Thursday, September 4, 2014
Friday, January 20, 2012
Forever Young
Alex doesn't want to go to grow up. I get that. He lives The Good Life at home. I'm not strict at all about his time playing video games, and I don't trust him pouring his own milk, so he basically plays games while mom serves him. He plays about 3 hours of video games each day (more on weekends, I suppose), but he also gets exercise through basketball, swimming and terrorizing his parents, sister, dog and cats. He's HARDLY inactive. All we ask of him is to do his homework, brush his teeth, pick up after himself and to act kindly and respectfully. If he does those things, he can play all the video games he can fit in before 8:00 pm.
The biggest problem of this is that he doesn't see any reason to make it EVER end. He goes to school, of course, but not without a struggle. I joked with him in the car this morning that I was going to install one of those pilot ejector seats, so that when I pulled up to his school I could just pull a lever and he would shoot out of the car as I burned rubber out of the drop-off circle. He kind of laughed at first, but then he kept coming up with bad things that would happen if I did that, like what if he hit his head on the ground and died? It's just pretend, Alex, I'm just making a joke! Once he got that, he told me he would have two levers that would shoot mom AND dad out of the car so he could go in front and drive. Apparently, my ability to join in another's pretend scenario is about as good as his, because my response was "but you're too short to reach the pedals."
Well, since I still don't have an ejector seat to get Alex out of the car when we got to school, I was in for another whine session about how he wanted to forget school and stay home all day. My first response is the straightforward, "yep, I know you do, but you can't." I'm still dreaming of the day that he'll sigh , give me a mopey "I know", and go into school. In the meantime, I have to tell him why he can't forget school and go home - for the 300th time.
"Well, if you did stay home, I'd make you do school work anyway."
"All day?"
"As long as you spend at school."
"Why?"
"So you get a good education to gain the skills you will need when you're a grown-up."
Oh, crap, I've just found myself in a circular argument. So now I resort to humor and silliness, which is really where I should have started.
"If you don't grow up, who will take care of you when I'm too old?"
Mom affects a little old lady voice: "Alex, please come in here and change my diaper."
Alex ignores me.
"Alex, please bring me some warm broth and spoon it into my mouth."
Then, to show me how well I've raised my son, he jibes back:
"I'll just get one of those horns and blast it at you. Go get your own food, you old lady!"
Sweet boy.
Finally, I remember the key to getting this stubborn lazy-boy out of the car. I tell him he gets out, or he rides the bus next time. Just like an ejector seat.
Darn crossing guard letting a couple kindergarteners go across the street prevent my leaving skid marks, though.
The biggest problem of this is that he doesn't see any reason to make it EVER end. He goes to school, of course, but not without a struggle. I joked with him in the car this morning that I was going to install one of those pilot ejector seats, so that when I pulled up to his school I could just pull a lever and he would shoot out of the car as I burned rubber out of the drop-off circle. He kind of laughed at first, but then he kept coming up with bad things that would happen if I did that, like what if he hit his head on the ground and died? It's just pretend, Alex, I'm just making a joke! Once he got that, he told me he would have two levers that would shoot mom AND dad out of the car so he could go in front and drive. Apparently, my ability to join in another's pretend scenario is about as good as his, because my response was "but you're too short to reach the pedals."
Well, since I still don't have an ejector seat to get Alex out of the car when we got to school, I was in for another whine session about how he wanted to forget school and stay home all day. My first response is the straightforward, "yep, I know you do, but you can't." I'm still dreaming of the day that he'll sigh , give me a mopey "I know", and go into school. In the meantime, I have to tell him why he can't forget school and go home - for the 300th time.
"Well, if you did stay home, I'd make you do school work anyway."
"All day?"
"As long as you spend at school."
"Why?"
"So you get a good education to gain the skills you will need when you're a grown-up."
Oh, crap, I've just found myself in a circular argument. So now I resort to humor and silliness, which is really where I should have started.
"If you don't grow up, who will take care of you when I'm too old?"
Mom affects a little old lady voice: "Alex, please come in here and change my diaper."
Alex ignores me.
"Alex, please bring me some warm broth and spoon it into my mouth."
Then, to show me how well I've raised my son, he jibes back:
"I'll just get one of those horns and blast it at you. Go get your own food, you old lady!"
Sweet boy.
Finally, I remember the key to getting this stubborn lazy-boy out of the car. I tell him he gets out, or he rides the bus next time. Just like an ejector seat.
Darn crossing guard letting a couple kindergarteners go across the street prevent my leaving skid marks, though.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Three Little Birds
Here I am sitting on the futon downstairs in our extra bedroom. It's currently a meditation/yoga/reading/writing room, but it's function will change soon I think. Anyway, for now, I am writing in it. It's nice and cozy in here because it's sunny out and I have this awesome space heater that looks like a little wood stove. It looks so cute in here, and that makes me happy, not just the heat it produces.
Just outside my window there is a red osier dogwood bush. The thing is a monster, and I hate trimming it. So it grows and grows and grows. But it does have its advantages. For one, the birds love it. Looking out from where I'm sitting, I can see three house finches sitting on the branches. Wyatt the cat was sitting in the window watching them, but he gave that up to go sleep in a nice sunny spot on the rocking chair. Who can blame him? If I were his size, I'd nap there too. I leaned over so I could see more of the bush, and I counted as many as 14 finches in the bush. They are really cute with their feathers all fluffed out to stay warm. One just flew away to go get some food from the bird feeder. I used to have the bird feeder next to the bush, right outside the other window in this room, but it the pole it was hanging from wasn't very firmly planted in the ground and kept falling over, so I moved it to the deck. That's a nice location because now we can see the birds feeding from the living room and dining room.
We live in a suburban neighborhood, so we don't get a big variety of birds, but that's okay. I like the finches and the chickadees. Once in a while we'll see a cardinal. It's a nice yard, even nicer when I take care of it. But yard work will have to wait until probably March or April. It's frightfully cold out right now. The dog isn't getting a walk today. But for now, he's napping in the sun on the floor next to Wyatt's rocking chair, so I hardly feel sorry for him.
This is my idea of relaxation. Warmth, cute space heaters, sun, furry sleeping pets, and fluffy finches. Now where did I put my book?
Just outside my window there is a red osier dogwood bush. The thing is a monster, and I hate trimming it. So it grows and grows and grows. But it does have its advantages. For one, the birds love it. Looking out from where I'm sitting, I can see three house finches sitting on the branches. Wyatt the cat was sitting in the window watching them, but he gave that up to go sleep in a nice sunny spot on the rocking chair. Who can blame him? If I were his size, I'd nap there too. I leaned over so I could see more of the bush, and I counted as many as 14 finches in the bush. They are really cute with their feathers all fluffed out to stay warm. One just flew away to go get some food from the bird feeder. I used to have the bird feeder next to the bush, right outside the other window in this room, but it the pole it was hanging from wasn't very firmly planted in the ground and kept falling over, so I moved it to the deck. That's a nice location because now we can see the birds feeding from the living room and dining room.
We live in a suburban neighborhood, so we don't get a big variety of birds, but that's okay. I like the finches and the chickadees. Once in a while we'll see a cardinal. It's a nice yard, even nicer when I take care of it. But yard work will have to wait until probably March or April. It's frightfully cold out right now. The dog isn't getting a walk today. But for now, he's napping in the sun on the floor next to Wyatt's rocking chair, so I hardly feel sorry for him.
This is my idea of relaxation. Warmth, cute space heaters, sun, furry sleeping pets, and fluffy finches. Now where did I put my book?
Friday, January 13, 2012
Running on Empty
I've been discussing faith with people a lot lately. Facebook, mainly, but I also am conversing with the young woman who is soliciting my house on behalf of the Jehovah's Witnesses. As long as they are kind and respectful, I'm happy to talk to them. I'm pretty ignorant of their sect of Christianity, but I definitely know enough that I would never join them. They are very outspoken against homosexuality, and I cannot be a part of that in any way. I support the rights of all people, regardless of their sexual preferences. But, I don't see any harm in being more informed, so I talk to them. Maybe they will learn something from me, too. The Jehovah's Witnesses have always impressed me as the sort to seclude themselves from society, so I want to represent the "godless" well.
I envy people with faith. I've lived my whole life without it, and have seen many people's lives enriched by it. What can I say, though, I just don't have it. I am fascinated with spirituality, and I'm pretty certain that there is a higher power in this universe, I'm just not able to reconcile myself to the idea that that power has been manifest here on earth in one true form, be it Jesus Christ or any other God. The nearest I can come is that Christ was a divinely inspired person. His teachings, HIS teachings, not those of the churches and religions developed to propagate them, are beautiful and in my soul I feel they are the way to goodness and peace. But there is this enormous hurdle that holds me back from being a Christian, and that is the acceptance of Christ as my "lord and savior." I believe in his way, his meaning, his spirit, but I just can't get myself to truly believe that he is the literal son of God. I don't even see "God" as God. I mean, in terms of God in the form of a father, an actual being. Now I am completely comfortable accepting that there are millions of things about the universe that I will never understand, and the higher power is one of them. And maybe that's why believing in Christ as the incarnate form of the higher power is difficult for me. It seems too understandable. If there is a divine power governing the universe, it's got to be way beyond my comprehension, because the universe itself is way beyond my comprehension.
I guess the question is, do we matter enough as human beings here on one tiny planet in one tiny, minute part of the universe to draw the attention of the higher power? And if so, why did it choose to send one man, to proclaim that there is only one way to connect to that power. And why did that man get sent to that specific part of the world? Why not China or North America or Europe? What about all those people who didn't get the word that there is only ONE way to peace for ever after? If you held infinite universal power, wouldn't you spread the word everywhere?
And really, why, why does it matter so much to believe? Is the creator and master of the whole entire universe so concerned with ego that he/she/it needs the worship and recognition of one small tiny drop of life in the whole ocean of the universe? If his forgiveness is so absolute why can't he accept that it's hard for some people to grasp these ideas. Why is it so important to have faith? Especially when having faith has led some to do such horrible things? Would the highest power in the universe really want to create pain and suffering over his glorification??
I am not saying it isn't possible. I'm not telling anyone that what they believe isn't true. I absolutely do not know what is true. But I don't think it's wrong to admit you don't know, and to question what is out there. So I go on, without faith, still not able to accept as true what cannot be known.
I envy people with faith. I've lived my whole life without it, and have seen many people's lives enriched by it. What can I say, though, I just don't have it. I am fascinated with spirituality, and I'm pretty certain that there is a higher power in this universe, I'm just not able to reconcile myself to the idea that that power has been manifest here on earth in one true form, be it Jesus Christ or any other God. The nearest I can come is that Christ was a divinely inspired person. His teachings, HIS teachings, not those of the churches and religions developed to propagate them, are beautiful and in my soul I feel they are the way to goodness and peace. But there is this enormous hurdle that holds me back from being a Christian, and that is the acceptance of Christ as my "lord and savior." I believe in his way, his meaning, his spirit, but I just can't get myself to truly believe that he is the literal son of God. I don't even see "God" as God. I mean, in terms of God in the form of a father, an actual being. Now I am completely comfortable accepting that there are millions of things about the universe that I will never understand, and the higher power is one of them. And maybe that's why believing in Christ as the incarnate form of the higher power is difficult for me. It seems too understandable. If there is a divine power governing the universe, it's got to be way beyond my comprehension, because the universe itself is way beyond my comprehension.
I guess the question is, do we matter enough as human beings here on one tiny planet in one tiny, minute part of the universe to draw the attention of the higher power? And if so, why did it choose to send one man, to proclaim that there is only one way to connect to that power. And why did that man get sent to that specific part of the world? Why not China or North America or Europe? What about all those people who didn't get the word that there is only ONE way to peace for ever after? If you held infinite universal power, wouldn't you spread the word everywhere?
And really, why, why does it matter so much to believe? Is the creator and master of the whole entire universe so concerned with ego that he/she/it needs the worship and recognition of one small tiny drop of life in the whole ocean of the universe? If his forgiveness is so absolute why can't he accept that it's hard for some people to grasp these ideas. Why is it so important to have faith? Especially when having faith has led some to do such horrible things? Would the highest power in the universe really want to create pain and suffering over his glorification??
I am not saying it isn't possible. I'm not telling anyone that what they believe isn't true. I absolutely do not know what is true. But I don't think it's wrong to admit you don't know, and to question what is out there. So I go on, without faith, still not able to accept as true what cannot be known.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Back in Black
I'm considering a song title theme for this month. I've always liked how episode titles of "Grey's Anatomy" are song titles, and since I need a little shove in the creativity department, hey what the heck?
So it's been a few weeks. Christmas happened and all the craziness that accompanies it. But now kids are back in school, hubby's back at work, my enormous pile of laundry has been washed and folded, and I'm all ready to start writing again. So there's the "back part." How about the black? I'm wearing my black boots, but not sure if that is really significant to write about. I'm sure not depressed, I've got a new daily regimen of exercise, medication and yoga/meditation that's been great at keeping my moods up. So how is my life black right now? What stands out most clearly is Berry, my lab-pit mutt. He's black, except for a flash of white on his chest. And now that kids are in school and Jon is at work, he's my number one distraction at home. And with Berry, there's always some bad with all his good. He's been happy as a lark that we have been going on off-leash walks at the dog park, but when we are at home, I can't get him to go outside and pee. He is the most stubborn dog I have ever known. He simply stands at the door, or walks out onto the front walk and stands, sniffing the air. I'm practically yelling "go potty!" a thousand times, and he just rambles around.
Perhaps that may lead one to assume that he doesn't have to go. Let me assure you that this is not the case. My lovely little pooch is incontinent. If he has a full bladder, it drips out. And even when he doesn't have a full bladder, he will pee when he is relaxed (mostly sleeping). Thus, his kennel always stinks and I'm constantly washing his beds and blankets. So I try to make him go every few hours. But as I said, he refuses. I'm pretty sure he is refusing to waste his precious marking material on his own yard where no other dogs come to smell it. Because he LOVES to mark. Leash walks can be maddening as he tries to stop and squirt on every third mailbox. I tried to discourage his marking by not letting him stop, but then he just keeps hoarding his pee, only to let it slip away in his sleep.
Going to the dog park in the morning is wonderful for both of us. I get my exercise without constant stopping by marksy-dog, and he gets to run as much as he wants, play with other dogs, and mark as many trees, rocks and clumps of grass as he pleases. This will be a win-win situation until it's 20 below weather. Then I think I'm just going to release him in the wild, load up "Gossip Girls" on Netflix, and take my walk on the treadmill.
So it's been a few weeks. Christmas happened and all the craziness that accompanies it. But now kids are back in school, hubby's back at work, my enormous pile of laundry has been washed and folded, and I'm all ready to start writing again. So there's the "back part." How about the black? I'm wearing my black boots, but not sure if that is really significant to write about. I'm sure not depressed, I've got a new daily regimen of exercise, medication and yoga/meditation that's been great at keeping my moods up. So how is my life black right now? What stands out most clearly is Berry, my lab-pit mutt. He's black, except for a flash of white on his chest. And now that kids are in school and Jon is at work, he's my number one distraction at home. And with Berry, there's always some bad with all his good. He's been happy as a lark that we have been going on off-leash walks at the dog park, but when we are at home, I can't get him to go outside and pee. He is the most stubborn dog I have ever known. He simply stands at the door, or walks out onto the front walk and stands, sniffing the air. I'm practically yelling "go potty!" a thousand times, and he just rambles around.
Perhaps that may lead one to assume that he doesn't have to go. Let me assure you that this is not the case. My lovely little pooch is incontinent. If he has a full bladder, it drips out. And even when he doesn't have a full bladder, he will pee when he is relaxed (mostly sleeping). Thus, his kennel always stinks and I'm constantly washing his beds and blankets. So I try to make him go every few hours. But as I said, he refuses. I'm pretty sure he is refusing to waste his precious marking material on his own yard where no other dogs come to smell it. Because he LOVES to mark. Leash walks can be maddening as he tries to stop and squirt on every third mailbox. I tried to discourage his marking by not letting him stop, but then he just keeps hoarding his pee, only to let it slip away in his sleep.
Going to the dog park in the morning is wonderful for both of us. I get my exercise without constant stopping by marksy-dog, and he gets to run as much as he wants, play with other dogs, and mark as many trees, rocks and clumps of grass as he pleases. This will be a win-win situation until it's 20 below weather. Then I think I'm just going to release him in the wild, load up "Gossip Girls" on Netflix, and take my walk on the treadmill.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Teach Our Children Well
I volunteer twice a week at my son's elementary school. I've been volunteering at this school since my daughter was in kindergarten five years ago. On Monday mornings I help the first graders with their language arts activities - reading out loud and writing. Teachers now have about 25 kids in their class, which is a lot to keep a handle on, even when you aren't trying to get them to do schoolwork. They do a fabulous job, but parent volunteers help them give a little extra attention to the students. On Wednesday afternoons, I work with selected fourth graders who need extra help improving their reading fluency. Our school district has a great program for supplementing the curriculum for kids who need extra help with math and reading, and I'm proud to be a part of that. I also volunteer from time to time at my daughter's intermediate school, PTO events and choir or band activities.
I volunteer for a few reasons, I guess. One is that it's a good way to get this introvert out of the house. Two is that I like getting to know the teachers and children that my kids spend their days with. Three is that I want to be helpful. I don't have a job outside of the home, and while I know that taking care of my kids and the house is important, it just isn't enough for me. I'm trying to get involved with more things, but it's hard putting myself out there. I don't volunteer elsewhere because it's hard for me to get to know new people and find my place within an existing group. I suppose it is for everyone, but it's pretty bad for me. I'm working on it, and my next step will be to add an hour per week at the public library. I'm already familiar with most of the librarians from being a frequent user, so it shouldn't be too hard, right? I think I've got my New Year's resolution figured out.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Is That Lady Meditating in the Check-out Aisle?
Well it sure isn't talking about myself. But thanks for making this easy. Yeesh. It's hard enough to find one thing you do better than most people, but three? I've been thinking about this all day, while walking my dog, doing a little cross-stitch, and it's not getting easier. Best I can come up with is something very situation-specific. Like I am more patient than other shoppers when I'm waiting in line at the grocery store. There's an ego-builder for you. Or, I am the best mother for Lauren and Alex. While very important, it's not like there's a lot of competition in the field either. And I really loathe comparing parenting styles and/or techniques. Every child is different, and no one gets his/her child better than the parent. And when you see that frustrated mom in the department store, just ask yourself, "have I ever had a moment like that?" If you can answer no, go ahead and judge her, but most of us mortals have done things we aren't proud of.
Other things I really enjoy? Reading, but once you are above a 10th grade reading level, what's the point in keeping track? I used to be pretty good at trivia games, but my memory is going to shit. I'll know I know the answer, but I also know that the neuron pathway to retrieving that specific information is about a day's journey, so might as well take a guess. Besides, if I tell you I'm smarter than you, you'll just think I'm an asshole.
So maybe what I'm really good at is just accepting myself. Or I'm just lazy. That's pretty likely, too.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Tone-Deaf Birds of a Feather
Today's Reverb Broads prompt:
I have had the good fortune to have been raised by an incredible woman. Pretty much everything I like about myself are things that resemble her. Some of the ways I'm not like my mom: I'm not short, I'm can't tan, I procrastinate terribly, I don't like to clean, and I'm socially introverted. But here are the fabulous traits I've been blessed to inherit: intelligence, kindness, sensitivity, feisty attitude, Irish temper, crooked mouth, and the tendency to talk too much. But you'll get no blarney from us, we tell it like it is.
Our childhoods could not have been more different. She had 11 siblings, I had one. She went to catholic school, I didn't even go to Sunday School. She was overweight, I was rail thin. She has overcome so much more in her life than I have had to. After high school, I knew I was going to college, and my parents were giving me the money to do so. She had pretty much two options. Become a nun or get married. It probably says a lot about the eligible young men in her small Iowa town that she chose the former. Thankfully, after a couple of years in the convent, she decided that wasn't her path. I have enormous respect for the strength it took for her to leave the convent, move to Milwaukee and get a job as a secretary. Eventually, she went to college. Then she got married. Both of my parents were still in college when my brother was born. My mom had to wake up at four in the morning to find time to study. Pretty impressive for an Iowa farm girl in the early sixties.
It is as I grow older that I notice more and more how similar we are. It's in those moments when I suddenly burst out loud singing the song that was inside my head. When I do a silly dance, and my kids yell "Mahh-Ahhm!" Falling asleep on the couch.
Maybe it's too soon then to see how my children are like me. When I was a kid, I loved school and had an unhealthy disrespect for authority. My kids are well-behaved, but dislike school in a way that just baffles me. Lauren shares my love of reading, Alex my fear that something bad might happen at any time. But I'm pretty sure they get their silliness from their dad, and if one thing defines my kids, it's their silliness. It doesn't bother me though. I feel as though I was fated or destined to become like my mom. And my kids have as close and loving a relationship with me as I did with my mom, so I'm sure to get my footprint on them in one way or other.
Our childhoods could not have been more different. She had 11 siblings, I had one. She went to catholic school, I didn't even go to Sunday School. She was overweight, I was rail thin. She has overcome so much more in her life than I have had to. After high school, I knew I was going to college, and my parents were giving me the money to do so. She had pretty much two options. Become a nun or get married. It probably says a lot about the eligible young men in her small Iowa town that she chose the former. Thankfully, after a couple of years in the convent, she decided that wasn't her path. I have enormous respect for the strength it took for her to leave the convent, move to Milwaukee and get a job as a secretary. Eventually, she went to college. Then she got married. Both of my parents were still in college when my brother was born. My mom had to wake up at four in the morning to find time to study. Pretty impressive for an Iowa farm girl in the early sixties.
It is as I grow older that I notice more and more how similar we are. It's in those moments when I suddenly burst out loud singing the song that was inside my head. When I do a silly dance, and my kids yell "Mahh-Ahhm!" Falling asleep on the couch.
Maybe it's too soon then to see how my children are like me. When I was a kid, I loved school and had an unhealthy disrespect for authority. My kids are well-behaved, but dislike school in a way that just baffles me. Lauren shares my love of reading, Alex my fear that something bad might happen at any time. But I'm pretty sure they get their silliness from their dad, and if one thing defines my kids, it's their silliness. It doesn't bother me though. I feel as though I was fated or destined to become like my mom. And my kids have as close and loving a relationship with me as I did with my mom, so I'm sure to get my footprint on them in one way or other.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Time keeps on tickin', tickin', tickin'...
Reverb Broads Prompt of the Day via Dana at http://simply-walking.com/:
The best thing about my life, without question, is my family. These cuties. They are so awesome, that it's unfair to everything else in my life. So, for this once, I'll exempt them from the competition.
The best and the worst thing about my life right now is being unemployed. I love having time to give to myself (now that Alex is in school). I can do yoga, take walks in the forest with my dog, have coffee with my friend Lisa, volunteer at the schools, and spend time writing. Obviously that is the best part. The worst part isn't the lack of income, although I'd prefer to have more savings for college and retirement. The worst part is the time to myself. Huh? Did I say that right? Well, yes, I did. You see, when I have a lot of time I don't tend to use it well. I keep thinking there is time to do things later, time for one more cup of coffee, and everything gets procrastinated. Then I end up not doing what I wanted to get done, and I get upset with myself. What am I doing with my life? Did I really spend the whole day watching Law & Order SVU? Plus, if I skip my walks or my yoga, my depression starts to creep back. The combination of self-doubt, low self-esteem, AND depression is not a good one. Depression keeps me from seeing what is good in my life, the good things I do, and what positive impact I am making. Not every day is spent watching TV. And I did manage to get all that laundry folded and put away while watching it.
But I can't keep procrastinating those activities that keep me sane. Yes, it's butt-cold outside, but the fresh air will do me good, and no one wants dog poop on the carpet anyway, so bundle up. I'm really not looking forward to doing camel pose, but remember how awesome it feels when I finally get to do savasana. And afterward I can treat myself to a cup of tea and a few minutes in my rocking chair watching the birds outside the window.
As long as I can justify my time spent not working, and as long as Jon keeps rolling in the clients, I will get to live the good life. I'm sure in a couple years, when the kids are capable of being on their own after school, I'll go back to work. By then, maybe the economy will have rebounded and there will actually be a job out there. But whether it's working in a research lab at UW or working for Kwik Trip down the street, I hope to have developed some strong healthy habits that stick with me even when I don't have a lot of free time.
The best and the worst thing about my life right now is being unemployed. I love having time to give to myself (now that Alex is in school). I can do yoga, take walks in the forest with my dog, have coffee with my friend Lisa, volunteer at the schools, and spend time writing. Obviously that is the best part. The worst part isn't the lack of income, although I'd prefer to have more savings for college and retirement. The worst part is the time to myself. Huh? Did I say that right? Well, yes, I did. You see, when I have a lot of time I don't tend to use it well. I keep thinking there is time to do things later, time for one more cup of coffee, and everything gets procrastinated. Then I end up not doing what I wanted to get done, and I get upset with myself. What am I doing with my life? Did I really spend the whole day watching Law & Order SVU? Plus, if I skip my walks or my yoga, my depression starts to creep back. The combination of self-doubt, low self-esteem, AND depression is not a good one. Depression keeps me from seeing what is good in my life, the good things I do, and what positive impact I am making. Not every day is spent watching TV. And I did manage to get all that laundry folded and put away while watching it.
But I can't keep procrastinating those activities that keep me sane. Yes, it's butt-cold outside, but the fresh air will do me good, and no one wants dog poop on the carpet anyway, so bundle up. I'm really not looking forward to doing camel pose, but remember how awesome it feels when I finally get to do savasana. And afterward I can treat myself to a cup of tea and a few minutes in my rocking chair watching the birds outside the window.As long as I can justify my time spent not working, and as long as Jon keeps rolling in the clients, I will get to live the good life. I'm sure in a couple years, when the kids are capable of being on their own after school, I'll go back to work. By then, maybe the economy will have rebounded and there will actually be a job out there. But whether it's working in a research lab at UW or working for Kwik Trip down the street, I hope to have developed some strong healthy habits that stick with me even when I don't have a lot of free time.
Friday, December 9, 2011
My Other Car is a Pencil
Reverb Broad's 12/09/11 prompt: What was your favorite children's book?
My mother will NEVER be on the television show, Hoarders. Bless her, she truly knows that things are just things, and it's our relationships that matter and are what we need to hold on to. If you ever met my parents, you would be shocked that their house is not stuffed with books. They are prolific readers. My mom was even a reading specialist in one of the area high schools. But they were always very frugal with money, and we spent a lot of time at our public library. We even checked out artwork, something apparently not all public libraries let you do according to my friends who grew up in other towns. When I was a kid, Whitewater's Public Library felt like this huge, imposing building with big steps and tall ceilings. I suppose the actual shelving area was quite small, which is why they built a new library, with all the modern touches a "library of today" needs. But I was sad to say goodbye to that big old building where I spent much of my childhood.
So I'm not sure if we didn't own a copy of my favorite book, or if it was donated or given away. I knew for sure, though, when I was Christmas shopping at a Waldenbooks one winter break from college, that we no longer had Richard Scarry's "Best Storybook Ever." So I bought it for myself (likely with my parents' money they had so frugally saved so they could send me to college). Ironically, it's still at my parents' house. I guess my mom either figured out that it was very special, or she just thought it would be something the grandchildren could enjoy.
I still love going through those stories: Chipmunk getting ready for his birthday party, Daddy Bear pretending he doesn't see Little Bear on top of his shoulders, Nicholas the bunny curling up in his hollow tree to dream about the spring. And I love all the cars made out of weird objects: pencils, pickles, ketchup bottles. It was such a joy to finally get to share them with my own children.
Now, I did not inherit my mother's ability to let go of clutter. I'm hardly a hoarder, but we do have a house stuffed with books, toys, and (too often) baskets of unfolded laundry. My children don't go to the library as frequently as we did, but we also have fun trips to Barnes and Noble and Westfield Comics. I will eventually donate most of the books they have outgrown, but my sentimentality will force me to hold onto a few (let's face it, dozens) of our favorites: Goodnight Moon, The Runaway Bunny, all Dr. Suess, all Eric Carle, Leo Lionni, Curious George, Mo Willems, Winnie-the-Pooh, Harold and the Purple Crayon.... Hmmm, maybe Hoarders will be paying me a visit someday after all.
My mother will NEVER be on the television show, Hoarders. Bless her, she truly knows that things are just things, and it's our relationships that matter and are what we need to hold on to. If you ever met my parents, you would be shocked that their house is not stuffed with books. They are prolific readers. My mom was even a reading specialist in one of the area high schools. But they were always very frugal with money, and we spent a lot of time at our public library. We even checked out artwork, something apparently not all public libraries let you do according to my friends who grew up in other towns. When I was a kid, Whitewater's Public Library felt like this huge, imposing building with big steps and tall ceilings. I suppose the actual shelving area was quite small, which is why they built a new library, with all the modern touches a "library of today" needs. But I was sad to say goodbye to that big old building where I spent much of my childhood.
So I'm not sure if we didn't own a copy of my favorite book, or if it was donated or given away. I knew for sure, though, when I was Christmas shopping at a Waldenbooks one winter break from college, that we no longer had Richard Scarry's "Best Storybook Ever." So I bought it for myself (likely with my parents' money they had so frugally saved so they could send me to college). Ironically, it's still at my parents' house. I guess my mom either figured out that it was very special, or she just thought it would be something the grandchildren could enjoy.I still love going through those stories: Chipmunk getting ready for his birthday party, Daddy Bear pretending he doesn't see Little Bear on top of his shoulders, Nicholas the bunny curling up in his hollow tree to dream about the spring. And I love all the cars made out of weird objects: pencils, pickles, ketchup bottles. It was such a joy to finally get to share them with my own children.
Now, I did not inherit my mother's ability to let go of clutter. I'm hardly a hoarder, but we do have a house stuffed with books, toys, and (too often) baskets of unfolded laundry. My children don't go to the library as frequently as we did, but we also have fun trips to Barnes and Noble and Westfield Comics. I will eventually donate most of the books they have outgrown, but my sentimentality will force me to hold onto a few (let's face it, dozens) of our favorites: Goodnight Moon, The Runaway Bunny, all Dr. Suess, all Eric Carle, Leo Lionni, Curious George, Mo Willems, Winnie-the-Pooh, Harold and the Purple Crayon.... Hmmm, maybe Hoarders will be paying me a visit someday after all.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
How to Waste an Entire Day on You Tube
Hot diggity dog, this is going to be fun! Beverage-spewing laughter is what I live for. I'm a snorter, and proudly so. I love my snorts, they are the children of my favorite moments. The most challenging aspect of this prompt would be choosing one topic, so I'm just not gonna. This
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
10 Things I Maybe Might Think About Avoiding
Reverb Broads Prompt for 12/06/11: List 10 things you would never do.
I know a LOT of people with strong opinions. They love the movie or they hate it. I envy that. I find myself doubting my judgement. Why don't I care more? Oh well, moving on.
So to pick ten things I would NEVER do is pretty challenging. I think it's safe to say I'll never wear Mork suspenders, but that really doesn't feel list-worthy. So I'll just go with the highly unlikely list, because as a former scientist, one can never rule out all variables.
1. Polar Bear Plunge. I've yet to think of a reason to do this, but perhaps there will be one some day.
2. Wet t-shirt contest. Just seems like a bad idea for everyone involved.
3. Wet t-shirt contest while doing Polar Bear Plunge. Okay, now I'm cheating....
4. Party like it's 1999. Where the hell did this come from? Just popped into my head, I swear. I am not a night owl. I'm a homebody who likes to be cozy on her couch in her pjs by 9:00pm.
5. Anything ever featured on Fear Factor. I just don't enjoy eating crazy shit. I don't know why anyone does, but whatever floats your boat.
6. Keep a tidy house. Sorry dear, I just don't see that in the cards.
7. Begin a sentence "I'm not a racist/homophobe...". Sorry folks, if you have to add a disclaimer to what you're saying, then ya' are.
8. Give up drinking coffee. Two words: "my precioussss."
9. Bikini Wax. Just, no.
10. Take myself seriously.
I know a LOT of people with strong opinions. They love the movie or they hate it. I envy that. I find myself doubting my judgement. Why don't I care more? Oh well, moving on.
So to pick ten things I would NEVER do is pretty challenging. I think it's safe to say I'll never wear Mork suspenders, but that really doesn't feel list-worthy. So I'll just go with the highly unlikely list, because as a former scientist, one can never rule out all variables.
1. Polar Bear Plunge. I've yet to think of a reason to do this, but perhaps there will be one some day.
2. Wet t-shirt contest. Just seems like a bad idea for everyone involved.
3. Wet t-shirt contest while doing Polar Bear Plunge. Okay, now I'm cheating....
4. Party like it's 1999. Where the hell did this come from? Just popped into my head, I swear. I am not a night owl. I'm a homebody who likes to be cozy on her couch in her pjs by 9:00pm.
5. Anything ever featured on Fear Factor. I just don't enjoy eating crazy shit. I don't know why anyone does, but whatever floats your boat.
6. Keep a tidy house. Sorry dear, I just don't see that in the cards.
7. Begin a sentence "I'm not a racist/homophobe...". Sorry folks, if you have to add a disclaimer to what you're saying, then ya' are.
8. Give up drinking coffee. Two words: "my precioussss."
9. Bikini Wax. Just, no.
10. Take myself seriously.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Holy Falling Flapdoodles!!
By all rights, my story should be an animation. Sometimes it seems like my husband and I are more cartoon characters than people. I've got the squeaky voice, the exaggerated facial expressions, and well, just general ridiculousness. But that would betray my absolute love affair with physical comedy. Some of my best laughs have come from trying to introduce my tall, lanky husband to winter sports. Luckily for me, he falls with true comic finesse. The time we went ice skating, he spun a full 360 degrees and did the whole futile arm flapping before landing with skates in the air. Then there was cross-country skiing. The hill turned right, and Jon went straight. He ended up just sitting down in the snow, but I was not to be denied my guffaws. Every time he tried to get up, he kept sliding down hill and falling again. And again. I think I peed my pants that day.
So, my movie would totally be physical comedy. I'd love to see Amy Pohler and Will Arnett cast as me and my husband. We are a couple of goobers, and not a day goes by without cracking each other up. My husband claims his "talent" for fulminating flatulence is due to the presence of an extra organ in his intestine, which he calls a "flapdoodle." A few years ago, he got extremely sick, and was taken to the hospital where they discovered a mass in his large intestine. He went into emergency surgery that same night. I rushed home to get my kids' stuff, picked up Alex from daycare, and dropped the kids at my in-laws. I gave Jon's parents the scoop, told them I'd keep them informed. I barely made it to the hospital before he went into surgery. I held his hand, told him everything was going to be okay, and when the anesthesiologist told me he had to take him away to get prepped, I kissed Jon and said, "ask them to remove your flapdoodle while they're in there."
I'm happy to report that despite a few GI irritations and a couple scars, my husband came through this whole experience with no signs of cancer and is in good health once again. Flapdoodle and all. But heck, my love for physical comedy can overcome the frequent offensive odors in the bedroom. Because after all, farts are funny.
So, my movie would totally be physical comedy. I'd love to see Amy Pohler and Will Arnett cast as me and my husband. We are a couple of goobers, and not a day goes by without cracking each other up. My husband claims his "talent" for fulminating flatulence is due to the presence of an extra organ in his intestine, which he calls a "flapdoodle." A few years ago, he got extremely sick, and was taken to the hospital where they discovered a mass in his large intestine. He went into emergency surgery that same night. I rushed home to get my kids' stuff, picked up Alex from daycare, and dropped the kids at my in-laws. I gave Jon's parents the scoop, told them I'd keep them informed. I barely made it to the hospital before he went into surgery. I held his hand, told him everything was going to be okay, and when the anesthesiologist told me he had to take him away to get prepped, I kissed Jon and said, "ask them to remove your flapdoodle while they're in there."
I'm happy to report that despite a few GI irritations and a couple scars, my husband came through this whole experience with no signs of cancer and is in good health once again. Flapdoodle and all. But heck, my love for physical comedy can overcome the frequent offensive odors in the bedroom. Because after all, farts are funny.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
The Square Peg Turns 40
I'm now 40, yeehaw for milestone birthdays. But I still feel like the class clown whenever I'm in a group of school parents or at one of those home parties that the neighbors host. I feel both cursed and blessed to be a chronic square peg. I'm happy with who I am, but it does get lonely. Especially living in small town/suburbia. You just don't see a lot of moms having tricycle races down the driveway with their kids. Their loss, trust me.
It doesn't help that there are a couple of golf course neighborhoods in my town. Those moms wear high wedge heels and makeup, and their hair is always styled. They always look good. Maybe it's just me, and they aren't judging me by my too-short jeans and stained t-shirt or my bathroom haircut. But they aren't exactly rushing over to talk to me either.
I honestly don't know what the hell my "style" is. My biggest criteria for clothes are comfort and cotton. I really like cotton. Lately I've been into leggings, because I like to be able to do yoga whenever I'm in the mood, and I don't want to have to change clothes, so now I have a new criteria - long shirts. Tunics I guess they are called. I do NOT have the body to wear leggings without proper butt coverage. So I guess my style is "practical." I really wish I could wear the nice fashionable clothes and shoes, but I always feel like a walking Christmas tree when I do. I feel so obvious.
As my daughter gets older, and shows more and more of her mother's lack of conformity, I think about the example I set. To be true to who we are is very important, but too often we end up in a competition with other personalities. Are we friends with kindred spirits because of common interests, or is it some weird social sorting system? Why aren't more jocks friends with band geeks? They both might listen to the same music, read the same books, laugh at the same jokes. Maybe they don't. I sure don't have the answers, and even if I did, no one's asking me the question.
So to jump back to the question: "how have I grown or remained childlike?" I guess I would have to say that I've grown because I keep trying to improve life for myself, my kids, my community. But you could also say that I've remained childlike because I'm still asking questions, still looking for answers, and I still haven't figured out who I am and where I fit in.
It doesn't help that there are a couple of golf course neighborhoods in my town. Those moms wear high wedge heels and makeup, and their hair is always styled. They always look good. Maybe it's just me, and they aren't judging me by my too-short jeans and stained t-shirt or my bathroom haircut. But they aren't exactly rushing over to talk to me either.
I honestly don't know what the hell my "style" is. My biggest criteria for clothes are comfort and cotton. I really like cotton. Lately I've been into leggings, because I like to be able to do yoga whenever I'm in the mood, and I don't want to have to change clothes, so now I have a new criteria - long shirts. Tunics I guess they are called. I do NOT have the body to wear leggings without proper butt coverage. So I guess my style is "practical." I really wish I could wear the nice fashionable clothes and shoes, but I always feel like a walking Christmas tree when I do. I feel so obvious.
As my daughter gets older, and shows more and more of her mother's lack of conformity, I think about the example I set. To be true to who we are is very important, but too often we end up in a competition with other personalities. Are we friends with kindred spirits because of common interests, or is it some weird social sorting system? Why aren't more jocks friends with band geeks? They both might listen to the same music, read the same books, laugh at the same jokes. Maybe they don't. I sure don't have the answers, and even if I did, no one's asking me the question.
So to jump back to the question: "how have I grown or remained childlike?" I guess I would have to say that I've grown because I keep trying to improve life for myself, my kids, my community. But you could also say that I've remained childlike because I'm still asking questions, still looking for answers, and I still haven't figured out who I am and where I fit in.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
"If the you of today could go back in time and give advice to any of the previous yous, which age would you visit and what would you tell them?"
Have I learned nothing in my 40-year struggle in this crazy world? What would I say to a younger me that would make life easier? Should we even try to make life easier? I don't know what it is about life that makes us want to keep experiencing it, but something about figuring it out as I go is appealing.
That doesn't mean I've made mistakes, or that I don't regret any of my actions. In fact, if I could go back in time, I think I'd just give myself some practical advice. Imagine the shock of 20 year-old Andrea, innocently studying population genetics in Helen C. White library, as the current me pops into space and says "you REALLY don't want to eat that entire bag of Skittles." I'm sure her first reaction would be (ala Edna E. Mode of "The Incredibles") "my God you've gotten fat."
But come on, we didn't listen to our mothers or our aunts or any other adult who tried to spare us the pains of life, so why would we listen to our own future self? "Screw that, I'm eating the Skittles! Who made you so smart anyway?" I'm not too good at heeding advice. Perhaps I'm self-destructive in a way, because even when it's obvious that the smart thing to do is read "Gods Bits of Wood" because Professor Sheub told you that 30% of the final was going to be on that book, I still don't listen. My husband contends it's my contrary nature. "Tell Andrea to have a good day, and she'll go out of her way to make it bad."
As the Indigo Girls said so perfectly, "the hardest to learn was the least complicated." It doesn't take a future self to tell you what's best for you, it just requires you to pay attention and listen to yourself. And if you can't listen to your present self, the future self will have no more influence. We aren't trying to make our lives miserable, we just can't help ourselves. Today, if I received a visit from 50 year old Andrea (who better frickin' be thin, dammit) and she said "Andrea, stop wasting your time with computer games, you'll really appreciate it if you spend your time doing yoga and meditating," my response would be "no shit." I don't need the advice of thinner, older me to tell me what would make me happier. I already know. What I really need is the older me to come back with a cattle-prod and give me a good zap every time I log onto Steam.
But just in case I could make a difference, I'd go back and tell 35 year old Andrea to put a bra on with the dress she wears to the company Christmas party. She's going have a lot more fun if she's not worrying that people can tell.
That doesn't mean I've made mistakes, or that I don't regret any of my actions. In fact, if I could go back in time, I think I'd just give myself some practical advice. Imagine the shock of 20 year-old Andrea, innocently studying population genetics in Helen C. White library, as the current me pops into space and says "you REALLY don't want to eat that entire bag of Skittles." I'm sure her first reaction would be (ala Edna E. Mode of "The Incredibles") "my God you've gotten fat."
But come on, we didn't listen to our mothers or our aunts or any other adult who tried to spare us the pains of life, so why would we listen to our own future self? "Screw that, I'm eating the Skittles! Who made you so smart anyway?" I'm not too good at heeding advice. Perhaps I'm self-destructive in a way, because even when it's obvious that the smart thing to do is read "Gods Bits of Wood" because Professor Sheub told you that 30% of the final was going to be on that book, I still don't listen. My husband contends it's my contrary nature. "Tell Andrea to have a good day, and she'll go out of her way to make it bad."
As the Indigo Girls said so perfectly, "the hardest to learn was the least complicated." It doesn't take a future self to tell you what's best for you, it just requires you to pay attention and listen to yourself. And if you can't listen to your present self, the future self will have no more influence. We aren't trying to make our lives miserable, we just can't help ourselves. Today, if I received a visit from 50 year old Andrea (who better frickin' be thin, dammit) and she said "Andrea, stop wasting your time with computer games, you'll really appreciate it if you spend your time doing yoga and meditating," my response would be "no shit." I don't need the advice of thinner, older me to tell me what would make me happier. I already know. What I really need is the older me to come back with a cattle-prod and give me a good zap every time I log onto Steam.
But just in case I could make a difference, I'd go back and tell 35 year old Andrea to put a bra on with the dress she wears to the company Christmas party. She's going have a lot more fun if she's not worrying that people can tell.
Monday, November 7, 2011
The Strain
So, I just finished reading The Strain by Guillermo del Toro (I love saying that name). This book is about a virus that turns people into vampires. And not the Stephanie Meyer kind, either. These bad guys definitely fall into the Stoker category. It's dark, with a few heroes up against an insurmountable task. It's scary, it's creepy, it's gross, and it's... good. Like Dracula, this story does not distract you with romance, or even comic relief. It's pure horror. It combines our fear of monsters, contagious diseases, and parasitic worms. Yes, that right. Parasitic worms. The vampires even have a snake-like appendage that comes out of their jaws to suck the blood. Oh, and if that's not foul enough for you, they shit out this white goo as they feed. I bet that would send Bella running into Jacob's arms faster than a silver bullet.
I like horror stories. The horror genre is total escapism. Even in fantasy and science fiction, you still deal with social, political, and personal issues. In horror, it's just about survival. Kill them before they kill you. Simple solutions. Maybe not always easy, but simple. We have a problem: vampires, zombies, body snatchers, what-have-you. We have a solution: kill them. Lately it seems none of our problems are simple. And our enemies aren't simple either. They are Wall Street, Republicans (or capital L Liberals, if you will), insurance companies, your neighbor with the stupid yappy dog that barks all hours of the night. This past year, people have even been so low as to suggest TEACHERS are our enemy. Jeepers. What can we do? Have we become that spoiled?
Maybe a good zombie infestation would snap Americans out of this nonsense. It's not like we are using our brains much, anyway.
I like horror stories. The horror genre is total escapism. Even in fantasy and science fiction, you still deal with social, political, and personal issues. In horror, it's just about survival. Kill them before they kill you. Simple solutions. Maybe not always easy, but simple. We have a problem: vampires, zombies, body snatchers, what-have-you. We have a solution: kill them. Lately it seems none of our problems are simple. And our enemies aren't simple either. They are Wall Street, Republicans (or capital L Liberals, if you will), insurance companies, your neighbor with the stupid yappy dog that barks all hours of the night. This past year, people have even been so low as to suggest TEACHERS are our enemy. Jeepers. What can we do? Have we become that spoiled?
Maybe a good zombie infestation would snap Americans out of this nonsense. It's not like we are using our brains much, anyway.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
October 2011 books
This month I transitioned from George R.R. Martin's "Fire and Ice" series to some young adult fiction. I'm getting a little nervous about reading the "Fire and Ice" books too quickly. There will be seven books total, and I just completed 3/5 published books in the last few months. If I read them all so quickly, I'll end up waiting YEARS for the next installation. I get a little impatient with current ongoing series. Like the Sookie Stackhouse books. You wait a year (or more) for the next book, devour it in a couple of days (or less), and then are back to waiting for the next installation again. And of course, most of the details of the story are hazy anyway. Are we supposed to be rereading the whole series each time a new book comes out? I don't have the dedication, time, or interest to do that.
But, having said that, I keep picking up new ongoing series. One of the young adult books I read this month is 3/4 in an ongoing series. It's the Missing series by Margaret Haddix Petersen. It's quite compelling historical fiction/sci-fi about famous children kidnapped from history (and maybe future as well) by time-travelers. One of those kids, with his sister, go traveling in time to return the kids' stories to "true time." Since they are young adult, they are easier to catch up with after a year of waiting, as opposed to Martin's huge epic tomes. But alas, I am sure I will not be able to last much longer before I plunge into book 4 (it may even be on my nook already...).
A really cute book I checked out from the library this month was "Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos" by R.L. LaFevers. I meant this to be for Lauren to read, but as usual, she ignored my picks and stuck to reading her Garfield comics. That's probably a good thing, because the story is ripe with Egyptian black magic which could have been nightmare-inducing in my imaginative little girl. I'm not sure if this is a series. It has that potential. I would definitely enjoy reading more of Theodosia's adventures, and when Lauren is a little older and less scared-of-her-own-shadow, I'll recommend it to her as well.
I finally read "The Lightening Thief," the first book in Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series. That was fun. I've always been drawn to Greek mythology, and while some of his interpretations of the gods didn't exactly feel right to me, I got into it. I especially enjoyed the Annabeth character. She's a little reminiscent of Harry Potter's Hermione, but there can't be enough Hermione-esque characters to suit me (or Scout Finches, either). If you are going to emulate a character, emulate the best. I am a huge Hermione fan.
I read a sample of James Patterson's "The Gift" from his Witch and Wizard series. Definitely readable. I mean it is James Patterson, and he can obviously write addictive vacation-reads. It's a forgone conclusion that sooner or later I'll read the whole book. But it's not worth a buy - this one can wait for the library copy.
And the kids and I/Jon are almost done with Funke's "Dragon Rider." Only a couple chapters left, but Lauren fell asleep while I was reading last night, so I couldn't polish it off. It's overdue at the library, and I really don't want to renew a third time....
On deck for November: "The Strain" by Guillermo del Toro (yup, the director). It's part 1 of a trilogy, not sure how much of the trilogy is completed yet. Jon just bought me "Anno Dracula" by Kim Newman, which has enormous potential (including a glowing review by Neil Gaiman). And there's still that copy of "Dune" sitting ominously on my bedside table where Jon set it a few weeks ago.
Now to get that fireplace switch fixed, and I'm set to curl up and read.
But, having said that, I keep picking up new ongoing series. One of the young adult books I read this month is 3/4 in an ongoing series. It's the Missing series by Margaret Haddix Petersen. It's quite compelling historical fiction/sci-fi about famous children kidnapped from history (and maybe future as well) by time-travelers. One of those kids, with his sister, go traveling in time to return the kids' stories to "true time." Since they are young adult, they are easier to catch up with after a year of waiting, as opposed to Martin's huge epic tomes. But alas, I am sure I will not be able to last much longer before I plunge into book 4 (it may even be on my nook already...).
A really cute book I checked out from the library this month was "Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos" by R.L. LaFevers. I meant this to be for Lauren to read, but as usual, she ignored my picks and stuck to reading her Garfield comics. That's probably a good thing, because the story is ripe with Egyptian black magic which could have been nightmare-inducing in my imaginative little girl. I'm not sure if this is a series. It has that potential. I would definitely enjoy reading more of Theodosia's adventures, and when Lauren is a little older and less scared-of-her-own-shadow, I'll recommend it to her as well.
I finally read "The Lightening Thief," the first book in Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series. That was fun. I've always been drawn to Greek mythology, and while some of his interpretations of the gods didn't exactly feel right to me, I got into it. I especially enjoyed the Annabeth character. She's a little reminiscent of Harry Potter's Hermione, but there can't be enough Hermione-esque characters to suit me (or Scout Finches, either). If you are going to emulate a character, emulate the best. I am a huge Hermione fan.
I read a sample of James Patterson's "The Gift" from his Witch and Wizard series. Definitely readable. I mean it is James Patterson, and he can obviously write addictive vacation-reads. It's a forgone conclusion that sooner or later I'll read the whole book. But it's not worth a buy - this one can wait for the library copy.
And the kids and I/Jon are almost done with Funke's "Dragon Rider." Only a couple chapters left, but Lauren fell asleep while I was reading last night, so I couldn't polish it off. It's overdue at the library, and I really don't want to renew a third time....
On deck for November: "The Strain" by Guillermo del Toro (yup, the director). It's part 1 of a trilogy, not sure how much of the trilogy is completed yet. Jon just bought me "Anno Dracula" by Kim Newman, which has enormous potential (including a glowing review by Neil Gaiman). And there's still that copy of "Dune" sitting ominously on my bedside table where Jon set it a few weeks ago.
Now to get that fireplace switch fixed, and I'm set to curl up and read.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Yesterday Alex cried for an hour because I let Lauren have the PS3 to herself after school. He was told that he could play after dinner when Lauren was doing homework, but that would not console him. Of course, many fun options were offered up to him, but everything was too boring. He "only likes video games and tv." Well, then, maybe we should clean his toys out of his room since he didn't like them, I proposed. No, no, no. He likes them a little, he said, but not enough to play right now. I tried reading a cute comic book to him, which interested him for little bits, but then it was back to tears. Finally, at 5 o'clock, I relented to let him watch tv in my room. I also gave him some dinner because he said he was really hungry. Lauren kept playing PS3. At 5:30, I put Lauren's dinner on the counter, and he happily started playing video games. It was sort of sad because he wanted to play WITH Lauren, but she had to do her homework. She had a lot to do, write two essays plus do her math, so I let her take a small break to play with him in between assignments, since she was doing well.
But this incident has brought up the whole screen time issue in my mind once again. I saw some postings online, and was pretty amazed at how much anger is out there among mothers. One mom sought some advice about her five year-old boy that was "addicted" to video games and would cry when he had to turn them off. He only got to play for 30 minutes, and yet there were so many chastising women responding to this mom who was seeking help. I was shocked at how few were willing to actually HELP her, and instead just wanted to blame her. It made me think of the saying, "those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." I can't imagine that any of those critics have raised their children without making even one mistake. But whether or not the poster made a mistake is both debatable and irrelevant. Thirty minutes of video games seems hardly scorn-worthy, in my opinion, but that isn't the issue, is it? The issue is, how does she deal with the fighting when his time is up?
To that, I have no advice, and neither should anyone else for that matter. Those advice discussions are pretty pointless regarding parenting. No parent can possibly describe every situation fully, or begin to make any stranger understand a child partially. Only the parent has all this information, and therefore, only the parent can find the answer. We are so programmed to deny our own power, our instincts, that we look to complete strangers with no apparent credibility, to solve our most personal and important struggles. We need to start winning back our trust in ourselves, and to stop blaming ourselves, too. Yes, I've blamed myself plenty for indulging Alex in too many video games. But the damage is done. He's hooked. Any energy spent with "could have, should haves" is wasted. Now I need to buckle down and make sure that video games are only a part of his life. That there are other healthy and fulfilling aspects in it, too. And if there are, then I see no harm in his enjoying his favorite pastime in front of a screen.
But this incident has brought up the whole screen time issue in my mind once again. I saw some postings online, and was pretty amazed at how much anger is out there among mothers. One mom sought some advice about her five year-old boy that was "addicted" to video games and would cry when he had to turn them off. He only got to play for 30 minutes, and yet there were so many chastising women responding to this mom who was seeking help. I was shocked at how few were willing to actually HELP her, and instead just wanted to blame her. It made me think of the saying, "those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." I can't imagine that any of those critics have raised their children without making even one mistake. But whether or not the poster made a mistake is both debatable and irrelevant. Thirty minutes of video games seems hardly scorn-worthy, in my opinion, but that isn't the issue, is it? The issue is, how does she deal with the fighting when his time is up?
To that, I have no advice, and neither should anyone else for that matter. Those advice discussions are pretty pointless regarding parenting. No parent can possibly describe every situation fully, or begin to make any stranger understand a child partially. Only the parent has all this information, and therefore, only the parent can find the answer. We are so programmed to deny our own power, our instincts, that we look to complete strangers with no apparent credibility, to solve our most personal and important struggles. We need to start winning back our trust in ourselves, and to stop blaming ourselves, too. Yes, I've blamed myself plenty for indulging Alex in too many video games. But the damage is done. He's hooked. Any energy spent with "could have, should haves" is wasted. Now I need to buckle down and make sure that video games are only a part of his life. That there are other healthy and fulfilling aspects in it, too. And if there are, then I see no harm in his enjoying his favorite pastime in front of a screen.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Jenny McCarthy and the immunization debate
Five years ago, who would have believed that Jenny McCarthy would become such a polarizing figure in a current public health debate? Today, she is so loved by some that they bear signs urging her to be our president. She has become a hero for many parents of autistic children and reviled by some proponents of public immunization. Why? Her own son was diagnosed with autism, and she got busy educating herself on the disease. What she learned turned her into an advocate for parents of children with autism who believed that the vaccination MMR, was instrumental in triggering the onset of the autism. Is she right to forward a cause demanding the government, NIH, CDC, and pharmaceutical industry study the safety of our vaccines? Is it appropriate to suggest parents should delay or forgo vaccinating their children? Numerous studies have indicated that the neither the MMR vaccine, nor one of its components, thimerisol, are causative in autism. Hardly any reputable studies show that they are. But some parents insist that they know there is a correlation.
Public health officials are frustrated with this population of parents who question and reject the advice of their pediatricians to immunize their children. These officials say it is a public health risk, and that non-immunized children threaten the health of those whose health prevents them from being able to be immunized. They are certainly correct in the fact that the diseases we vaccinate against are horrible, devastating diseases, and we do not want them to see them return as a common threat to the population. But are they right to say parents have a responsibility to the community that dictates that they immunize their children? Here, I take objection with public health officials. No parent has a responsibility to BLINDLY inject his or her child with anything for the good of the child or the community without questioning the safety and efficacy of said injection. In fact, as Americans, it is a fundamental right to stand up and demand the information we deserve. If public health officials have been unable to convince those parents who do not trust the vaccines' safety, they need to work harder.
I believe Ms. McCarthy and other parents want to communicate with the doctors, scientists, and officials to understand everything that has been and could be studied about these vaccines. I wanted to know, and I am fortunate to have the scientific and experimental experience that enabled me to understand the studies. I am truly convinced that my children would benefit from being vaccinated, and I have elected to do so. But each and every parent should be allowed, and even encouraged, to understand and accept that information. Public health officials should be required to render this information in a manner that is easily understandable to the common public. If parents do not accept or agree with it, I believe it is their right to do what they feel is best for their kids. As far as their responsibility to the public health, I think it is appropriate to isolate these children from public schools and other environments where they could pose a threat to other children.
I certainly do not hate Ms. McCarthy for disagreeing with me. I actually admire her dedication and commitment to furthering a cause she trusts is in the best interest of not only her child, but those of many parents. I think they should be taken very seriously, and be involved in an open national discussion on the safety and importance of vaccination, despite whatever previous experience they may have had or whatever the cause for their celebrity. They are concerned parents, and they are Americans. That makes their voice worth being heard. And they do not appear to be going away.
"The oppression of any people for opinion’s sake has rarely had any other effect than to fix those opinions deeper, and render them more important." - Hosea Ballou
Public health officials are frustrated with this population of parents who question and reject the advice of their pediatricians to immunize their children. These officials say it is a public health risk, and that non-immunized children threaten the health of those whose health prevents them from being able to be immunized. They are certainly correct in the fact that the diseases we vaccinate against are horrible, devastating diseases, and we do not want them to see them return as a common threat to the population. But are they right to say parents have a responsibility to the community that dictates that they immunize their children? Here, I take objection with public health officials. No parent has a responsibility to BLINDLY inject his or her child with anything for the good of the child or the community without questioning the safety and efficacy of said injection. In fact, as Americans, it is a fundamental right to stand up and demand the information we deserve. If public health officials have been unable to convince those parents who do not trust the vaccines' safety, they need to work harder.
I believe Ms. McCarthy and other parents want to communicate with the doctors, scientists, and officials to understand everything that has been and could be studied about these vaccines. I wanted to know, and I am fortunate to have the scientific and experimental experience that enabled me to understand the studies. I am truly convinced that my children would benefit from being vaccinated, and I have elected to do so. But each and every parent should be allowed, and even encouraged, to understand and accept that information. Public health officials should be required to render this information in a manner that is easily understandable to the common public. If parents do not accept or agree with it, I believe it is their right to do what they feel is best for their kids. As far as their responsibility to the public health, I think it is appropriate to isolate these children from public schools and other environments where they could pose a threat to other children.
I certainly do not hate Ms. McCarthy for disagreeing with me. I actually admire her dedication and commitment to furthering a cause she trusts is in the best interest of not only her child, but those of many parents. I think they should be taken very seriously, and be involved in an open national discussion on the safety and importance of vaccination, despite whatever previous experience they may have had or whatever the cause for their celebrity. They are concerned parents, and they are Americans. That makes their voice worth being heard. And they do not appear to be going away.
"The oppression of any people for opinion’s sake has rarely had any other effect than to fix those opinions deeper, and render them more important." - Hosea Ballou
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