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Showing posts with label Jessica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jessica. Show all posts
5/25/11
2/23/11
Stop the Clock
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When my boys were little, I made an error.
A HUGE error.
It would be hard to pinpoint exactly what caused me to have such a lapse in rational, adult-like judgment. Nevertheless, I did it and there is no going back.
I wished they would get older. I couldn't wait.
Of all the wishes I had made in my life, I am not sure why THIS one had to come true. But for that one moment or twelve that I was exasperated with all manner of sippy cups, diapers, and other various and sundry tasks that sap the energy of a mother, I managed to conjure up enough superpower to cause time to fast- forward.
This seems to be a one-way trip with no refunds, no take-backs and no do-overs.
How else can I explain how two days ago I was changing a diaper on one, trying to keep another from destroying the house, while the oldest was watching "Pinky and the Brain"? Because yesterday while the oldest was sitting in the living room while we ordered her Senior pictures, the other two were stuck on the school bus that was parked on the side of the road waiting for the police to show up.
(In order to protect the not-so-innocent, I will not disclose WHY the police were called. I will say that thankfully no one was hurt, and it wasn't because of my boys.)
Of all the advice I was given as my children were growing up, the one piece that sticks out in my mind is, "Enjoy them while they are young."
I always thought the very idea was crazy. While we were in the moment, a day seemed like it strung out for a week. Enjoy it? What exactly was I supposed to be enjoying?!?
As have finally approached middle age, I understand all the hoopla now. Back when I was still a toddler myself, yet ironically seemed to have more patience, I thought life would just be better when the boys were older.
Older, as in the ages they are now.
My boys are twelve and ten. The youngest will be eleven in April. They are in sixth and fifth grades and I love this age. To a point...
(My actual favorite age is fourth grade, but that is neither here nor there.)
Instead of diapers, sippy cups, annoying cartoon characters/children's programming and complete and utter control over their lives, I traded it all in for unpredictable hormones, insatiable hunger, Star Wars, and compromise that will make all parties happy.
Most of the time, I am not regretting my wish for them to get older. Only between 6:00-6:10 A.M., 3:25-4:00 P.M., 8:30-8:45 P.M, and when they ask, "What's for breakfast/lunch/dinner?" or "What can I have for a snack?" do I think, "What in the world did I do?"
I love that they have an actual opinion about social issues. I love that they are interested in politics. I love that they are curious about the world and can't wait to learn more. I love that we can talk and have a real, actual conversation.
I knew when they got older, there would be issues that would be hard. And I have had to have some hard conversations with them way before I ever dreamed I would.
It's one thing to say something like, "There may be some kids at school that _______ and this is how you deal with ___________."
It is completely different to have a conversation about the hard topics when it involves a child in their grade.
While I still have the time, I plan on enjoying every minute. One bird will be leaving the nest later this year. As much as I really, REALLY don't want her to go, she is ready. My other two chicks are going to have to slow down.
I am not ready to let them fly just yet.
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1/7/11
Momma's Boy(s)
When I was pregnant with my daughter some eighteen years ago, I never read any books on what I should expect during pregnancy, during birth, or beyond. I may have browsed the pamphlets and literature that was handed to me by the doctor and the Lamaze instructor.
The internet hadn't been invented yet (can you imagine how we even SURVIVED?!?) or if it had, we didn't have it. I had a mother that was perfectly content giving me all the glory and gory details of the upcoming event.
Fast forward several years when I was pregnant with my second child. Internet was available to a limited few, (not me) but I read every single book I could get my hands on. As a matter of fact, about the third time I came home from work with yet another sack from the bookstore, my husband said, "Really. I think you have enough books. What else could you possibly NOT know?"
That was the last time he ever cut me off books. However, I don't buy them new anymore either.
We're both fast learners.
There was a lot of things I didn't know. Some things had changed since I had my first child. One of the main things I didn't know was that second child I KNEW was going to be a girl was in fact a very large, ten pound bouncing baby boy.
(Yes, ladies. Ten whole pounds. And he came to town through the main highway.)
But a boy?!? I didn't know how to deal with all that stuff. Anyway, we made it through with flying colors and when I got pregnant with my third child a mere six months later, I don't think I cracked open any of those books that were collecting dust already.
I've been thinking that there is a reason that the books don't tell you what to expect after the second year.
No other child would be born. Ever.
The Trying Threes (none of my kids had the Terrible Twos) were nothing like the Pre-Teen years we are going through with the boys. Thankfully, my daughter really didn't give us much grief. She was pretty easy going. Still is.
But the boys? They are the reason that I have grey hair, sleepless nights, adult onset acne, and a secret stash of chocolate.
To make life even more complicated, they are polar opposites. When it is said that "opposites attract," it's not siblings that are being referenced. Believe it.
So to sum it up, we have two completely different personalities, unpredictable surging hormones that can't be helped with Midol or chocolate, unsatiable appetites for foods that aren't in the house, and the inability to hear my requests to pick up ____ (backpack, socks, clean laundry, books, etc.)
I have been making it my life's mission to inform everyone that I can of the impending doom that is boys. Only, I don't have any reference past eleven-almost-twelve. While, I am trying to spread the knowledge as far as I can, I also have to deal with the day-to-day activities and HOPE that I am not making some critical error that will forever alter his, mine, or our life path therefore insuring any and all success he could have had coming to him had I ____ (whatever.)
If I don't let him audition for the play, will that stunt his future chances of becoming an Oscar-nominated actor? (Because it is an honor to just be nominated.)
If don't get him a cell phone so that he can text with all his fifth-grade friends, does that mean he will be ousted and it will hinder his ability to win the election for class president his senior year thereby eliminating colleges he can apply to?
No matter what I decide or not to do with these boys, I am afraid of any possible damage. Big Daddy says that I am doing a good job and that they will have plenty of fodder for the tell-all book that will be written.
He's quite the active partner in the parenting process.
I've been working hard and diligently working on raising respectable children that will grow up to be responsible adults. The last couple of months have been much better than the six prior, but it is still a jiggling act at best.
Don't misunderstand me. I love my boys with every fiber of my being. I can't imagine my life without them. If I was given the ability to a do-over and have only girls, I wouldn't do it.
But you need to heed my warning: Boys are harder than girls. They will work your last nerve.
I have no doubt that should any of my children find themselves in need of therapy later in life, I will be blamed for everything.
I also have no doubt that should one, two, or three of them become famous their father will be the one that is thanked before I am.
I can live with that.
The internet hadn't been invented yet (can you imagine how we even SURVIVED?!?) or if it had, we didn't have it. I had a mother that was perfectly content giving me all the glory and gory details of the upcoming event.
Fast forward several years when I was pregnant with my second child. Internet was available to a limited few, (not me) but I read every single book I could get my hands on. As a matter of fact, about the third time I came home from work with yet another sack from the bookstore, my husband said, "Really. I think you have enough books. What else could you possibly NOT know?"
That was the last time he ever cut me off books. However, I don't buy them new anymore either.
We're both fast learners.
There was a lot of things I didn't know. Some things had changed since I had my first child. One of the main things I didn't know was that second child I KNEW was going to be a girl was in fact a very large, ten pound bouncing baby boy.
(Yes, ladies. Ten whole pounds. And he came to town through the main highway.)
But a boy?!? I didn't know how to deal with all that stuff. Anyway, we made it through with flying colors and when I got pregnant with my third child a mere six months later, I don't think I cracked open any of those books that were collecting dust already.
I've been thinking that there is a reason that the books don't tell you what to expect after the second year.
No other child would be born. Ever.
The Trying Threes (none of my kids had the Terrible Twos) were nothing like the Pre-Teen years we are going through with the boys. Thankfully, my daughter really didn't give us much grief. She was pretty easy going. Still is.
But the boys? They are the reason that I have grey hair, sleepless nights, adult onset acne, and a secret stash of chocolate.
To make life even more complicated, they are polar opposites. When it is said that "opposites attract," it's not siblings that are being referenced. Believe it.
So to sum it up, we have two completely different personalities, unpredictable surging hormones that can't be helped with Midol or chocolate, unsatiable appetites for foods that aren't in the house, and the inability to hear my requests to pick up ____ (backpack, socks, clean laundry, books, etc.)
I have been making it my life's mission to inform everyone that I can of the impending doom that is boys. Only, I don't have any reference past eleven-almost-twelve. While, I am trying to spread the knowledge as far as I can, I also have to deal with the day-to-day activities and HOPE that I am not making some critical error that will forever alter his, mine, or our life path therefore insuring any and all success he could have had coming to him had I ____ (whatever.)
If I don't let him audition for the play, will that stunt his future chances of becoming an Oscar-nominated actor? (Because it is an honor to just be nominated.)
If don't get him a cell phone so that he can text with all his fifth-grade friends, does that mean he will be ousted and it will hinder his ability to win the election for class president his senior year thereby eliminating colleges he can apply to?
No matter what I decide or not to do with these boys, I am afraid of any possible damage. Big Daddy says that I am doing a good job and that they will have plenty of fodder for the tell-all book that will be written.
He's quite the active partner in the parenting process.
I've been working hard and diligently working on raising respectable children that will grow up to be responsible adults. The last couple of months have been much better than the six prior, but it is still a jiggling act at best.
Don't misunderstand me. I love my boys with every fiber of my being. I can't imagine my life without them. If I was given the ability to a do-over and have only girls, I wouldn't do it.
But you need to heed my warning: Boys are harder than girls. They will work your last nerve.
I have no doubt that should any of my children find themselves in need of therapy later in life, I will be blamed for everything.
I also have no doubt that should one, two, or three of them become famous their father will be the one that is thanked before I am.
I can live with that.
9/23/10
I've Got Your Embarrassing Moment Right Here
I have a couple of questions before discussing the next topic in Sara's 30-day challenge:
1. I used the phrase "get under my crawl" yesterday. However, last night I was reading and the phrase "gets in my caw" was used. Which one is correct?
2. If you are my friend on Facebook, you may have seen this last night...
Yesterday, I saw a sign on an eye doctor's office that read,
"1 in 4 children has a vision problem."
It is my contention that the sign should read,
"1 in 4 children have a vision problem."
One of my teacher friends commented that the sign is correct. The subject of the sentence is 1 (one) so the verb should be plural (has).
My problem with the sign as it stands is the word children. So, if the emphasis is on the one child, shouldn't the sign read,
"1 child out of 4 has a vision problem?"
I guess what my real question should be is,
"Am I obsessing too much over grammar?"
Now on to an embarrassing incident in high school, because embarrassing myself as an adult in an open forum isn't enough for one day.
Day 9 of Sara's Challenge:
It was my senior year, late August of 1992. I had already missed my first period but did not really believe that I could be pregnant. After losing thirty pounds over the summer, and the excitement of the year, I thought perhaps I finally got lucky and was just skipping a month.
Even though a month had not been skipped since the very first appearance over seven years prior.
I finally got up the nerve to tell my mom that I suspected that she was "going to be a grandma." Those were my words to her. She still hasn't forgiven me for telling her that way.
My mom worked in the cafeteria of our high school. For the next several days, she'd come and ask me, "Did you start yet?" By this time, I was missing my second period.
Nope.
Meanwhile, another girl was also pregnant. She already knew and had no qualms about telling everyone in listening distance. I believe there was a two-day discussion of her condition in our English class. I wondered why she was so proud.
We finally found out that I was indeed pregnant. Since my mom thought I would be due too close to graduation, my parents decided that I needed to graduate early. I only lacked my English and Government credit. The only way to do that was to withdrawal from the high school I was attending, and go to another high school that offered that alternative. I went to school four nights a week, taking four classes, and graduated that December.
I also worked at the Hardee's in town. With all of my friends from high school. My friends were supportive, but my life had suddenly changed. I didn't feel like everyone else anymore.
I think the hardest for me was when they graduated that May.
Anyway, that was probably the most embarrassing thing that happened to me in high school. It was still a big deal for a girl to get pregnant in the early 90s, at least in Smalltown, Indiana where I lived.
1. I used the phrase "get under my crawl" yesterday. However, last night I was reading and the phrase "gets in my caw" was used. Which one is correct?
2. If you are my friend on Facebook, you may have seen this last night...
Yesterday, I saw a sign on an eye doctor's office that read,
"1 in 4 children has a vision problem."
It is my contention that the sign should read,
"1 in 4 children have a vision problem."
One of my teacher friends commented that the sign is correct. The subject of the sentence is 1 (one) so the verb should be plural (has).
My problem with the sign as it stands is the word children. So, if the emphasis is on the one child, shouldn't the sign read,
"1 child out of 4 has a vision problem?"
I guess what my real question should be is,
"Am I obsessing too much over grammar?"
Now on to an embarrassing incident in high school, because embarrassing myself as an adult in an open forum isn't enough for one day.
Day 9 of Sara's Challenge:
It was my senior year, late August of 1992. I had already missed my first period but did not really believe that I could be pregnant. After losing thirty pounds over the summer, and the excitement of the year, I thought perhaps I finally got lucky and was just skipping a month.
Even though a month had not been skipped since the very first appearance over seven years prior.
I finally got up the nerve to tell my mom that I suspected that she was "going to be a grandma." Those were my words to her. She still hasn't forgiven me for telling her that way.
My mom worked in the cafeteria of our high school. For the next several days, she'd come and ask me, "Did you start yet?" By this time, I was missing my second period.
Nope.
Meanwhile, another girl was also pregnant. She already knew and had no qualms about telling everyone in listening distance. I believe there was a two-day discussion of her condition in our English class. I wondered why she was so proud.
We finally found out that I was indeed pregnant. Since my mom thought I would be due too close to graduation, my parents decided that I needed to graduate early. I only lacked my English and Government credit. The only way to do that was to withdrawal from the high school I was attending, and go to another high school that offered that alternative. I went to school four nights a week, taking four classes, and graduated that December.
I also worked at the Hardee's in town. With all of my friends from high school. My friends were supportive, but my life had suddenly changed. I didn't feel like everyone else anymore.
I think the hardest for me was when they graduated that May.
Anyway, that was probably the most embarrassing thing that happened to me in high school. It was still a big deal for a girl to get pregnant in the early 90s, at least in Smalltown, Indiana where I lived.
9/22/10
I Can Literally List a Million
Day 8: "What is your least favorite quote or saying and why?"
There are three sayings that get under my crawl. And frankly, there are probably more, but I feel bad that I couldn't think of more than one quote that I liked.
I guess I focus on the negative too much. I am in a grumpy mood, so be prepared.
I am not sure if the order here is the exact pecking order as they all pretty much annoy me frequently.
3) "At the end of the day..."
To me this is a cop- out statement. It is a way for someone to justify what he or she is saying or doing by saying, "It won't really matter." I have only heard this used correctly perhaps once or twice. The rest of the time it is simply overused. Like the word literally.
(Although, I will claim to use literally. Literally once a day. At least.)
2) "I don't know."
This may not classify as a quote or saying; however, if I were perform a density percentage of my entire blog on this one phrase from quoting them, it would be HIGH. These people in my family drive me crazy with it. Again, I feel as though this is a cop-out. No one wants to actually have to think. Occasionally, I understand that whomever is being asked a question may not actually know, but come on, really? Every time a question is asked? Some days I feel as though they'd all rather I literally do their thinking for them.
1) "Boys will be boys."
Big Daddy KNOWS not to say this to me. I simply do not believe in it. It is another cop-out. Another way to justify some unsavory behavior.
To a point, I believe boys may have some primitive, unconscious desire to do things that are stereotypically "boy-like." And while that is all well and good, if my boys were to act up and I said, "Oh well. Boys will be boys," all I am doing is reinforcing that behavior rather than teaching them how to control impulses and make good choices.
If I wouldn't let my daughter do it, why would I let my boys?
And that's all I have to say about that.
There are three sayings that get under my crawl. And frankly, there are probably more, but I feel bad that I couldn't think of more than one quote that I liked.
I guess I focus on the negative too much. I am in a grumpy mood, so be prepared.
I am not sure if the order here is the exact pecking order as they all pretty much annoy me frequently.
3) "At the end of the day..."
To me this is a cop- out statement. It is a way for someone to justify what he or she is saying or doing by saying, "It won't really matter." I have only heard this used correctly perhaps once or twice. The rest of the time it is simply overused. Like the word literally.
(Although, I will claim to use literally. Literally once a day. At least.)
2) "I don't know."
This may not classify as a quote or saying; however, if I were perform a density percentage of my entire blog on this one phrase from quoting them, it would be HIGH. These people in my family drive me crazy with it. Again, I feel as though this is a cop-out. No one wants to actually have to think. Occasionally, I understand that whomever is being asked a question may not actually know, but come on, really? Every time a question is asked? Some days I feel as though they'd all rather I literally do their thinking for them.
1) "Boys will be boys."
Big Daddy KNOWS not to say this to me. I simply do not believe in it. It is another cop-out. Another way to justify some unsavory behavior.
To a point, I believe boys may have some primitive, unconscious desire to do things that are stereotypically "boy-like." And while that is all well and good, if my boys were to act up and I said, "Oh well. Boys will be boys," all I am doing is reinforcing that behavior rather than teaching them how to control impulses and make good choices.
If I wouldn't let my daughter do it, why would I let my boys?
And that's all I have to say about that.
7/27/10
My Wish For You
Dear Kids:
Tomorrow you will start a new chapter in each of your lives; each one will be as special and unique as you are. As I sit here and search for the best deals and coupons to finance these special days that lie before us, I can't help but think that it wasn't all that long ago that the idea of school seemed like a million years away. While each day drags on for an eternity for you, I have to force my self not to blink, afraid that I will miss something in the hustle and bustle.
Jessica,
It seems impossible that you starting your Senior year. Of course, you are going to rock it since you spent my senior year with me (even though you were in-utero and claim not to remember it! I think your ACT scores reflect something more, Ms. 23.) Not only are you starting your last year in high school but taking college courses as well. Words can not describe how proud I am to be your Mom. You are everything that I dreamed of and so much more. You have a passion and drive that can take you anywhere you want to go. Recognize that and use it to your full advantage. Enjoy this time that you have. You only get one shot.
Nicholas,
Sixth grade is an exciting time. You finally get to do some of the things that you saw Jessica do (like band and soccer) but thought it would be FOREVER until it was your turn. It may seem like it took forever to you, but it was only minutes for me. Try to enjoy what you have in front of you at the moment. Don't be in a hurry to be older.
I know you are nervous about band, but so are the other kids that will be in there with you, regardless of what they say. You are going to rock the percussion section. Practice all you want; you'll never hear me to tell you to stop. Unless it's like 2am. (You know, the neighbors and all.)
And just so you know, it's a new chapter for me, too. We are in this together.
Darrin,
I am not sure who is taking this year harder, you or me. I know you are nervous that you won't know where to go. Or you can't get your locker open. Or you'll have Mrs. Yellsalot for Math. (Trust me when I tell you that I've got my eyes on her, if you do.) Know that you are feeling the same things as all the other fifth graders. Think of this year as new adventure that ONLY you got to go on. Jessica and Nicholas didn't get to spend fifth grade in a Middle School. It's a pretty spectacular thing that as the youngest child, you are doing something the other two didn't.
Even though I won't physically be at school every day like you are used to, I will be in your heart. You will be able to open your locker. You will make it your classes on time and know where you need to be. You will know the right choices to make and be able to handle the consequences of the choices you shouldn't have made. You are not alone. The last five years in school have not been for naught; it's all been leading up to this year. Just as this year will prepare you for the next.
(But let's just enjoy this year for now, OK?)
So, kids, even as you grumble about being up early and putting on polo shirts and khakis, and I may even complain at the writer's cramp from writing checks, let's all just take a deep breath and relax. This is the only time that you each will be a Senior, sixth grader, and fifth grader, collectively. My wish for you is to maybe listen to me just this one time and ENJOY the adventure that lies ahead. Don't think of school as a chore, but an opportunity to do something exciting. Take on the attitude of, "I get to go to school," rather than, "I have to go to school." Grab onto the reins of this next school year and hold on tight.
Because I am here to tell you, in a blink, it is gone.
In the words of one of our faves, Eminem:
Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
.
.
.
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
.
.
.
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
Love,
Mommy
P.S How 'bout for dinner, I make "Mom's Spaghetti?"
6/23/10
Tears ahead: You have been warned
Apparently I have fallen off the wagon.
I have been super busy the last couple of days. Mostly with a couple of projects that I am working on that seem to be consuming all of my time. That is clear if you'd walk into my house right now....
I had planned this special entry for Father's Day, but ultimately ran out of time decided against it. I can tell you, however, Big Daddy had a great day.
He received a few things even though the budget I was given was approximately zero dollars and no cents. I was most excited about the photo collage that I had made through Walgreens. I was fortunate to get the idea from Jessica at Inspiring You to Save. She had posted that Walgreens had a special on 8x10 collages for the low, low price of FREE.
Yes, ma'am. Sign me up.
AND because I had to sign up, I also got 25 4x6 prints for FREE.
When I gave him the picture, (framed AND matted--items I had on hand. One of the perks of closing a portrait studio) I also included the receipt. He was impressed.
Probably his best present came from Darrin--a handmade card. Inside Darrin wrote:
"Dear Daddy,
I love you more than deviled eggs* but they are really good. Happy Father's Day! I love you!"
*Please note: The love that Darrin has for deviled eggs knows no bounds. I love chocolate and Diet Coke, but this goes beyond that. Seriously. I have never seen anything like it.
Later that night, Big Daddy said that brought a tear to his eye.
::passing the tissues::
Other than that, it's been pretty average around here. Nothing out of the extraordinary. Tomorrow, Jessica has an appointment to get her Senior pictures made. Just typing that makes me want to flip through her baby photos while playing "Memories", "Photograph","Yesterday," and "Good Riddance(Time of Your Life)". I am not really sure how it's even possible, because I am pretty sure that last weekend I put on her favorite dress, Mary Janes, socks with lace around the edge, and her hair in pigtails (with bows!), and Big Daddy took us to Chuck E. Cheese on a date. I have a photo of the event.
::taking the tissues back::
I think I better stop here. My keyboard won't be able to take much more....
I have been super busy the last couple of days. Mostly with a couple of projects that I am working on that seem to be consuming all of my time. That is clear if you'd walk into my house right now....
I had planned this special entry for Father's Day, but ultimately
He received a few things even though the budget I was given was approximately zero dollars and no cents. I was most excited about the photo collage that I had made through Walgreens. I was fortunate to get the idea from Jessica at Inspiring You to Save. She had posted that Walgreens had a special on 8x10 collages for the low, low price of FREE.
Yes, ma'am. Sign me up.
AND because I had to sign up, I also got 25 4x6 prints for FREE.
When I gave him the picture, (framed AND matted--items I had on hand. One of the perks of closing a portrait studio) I also included the receipt. He was impressed.
Probably his best present came from Darrin--a handmade card. Inside Darrin wrote:
"Dear Daddy,
I love you more than deviled eggs* but they are really good. Happy Father's Day! I love you!"
*Please note: The love that Darrin has for deviled eggs knows no bounds. I love chocolate and Diet Coke, but this goes beyond that. Seriously. I have never seen anything like it.
Later that night, Big Daddy said that brought a tear to his eye.
::passing the tissues::
Other than that, it's been pretty average around here. Nothing out of the extraordinary. Tomorrow, Jessica has an appointment to get her Senior pictures made. Just typing that makes me want to flip through her baby photos while playing "Memories", "Photograph","Yesterday," and "Good Riddance(Time of Your Life)". I am not really sure how it's even possible, because I am pretty sure that last weekend I put on her favorite dress, Mary Janes, socks with lace around the edge, and her hair in pigtails (with bows!), and Big Daddy took us to Chuck E. Cheese on a date. I have a photo of the event.
::taking the tissues back::
I think I better stop here. My keyboard won't be able to take much more....
6/2/10
Breaking the Rules-- Part 3
New to the story? Get caught up here (part 1) and here (part 2)
_____________
By the time Darrin came around, I thought maybe I could keep things under control. I was still dealing with some heavy baggage, but I was determined not to make mistakes that I had made in the past.
Also, I was determined not to be like my mom. Before you think that I am blaming all my problems on her-- that is SO not the case. While I do place some of the blame at her doorstep, I also lay some blame with my dad. But the biggest percentage of my problems lie at my doorstep. All my life I have been a pleaser. Probably been bred to be that way. That tends to happen in households where a certain amount of fear was the preferred method of discipline*.
Between a combination of my upbringing, a depression brought on by either situation or genetics (and really, does it matter how I got it?), the Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder diagnosis, and anxiety it was really a wonder I could get out of bed in the morning. But I did. I was determined not to let my disease(s) affect my children.
There has been more than one time I have worried that my problems are genetic (all the docs seem to think that is my case). I worry about my daughter the most. I guess because she is a girl, and the girls in my family seem to be affected the most all the way back to my great-grandmother.
I have had a fleeting thought now and again that the boys would/could show signs. But somehow I thought it would be the younger boy, not the older one. He (the older, Nicholas) is so much like me. Needs to be in control, Type A, overachieving eleven- year old.
A year ago, I started to question his attitude. Seemingly overnight, he was like a child I didn't know. I thought back to my own pre-teen years and thought perhaps that I wasn't "just a girl going through puberty." Could it have been that I was depressed, could have been helped had someone thought to look a little deeper? No one talked about depression especially children in the 80s, so why would I have been so special.
I went to my parents with my sudden epiphany, and they laughed my hypothesis off just as if I had said I was going to clown school. I was being an over-reacting, over-protective, over-thinking mom. "He's 10! Just let him be. Boys will be boys!"
Why did I ask them? And further, why didn't I go ahead with my gut? This is my child I was talking about. Wasn't I trying to break the cycle I felt trapped in?
To be continued....
*We weren't abused. At least I wouldn't say that. But, there was fear and most of my evenings were spent walking on eggshells. Not because we were afraid of getting spanked (and we would if needed) but because my dad was always grumpy. Nothing pleased him.
_____________
By the time Darrin came around, I thought maybe I could keep things under control. I was still dealing with some heavy baggage, but I was determined not to make mistakes that I had made in the past.
Also, I was determined not to be like my mom. Before you think that I am blaming all my problems on her-- that is SO not the case. While I do place some of the blame at her doorstep, I also lay some blame with my dad. But the biggest percentage of my problems lie at my doorstep. All my life I have been a pleaser. Probably been bred to be that way. That tends to happen in households where a certain amount of fear was the preferred method of discipline*.
Between a combination of my upbringing, a depression brought on by either situation or genetics (and really, does it matter how I got it?), the Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder diagnosis, and anxiety it was really a wonder I could get out of bed in the morning. But I did. I was determined not to let my disease(s) affect my children.
There has been more than one time I have worried that my problems are genetic (all the docs seem to think that is my case). I worry about my daughter the most. I guess because she is a girl, and the girls in my family seem to be affected the most all the way back to my great-grandmother.
I have had a fleeting thought now and again that the boys would/could show signs. But somehow I thought it would be the younger boy, not the older one. He (the older, Nicholas) is so much like me. Needs to be in control, Type A, overachieving eleven- year old.
A year ago, I started to question his attitude. Seemingly overnight, he was like a child I didn't know. I thought back to my own pre-teen years and thought perhaps that I wasn't "just a girl going through puberty." Could it have been that I was depressed, could have been helped had someone thought to look a little deeper? No one talked about depression especially children in the 80s, so why would I have been so special.
I went to my parents with my sudden epiphany, and they laughed my hypothesis off just as if I had said I was going to clown school. I was being an over-reacting, over-protective, over-thinking mom. "He's 10! Just let him be. Boys will be boys!"
Why did I ask them? And further, why didn't I go ahead with my gut? This is my child I was talking about. Wasn't I trying to break the cycle I felt trapped in?
To be continued....
*We weren't abused. At least I wouldn't say that. But, there was fear and most of my evenings were spent walking on eggshells. Not because we were afraid of getting spanked (and we would if needed) but because my dad was always grumpy. Nothing pleased him.
7/17/09
I believe the children are our future
Yesterday we were at a neighboring high school for Jessica's soccer scrimmage.
We happened to set up camp next to the "concession stand." Of course, I should mention that calling the set-up a "stand" is a bit generous as a box of granola bars, a box of Austin cheese crackers, and a cooler of Gatorade and waters does not necessarily constitute a competitive edge in the concession industry.
But, I digress.
A second table was set up and two girls were asked to separate a box of t-shirts into stacks of 10. After some time, I heard one of the girls say, "Ok. We have 20 stacks of 10. Oh my gosh, we have counted 2,000 shirts!"
I busted out laughing.
I couldn't hear anything after that because I just kept laughing. Big Daddy may have been embarrassed.
Someone figured out the faux pas of the math wizard, told her that she should have 200, and decided to do a recount. She said, "Ok. You had 200, but I have taken 7 away so now you have 190."
These are our future bankers, congresspeople, and fast food restaurant managers, folks.
The only thing that made me feel like we have a chance in the future is when I retold the incident to Jessica. I stopped after "2,000" and acted like it was no big deal to get her true reaction.
She busted out laughing. "2,000??"
(My heart almost burst out of my chest.)
There may be hope for us after all.
We happened to set up camp next to the "concession stand." Of course, I should mention that calling the set-up a "stand" is a bit generous as a box of granola bars, a box of Austin cheese crackers, and a cooler of Gatorade and waters does not necessarily constitute a competitive edge in the concession industry.
But, I digress.
A second table was set up and two girls were asked to separate a box of t-shirts into stacks of 10. After some time, I heard one of the girls say, "Ok. We have 20 stacks of 10. Oh my gosh, we have counted 2,000 shirts!"
I busted out laughing.
I couldn't hear anything after that because I just kept laughing. Big Daddy may have been embarrassed.
Someone figured out the faux pas of the math wizard, told her that she should have 200, and decided to do a recount. She said, "Ok. You had 200, but I have taken 7 away so now you have 190."
These are our future bankers, congresspeople, and fast food restaurant managers, folks.
The only thing that made me feel like we have a chance in the future is when I retold the incident to Jessica. I stopped after "2,000" and acted like it was no big deal to get her true reaction.
She busted out laughing. "2,000??"
(My heart almost burst out of my chest.)
There may be hope for us after all.
7/8/09
When I was a kid, we didn't even have CDs. And I had to walk uphill both ways
One day last week, and I have blocked that day from my mind because it was that bad, both Jessica and Nicholas were in ill-moods. Like from the time they opened their eyes.
Jessica was mad she had to be the fountain girl on a Friday (oh, I did remember!) and thought it would be busy. There was something else I can't remember.
Nicholas was just mad at everything and anything. And he was so dang dramatic about it, too.
At one point, I told Big Daddy I was going to the store. He said, "For what?"
"Kotex and Midol."
"Um. Ok." He was confused, and the mention of feminine products makes him jittery anyway. Especially when he knows it isn't for me.
I said, "Yeah. I am getting prepared because Nicholas is bound to start his period any second."
So, all day I am walking around on eggshells hoping not to waken the beast. I am not one to say, "Oh, he is just growing," or "Boys will be boys." I figure if I can teach him to control and direct his frustration in a productive way, we'll avoid much more serious drama later down the road.
Later in the afternoon, and when I say later, I mean like 8:00, he is more like the sweet, tender boy he can be. I am complimenting him on something he did. He looks at me all sweet-like, and I say to him, "You know. I understand that it's hard. I was your age at one time."
He starts giggling and says, "Yeah, but that was a long time ago before you had technology."
"We had technology, but it was different just like it will be different when you have kids. It's always changing."
He thinks about this for a second, and then asks, "Well, did you at least have a color TV?"
I nearly wet myself laughing. "How old do you think I am? Even PawPaw and MawMaw (my parents, age 54) had color TV."
(Not to confuse him, I didn't mention it wasn't until THEY were 10.)
Of course, he'll never understand. This is the kid that thinks that black and white movies were made in the '80s.
I guess it's all the technology that makes 'em cranky.
Jessica was mad she had to be the fountain girl on a Friday (oh, I did remember!) and thought it would be busy. There was something else I can't remember.
Nicholas was just mad at everything and anything. And he was so dang dramatic about it, too.
"Boys, are easier than girls." Psht. I don't think so.
At one point, I told Big Daddy I was going to the store. He said, "For what?"
"Kotex and Midol."
"Um. Ok." He was confused, and the mention of feminine products makes him jittery anyway. Especially when he knows it isn't for me.
I said, "Yeah. I am getting prepared because Nicholas is bound to start his period any second."
So, all day I am walking around on eggshells hoping not to waken the beast. I am not one to say, "Oh, he is just growing," or "Boys will be boys." I figure if I can teach him to control and direct his frustration in a productive way, we'll avoid much more serious drama later down the road.
Later in the afternoon, and when I say later, I mean like 8:00, he is more like the sweet, tender boy he can be. I am complimenting him on something he did. He looks at me all sweet-like, and I say to him, "You know. I understand that it's hard. I was your age at one time."
He starts giggling and says, "Yeah, but that was a long time ago before you had technology."
"We had technology, but it was different just like it will be different when you have kids. It's always changing."
He thinks about this for a second, and then asks, "Well, did you at least have a color TV?"
I nearly wet myself laughing. "How old do you think I am? Even PawPaw and MawMaw (my parents, age 54) had color TV."
(Not to confuse him, I didn't mention it wasn't until THEY were 10.)
Of course, he'll never understand. This is the kid that thinks that black and white movies were made in the '80s.
I guess it's all the technology that makes 'em cranky.
7/6/09
Maybe one day *I'll* be the celebrity
We had to take Jessica to the airport yesterday morning. She didn't have to be there until 8:25, but we were afraid of getting the commuter traffic. On a clear day, we can make it in about 40 minutes, but in order to keep from getting caught in traffic, we left around 6:35.
We stood in a REALLY long line, got myself an escort pass, and made it through security by 7:50.
Don't ever accuse us of being late.
After I got over my initial nervousness of putting my first born child on an airplane, I thought, "Hey! It's the Monday after a holiday. Let's be on the lookout for some celebrities!"
Low and behold, just mere seconds after my thought, I indeed did spot one:
If you aren't fortunate enough to get WKRN, which services all of Middle Tennessee, then you may not recognize this fellow. He is none other than Meteorologist D@vis Nol!n.
Jessica said we should ask him for his autograph.
I was holding out for someone else.
(I should have taken her suggestion. Although, the second time I saw him heading into Burger King, I smiled. He looked angry.)
Since we were so early, we decided to get some breakfast. Now, I wasn't really hungry as the boys and I ate before we left. Remember, I thought we'd get caught in traffic. My pessimism told me that had I counted on eating at the airport we'd either; a) be super late and have no time, b) everything would serve dinner food and be closed, or c) something else really crappy would happen.
Jessica isn't a big fan of breakfast but was hungry so we went in search of food. Now, why she wanted to walk to her terminal at C20 and THEN decide she was hungry where we ended up going back to like C1 to eat is beyond me. She wanted to eat at O'Charlie's.
Let me tell you, I need to set up a shop in the airport. Four drinks, one bag of shaken donuts and dip and a breakfast quesadilla (OMG that thing was delish!) set me back TWENTY-FIVE FLIPPIN' BUCKS NOT INCLUDING THE TIP.
For realz.
Maybe that's why the weatherguy was kickin' it at Burger King.
Then, because my honor student couldn't remember to take her medicine with breakfast and a $2.59 fountain Pepsi, I had to buy her a bottle of water.
That was $2.59 plus tax. It has to be a conspiracy and that is why you aren't allowed to take beverages on the plane or past security. And would it kill them to put in a drinking fountain somewhere?
I watched people for awhile. I love doing that. I make-up little stories about them Where they came from, where they're going, the kind of work they do, ect. I noticed this one woman studying me. I gave her a couple of glances and started thinking she looked familiar. For a couple of minutes, I thought she was the author of a blog I read. They could have been TWINS. Then her husband and children showed up and that shot that theory. It was then my egotisical side took over and thought maybe she recognized ME.
Analytics isn't picking me up today if she blogged about it.
But, after all that, it seemed like only minutes and I watched my sweet girl head out. She was glad she got to board first, (A-1 business select, baby), but was worried who would plop down next to her. I was hoping it wasn't the gross guy that ogled her in line.
Maybe later she'll find out it was a blogger. I wished that Brandi worked for Southwest. That would have been cool.
We left, without tears somehow, and to add insult to injury they charged me $7.00 for just over three hours of parking.
Aren't you jealous of my Monday?
We stood in a REALLY long line, got myself an escort pass, and made it through security by 7:50.
Don't ever accuse us of being late.
After I got over my initial nervousness of putting my first born child on an airplane, I thought, "Hey! It's the Monday after a holiday. Let's be on the lookout for some celebrities!"
Low and behold, just mere seconds after my thought, I indeed did spot one:
If you aren't fortunate enough to get WKRN, which services all of Middle Tennessee, then you may not recognize this fellow. He is none other than Meteorologist D@vis Nol!n.
Jessica said we should ask him for his autograph.
I was holding out for someone else.
(I should have taken her suggestion. Although, the second time I saw him heading into Burger King, I smiled. He looked angry.)
Since we were so early, we decided to get some breakfast. Now, I wasn't really hungry as the boys and I ate before we left. Remember, I thought we'd get caught in traffic. My pessimism told me that had I counted on eating at the airport we'd either; a) be super late and have no time, b) everything would serve dinner food and be closed, or c) something else really crappy would happen.
Jessica isn't a big fan of breakfast but was hungry so we went in search of food. Now, why she wanted to walk to her terminal at C20 and THEN decide she was hungry where we ended up going back to like C1 to eat is beyond me. She wanted to eat at O'Charlie's.
Let me tell you, I need to set up a shop in the airport. Four drinks, one bag of shaken donuts and dip and a breakfast quesadilla (OMG that thing was delish!) set me back TWENTY-FIVE FLIPPIN' BUCKS NOT INCLUDING THE TIP.
For realz.
Maybe that's why the weatherguy was kickin' it at Burger King.
Then, because my honor student couldn't remember to take her medicine with breakfast and a $2.59 fountain Pepsi, I had to buy her a bottle of water.
That was $2.59 plus tax. It has to be a conspiracy and that is why you aren't allowed to take beverages on the plane or past security. And would it kill them to put in a drinking fountain somewhere?
I watched people for awhile. I love doing that. I make-up little stories about them Where they came from, where they're going, the kind of work they do, ect. I noticed this one woman studying me. I gave her a couple of glances and started thinking she looked familiar. For a couple of minutes, I thought she was the author of a blog I read. They could have been TWINS. Then her husband and children showed up and that shot that theory. It was then my egotisical side took over and thought maybe she recognized ME.
Analytics isn't picking me up today if she blogged about it.
But, after all that, it seemed like only minutes and I watched my sweet girl head out. She was glad she got to board first, (A-1 business select, baby), but was worried who would plop down next to her. I was hoping it wasn't the gross guy that ogled her in line.
Maybe later she'll find out it was a blogger. I wished that Brandi worked for Southwest. That would have been cool.
We left, without tears somehow, and to add insult to injury they charged me $7.00 for just over three hours of parking.
Aren't you jealous of my Monday?
4/21/09
Chicken Noodle soup with a Soda on the Side
Life as we know it has changed forever.
My baby girl has landed her first job. At Sonic, no less.
She'll start out as the Fountain Girl. Maybe I can recoup some of the investment I have made over the years.
"Lite ice" does not mean the same thing as "full of ice."
The other night she was in the yard playing with the boys, and her boyfriend was over. I said to Big Daddy, "Wasn't it just last week that she had pigtails and we took her to Chuck E. Cheese?"
He said, "I was just thinking the same thing."
Congratulations, Juicy. Does this mean I have to tip now?
My baby girl has landed her first job. At Sonic, no less.
She'll start out as the Fountain Girl. Maybe I can recoup some of the investment I have made over the years.
"Lite ice" does not mean the same thing as "full of ice."
The other night she was in the yard playing with the boys, and her boyfriend was over. I said to Big Daddy, "Wasn't it just last week that she had pigtails and we took her to Chuck E. Cheese?"
He said, "I was just thinking the same thing."
Congratulations, Juicy. Does this mean I have to tip now?
10/31/08
Trick or Treat
Tonight's lineup:
Devil in a Blue Dress
Forrest Gump
and
Spartacus
Devil in a Blue Dress
Forrest Gump
and
Spartacus
Hooters Employee of the Month:
Hannah M, 2016
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