I had an interesting conversation with one of my besties today. Nowadays we often find that our conversations tend to drift to parenting techniques. Today's topic was more or less on when it's appropriate to introduce technology to kids, meaning ipods, cell phones, facebook, etc.
Both of us had our opinions, but the thing with us is we are in two entirely different phases of mommyhood. She has toddlers and I have pre-teens. Of course she doesn't see the need to give her four year old a cell phone, where I can justify letting my oldest have one. She doesn't see the need for kids to have a facebook pages, where I can see the importance of letting an older child have one. You say tomato, I say tomahto.
Letting my child have a facebook page has always been somewhat of an internal battle with me. On one hand I think it's intrusive and could potentially be dangerous, but on the other had it's also a good tool for communicating with peers. Plus it's a great way to spy on your kids. After all, it was because of social networking that I was able to stop the party of the year that Buddy was planning on throwing at his vacationing mother's house. Although I agree with allowing older kids to have a page, I strongly disagree with elementary age kids having one.
This got me to thinking.....am I a better parent because I won't let my nine year old have one? Does that make her friend's mom neglectful? I think not! I learned a long time ago, painfully I might add, that you should never judge another person's parenting skills if you haven't walked int their shoes. When I was twenty-one I thought I knew it all and I actually criticized the way Buddy's mom was raising him. Thank God she is a forgiving and non violent woman because if I were her I would have knocked me on my ass!
I think at times we are all quick to judge the choices of other parents. "I would never let my daughter wear that to school", "I would never let my child listen to that music", "I would never let my child stay home alone", "I would never let my son have a girlfriend", the list goes on and on. The truth is you can never say never because you aren't in that parent's shoes.
Here is a good case in point. I remember a friend once telling me an incident involving lunchables. Now there is a good "I would never" subject. Her daughter came home upset from school because of something her friend said. Apparently at lunch her daughter's friend said that her mom called my friend lazy for giving her daughter lunchables. I'll be honest, I'm not a fan of lunchables and I've thought the same thing about parents who send those in with their kids (at least I used to), but here is was that parent didn't know. My friends other child was diagnosed with cancer and was given a five percent chance to live. Fortunately, he was in the five percent and I'm happy to report is thriving and healthy today seven years later. This serves as a lesson though, don't judge a lunch by it contents.
Bottom line is, we are all doing the best we can. Parents don't go into this child rearing adventure thinking I'm going to be the worst parent there is! No, we all go in with the best intentions and cross our fingers that we are making the right decisions on behalf of our precious gems. I am clearly not a perfect parent. I'm sure my children will have plenty to discuss with their therapists when they are older. I'm trying though, we all are. Just remember that the next time you see a six year old with a cell phone, you never know when your "I never" will turn into an "I allow".
Monday, February 28, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Mr. Me
For the past two and a half weeks I have been biting my lip so hard that I may need a blood transfusion by the time I'm finally healed from my surgery. My darling husband has graciously taken off work to care for me during this time, which has been a huge blessing. The only thing is I've had to catch myself from, let's just say, suggesting how he should go about doing things.
Let me give you an example. Laundry. Oh boy, does he do laundry. He is constantly washing up clothes. He is awesome on staying top of my most hated chore. For that I am grateful. However, there is just one little thing. He doesn't put it away. The kids and I are forced to dig through laundry baskets that are, no exaggeration, piled halfway up the wall. It drives me crazy, but I bite my lip.
Now let's talk meal time. Thanks to all my friends we have been blessed with dinners every night. This is a huge help to both myself because I am forbidden to do anything but lay on a couch and my husband because he already is taking on so much extra. So it shouldn't be such a big deal for him to clean up the dishes after dinner, right? Wrong. He eventually does clean up but it's usually right before we sit down to eat the next nights dinner. After dinner my lip begins to throb from the biting to keep my complaints silenced.
I know he is trying his best, and really do appreciate him. I know there are many husbands out there that wouldn't be willing to use all their vacation time to take care of their re cooperating wives. I am lucky. I know that. But here is the thing, he took vacation time so that he could easily do my job. I'm not keeping score or anything, but if I was here is a taste of what it would look like-
The amount of times my kids have been late to school because I over slept- me- 0 (out of the 9 years they have been in school) husband- 2 (out of the two weeks he's had to get them off to school)
The amount of times my kids have missed and entire day of school for a dentist appointment- me- 0, husband- 2.
(My lip is now bleeding because I am biting so hard. I want to scream SCHOOL IS NOT OPTIONAL!)
The amount of times lunch is packed for the kids each week to save money- me- 5, husband- 0.
The amount of times McDonald's is served over a holiday weekend- me-0, husband- 4 (even with meals being delivered every night my kids are still getting healthy doses of junk food)
The amount of school projects completed in time- me- too many to count, husband- 1/2 (I still needed to do most of it).
The amount of times the house needs to be vacuumed due to a large hairy dog- me- 1x every other day, husband- 0 (he hired a cleaning lady!)
I think you get the point. He's not all bad.. he is painting our middle son's room. A room he's been telling me he was going to paint since my step son moved out three years ago. It only took him three days to go buy the paint, one day to "prep", one day to take a break, four days to paint four walls and two days to reassemble.
I understand that my job is hard, heck I do it everyday plus work part time! But I will tell you this, the first time he even looks at me sideways for not having the laundry done, or having dinner ready, my lip will come unbit and he will go down! After all he's doing my job with help and he can't keep up.
I can say I do get a little satisfaction from knowing that I'm a better mom than he is....I guess that's why he is called dad.
Let me give you an example. Laundry. Oh boy, does he do laundry. He is constantly washing up clothes. He is awesome on staying top of my most hated chore. For that I am grateful. However, there is just one little thing. He doesn't put it away. The kids and I are forced to dig through laundry baskets that are, no exaggeration, piled halfway up the wall. It drives me crazy, but I bite my lip.
Now let's talk meal time. Thanks to all my friends we have been blessed with dinners every night. This is a huge help to both myself because I am forbidden to do anything but lay on a couch and my husband because he already is taking on so much extra. So it shouldn't be such a big deal for him to clean up the dishes after dinner, right? Wrong. He eventually does clean up but it's usually right before we sit down to eat the next nights dinner. After dinner my lip begins to throb from the biting to keep my complaints silenced.
I know he is trying his best, and really do appreciate him. I know there are many husbands out there that wouldn't be willing to use all their vacation time to take care of their re cooperating wives. I am lucky. I know that. But here is the thing, he took vacation time so that he could easily do my job. I'm not keeping score or anything, but if I was here is a taste of what it would look like-
The amount of times my kids have been late to school because I over slept- me- 0 (out of the 9 years they have been in school) husband- 2 (out of the two weeks he's had to get them off to school)
The amount of times my kids have missed and entire day of school for a dentist appointment- me- 0, husband- 2.
(My lip is now bleeding because I am biting so hard. I want to scream SCHOOL IS NOT OPTIONAL!)
The amount of times lunch is packed for the kids each week to save money- me- 5, husband- 0.
The amount of times McDonald's is served over a holiday weekend- me-0, husband- 4 (even with meals being delivered every night my kids are still getting healthy doses of junk food)
The amount of school projects completed in time- me- too many to count, husband- 1/2 (I still needed to do most of it).
The amount of times the house needs to be vacuumed due to a large hairy dog- me- 1x every other day, husband- 0 (he hired a cleaning lady!)
I think you get the point. He's not all bad.. he is painting our middle son's room. A room he's been telling me he was going to paint since my step son moved out three years ago. It only took him three days to go buy the paint, one day to "prep", one day to take a break, four days to paint four walls and two days to reassemble.
I understand that my job is hard, heck I do it everyday plus work part time! But I will tell you this, the first time he even looks at me sideways for not having the laundry done, or having dinner ready, my lip will come unbit and he will go down! After all he's doing my job with help and he can't keep up.
I can say I do get a little satisfaction from knowing that I'm a better mom than he is....I guess that's why he is called dad.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Home Salon
Rewind about thirteen years ago. I was 22, newly married only for about two years. Money was tight and one of the things I did to cut corners was do my beauty maintenance at home. One day I had the bright idea to wax my legs...something I had never attempted before, bad idea. I bought one of those kits that boasted "no paper necessary, just peel was off". Sounded easy enough. Of course I thought why not make it easier and ignore the directions that say small section at a time and do both legs at once, bad idea #2. Needless to say after several attempts to peel, wash, cut, soak (with lighter fluid none the less), I worked about 3/4 of it off my legs. My legs were blue from my jeans for weeks.
Lesson learned, right? No. Over the years I've had several home salon mishaps and I keep going back for more.
Fast forward to present. With me being confined to the couch and unable to do anything, a couple of my besties went in on a cleaning lady for me. My husband thought it was such a good idea he hired her to help me through my recovery. Most women would jump for joy, but honestly I feel a little silly. Sure, I know I'm not supposed to do anything, but I can't help but feel guilty. So in an attempt to ease my guilt I decided to dye my hair myself, with the help of a friend, to contribute in my own way to the hiring a cleaning lady.
Truth be told I have dyed my hair for years on my own. In fact just before thanksgiving I became a brunette for the first time, but as any "blonde" will tell you, it's hard to stay brunette. No offense to any brunettes out there in cyberland. I have a lot of friends who are brunettes. I'm just a girl who likes blonde. I'm sure your thinking, so what's the point. I'm getting to it.
The reason I dyed my hair brown in the first place was because it was just getting too long for me to do myself. You see, about two years ago I went to see Mamma Mia, the movie, and fell in love with Meryl Streep's hair. I decided then I must have it on my head..thus the growing began. Dying it brown did help and I thought I had found the perfect solution to my problem, that was until Mamma Mia was broadcasted on television. Meyrl Steep's hair was blonde. A spark started inside and I needed my blonde hair back.
Two days ago one of my besties came over to help me not only save money but look like Meyrl Streep in Mamma Mia. I told her to get one of those frosting kits, the one with the cap where you pull the hair through. Sounded simple enough. I would just sit there while she helped my tranform into my Meyrl Streep image.
I had done the cap thing once, in seventh grade. A girl whose mother was a hair dresser swore to me that she knew what she was doing. The only thing I can remember from the experience is that it hurt. It hurt real bad, but in my infinite wisdom I thought that it would be better this time. I was clearly wrong.
At eight p.m. the torture began. At first it wasn't bad, a little tug here and little tug there. I could handle it after all I was saving money that could go towards the new cleaning lady. By nine p.m. it was a different story. As I felt and heard my hair being pulled from my head my friend said, "We are almost halfway done."
All I could muster out of my mouth was, "Almost halfway?"
At this point I was too far into it to turn around. I convinced myself to keep going. I kept going even after my husband said I looked like a doll that a little girl hadn't taken care of and my children kept walking by with strange looks on their faces. I kept going even when my friend's voice turned from confident to skeptical.
An hour later my hair was completely pulled through the cap. It was ready for the dye. My friend slathered it on and the waiting began. As my hair processed I wondered what would happen when it was finished. Would I have any hair when this was finished? I didn't know. All I could do is laugh. After all this was my bright idea.
Just before I washed out the solution Pumpkin Head helped ease my fears by telling me that my hair looked like yarn and that I should of left it along. He is now written out of my will.
After another hour of rinsing and working the cap off of my head, I was able to see the finished product. I ignored the small pile of hair that was left in the bottom of my shower and apprehensively looked in the mirror afraid that I would still resemble that unwanted doll. By God's grace I did not. In fact my hair looked great. However, the next morning as I was carefully washing my aching head I made a promise to myself that I would close my home salon once and for all. I know they say pain is beauty, but I think that saying should be saving money is pain, beauty is worth the cost.
Lesson learned, right? No. Over the years I've had several home salon mishaps and I keep going back for more.
Fast forward to present. With me being confined to the couch and unable to do anything, a couple of my besties went in on a cleaning lady for me. My husband thought it was such a good idea he hired her to help me through my recovery. Most women would jump for joy, but honestly I feel a little silly. Sure, I know I'm not supposed to do anything, but I can't help but feel guilty. So in an attempt to ease my guilt I decided to dye my hair myself, with the help of a friend, to contribute in my own way to the hiring a cleaning lady.
Truth be told I have dyed my hair for years on my own. In fact just before thanksgiving I became a brunette for the first time, but as any "blonde" will tell you, it's hard to stay brunette. No offense to any brunettes out there in cyberland. I have a lot of friends who are brunettes. I'm just a girl who likes blonde. I'm sure your thinking, so what's the point. I'm getting to it.
The reason I dyed my hair brown in the first place was because it was just getting too long for me to do myself. You see, about two years ago I went to see Mamma Mia, the movie, and fell in love with Meryl Streep's hair. I decided then I must have it on my head..thus the growing began. Dying it brown did help and I thought I had found the perfect solution to my problem, that was until Mamma Mia was broadcasted on television. Meyrl Steep's hair was blonde. A spark started inside and I needed my blonde hair back.
Two days ago one of my besties came over to help me not only save money but look like Meyrl Streep in Mamma Mia. I told her to get one of those frosting kits, the one with the cap where you pull the hair through. Sounded simple enough. I would just sit there while she helped my tranform into my Meyrl Streep image.
I had done the cap thing once, in seventh grade. A girl whose mother was a hair dresser swore to me that she knew what she was doing. The only thing I can remember from the experience is that it hurt. It hurt real bad, but in my infinite wisdom I thought that it would be better this time. I was clearly wrong.
At eight p.m. the torture began. At first it wasn't bad, a little tug here and little tug there. I could handle it after all I was saving money that could go towards the new cleaning lady. By nine p.m. it was a different story. As I felt and heard my hair being pulled from my head my friend said, "We are almost halfway done."
All I could muster out of my mouth was, "Almost halfway?"
At this point I was too far into it to turn around. I convinced myself to keep going. I kept going even after my husband said I looked like a doll that a little girl hadn't taken care of and my children kept walking by with strange looks on their faces. I kept going even when my friend's voice turned from confident to skeptical.
An hour later my hair was completely pulled through the cap. It was ready for the dye. My friend slathered it on and the waiting began. As my hair processed I wondered what would happen when it was finished. Would I have any hair when this was finished? I didn't know. All I could do is laugh. After all this was my bright idea.
Just before I washed out the solution Pumpkin Head helped ease my fears by telling me that my hair looked like yarn and that I should of left it along. He is now written out of my will.
After another hour of rinsing and working the cap off of my head, I was able to see the finished product. I ignored the small pile of hair that was left in the bottom of my shower and apprehensively looked in the mirror afraid that I would still resemble that unwanted doll. By God's grace I did not. In fact my hair looked great. However, the next morning as I was carefully washing my aching head I made a promise to myself that I would close my home salon once and for all. I know they say pain is beauty, but I think that saying should be saving money is pain, beauty is worth the cost.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
It's Been Awhile.....
I'm ashamed. I haven't blogged in quite some time and I can report that I have a really good excuse. Not only have I been adjusting to working a "normal" job, and having a junior higher (which by the way just complicates life 100x more) I have also been having to buck up and force myself to deal with my "pain".
No, my "pain" is not one of my kids, all though I do think that they sometimes have contributed to it..but my pain is exactly that- pain. I've had it for years and over time it progressively became worse. So bad in fact I couldn't go on ignoring it, I had to do something about it. Living on pain meds was not an option I would accept, I was looking for something more permanent. Fortunately, there was a solution, unfortunately that solution required surgery, but it was the best option. Last week I bit the bullet, and went under the knife. I'm happy to report that as of today I am very happy with my decision and am looking forward to the future- pain free!
So here is to the first post of many to come.....get ready. A writer is about to emerge!
No, my "pain" is not one of my kids, all though I do think that they sometimes have contributed to it..but my pain is exactly that- pain. I've had it for years and over time it progressively became worse. So bad in fact I couldn't go on ignoring it, I had to do something about it. Living on pain meds was not an option I would accept, I was looking for something more permanent. Fortunately, there was a solution, unfortunately that solution required surgery, but it was the best option. Last week I bit the bullet, and went under the knife. I'm happy to report that as of today I am very happy with my decision and am looking forward to the future- pain free!
So here is to the first post of many to come.....get ready. A writer is about to emerge!
Friday, October 8, 2010
To Facebook or not to Facebook? That is the question.
About three years ago I got turned on to facebook. It was slow at first, and to be honest the only reason I signed up in the first place was to spy on my teenage step son. However, my spying took second seat after I dove deeper into the site.
I started getting requests to "friend" people, and being the open armed person I am, no one was denied. Through that I learned about cool apps that let me play scrabble with my best friend two hours away or a farm where I could grow virtual vegetables. It was fun and seemed harmless. Sure, I'd spend two to four hours a day logging onto the social network when I should have been writing my book, but it was fun. At one point I was even calling it research....yeah right.
Besides the games, pointless quizzes and notes about fun facts of friends there was one other cool feature that kept me logged on for hours....cyber stalking. I mean come on, let's be honest. How many people have you "friended" just so you could see if their life sucked more than yours. Facebook is they only place around where you can judge people all you want and not get called out on it! It's awesome to see that your ex married ugly or that girl who bullied you in high school got fat. Face it, we are a society that lives for others misery. If that weren't true, Real Housewives or Teen Mom would not be on the air.
Don't get me wrong, I love connecting with old friends and classmates. I'm really not that cynical, I am very happy to see people from my past succeeding in the world. It's great to learn of what has become of people. I love looking at pictures of their kids and their life. It's fun getting to know them again. I love to read about cute things their children say, or stories about their days. Facebook is can be extremely entertaining.
However, I have discovered there is a down side to knowing too much about old friends. I'll give you a prime example. A couple of summers ago I ran into an old classmate. She and I had been friends in high school and it was the first time I had physically seen her since graduation. She looked fabulous and her kids were just as adorable in person as they were on Facebook. Our reunion though was extremely awkward. We had absolutely nothing to say to each other because we already knew everything about each other. Strange, but true.
That run in got me to thinking, by connecting on a social network am I losing social decency? Sometimes I think about unplugging completely. I miss talking with people face to face. Half of the time when people want to tell me something it is through a text, email or Facebook. What happened to a phone call? What happened to going out to lunch? What happened to socializing?
I've heard about this epidemic (and I do me epidemic!) with teens. I've heard that teens will be at a party together, then leave early to go home to text each other. What? Huh? Are you kidding me? Perhaps this is why young people can't communicate. In an age of instant communication we have lost the ability to socially communicate. The scary thing is that with this new way of communicating we are losing something very important...compassion.
It's so easy to say things in print through a machine rather than saying something to someone in person. Sure I can criticize "friends" on Facebook, but can I take theirs? I post what I want others to perceive. I only try and post pictures that hide my weight gain over the years, I only write about things that I feel are safe and can't be judged. Am I real? Am I me? By being socially connected am I losing a bit of my humanity?
Right now I'm not ready to take the step to unplug myself. Especially with my kids beginning to enter the cyber socializing world. I do want to log on less and get out more. I think I'll need to take baby steps with this one.
I started getting requests to "friend" people, and being the open armed person I am, no one was denied. Through that I learned about cool apps that let me play scrabble with my best friend two hours away or a farm where I could grow virtual vegetables. It was fun and seemed harmless. Sure, I'd spend two to four hours a day logging onto the social network when I should have been writing my book, but it was fun. At one point I was even calling it research....yeah right.
Besides the games, pointless quizzes and notes about fun facts of friends there was one other cool feature that kept me logged on for hours....cyber stalking. I mean come on, let's be honest. How many people have you "friended" just so you could see if their life sucked more than yours. Facebook is they only place around where you can judge people all you want and not get called out on it! It's awesome to see that your ex married ugly or that girl who bullied you in high school got fat. Face it, we are a society that lives for others misery. If that weren't true, Real Housewives or Teen Mom would not be on the air.
Don't get me wrong, I love connecting with old friends and classmates. I'm really not that cynical, I am very happy to see people from my past succeeding in the world. It's great to learn of what has become of people. I love looking at pictures of their kids and their life. It's fun getting to know them again. I love to read about cute things their children say, or stories about their days. Facebook is can be extremely entertaining.
However, I have discovered there is a down side to knowing too much about old friends. I'll give you a prime example. A couple of summers ago I ran into an old classmate. She and I had been friends in high school and it was the first time I had physically seen her since graduation. She looked fabulous and her kids were just as adorable in person as they were on Facebook. Our reunion though was extremely awkward. We had absolutely nothing to say to each other because we already knew everything about each other. Strange, but true.
That run in got me to thinking, by connecting on a social network am I losing social decency? Sometimes I think about unplugging completely. I miss talking with people face to face. Half of the time when people want to tell me something it is through a text, email or Facebook. What happened to a phone call? What happened to going out to lunch? What happened to socializing?
I've heard about this epidemic (and I do me epidemic!) with teens. I've heard that teens will be at a party together, then leave early to go home to text each other. What? Huh? Are you kidding me? Perhaps this is why young people can't communicate. In an age of instant communication we have lost the ability to socially communicate. The scary thing is that with this new way of communicating we are losing something very important...compassion.
It's so easy to say things in print through a machine rather than saying something to someone in person. Sure I can criticize "friends" on Facebook, but can I take theirs? I post what I want others to perceive. I only try and post pictures that hide my weight gain over the years, I only write about things that I feel are safe and can't be judged. Am I real? Am I me? By being socially connected am I losing a bit of my humanity?
Right now I'm not ready to take the step to unplug myself. Especially with my kids beginning to enter the cyber socializing world. I do want to log on less and get out more. I think I'll need to take baby steps with this one.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
A New Definition of Worry
Pumpkin Head started junior high school this week. For him, it was an exciting new adventure, for me it was a repeat performance of the first day of kindergarten. It's funny that both milestones left me feeling exactly the same way.
Back in 2003 my baby went to Developmental Kindergarten (he has a late birthday, wasn't quite ready for the real thing). He was so excited to ride the bus, to go to school everyday, make new friends and have a bit of independence. I too was just as excited for him, I knew that my social butterfly would love school and completely flourish, which he did. However, like most moms, I expected that first initial day might bring on some tears. I could see it, him wrapping his arms around me and me pulling them off while telling him everything would be fine. It would be the first time he would be off on his own, separation anxiety was just part of the territory. I knew it was going to be rough.
When the day finally arrived I braced myself as the bus pulled up in front of our house. I knew it was going to be ugly, and boy was it! The bus driver opened the door and Pumpkin Head ran onto that thing faster than I had ever seen him move before. It was like he couldn't get away from me fast enough. There were no tears, no "Mommy, I don't want to leave you" pleas, there wasn't even a wave good bye, he was out! I don't think I ever cried so hard in my life. I could barely see the road as I followed the bus to make sure it delivered my son safely to the school. Heartbreaking, just heartbreaking.
Fast forward seven years and there I was again bawling my head off as I watched (from my back porch) my baby board the bus this time to take him to junior high. I didn't know I was going to react like that! I thought I was cool with him growing up, but what I have learned is, I'm not cool with it, not at all!
Here's the thing, it's like I've entered another realm. The next half. No longer will I be worrying about him getting hit by a car, I'll be worrying about him getting in a car. I won't be worrying about him making friends, I'll be worrying about the kinds of friends he has made. No more worrying about if he likes the sport, it's will he make the sport. I won't worry about him ingesting chemicals, now I'll just worry about him taking drugs. It's another game and I am no longer the star player. I'm on the sidelines watching him make the choices I hope I've taught him to make.
What I wouldn't give to go back in time and have him be little, to have them all be little again. Back in the day, older women would always say to me, "enjoy this, they grow up fast." Of course, this was always when one was spitting up, one had just pooped and one was having a melt down in the check out line. I would always think, "yeah, right." Were they ever! All I can do now is cherish what I've got left because before long I'll be saying to them, "enjoy this, they grow up fast."
Back in 2003 my baby went to Developmental Kindergarten (he has a late birthday, wasn't quite ready for the real thing). He was so excited to ride the bus, to go to school everyday, make new friends and have a bit of independence. I too was just as excited for him, I knew that my social butterfly would love school and completely flourish, which he did. However, like most moms, I expected that first initial day might bring on some tears. I could see it, him wrapping his arms around me and me pulling them off while telling him everything would be fine. It would be the first time he would be off on his own, separation anxiety was just part of the territory. I knew it was going to be rough.
When the day finally arrived I braced myself as the bus pulled up in front of our house. I knew it was going to be ugly, and boy was it! The bus driver opened the door and Pumpkin Head ran onto that thing faster than I had ever seen him move before. It was like he couldn't get away from me fast enough. There were no tears, no "Mommy, I don't want to leave you" pleas, there wasn't even a wave good bye, he was out! I don't think I ever cried so hard in my life. I could barely see the road as I followed the bus to make sure it delivered my son safely to the school. Heartbreaking, just heartbreaking.
Fast forward seven years and there I was again bawling my head off as I watched (from my back porch) my baby board the bus this time to take him to junior high. I didn't know I was going to react like that! I thought I was cool with him growing up, but what I have learned is, I'm not cool with it, not at all!
Here's the thing, it's like I've entered another realm. The next half. No longer will I be worrying about him getting hit by a car, I'll be worrying about him getting in a car. I won't be worrying about him making friends, I'll be worrying about the kinds of friends he has made. No more worrying about if he likes the sport, it's will he make the sport. I won't worry about him ingesting chemicals, now I'll just worry about him taking drugs. It's another game and I am no longer the star player. I'm on the sidelines watching him make the choices I hope I've taught him to make.
What I wouldn't give to go back in time and have him be little, to have them all be little again. Back in the day, older women would always say to me, "enjoy this, they grow up fast." Of course, this was always when one was spitting up, one had just pooped and one was having a melt down in the check out line. I would always think, "yeah, right." Were they ever! All I can do now is cherish what I've got left because before long I'll be saying to them, "enjoy this, they grow up fast."
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Hello Again
I haven't posted in quite some time but I have a good excuse. Two words- Summer Vacation. Apparently during this time of year I not only lose privileges to my computer, but also to any complete thought my brain might produce.
Don't get me wrong, I LOVE summer. No outrageous homework projects, no demanding schedules, just me, my kids and the pool. I also get to spend time participating in my favorite summertime sport- tanning. Yes, I love summer. It is the one time of year that I don't have live by my calender.
Summer always goes by too fast and come the beginning of August I feel the impending doom of the school year starting. My heart feels a little too heavy during this time. The end of the carefree days of summer, the knowledge that the next time it comes my kids will be that much older and of course, the fading of my tan, this is what makes cheerful attitude dissipate.
I hate this feeling of sadness, the only thing that keeps me from going into a total funk is the knowledge that it won't last long. You see, something always happens right around the second week of the last month of summer. Just when the tears fill my eyes and begin to flow steadily down my cheeks grieving the loss of free time and fun, they dry up. It's like a switch as been flipped, and suddenly I'm in back to school mode.
It happens instantaneously, this mental shift. It's the point where the stars in the sky align and that one fight between my kids happens at the exact same time. That is when in one split second I go from embracing my children as if holding them will keep summer longer, to shoving them out the door and asking if perhaps school could start a few days early.
I am there. It happened today. The one fight (which was their millionth of the summer) had happened, and the stars were in place. I am ready for them to go back to school! Not just go back, but run back! I've had enough sleepovers, swim time, even enough tanning. I'm done. I'm sick of my house always being a mess. I'm sick of hearing the complaints of how bored they are when there is one day we decide to stay home. I'm sick of them keeping tallies on each other on how many play dates or sleepovers each other has had over the past three months. I'm so done with summer. Bring on fall, bring on sweaters, bring on the crisp cool breeze. Bring. It. On.
Today I stand before you, a new woman. I have reclaimed my computer and I have collected all the ads for back to school savings. No more lazy days of summer for us, we are in full blown back to school lock down.
Summer, I will miss what we had though. Holding on tight to the memories that were made, the memories we will cherish all our lives. It was a great ride. Thank you for this time with my kids. I know that soon enough they will be sharing their summers with their own children, going through the same experience. Now there is only one thing left to say, goodbye summer, until next year, adieu.
Don't get me wrong, I LOVE summer. No outrageous homework projects, no demanding schedules, just me, my kids and the pool. I also get to spend time participating in my favorite summertime sport- tanning. Yes, I love summer. It is the one time of year that I don't have live by my calender.
Summer always goes by too fast and come the beginning of August I feel the impending doom of the school year starting. My heart feels a little too heavy during this time. The end of the carefree days of summer, the knowledge that the next time it comes my kids will be that much older and of course, the fading of my tan, this is what makes cheerful attitude dissipate.
I hate this feeling of sadness, the only thing that keeps me from going into a total funk is the knowledge that it won't last long. You see, something always happens right around the second week of the last month of summer. Just when the tears fill my eyes and begin to flow steadily down my cheeks grieving the loss of free time and fun, they dry up. It's like a switch as been flipped, and suddenly I'm in back to school mode.
It happens instantaneously, this mental shift. It's the point where the stars in the sky align and that one fight between my kids happens at the exact same time. That is when in one split second I go from embracing my children as if holding them will keep summer longer, to shoving them out the door and asking if perhaps school could start a few days early.
I am there. It happened today. The one fight (which was their millionth of the summer) had happened, and the stars were in place. I am ready for them to go back to school! Not just go back, but run back! I've had enough sleepovers, swim time, even enough tanning. I'm done. I'm sick of my house always being a mess. I'm sick of hearing the complaints of how bored they are when there is one day we decide to stay home. I'm sick of them keeping tallies on each other on how many play dates or sleepovers each other has had over the past three months. I'm so done with summer. Bring on fall, bring on sweaters, bring on the crisp cool breeze. Bring. It. On.
Today I stand before you, a new woman. I have reclaimed my computer and I have collected all the ads for back to school savings. No more lazy days of summer for us, we are in full blown back to school lock down.
Summer, I will miss what we had though. Holding on tight to the memories that were made, the memories we will cherish all our lives. It was a great ride. Thank you for this time with my kids. I know that soon enough they will be sharing their summers with their own children, going through the same experience. Now there is only one thing left to say, goodbye summer, until next year, adieu.
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