making fun of the lunch lady's hair net and jiggly arms - not in the future that seems a lifetime away to them. The high school crowd may or may not heed his words, but I would guess that that will largely depend on whether their parents are Democrats or Republicans and whether or not they like their parents. Kids that age should be mature enough to think for themselves and decide if they agree with our President or not. We'll see.
I am trying my hardest to not see deception in this issue, and have decided that the best thing FOR ME AND MY KIDS is to use this as a teaching opportunity. I believe there are two options.
First, you can keep your kids out of school while the address is made, or let them participate in any alternate activities that are being offered. You have every right to do so. If I were to choose this option, I would make sure to discuss my decision with my children. Kids are smart.
Or, (and this will be my choice), you can keep your kids in school, but be there to watch the address with them, or watch it from home. Parent's should know what is being presented to their children. If you agree with any part of President Obama's message then talk about it, reinforce it at home.
If you disagree with any part of Obama's message, then talk to your kids about it, correct what needs to be corrected. It is an opportunity to teach your children.
Finally, I want my children to have respect for the Office of President. Respect for the office does not mean that we have to support things that we disagree with. It does not mean that we have to like the man, (or woman), sitting behind the desk. Respect for the Office means that people stand when the president enters a room. It means that we should do anything we can to support the President in the cases that we believe he is doing the right thing. It means understanding that because all people have the right to believe what they will, you can't please everyone. It means knowing that being President is a hard job. It means that you have a responsibility to vote.
I want my children to grow into responsible, informed adults. I want them to be able to decide for themselves what is right. I want them to feel confident in standing up for what they believe in. I want them to know that they do not have to agree with everything that an elected official says, but they won't know what or who they believe if they don't listen. My job as a parent is, first, to protect them, but also to help them interpret, understand and then help them to do the right thing.
Thoughts?
Friday, August 28, 2009
On a more serious note...
Of late, I have been sharply disappointed in myself for having not read any books worthy of being called 'great' since high school, and that I can't remember what most of those were even about. So yesterday I finished reading "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" by Maya Angelou. The book is a beautiful, shockingly honest account of Maya's growing up years in the South, her experiences with her parents, and most especially of how she came to be who she is. It was one of those books that I couldn't get my mind off of. When I was doing other things, I wished I was reading it. I was fascinated.
I found myself of two different minds throughout the book. There were parts of the book that we all may be able to relate to. Everything from feeling like you don't belong in your own skin to desperately trying not to laugh at the crazy people in church. I was amazed that she found such important life lessons in the seemingly ordinary events of some of her days. Often, I found myself putting the book down in my lap to think about the things I had just read, and I constantly re-evaluated some of the things that I have been through, finding meaning in them when before, there was none.
And then there were the very extraordinary happenings in her young life. Rape, worry over a brother who had witnessed a dead man being pulled from a pond, and visits to her neighborhood from the KKK. Here is where I had some deep thinking to do.
I have long thought that black people ought to stop moaning about having things so rough. I tire of hearing about "the first black man to do this" and "the first black woman to do that". I see the accomplishment for what it is, not for whether they did it with white skin or black skin or any other color. I see the BET awards on TV and a look comes across my face to match the one I get when I smell a dirty diaper because I can't help but think, "Black people have heroically fought for equality, and here they are, patting themselves on the back for starring in a really good movie, while having black skin." If we had a White Entertainment Television show, can you imagine the uproar that would cause?
I am not a racist person. I believe every person of every race, gender, creed or orientation is a loved child of our Creator, and that no person is more valuable than another. But in a day where a black man is sitting behind the desk in the Oval Office, I think that all excuses go out the window. If Obama can land himself there, then there ought to be no one saying that their crummy position in life was thrust upon them by the color of their skin and that they never had a chance.
Black fathers should be responsible role models and stay in their homes, being good husbands to the mothers of their children. White men should do the same.
White boys should spend less time with their pants hanging below their butts, put their basketballs and iPods and video games away and go study, read books and make something of themselves. Black boys should do the same.
Girls of every color should start respecting themselves. Dress and act like you care more about yourself than which male prospect will validate your existence this weekend.
Not every black person is raised in a slum with a cracked out mother who didn't care if they came home at night or not.
Not every white person is born into affluence and judges people by the bottom line of their bank account.
I believe that every person's quality of life is determined by their attitude, the effort they put into making it what they want it to be, their motives for success, and their appreciation for what they have and what others contribute.
These are some of the thoughts that I had while reading "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings". I also had other thoughts. I believe that segregation now only exists in the sense of perception. If you believe that you are less than or more than another person because of their heritage, then racism is given a place to thrive.
Maybe Black Entertainment Television and the awards that they give are celebrations of a culture, and not an exclusive club. Maybe President Obama was elected by our people because he embodied their same beliefs, and not just because a majority of America was thrilled at the thought of being able to assist in delivering a monumental event in history.
Sometimes I pass a black man on the street that is dressed as what I would call a "thug", so I make a point to make eye contact with him and smile to show that I do not consider him a threat, but the same as any other individual walking down the street. But, I guess the fact that I feel I need to do that says that I might actually believe him to be a potentially threatening thug. Maybe tolerance is never perfected, but should always be worked on. Consciously banishing the thoughts that subconsciously enter our minds, until they are no longer present in the foreground or the background.
I certainly cannot relate to every experience that Maya Angelou went through as a child and young adult, but after reading her book, I am appreciative of her sharing them. I better understand the feelings that come along with being discriminated against. I have an emotional picture of what it was like to grow up in the Deep South, with their customs and cultural differences, and I appreciate how hard it must have been to be planted in a place where it is expected that you will become nothing, and then turn your life into a gift to yourself and others.
I have not given voice here to every thought and opinion that I possess. As with all my blog posts, I wrote this without re-reading, wondering if people would be offended, censoring myself or fussing over the grammatical elements. I just let it out as I was prompted to by my feelings on Angelou's book. I may have opened a nasty can of worms, but I'm glad I read the book, and I can't help but tell what I felt about it. Now - on to Dickens and "A Tale of Two Cities".
I found myself of two different minds throughout the book. There were parts of the book that we all may be able to relate to. Everything from feeling like you don't belong in your own skin to desperately trying not to laugh at the crazy people in church. I was amazed that she found such important life lessons in the seemingly ordinary events of some of her days. Often, I found myself putting the book down in my lap to think about the things I had just read, and I constantly re-evaluated some of the things that I have been through, finding meaning in them when before, there was none.
And then there were the very extraordinary happenings in her young life. Rape, worry over a brother who had witnessed a dead man being pulled from a pond, and visits to her neighborhood from the KKK. Here is where I had some deep thinking to do.
I have long thought that black people ought to stop moaning about having things so rough. I tire of hearing about "the first black man to do this" and "the first black woman to do that". I see the accomplishment for what it is, not for whether they did it with white skin or black skin or any other color. I see the BET awards on TV and a look comes across my face to match the one I get when I smell a dirty diaper because I can't help but think, "Black people have heroically fought for equality, and here they are, patting themselves on the back for starring in a really good movie, while having black skin." If we had a White Entertainment Television show, can you imagine the uproar that would cause?
I am not a racist person. I believe every person of every race, gender, creed or orientation is a loved child of our Creator, and that no person is more valuable than another. But in a day where a black man is sitting behind the desk in the Oval Office, I think that all excuses go out the window. If Obama can land himself there, then there ought to be no one saying that their crummy position in life was thrust upon them by the color of their skin and that they never had a chance.
Black fathers should be responsible role models and stay in their homes, being good husbands to the mothers of their children. White men should do the same.
White boys should spend less time with their pants hanging below their butts, put their basketballs and iPods and video games away and go study, read books and make something of themselves. Black boys should do the same.
Girls of every color should start respecting themselves. Dress and act like you care more about yourself than which male prospect will validate your existence this weekend.
Not every black person is raised in a slum with a cracked out mother who didn't care if they came home at night or not.
Not every white person is born into affluence and judges people by the bottom line of their bank account.
I believe that every person's quality of life is determined by their attitude, the effort they put into making it what they want it to be, their motives for success, and their appreciation for what they have and what others contribute.
These are some of the thoughts that I had while reading "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings". I also had other thoughts. I believe that segregation now only exists in the sense of perception. If you believe that you are less than or more than another person because of their heritage, then racism is given a place to thrive.
Maybe Black Entertainment Television and the awards that they give are celebrations of a culture, and not an exclusive club. Maybe President Obama was elected by our people because he embodied their same beliefs, and not just because a majority of America was thrilled at the thought of being able to assist in delivering a monumental event in history.
Sometimes I pass a black man on the street that is dressed as what I would call a "thug", so I make a point to make eye contact with him and smile to show that I do not consider him a threat, but the same as any other individual walking down the street. But, I guess the fact that I feel I need to do that says that I might actually believe him to be a potentially threatening thug. Maybe tolerance is never perfected, but should always be worked on. Consciously banishing the thoughts that subconsciously enter our minds, until they are no longer present in the foreground or the background.
I certainly cannot relate to every experience that Maya Angelou went through as a child and young adult, but after reading her book, I am appreciative of her sharing them. I better understand the feelings that come along with being discriminated against. I have an emotional picture of what it was like to grow up in the Deep South, with their customs and cultural differences, and I appreciate how hard it must have been to be planted in a place where it is expected that you will become nothing, and then turn your life into a gift to yourself and others.
I have not given voice here to every thought and opinion that I possess. As with all my blog posts, I wrote this without re-reading, wondering if people would be offended, censoring myself or fussing over the grammatical elements. I just let it out as I was prompted to by my feelings on Angelou's book. I may have opened a nasty can of worms, but I'm glad I read the book, and I can't help but tell what I felt about it. Now - on to Dickens and "A Tale of Two Cities".
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The Little Guy
I was cruising the blogging world today and came across the below campaign:
I'm not sure if you can see it well, but in a nutshell, it says that if we were all to spend $50 a month in mom and pop shops, we could save our local economies. (Consider that the very condensed version of what it actually claims.) I got to thinking about it, and I decided that while the majority of my shopping loyalty is required to lie within the grasp of stores that give me the best price so that my family doesn't starve, I do understand the plight of the average small business owner. I decided that my first move to do my little part, (maybe not $50, but something), would be to rent a video for my kids at my local Cosmos Video here in Kaysville instead of getting it at the Redbox, like I had planned. I knew that going to Cosmos meant spending a few dollars more for the movie than I would have at Redbox, but it wouldn't be a huge amount, and I would be showing support for my community.
I walked into Cosmos, and after being hit in the face with that charming stale cigarette smell that has been lingering in the establishment for more than a decade, I was greeted so kindly by the proprietor, who looked up from whatever show was on his television, stared at me for just a moment, and then turned back to his program. I felt like a fly that had annoyingly buzzed past his ear, distracting him briefly and causing him to hope that I didn't have the nerve to land on his arm and cause him further disruption. (The odd behavior exhibited by Mr. Cosmos was especially unsettling due to his seriously frightening resemblance to the Unabomber. That, coupled with his delightful personality, would not cause me to be surprised if I found that the two are first cousins or even brothers.) Being so overwhelmed by that warm welcome, I nearly turned around and walked back out to drive across the street to my reliable Redbox, which never glares at me or makes me feel like a nuisance. Mr. Redbox is always grateful for my business. However, I remembered my goal to patron the small business scene, and persevered.
I found the movie I came for, and then looked around a bit for another that I have not seen for a while, but always enjoyed as a child. I couldn't find it. So I gathered my courage, banished disdainful thoughts, and approached Mr. Cosmos at the counter.
"Do you have a Disney section?" I asked with massive amounts of syrup and pleasantry on my voice.
He pointed to a section behind me. Awesome customer service.
I went to find the movie, and after a minute or two, I comprehended that there was no alphabetical order, system or reason governing how the movies were placed on the shelf, other than they were all displayed before me thanks to the efforts of the all-consuming Disney Empire. I gave up and went to pay for the movie that I was able to find.
Sadly, it went down hill from there.
There was a gruff inquiry as to my last name. (Cosmos employs the index card system, rather than any kind of computer system.) I gave it to him, and he sighed. Loudly. And with an unmistakable tone of irritation. He then informed me that I had four dollars in late fees. Sheesh. Miss taking a video game back by 3 hours and they sure like to take it out of you. I handed him cash for the fees, plus the current rental, and then thought to myself, you know - Netflix has no fees. I don't think Blockbuster does either.
As I thanked him and turned to go, he uttered his first, and last, complete sentence since I had arrived. In ingnorance, I hoped that it might be a 'thank you for coming in'. Stupid of me. He said, "That movie is due back by six p.m. on Saturday." I had been chastised for my former late return. During the entire visit, there was never an expression of gratitude that I had brought him my business, but rather, I left feeling that I had imposed upon his day and that he was not at all hoping that it would happen again. I also felt that he should be thankful for my tardy return of that video game, as the late fee amounted to more than I had paid for the thing to begin with and surely there was no one waiting there in his unsavory store to borrow it upon it's return.
My whole experience there at Cosmos Video left me contemplating Mom and Pop shops versus Big Box stores. At Blockbuster and Hollywood I would have paid the same price for the movie and gotten to keep it longer. With Redbox or Netflix I would have paid less for the movie and gotten to keep it as long as I wanted with no penalty or verbal abuse. And all four of those alternatives would have expressed their gratitude for my patronage, either with a friendly smile or an e-mail.
So why, I ask you, should I be expected to support small business if I am getting inferior, if any, customer service, smaller selection and higher prices? Now, I realize that not all business owners would treat customers with such disgraceful attitudes and refuse to compete in any way with other establishments, but I am bothered by this one episode. So from now on, I will only shop in or do business with stores that make an effort to show me that they care about their customers. I understand that the lowest price is not always possible for these independent stores, but I will require that they offer me a fair price with impeccable service. If I can't get that, then I may as well go to Wal-Mart. At least there I know I will find what I want, I will be greeted by someone who knows how to smile and, in most cases, comb their hair, and I will not leave feeling as though I have been insulted and robbed.
If ever the day comes when Mr. Cosmos wants to exhibit a small amount of cheerfulness, allow me to keep his movies for the same amount of time that I could at a chain store, lower his prices, join the modern age and get a computer, organize his films alphabetically, OR lower his late fee rates to be equal to, or less than, the rental charges, then maybe I will go back. Notice how I only ask for one of those things; I'm not a complete jerk. Until he does, then I hope with all my heart that no one EVER has the audacity to interrupt his t.v. shows ever, ever again.
I'm not sure if you can see it well, but in a nutshell, it says that if we were all to spend $50 a month in mom and pop shops, we could save our local economies. (Consider that the very condensed version of what it actually claims.) I got to thinking about it, and I decided that while the majority of my shopping loyalty is required to lie within the grasp of stores that give me the best price so that my family doesn't starve, I do understand the plight of the average small business owner. I decided that my first move to do my little part, (maybe not $50, but something), would be to rent a video for my kids at my local Cosmos Video here in Kaysville instead of getting it at the Redbox, like I had planned. I knew that going to Cosmos meant spending a few dollars more for the movie than I would have at Redbox, but it wouldn't be a huge amount, and I would be showing support for my community.
I walked into Cosmos, and after being hit in the face with that charming stale cigarette smell that has been lingering in the establishment for more than a decade, I was greeted so kindly by the proprietor, who looked up from whatever show was on his television, stared at me for just a moment, and then turned back to his program. I felt like a fly that had annoyingly buzzed past his ear, distracting him briefly and causing him to hope that I didn't have the nerve to land on his arm and cause him further disruption. (The odd behavior exhibited by Mr. Cosmos was especially unsettling due to his seriously frightening resemblance to the Unabomber. That, coupled with his delightful personality, would not cause me to be surprised if I found that the two are first cousins or even brothers.) Being so overwhelmed by that warm welcome, I nearly turned around and walked back out to drive across the street to my reliable Redbox, which never glares at me or makes me feel like a nuisance. Mr. Redbox is always grateful for my business. However, I remembered my goal to patron the small business scene, and persevered.
I found the movie I came for, and then looked around a bit for another that I have not seen for a while, but always enjoyed as a child. I couldn't find it. So I gathered my courage, banished disdainful thoughts, and approached Mr. Cosmos at the counter.
"Do you have a Disney section?" I asked with massive amounts of syrup and pleasantry on my voice.
He pointed to a section behind me. Awesome customer service.
I went to find the movie, and after a minute or two, I comprehended that there was no alphabetical order, system or reason governing how the movies were placed on the shelf, other than they were all displayed before me thanks to the efforts of the all-consuming Disney Empire. I gave up and went to pay for the movie that I was able to find.
Sadly, it went down hill from there.
There was a gruff inquiry as to my last name. (Cosmos employs the index card system, rather than any kind of computer system.) I gave it to him, and he sighed. Loudly. And with an unmistakable tone of irritation. He then informed me that I had four dollars in late fees. Sheesh. Miss taking a video game back by 3 hours and they sure like to take it out of you. I handed him cash for the fees, plus the current rental, and then thought to myself, you know - Netflix has no fees. I don't think Blockbuster does either.
As I thanked him and turned to go, he uttered his first, and last, complete sentence since I had arrived. In ingnorance, I hoped that it might be a 'thank you for coming in'. Stupid of me. He said, "That movie is due back by six p.m. on Saturday." I had been chastised for my former late return. During the entire visit, there was never an expression of gratitude that I had brought him my business, but rather, I left feeling that I had imposed upon his day and that he was not at all hoping that it would happen again. I also felt that he should be thankful for my tardy return of that video game, as the late fee amounted to more than I had paid for the thing to begin with and surely there was no one waiting there in his unsavory store to borrow it upon it's return.
My whole experience there at Cosmos Video left me contemplating Mom and Pop shops versus Big Box stores. At Blockbuster and Hollywood I would have paid the same price for the movie and gotten to keep it longer. With Redbox or Netflix I would have paid less for the movie and gotten to keep it as long as I wanted with no penalty or verbal abuse. And all four of those alternatives would have expressed their gratitude for my patronage, either with a friendly smile or an e-mail.
So why, I ask you, should I be expected to support small business if I am getting inferior, if any, customer service, smaller selection and higher prices? Now, I realize that not all business owners would treat customers with such disgraceful attitudes and refuse to compete in any way with other establishments, but I am bothered by this one episode. So from now on, I will only shop in or do business with stores that make an effort to show me that they care about their customers. I understand that the lowest price is not always possible for these independent stores, but I will require that they offer me a fair price with impeccable service. If I can't get that, then I may as well go to Wal-Mart. At least there I know I will find what I want, I will be greeted by someone who knows how to smile and, in most cases, comb their hair, and I will not leave feeling as though I have been insulted and robbed.
If ever the day comes when Mr. Cosmos wants to exhibit a small amount of cheerfulness, allow me to keep his movies for the same amount of time that I could at a chain store, lower his prices, join the modern age and get a computer, organize his films alphabetically, OR lower his late fee rates to be equal to, or less than, the rental charges, then maybe I will go back. Notice how I only ask for one of those things; I'm not a complete jerk. Until he does, then I hope with all my heart that no one EVER has the audacity to interrupt his t.v. shows ever, ever again.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
"'Nurse Betty', Have you seen it?"
Don't ask. Just check again when she leaves, if you must.
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