1. You never know your tolerance for bodily fluids until you're a parent. Vomit, poop, pee, drool, mucus and any given combination, which would have grossed you out years ago, is now simply a part of your life (even if it still makes your stomach clench)
2.You never know your capacity to love until you're a parent. This may sound cliche, but it's true, and I think that as a parent you realize that everyday. I mean, who could ever know that someone who demands all your time, abuses you regularly, and is generally unappreciative of all you do, could make you love them more than anyone else ever has?
3. You never know true insanity until you're a parent. Sleep deprivation, food deprivation, and constant harassment equal a level of crazy that you can't appreciate until you're a parent or a P.O.W. Sometimes you hear voices, sometimes you see things, and often times you have paranoid fantasies.
4. You never truly appreciate that children are actually tiny mental patients until you're a parent. They don't sleep, yet keep going. They puke at the worst possible times. They ask questions over and over again, forever expecting a different answer. They can live on peanut butter sandwiches. They are manipulative, skilled liars. They NEVER get tired! They are crazy, and take their parents with them.
5. You never know just how golden silence is until you're a parent.
The quiet, oh the peace and quite. When you're a parent, you pray for those moments, those rare times when everything goes still. When the kids are asleep, when the pets have given up begging for affection, when the spouse is quietly absorbed in a computer game. It's mythical, magical fleeting great white whale. Every parent hunts it, few ever harpoon it.
6. You never know true empathy until you're a parent. When your child hurts, you hurt, plain and simple. No one else's pain can bring you to tears the way your child's can.
7. You never know how to manage money until you're a parent. I love to listen to my childless co-workers talk about how they have no money. They "have no money" but can still go dinner. They "have no money" but can still buy a new pair of boots at Macy's. When you're a parent, you actually know what it means to NO money, and how to creatively stretch a dollar, sideways if need be.
8. You never know how much you love your own parents until you're a parent. Remember when you told your parents you hated them? Those torturous teenage years that you thought they were evil, unfair beasts? Well, becoming a parent gives you a deep respect, a reverence, for your own parents. Now that I have two of my own children, I can't imagine how my parents ever raised four of us. I can't fathom how they juggled work, bills, and all of us kids and our various problems. They were super human. I love you mom and dad. Thank you for loving me, even though I was rotten.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
A Good Thing Is Hard To Find
Part of Julie Pippert's Hump Day Hmm..... "A Good Thing Going" for Wednesday, 9/26/07
Life has been a bit craptastic lately, leaving me at a loss for non-depressing blog posts. GH lost his job, and then had his debit card information hijacked within the same week. K got sick and was spewing everywhere, followed up by a fun and exciting bout of wetting the bed. G's fits have reached a new level, and the other day he told me he didn't want me to be his mother anymore, which brought on a hysterical bout of weeping, and forced my friend to bring me out for emergency afternoon cocktails.
Finding a good thing going right now is hard, but perhaps this is the perfect time to dig for it. I need to find the good things that are going on beneath all of the rubble that is our lives at the moment.
Good Things Going On:
1. Having a House Husband
Having GH loose his job has been a HUGE financial blow to us, and caused GH several small nervous breakdowns. However, there is a bright side. I've gained a House Husband. This means no child care expenses. This also means a cleaner house, children who have more time at home with a parent, and even dinner when I get home. It's actually been kind of nice, and I'm going to enjoy it while I can.
2. Knowing People Who's Lives Suck More Thank Mine
It's easy to feel like life is as bad as it can possibly get sometimes. It's very sobering to look around and see how much worse it can be. One of my co-workers' husbands is being shipped out to Afghanistan next month. Another is tangled in a nasty custody battle on top of other huge issues. And then of course, there are the clients that I work with, who have been abused and exploited their entire lives. It can always be worse, much worse. The fact that it isn't is a very good thing.
3. The Craft Business Is Finally Building Steam
My side business is finally beginning to pick up! Though it's my dream to make my jewelry and crafts my full time job, I know it will probably never happen. However, I'm finally starting to get some recognition, and loyal customers, which feels really good. I'm doing my third craft show this weekend, and hope it will pull in a bit of extra money, and some more interested customers.
4. The Kids Are Healthy And Whole
While they have both been having their issues lately, K and G are both healthy and (relatively) happy. They are bright, loving children, and I'm very lucky to have them (but please feel free to remind me of that if K wakes me in the middle of the night again tonight, or the next time G has a fit).
5. I Have a Good Marriage
Though GH and I have our moments, and we generally drive each other crazy, I'm very lucky to have him. I don't think anyone else in this world could put up with my Type A neurosis, my obsessive crafting, or my wacky business ideas. He lets me nag him (to a point) and tells me everything is going to be all right when I'm feeling like nothing will ever be all right again. He sticks by me when I my try my hardest to push him away. I don't know what I'd ever do without him, and I hope I never have to find out.
Well look at that, I guess I do have "Good Things Going" after all. :)
Life has been a bit craptastic lately, leaving me at a loss for non-depressing blog posts. GH lost his job, and then had his debit card information hijacked within the same week. K got sick and was spewing everywhere, followed up by a fun and exciting bout of wetting the bed. G's fits have reached a new level, and the other day he told me he didn't want me to be his mother anymore, which brought on a hysterical bout of weeping, and forced my friend to bring me out for emergency afternoon cocktails.
Finding a good thing going right now is hard, but perhaps this is the perfect time to dig for it. I need to find the good things that are going on beneath all of the rubble that is our lives at the moment.
Good Things Going On:
1. Having a House Husband
Having GH loose his job has been a HUGE financial blow to us, and caused GH several small nervous breakdowns. However, there is a bright side. I've gained a House Husband. This means no child care expenses. This also means a cleaner house, children who have more time at home with a parent, and even dinner when I get home. It's actually been kind of nice, and I'm going to enjoy it while I can.
2. Knowing People Who's Lives Suck More Thank Mine
It's easy to feel like life is as bad as it can possibly get sometimes. It's very sobering to look around and see how much worse it can be. One of my co-workers' husbands is being shipped out to Afghanistan next month. Another is tangled in a nasty custody battle on top of other huge issues. And then of course, there are the clients that I work with, who have been abused and exploited their entire lives. It can always be worse, much worse. The fact that it isn't is a very good thing.
3. The Craft Business Is Finally Building Steam
My side business is finally beginning to pick up! Though it's my dream to make my jewelry and crafts my full time job, I know it will probably never happen. However, I'm finally starting to get some recognition, and loyal customers, which feels really good. I'm doing my third craft show this weekend, and hope it will pull in a bit of extra money, and some more interested customers.
4. The Kids Are Healthy And Whole
While they have both been having their issues lately, K and G are both healthy and (relatively) happy. They are bright, loving children, and I'm very lucky to have them (but please feel free to remind me of that if K wakes me in the middle of the night again tonight, or the next time G has a fit).
5. I Have a Good Marriage
Though GH and I have our moments, and we generally drive each other crazy, I'm very lucky to have him. I don't think anyone else in this world could put up with my Type A neurosis, my obsessive crafting, or my wacky business ideas. He lets me nag him (to a point) and tells me everything is going to be all right when I'm feeling like nothing will ever be all right again. He sticks by me when I my try my hardest to push him away. I don't know what I'd ever do without him, and I hope I never have to find out.
Well look at that, I guess I do have "Good Things Going" after all. :)
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Hump Day Hmm - Why I Matter
Today I've finally decided to tackle Julie's Hump Day Hmm, something I've been wanting to dive in on for a while. This week's topic is "How I Matter". I think I may have chosen the toughest one yet to start with. lol. Here goes....
My whole life, I've worked hard at being tough. Never reaching over 5'2", I still aimed to be 10 feet tall and bullet proof. I resolved never to be vulnerable, never to be a sucker.
I grew up in a small town where being different made you a social pariah. You were one of the good 'ol boys or you were Not. I was a Not. In high school, I was the girl with the shaved head and the leather dog collar. I once got detention for walking my boyfriend on a leash through the halls of school. My high school principal called me a "scrapper" for the numerous confrontations and fist fights I engaged in. I made sure that people left me alone, and those who didn't, only bothered me once.
Despite all this, beneath the leather and studs, beat a soft heart. I often used my power for good, taking down bullies, threatening those who hurt my friends, etc. As an underdog myself, I watched out for those who were even more helpless than myself.
After high school, I remained street tough, but cleaned up a bit to get a real job. I moved to NJ and worked in the mall. I got my hair cut at an expensive salon, and even got my nails done. I wore nylons to work, and a blazer. I felt like a real wiener for the first time in my life. It was during this wiener period however, that I committed my one true heroic deed.
While walking to the grocery store behind my house one afternoon, I watched an elderly lady have her purse snatched out of her grocery cart while she put groceries in her trunk. Flabbergasted, I began to scream at the purse snatcher from my place across the parking lot. The man said nothing, but began to run straight towards me, cradling the stolen purse in his arms in a football hold. I stood there, screaming, swearing, telling him to drop the purse. He continued to charge. When he got to me, I grabbed hold of him, trying my damnedest to take him down. At well over 6 feet, and outweighing me by at least 80 pounds, he threw me hard on the ground and made a break for the woods surrounding the parking lot. Ignoring my broken acrylic nails, and various cuts and bruises, I stood up and froze, torn between trying to chase the thief through the woods, or going to help the elderly woman who was still standing at her car, confused and upset. I chose to help the woman.
Long story short, I assisted the woman, who spoke only broken English, into the grocery store, where we contacted the police. The woman eventually communicated that all of her medications and rent money was is her purse. I went down to the police station, and by the time I was done giving my statement, and getting my injuries photographed, they had caught the thief, and recovered the woman's purse, though it's contents were largely scattered throughout the woods. Several days later, I received a card from the woman I had helped, thanking me for my help. I still have it, and it's one of my most cherished possessions.
Aside from that, my life has been far from heroic. I've never saved a life, never delivered a baby in a broken elevator, or even bungled another robbery.
The way I matter most these days is as a parent. While I may not always be super mom, I do my best at trying to raise wonderful future adults. I work hard, and try to set a good example. Though I my falter now and again, I try to provide my children with a good moral compass and a compassion for others. While I may never save a life, perhaps one of my children will someday because I've instilled that into their hearts.
Oh, and I try to be a good wife on occasion too. On occasion. Special ones.
I like to think the job I have now matters as well. After completing my BA in English Literature, a long strange road has lead me away from publishing and into Human Services. I now work for an agency that provides assisted living for adults with developmental disabilities. While I never could have predicted this career path for myself, I wouldn't change it for anything. Editing articles about lawn care never brought me fulfilment I get from having a simple conversation with one of our clients, who are all amazing people.
So, while I may never cure cancer, I still like to think I matter, even if it is just a little.....
My whole life, I've worked hard at being tough. Never reaching over 5'2", I still aimed to be 10 feet tall and bullet proof. I resolved never to be vulnerable, never to be a sucker.
I grew up in a small town where being different made you a social pariah. You were one of the good 'ol boys or you were Not. I was a Not. In high school, I was the girl with the shaved head and the leather dog collar. I once got detention for walking my boyfriend on a leash through the halls of school. My high school principal called me a "scrapper" for the numerous confrontations and fist fights I engaged in. I made sure that people left me alone, and those who didn't, only bothered me once.
Despite all this, beneath the leather and studs, beat a soft heart. I often used my power for good, taking down bullies, threatening those who hurt my friends, etc. As an underdog myself, I watched out for those who were even more helpless than myself.
After high school, I remained street tough, but cleaned up a bit to get a real job. I moved to NJ and worked in the mall. I got my hair cut at an expensive salon, and even got my nails done. I wore nylons to work, and a blazer. I felt like a real wiener for the first time in my life. It was during this wiener period however, that I committed my one true heroic deed.
While walking to the grocery store behind my house one afternoon, I watched an elderly lady have her purse snatched out of her grocery cart while she put groceries in her trunk. Flabbergasted, I began to scream at the purse snatcher from my place across the parking lot. The man said nothing, but began to run straight towards me, cradling the stolen purse in his arms in a football hold. I stood there, screaming, swearing, telling him to drop the purse. He continued to charge. When he got to me, I grabbed hold of him, trying my damnedest to take him down. At well over 6 feet, and outweighing me by at least 80 pounds, he threw me hard on the ground and made a break for the woods surrounding the parking lot. Ignoring my broken acrylic nails, and various cuts and bruises, I stood up and froze, torn between trying to chase the thief through the woods, or going to help the elderly woman who was still standing at her car, confused and upset. I chose to help the woman.
Long story short, I assisted the woman, who spoke only broken English, into the grocery store, where we contacted the police. The woman eventually communicated that all of her medications and rent money was is her purse. I went down to the police station, and by the time I was done giving my statement, and getting my injuries photographed, they had caught the thief, and recovered the woman's purse, though it's contents were largely scattered throughout the woods. Several days later, I received a card from the woman I had helped, thanking me for my help. I still have it, and it's one of my most cherished possessions.
Aside from that, my life has been far from heroic. I've never saved a life, never delivered a baby in a broken elevator, or even bungled another robbery.
The way I matter most these days is as a parent. While I may not always be super mom, I do my best at trying to raise wonderful future adults. I work hard, and try to set a good example. Though I my falter now and again, I try to provide my children with a good moral compass and a compassion for others. While I may never save a life, perhaps one of my children will someday because I've instilled that into their hearts.
Oh, and I try to be a good wife on occasion too. On occasion. Special ones.
I like to think the job I have now matters as well. After completing my BA in English Literature, a long strange road has lead me away from publishing and into Human Services. I now work for an agency that provides assisted living for adults with developmental disabilities. While I never could have predicted this career path for myself, I wouldn't change it for anything. Editing articles about lawn care never brought me fulfilment I get from having a simple conversation with one of our clients, who are all amazing people.
So, while I may never cure cancer, I still like to think I matter, even if it is just a little.....
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
The Meeting
So this morning we had G's PET (still don't remember exactly what it stands for) at his school, and frankly, it couldn't have come at a better time. This past week G's fits have been out of control, and yesterday I received my first Call From School. Apparently the "honeymoon" period is over, and G's decided to establish his boundaries with his new teacher. Oh, and did I mention GH has been in tears almost daily over G's rages? It's been a real treat.
The meeting consisted of me, GH, G's teacher from last year, his current teacher, the school's Special Education Director, and the district's school psychologist. It was a good group who listened attentively to me and GH as we expressed our frustrations and our fears. Last year's teacher helped validate our concerns and fears with input of her own.
Perhaps the most gratifying part of the entire meeting was hearing all of those people in the room who have had contact with G talk about how incredibly smart he is. There was even talk of having him evaluated for gifted programs, to help alleviate his frustration and boredom.
Even talking about G's issues was comforting, as now there's a plan in place for having him evaluated. Terms like OCD, Depression, Anxiety Disorder, and Aspergers are still terrifying, but nothing can equal the fear of not knowing. We just want to know what's going on in our little G's head so we can help him. As a mom, there's always that drive to kiss and bandage every boo-boo, to make it all better. When the hurt is invisible and it's tearing your child apart every day, it makes you feel so helpless, so useless. I just want my baby to stop hurting.
So for now, the evaluations start. One for gross motor skills, one for anxiety, one for socialization, one for sensory monitoring, etc. It's quite a list. Oh, and don't forget the paperwork we got to bring home, with lists of behaviors to rate G on, and the evaluation form wanting to know everything from how nauseous you were while pregnant, to the first time your child farted (no kidding, that may just be on there).
We meet again on October 10th to touch base, talk about where the team is with evaluations, G's progress, and more diagnosis specific evaluations. Until then, we just keep holding on. G included.
The meeting consisted of me, GH, G's teacher from last year, his current teacher, the school's Special Education Director, and the district's school psychologist. It was a good group who listened attentively to me and GH as we expressed our frustrations and our fears. Last year's teacher helped validate our concerns and fears with input of her own.
Perhaps the most gratifying part of the entire meeting was hearing all of those people in the room who have had contact with G talk about how incredibly smart he is. There was even talk of having him evaluated for gifted programs, to help alleviate his frustration and boredom.
Even talking about G's issues was comforting, as now there's a plan in place for having him evaluated. Terms like OCD, Depression, Anxiety Disorder, and Aspergers are still terrifying, but nothing can equal the fear of not knowing. We just want to know what's going on in our little G's head so we can help him. As a mom, there's always that drive to kiss and bandage every boo-boo, to make it all better. When the hurt is invisible and it's tearing your child apart every day, it makes you feel so helpless, so useless. I just want my baby to stop hurting.
So for now, the evaluations start. One for gross motor skills, one for anxiety, one for socialization, one for sensory monitoring, etc. It's quite a list. Oh, and don't forget the paperwork we got to bring home, with lists of behaviors to rate G on, and the evaluation form wanting to know everything from how nauseous you were while pregnant, to the first time your child farted (no kidding, that may just be on there).
We meet again on October 10th to touch base, talk about where the team is with evaluations, G's progress, and more diagnosis specific evaluations. Until then, we just keep holding on. G included.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Making It Happen
Yesterday, I finally got the call I've been waiting so long for- G's school had finally set up a meeting for his PET.
Now, if you're not sure what a PET is don't be concerned- I've actually forgotten what exactly the acronym stands for myself. Something Evaluation Team? Anyways, what it boils down to is that, after a long period of struggling on our own, we may finally get some real help for G.
To understand the situation, you must first understand my G. He is a very complex little boy. He is so smart, it causes him frustration and boredom. He'd rather do math problems than art. He obsesses over things constantly, from any shift in our daily routine, to what's for dinner the following day, to the amount of time he gets to spend on the computer. He's the pickiest eater I've ever known, so picky in fact, that's it's almost as if any food with flavor causes him pain. He hates to sleep, and, even after he manages to drift off for a few hours, he'll wake up in the middle of the night, turn his light up, and do tanagrams in bed.
G has always been "quirky", and initially we chalked it up to a funky personality. So what if he loved looking at the phone book for hours, staring at the neat rows of names and numbers? And his difficulties with transitions? Just a phase, we were sure.
Our outlook changed as G entered school. The teachers began to notice things we never had. G's fine motor skills were lacking- his hands became tired quickly when he wrote and drew. His gross motor skills were behind as well- he avoided to much physical activity. His vestibular system (the 5 senses) became easily overwhelmed. And then the fits started.
G's fits are terrifying. When his schedule is interrupted, or he has to deviate from his current obsession, etc. he falls into horrifying fits. It's like he's possessed. He screams horrible things, cried, throws himself on the floor, and can't be touched or reasoned with.
Of course there are a lot of other little pieces, to numerous to go into. Eventually, we couldn't deny it any longer- G was different, and we needed help doing what's best for him. After extensive personal research, my husband and I found that G fit all of the criteria for Asperger's Syndrome, a high-functioning form of Autism. Armed with our experience, our frustrations, and all our love, we consulted our pediatrician. The pediatrician then referred us the only behavioral specialist in our area.
The behavioral specialist sent us a scary amount of paperwork to fill out on G, from the time he was in the womb. I filled it out, sent it back, and then was told it would be up to a year before G could be seen. We were dumbfounded, frustrated, and at a loss for what to do next.
After expressing my frustrations to a new co-worker, I was told that we could get all of G's evaluations done through his school, at no cost, and much faster. Once again, I was dumbfounded. How could that be? I mean, if that was true, why hadn't the school told us this after so many meetings with teachers and staff, talking to them about G's behavioral issues and our concerns? Why don't they let ALL parents know that these services are available if needed?
Well, now we've finally made progress. The meeting is on September 18th, and we're all so relieved that help may finally be within reach. Until then, we will continue to be patient and understanding, dealing with the situation the best we know, and hoping that answers will be coming soon.
Now, if you're not sure what a PET is don't be concerned- I've actually forgotten what exactly the acronym stands for myself. Something Evaluation Team? Anyways, what it boils down to is that, after a long period of struggling on our own, we may finally get some real help for G.
To understand the situation, you must first understand my G. He is a very complex little boy. He is so smart, it causes him frustration and boredom. He'd rather do math problems than art. He obsesses over things constantly, from any shift in our daily routine, to what's for dinner the following day, to the amount of time he gets to spend on the computer. He's the pickiest eater I've ever known, so picky in fact, that's it's almost as if any food with flavor causes him pain. He hates to sleep, and, even after he manages to drift off for a few hours, he'll wake up in the middle of the night, turn his light up, and do tanagrams in bed.
G has always been "quirky", and initially we chalked it up to a funky personality. So what if he loved looking at the phone book for hours, staring at the neat rows of names and numbers? And his difficulties with transitions? Just a phase, we were sure.
Our outlook changed as G entered school. The teachers began to notice things we never had. G's fine motor skills were lacking- his hands became tired quickly when he wrote and drew. His gross motor skills were behind as well- he avoided to much physical activity. His vestibular system (the 5 senses) became easily overwhelmed. And then the fits started.
G's fits are terrifying. When his schedule is interrupted, or he has to deviate from his current obsession, etc. he falls into horrifying fits. It's like he's possessed. He screams horrible things, cried, throws himself on the floor, and can't be touched or reasoned with.
Of course there are a lot of other little pieces, to numerous to go into. Eventually, we couldn't deny it any longer- G was different, and we needed help doing what's best for him. After extensive personal research, my husband and I found that G fit all of the criteria for Asperger's Syndrome, a high-functioning form of Autism. Armed with our experience, our frustrations, and all our love, we consulted our pediatrician. The pediatrician then referred us the only behavioral specialist in our area.
The behavioral specialist sent us a scary amount of paperwork to fill out on G, from the time he was in the womb. I filled it out, sent it back, and then was told it would be up to a year before G could be seen. We were dumbfounded, frustrated, and at a loss for what to do next.
After expressing my frustrations to a new co-worker, I was told that we could get all of G's evaluations done through his school, at no cost, and much faster. Once again, I was dumbfounded. How could that be? I mean, if that was true, why hadn't the school told us this after so many meetings with teachers and staff, talking to them about G's behavioral issues and our concerns? Why don't they let ALL parents know that these services are available if needed?
Well, now we've finally made progress. The meeting is on September 18th, and we're all so relieved that help may finally be within reach. Until then, we will continue to be patient and understanding, dealing with the situation the best we know, and hoping that answers will be coming soon.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Holding On... And Letting Go
Today was K's first day of school. She dressed up in brand-new clothes, strapped on her brand new backpack, and waited outside with the big-kids, like her big brother G. When the big-kids got on the bus, she watched them depart, eager for her own bus, the special kindergarten bus, which would pick her up after theirs.
After the other kids were gone, and the other parents cleared out, it was just K and I, waiting alone in the chill morning. I held her on my lap, burying my nose in her hair, hanging on tightly to that moment where I could still hold her, where I knew she was safe in the circle of my arms. I held on to that moment, where I knew she still needed me.
Eventually, she slid away to perch in the grass at my feet. She looked at me, so knowing, so grown up all of the sudden.
And I held on to that moment too. To knowing she was big enough, and strong enough to take that next step, with her tiny feet that now looked so adult in her new golden slippers
And then, in a moment of pure K, she danced.
And I held on to that tightest of all.
And then, it was time. GH joined up outside as the bus rounded the corner. The anxiety knotted my stomach, and I fought the urge to drag K back inside. She bounced and glowed. Her excitement flowed through her, splashed on the sidewalk, and managed to hit me with a few drops. I smiled,and tried to hold on to her, but she was too wiggly.
And then she walked away. And I let her.
After the other kids were gone, and the other parents cleared out, it was just K and I, waiting alone in the chill morning. I held her on my lap, burying my nose in her hair, hanging on tightly to that moment where I could still hold her, where I knew she was safe in the circle of my arms. I held on to that moment, where I knew she still needed me.
Eventually, she slid away to perch in the grass at my feet. She looked at me, so knowing, so grown up all of the sudden.
And I held on to that moment too. To knowing she was big enough, and strong enough to take that next step, with her tiny feet that now looked so adult in her new golden slippers
And then, in a moment of pure K, she danced.
And I held on to that tightest of all.
And then, it was time. GH joined up outside as the bus rounded the corner. The anxiety knotted my stomach, and I fought the urge to drag K back inside. She bounced and glowed. Her excitement flowed through her, splashed on the sidewalk, and managed to hit me with a few drops. I smiled,and tried to hold on to her, but she was too wiggly.
And then she walked away. And I let her.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Snippet
K: When I grow up, I don't want to cut my hair
Me: Well honey, you don't have to cut your hair if you don't want to
K: Yes I do. You have to cut your hair when you grow up.
Me: No you don't K, you never have to cut your hair if you don't want to.
K: Yes you do! If you don't cut it, it will touch the toilet!
Me: (trying no to laugh) Well, you can always just move it out of the way so it doesn't touch the toilet.
K: Ellllllewwwwwww
Me: Well honey, you don't have to cut your hair if you don't want to
K: Yes I do. You have to cut your hair when you grow up.
Me: No you don't K, you never have to cut your hair if you don't want to.
K: Yes you do! If you don't cut it, it will touch the toilet!
Me: (trying no to laugh) Well, you can always just move it out of the way so it doesn't touch the toilet.
K: Ellllllewwwwwww
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Home Is Where The Food Is
I knew GH was my soul mate the first time we cooked together. His enthusiasm, his infectious joy, and his obvious love for food made the whole experience new and exciting again. Even now, after cooking together for years, it's always better when we do it together, and not just because it divides the work, but because it's one of the times when we connect the best. We share, we love, we eat.
Food has always been a major part of my life. Me and my brothers and sister were raised in a house centered around food. My parents have been involved in the food industry our entire lives, from serving it, to cooking it, to selling it. For a while they even owned their own catering business. I can still remember the whoopie pie assembly lines and the night my dad spent on the kitchen floor, his hands encased in ice, after slicing fresh jalapenos without gloves. It's these food centered vignettes that pepper my childhood.
I was a good cook from the time I could stir. I made my first, lattice topped pie at age 10 (my parents still exclaim over the photos proudly). Every new recipe was a chance to explore, experiment and best of all, eat. Food was a playground, and I was the queen of the monkey bars.
After I had kids, food took on a different roll in my life. No longer could meals be skipped, eaten irregularly, or consumed purely for pleasure. Food was now Important. It was now the building blocks of tiny minds and bodies, something to be balanced and carefully considered, something to be planned and scheduled. In short, it became work.
When GH came into our lives, one of the greatest gifts he gave to me, was giving me back my love for cooking. Now, food wasn't just something to fret over, just another chore. Weekends became a time of elaborate, ethnic meals, of baking, and laughing, and stuffing ourselves silly as we cooked. Food was recognized once again as something that binds people together. Feeding friends and family is something with so with true gusto and flair.
K embraces this passion for food with open arms. She's one of the only 5 year-olds I know who will scarf down calamari, heap her plate with steamers, and polish off a bowl of spicy seafood gumbo. We encourage her pure delight at trying new things, her pride at tackling a new food experience.
The one cog in our foodie family wheel is G. To him, food is "plain" or "not-plain". Guess which one he prefers? To G, the perfect meal is cheeseburgers or tacos- anything else is up for debate on a daily basis. Most days he rejects breakfast no matter how much we plead. When dinner's placed in front of him, it's usually greeted by grumbling, complaints, and sometimes tears. This frustrates GH and I to no end. Though we parade a bright rainbow of food in front of him, he can't be threatened, bribed or cajoled into trying a bite. How we ended up with such an extreme picky eater, we'll never know.
This weekend, my parents are visiting. I'm always thrilled to cook for my parents, to garner the praise of two such wonderful chefs. Tonight we will cook a dish GH and I invented last weekend- a Gorgonzola and white wine cheese sauce with cherry tomatoes over penne pasta, topped by broiled scallops that have been marinating in olive iol, fresh garlic and minced basil overnight. I drool just thinking about it. Tomorrow night, a roast chicken with GH's Ultimate Mashed Potatoes, and all the fixins. Everyone will eat drink, talk, and generally make merry.
G is sure to request a bologna sandwich both nights.
Food has always been a major part of my life. Me and my brothers and sister were raised in a house centered around food. My parents have been involved in the food industry our entire lives, from serving it, to cooking it, to selling it. For a while they even owned their own catering business. I can still remember the whoopie pie assembly lines and the night my dad spent on the kitchen floor, his hands encased in ice, after slicing fresh jalapenos without gloves. It's these food centered vignettes that pepper my childhood.
I was a good cook from the time I could stir. I made my first, lattice topped pie at age 10 (my parents still exclaim over the photos proudly). Every new recipe was a chance to explore, experiment and best of all, eat. Food was a playground, and I was the queen of the monkey bars.
After I had kids, food took on a different roll in my life. No longer could meals be skipped, eaten irregularly, or consumed purely for pleasure. Food was now Important. It was now the building blocks of tiny minds and bodies, something to be balanced and carefully considered, something to be planned and scheduled. In short, it became work.
When GH came into our lives, one of the greatest gifts he gave to me, was giving me back my love for cooking. Now, food wasn't just something to fret over, just another chore. Weekends became a time of elaborate, ethnic meals, of baking, and laughing, and stuffing ourselves silly as we cooked. Food was recognized once again as something that binds people together. Feeding friends and family is something with so with true gusto and flair.
K embraces this passion for food with open arms. She's one of the only 5 year-olds I know who will scarf down calamari, heap her plate with steamers, and polish off a bowl of spicy seafood gumbo. We encourage her pure delight at trying new things, her pride at tackling a new food experience.
The one cog in our foodie family wheel is G. To him, food is "plain" or "not-plain". Guess which one he prefers? To G, the perfect meal is cheeseburgers or tacos- anything else is up for debate on a daily basis. Most days he rejects breakfast no matter how much we plead. When dinner's placed in front of him, it's usually greeted by grumbling, complaints, and sometimes tears. This frustrates GH and I to no end. Though we parade a bright rainbow of food in front of him, he can't be threatened, bribed or cajoled into trying a bite. How we ended up with such an extreme picky eater, we'll never know.
This weekend, my parents are visiting. I'm always thrilled to cook for my parents, to garner the praise of two such wonderful chefs. Tonight we will cook a dish GH and I invented last weekend- a Gorgonzola and white wine cheese sauce with cherry tomatoes over penne pasta, topped by broiled scallops that have been marinating in olive iol, fresh garlic and minced basil overnight. I drool just thinking about it. Tomorrow night, a roast chicken with GH's Ultimate Mashed Potatoes, and all the fixins. Everyone will eat drink, talk, and generally make merry.
G is sure to request a bologna sandwich both nights.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Morality Tale
Lawyer Mama just posted an interesting exercises from an ethics class she recently took. She challenged readers to rate the characters in the tale from the best to the worst, 1 being the best, 5 being the worst, and to do it without readings anyone elses's replies first.
Here is the tale:
Nicole and Stephan are very much in love. They want to be married and stay together for all of their lives. Unfortunately, they are separated by a deep, swift flowing river, in which there are alligators, and neither is a good swimmer.
Nicole sees Robert standing next to his boat on her side of the river. She goes to Robert and asks him to take her across the river so that she can be with Stephan. Robert replies that he will do so only if she sleeps with him. Desiring to remain faithful to Stephan, Nicole refuses.
Looking around, she sees Stephan's friend Earnest nearby, and goes to ask him for help to get to Stephan. She tells Earnest the situation, but he turns and walks away saying that he is too busy to become involved.
Still wanting to get across the river to be with Stephan, Nicole returns to Robert and pleads with him to take her across the river, but he stands firm. Finally Nicole relents and sleeps with Robert, who then takes her safely across the river to Stephan.
Nicole then relates the story to Stephan. When Stephan learns what has happened, he tells Nicole that she has prostituted herself, and he wants nothing more to do with her; and he walks away.
Nicole is brokenhearted. As she is walking home reflecting on her experience, she meets her friend Donald. He asks her what is wrong, and she tells him the whole story. Donald is incensed. He finds Stephan and beats him up.
THE END.
The Characters:
Nicole
Stephan
Robert
Earnest
Donald
*The Sad Saga of Nicole and Stephan was originally written by Anina Klein, MSW, with editorial support from Alan M. Lerner.*
My ratings and rational:
5= Stephen. All right, I'm thinking this has to be the popular choice for the big baddie of the tale. Stephen is a complete jack-ass. I mean, Nicole exhausts all of her options before sucumbing to her only choice to be with the man she loves, and he's going to punish her for it? After all, what was he doing on his side of the river? A whole lot of nothing. I mean, the guy can't build a raft? Frankly, I would have knocked him out cold, thrown him in the canoe, and sent him to the gators. Lunch time you ungrateful toad.......
4= Robert. #2 slime ball for sure. I mean, asking someone to violate themselves for a boat ride is low. Like something out of Deliverance low.
3= Earnest. He's Stephen's friend and he can't help get his girl across the river? Especially knowing her only other option is to sleep with slime ball #2? I mean, what exactly is Earnest so busy with anyways? Seems to me he's just hanging out by the river anyways. Lame.
2= Nicole. All right, even though she had a justifiable reason, she still compromised her own moral code for a boat ride. While personally I feel the ends do justify the means, she did still sell herself out without waiting to see if Stephen could get his act together on his side of the river to cross over himself. Besides, Robert and Earnest can't be the only two guys in the world with a boat right?
1= Donald. What can I say. Frankly I've always felt a true friend is someone who's willing to kick a little butt for you. Don't tell my kids I said that.
Here is the tale:
Nicole and Stephan are very much in love. They want to be married and stay together for all of their lives. Unfortunately, they are separated by a deep, swift flowing river, in which there are alligators, and neither is a good swimmer.
Nicole sees Robert standing next to his boat on her side of the river. She goes to Robert and asks him to take her across the river so that she can be with Stephan. Robert replies that he will do so only if she sleeps with him. Desiring to remain faithful to Stephan, Nicole refuses.
Looking around, she sees Stephan's friend Earnest nearby, and goes to ask him for help to get to Stephan. She tells Earnest the situation, but he turns and walks away saying that he is too busy to become involved.
Still wanting to get across the river to be with Stephan, Nicole returns to Robert and pleads with him to take her across the river, but he stands firm. Finally Nicole relents and sleeps with Robert, who then takes her safely across the river to Stephan.
Nicole then relates the story to Stephan. When Stephan learns what has happened, he tells Nicole that she has prostituted herself, and he wants nothing more to do with her; and he walks away.
Nicole is brokenhearted. As she is walking home reflecting on her experience, she meets her friend Donald. He asks her what is wrong, and she tells him the whole story. Donald is incensed. He finds Stephan and beats him up.
THE END.
The Characters:
Nicole
Stephan
Robert
Earnest
Donald
*The Sad Saga of Nicole and Stephan was originally written by Anina Klein, MSW, with editorial support from Alan M. Lerner.*
My ratings and rational:
5= Stephen. All right, I'm thinking this has to be the popular choice for the big baddie of the tale. Stephen is a complete jack-ass. I mean, Nicole exhausts all of her options before sucumbing to her only choice to be with the man she loves, and he's going to punish her for it? After all, what was he doing on his side of the river? A whole lot of nothing. I mean, the guy can't build a raft? Frankly, I would have knocked him out cold, thrown him in the canoe, and sent him to the gators. Lunch time you ungrateful toad.......
4= Robert. #2 slime ball for sure. I mean, asking someone to violate themselves for a boat ride is low. Like something out of Deliverance low.
3= Earnest. He's Stephen's friend and he can't help get his girl across the river? Especially knowing her only other option is to sleep with slime ball #2? I mean, what exactly is Earnest so busy with anyways? Seems to me he's just hanging out by the river anyways. Lame.
2= Nicole. All right, even though she had a justifiable reason, she still compromised her own moral code for a boat ride. While personally I feel the ends do justify the means, she did still sell herself out without waiting to see if Stephen could get his act together on his side of the river to cross over himself. Besides, Robert and Earnest can't be the only two guys in the world with a boat right?
1= Donald. What can I say. Frankly I've always felt a true friend is someone who's willing to kick a little butt for you. Don't tell my kids I said that.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
How NOT To Get Close To Your Husband
In a recent personal exploration, I found a few key ways NOT to to bring your distant husband closer to you. In order to save someone else from the same arduous ordeal, I thought it best to share my findings.
Top Ways NOT to Bring Your Husband Closer To You:
1.) Do NOT nag, nag, and nag some more about what is bothering him. Going about it this way will only cause your distant husband to push you further away.
2.) Do NOT ask him if he's been avoiding you becasue you've gotten so fat. Do NOT continue by pointing out in pounds and inches how much weight you've gained over the past year.
3.) Absolutly, positivly, do NOT ask him if he's seeing someone else. This will cause said husband to question your sanity, and not only not touch you, but not speak to you for a while either.
4.) Do NOT threaten to throw his computer out the window if he stays on it one more minute to game online.
5.) Do NOT obssess over every unspoken word, every phone call, every missed kiss godd-bye.
Effective Methods To Actually Bringing Your Husband Back To Your World:
1.) DO be understanding when he's had a tough day at work. Allow him some peace and quiet.
2.) DO understand that online gaming, or other activities, are a way for him to de-stress, not avoid you.
3.) DO try to discuss what's bothering him, but don't push when it's clear he doesn't want to talk about it.
4.) DO let him know how you're feeling, but not in an accusitory way.
5.) DO make an effort to find ways to spend time together without the kids, to be grown-ups together. Don't bring up stressful topics at this time, but focus on appriciating each other.
6.) Do understand that he stresses out about things just as much as you do, but that he processes things in different ways. Don't take it personally.
Top Ways NOT to Bring Your Husband Closer To You:
1.) Do NOT nag, nag, and nag some more about what is bothering him. Going about it this way will only cause your distant husband to push you further away.
2.) Do NOT ask him if he's been avoiding you becasue you've gotten so fat. Do NOT continue by pointing out in pounds and inches how much weight you've gained over the past year.
3.) Absolutly, positivly, do NOT ask him if he's seeing someone else. This will cause said husband to question your sanity, and not only not touch you, but not speak to you for a while either.
4.) Do NOT threaten to throw his computer out the window if he stays on it one more minute to game online.
5.) Do NOT obssess over every unspoken word, every phone call, every missed kiss godd-bye.
Effective Methods To Actually Bringing Your Husband Back To Your World:
1.) DO be understanding when he's had a tough day at work. Allow him some peace and quiet.
2.) DO understand that online gaming, or other activities, are a way for him to de-stress, not avoid you.
3.) DO try to discuss what's bothering him, but don't push when it's clear he doesn't want to talk about it.
4.) DO let him know how you're feeling, but not in an accusitory way.
5.) DO make an effort to find ways to spend time together without the kids, to be grown-ups together. Don't bring up stressful topics at this time, but focus on appriciating each other.
6.) Do understand that he stresses out about things just as much as you do, but that he processes things in different ways. Don't take it personally.
Monday, August 27, 2007
The Basement Dwellers: Update
Today I ambushed Basement Dweller Z, as I have been doing diligently for the past week or two. The encounters usually go something like this:
*Z skulks up from the basement, hoping not to be seen. I greet him in the kitchen, ignoring his deer-caught-in-the-headlights look*
Me: So Z, looked at any apartments?
Z: As in actually been inside them? No.
Me: So, did you at least check CraigsList, the paper, anything? Any good apartments?
Z: Ahh yeah, some good apartments out there. Looking good.
Me: Uh-huh *rolling eyes*
So, today, I ambushed him once again as I was doing laundry. Z let me know that he had quit the job he just started two days ago. Apparently someone reprimanded him for reading a book on the job. He thought that was a jerk thing to do, and walked out. I clenched my fists, and resisted the urge to alternately claw his face off, rip his head off, and spit down his neck.
After a few moments of Lamaze breathing, I approached the apartment question. Here, I was pleasantly surprised. He informed me that they planned on moving out by brother E's next paycheck. I let out a squeal of glee. Of course I apologized, but in a very half-assed way. He assured me they were eager to leave as well. I told him I was glad the feeling was mutual.
So, maybe if I'm a very good girl, the Gods will see fit to smile upon me and grant me this elusive promise of people moving out of my home. Please Gods please. I will sacrifice, pay homage, dance naked, whatever it takes! Be merciful! Today I bought a 12 pack of toilet paper. Deliver me from evil!
*Z skulks up from the basement, hoping not to be seen. I greet him in the kitchen, ignoring his deer-caught-in-the-headlights look*
Me: So Z, looked at any apartments?
Z: As in actually been inside them? No.
Me: So, did you at least check CraigsList, the paper, anything? Any good apartments?
Z: Ahh yeah, some good apartments out there. Looking good.
Me: Uh-huh *rolling eyes*
So, today, I ambushed him once again as I was doing laundry. Z let me know that he had quit the job he just started two days ago. Apparently someone reprimanded him for reading a book on the job. He thought that was a jerk thing to do, and walked out. I clenched my fists, and resisted the urge to alternately claw his face off, rip his head off, and spit down his neck.
After a few moments of Lamaze breathing, I approached the apartment question. Here, I was pleasantly surprised. He informed me that they planned on moving out by brother E's next paycheck. I let out a squeal of glee. Of course I apologized, but in a very half-assed way. He assured me they were eager to leave as well. I told him I was glad the feeling was mutual.
So, maybe if I'm a very good girl, the Gods will see fit to smile upon me and grant me this elusive promise of people moving out of my home. Please Gods please. I will sacrifice, pay homage, dance naked, whatever it takes! Be merciful! Today I bought a 12 pack of toilet paper. Deliver me from evil!
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Wonderfully, Chilling Challange!
I just stumbled across a fabulous challenge that's right up my ally! For anyone who loves scary stories and horror books, Check out Stainless Steel Droppings for the R.I.P II reading challenge. I'm know I'll be going for it. The hardest part will be which great new creepy tales to read....
School Daze
It's almost that mystical, magical time of year- The start of the school year!
Most parents of school-age children approach this time with a mixture of apprehension...and sheer joy. Apprehension over the new teacher, the new materials, the new kids in their class, etc. Sheer joy over the banishment of summer camp fees, and early mornings trying to throw together an impressive bag lunch for the latest summer field trip.
For our family, this school year represents two, very profound milestones. The first, is that K, my baby will be going to kindergarten. This officially makes both of my children school-aged, in school, full-time, big school, school attendees. It makes me feel both old and sad. How on earth did I get to be old enough to have two kinds IN SCHOOL? Oh yeah gods, I'm a mom, a truly, true to life mom.
It's always a little disorientating when these "mega-mom" moments hit. I mean, of course I realize I'm a mom every day. I'm a mom when I carefully apply After Bite to each and every one of my children's bug bites. I'm definitely a mom when I find myself patiently instructing my son on the proper to technique to wipe his backside (something he still hasn't quite mastered at 7 *sigh*). I'm a mom when I do laundry and make dinner after a full day of work. I'm a mom when I softly kiss smooth foreheads at bedtime and feel my heart swell each and every time. However, there are always events and occurrences that hit you harder, make you pause and take a moment to fully feel the magnitude of your mom-ness.
I admit, having K enter kindergarten this year has caused me a surprising amount of anxiety. This will be G's third school year in this particular school, and has escaped each year whole and happy. K even has the same kindergarten teacher G did, and we loved her. Why is then that I find myself hyperventilating when I think of K getting onto the bus herself (kindergarten has it's own bus, so she won't be able to ride with G)? Why is it that I worry that K, my little warrior princess, my stupendous social butterfly, will have a hard time going to a new school and making new friends? I try to tell myself I'm being completely irrational, but these nagging doubts remain, lurking just under the surface as I shop for a new pink backpack, glue sticks and pencils.
The second milestone may not seem as momentous in comparison, but it will represent some huge changes around out house all the same- We've officially left our daycare, and will have a neighbor girl watching K and G after school. This girl is the daughter of a close neighbor of ours, and since she will already be watching her younger brother, a close friend and classmate of G, our families agreed that it would be a perfect arrangement for her to watch G and K after school until I get home from work. Since I have Mondays off, and Generous Husband has Tuesdays off, and possibly Thursdays soon, neighbor girl A will only have to watch the kids two or three days a week. This arrangement equals a few important changes:
1. The kids will be able to be home after school and relax, rather than transitioning to the hectic scene of after-school care after a long day of school.
2. My commute home will shorter minus the stop at the daycare, which equals more quality time with the kids.
3. We will be saving TONS of money. This means less stress and more opportunities to do all of the fun stuff we've been putting off for so long.
All of these things combined equals a healthier, happier home life for all of us.
All of these new changes all at once may be a bit hard to digest. They may require a cocktail to chase away the anxiety, and the purchase of a trashy tabloid (which I may now be able to afford :) ) to distract from panic attacks, as K's first day of kindergarten approaches. It may require a tight leash on the credit card and Amazon account when I'm caught up in the fever of extra spending money, and my long wish list of new books.
All that aside, things will work themselves out, as they always seem to have a way of doing in the most unexpected ways. I'll just keep my seat belt on, and try to remember to enjoy the ride.
Most parents of school-age children approach this time with a mixture of apprehension...and sheer joy. Apprehension over the new teacher, the new materials, the new kids in their class, etc. Sheer joy over the banishment of summer camp fees, and early mornings trying to throw together an impressive bag lunch for the latest summer field trip.
For our family, this school year represents two, very profound milestones. The first, is that K, my baby will be going to kindergarten. This officially makes both of my children school-aged, in school, full-time, big school, school attendees. It makes me feel both old and sad. How on earth did I get to be old enough to have two kinds IN SCHOOL? Oh yeah gods, I'm a mom, a truly, true to life mom.
It's always a little disorientating when these "mega-mom" moments hit. I mean, of course I realize I'm a mom every day. I'm a mom when I carefully apply After Bite to each and every one of my children's bug bites. I'm definitely a mom when I find myself patiently instructing my son on the proper to technique to wipe his backside (something he still hasn't quite mastered at 7 *sigh*). I'm a mom when I do laundry and make dinner after a full day of work. I'm a mom when I softly kiss smooth foreheads at bedtime and feel my heart swell each and every time. However, there are always events and occurrences that hit you harder, make you pause and take a moment to fully feel the magnitude of your mom-ness.
I admit, having K enter kindergarten this year has caused me a surprising amount of anxiety. This will be G's third school year in this particular school, and has escaped each year whole and happy. K even has the same kindergarten teacher G did, and we loved her. Why is then that I find myself hyperventilating when I think of K getting onto the bus herself (kindergarten has it's own bus, so she won't be able to ride with G)? Why is it that I worry that K, my little warrior princess, my stupendous social butterfly, will have a hard time going to a new school and making new friends? I try to tell myself I'm being completely irrational, but these nagging doubts remain, lurking just under the surface as I shop for a new pink backpack, glue sticks and pencils.
The second milestone may not seem as momentous in comparison, but it will represent some huge changes around out house all the same- We've officially left our daycare, and will have a neighbor girl watching K and G after school. This girl is the daughter of a close neighbor of ours, and since she will already be watching her younger brother, a close friend and classmate of G, our families agreed that it would be a perfect arrangement for her to watch G and K after school until I get home from work. Since I have Mondays off, and Generous Husband has Tuesdays off, and possibly Thursdays soon, neighbor girl A will only have to watch the kids two or three days a week. This arrangement equals a few important changes:
1. The kids will be able to be home after school and relax, rather than transitioning to the hectic scene of after-school care after a long day of school.
2. My commute home will shorter minus the stop at the daycare, which equals more quality time with the kids.
3. We will be saving TONS of money. This means less stress and more opportunities to do all of the fun stuff we've been putting off for so long.
All of these things combined equals a healthier, happier home life for all of us.
All of these new changes all at once may be a bit hard to digest. They may require a cocktail to chase away the anxiety, and the purchase of a trashy tabloid (which I may now be able to afford :) ) to distract from panic attacks, as K's first day of kindergarten approaches. It may require a tight leash on the credit card and Amazon account when I'm caught up in the fever of extra spending money, and my long wish list of new books.
All that aside, things will work themselves out, as they always seem to have a way of doing in the most unexpected ways. I'll just keep my seat belt on, and try to remember to enjoy the ride.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The Basement Dwellers
There are people living in my basement. Three, fully functioning, grown people are living in my basement. They use my hot water. They use my electricity. They use my toilet paper! They take up my metalsmithing studio, and litter my backyard with cigarette butts. They leave hair in my shower drain, and clothes in my washer. They have been there for two months, and show no signs of leaving.
How, may you ask, did I end up in this predicament? My super generous husband.
Several months ago, Generous Husband casually asked one night, if it would be all right if his good friend Z could stay with us for a wee bit if he needed to. When I asked why he would need to, Generous Husband told me Z was having difficulties with his apartment, and may need to leave abruptly, before he could find another apartment. Generous Husband said this was an unlikely possibility, but he wanted to ask anyways. I told him I thought this would be fine, as I knew Z, and thought he would be a fine house guest.
Weeks went by, and no mention of Z was made again, and it all but faded from my mind. The, out of the blue, GH announced that Z and his brother, E, would be coming over to discuss staying with us. It was so sudden, my brain barely had time to register- brother? Oh yes, said GH, don't you remember I said Z's brother would be staying here too? Flabbergasted, I insisted that was a detail I would have been sure to remember.
So, put on the spot, I opened the door to find Z, Z's brother E - and E's girlfriend! E's girlfriend??? Yes, even my darling GH was taken aback by that addition. E's girlfriend, V, assured us that she wouldn't be staying with us, only visiting once in a while. I had my doubts about "once in a while", but bit my tongue, oh so generously.
The next day, despite my hysterical misgivings the night before, Z and E moved into our basement. It was at this time that I discovered Z and V didn't have jobs, only E. It was at this time that my hysterical misgivings became a full blown aneurysm.
This was nearly two months ago. In this time, GH and I have fought more than in our entire marriage combined. I beg GH to tell the basement dwellers to get the hell out; GH tells me I'm overreacting, that they haven't been here that long, We argue over each other's definitions of "not that long". While we argue, somehow V has migrated into our basement as well, holing up with the other two.
In this time, they haven't given us a dime, bought a roll of toilet paper, or even cleaned up after themselves without a good amount of snarking on my end. GH is still baffled as to why I'm upset. I tell him it's simple math: 5 adults + 2 kids + 1 bathroom +no money = a neurotic, stressed out, Sarcasta-Mom!
How, may you ask, did I end up in this predicament? My super generous husband.
Several months ago, Generous Husband casually asked one night, if it would be all right if his good friend Z could stay with us for a wee bit if he needed to. When I asked why he would need to, Generous Husband told me Z was having difficulties with his apartment, and may need to leave abruptly, before he could find another apartment. Generous Husband said this was an unlikely possibility, but he wanted to ask anyways. I told him I thought this would be fine, as I knew Z, and thought he would be a fine house guest.
Weeks went by, and no mention of Z was made again, and it all but faded from my mind. The, out of the blue, GH announced that Z and his brother, E, would be coming over to discuss staying with us. It was so sudden, my brain barely had time to register- brother? Oh yes, said GH, don't you remember I said Z's brother would be staying here too? Flabbergasted, I insisted that was a detail I would have been sure to remember.
So, put on the spot, I opened the door to find Z, Z's brother E - and E's girlfriend! E's girlfriend??? Yes, even my darling GH was taken aback by that addition. E's girlfriend, V, assured us that she wouldn't be staying with us, only visiting once in a while. I had my doubts about "once in a while", but bit my tongue, oh so generously.
The next day, despite my hysterical misgivings the night before, Z and E moved into our basement. It was at this time that I discovered Z and V didn't have jobs, only E. It was at this time that my hysterical misgivings became a full blown aneurysm.
This was nearly two months ago. In this time, GH and I have fought more than in our entire marriage combined. I beg GH to tell the basement dwellers to get the hell out; GH tells me I'm overreacting, that they haven't been here that long, We argue over each other's definitions of "not that long". While we argue, somehow V has migrated into our basement as well, holing up with the other two.
In this time, they haven't given us a dime, bought a roll of toilet paper, or even cleaned up after themselves without a good amount of snarking on my end. GH is still baffled as to why I'm upset. I tell him it's simple math: 5 adults + 2 kids + 1 bathroom +no money = a neurotic, stressed out, Sarcasta-Mom!
Z assures me that by September 7th they'll have enough money to start really looking for a place. Looking????!!!!! In the meantime, my parents refuse to visit, as their guest room is occupied. I spend my days choking on bile of pure rage, desperately avoiding fights with GH the best I can. I still slip. I still tell GH that he's making my life miserable by refusing to help me oust the freeloaders in the basement.
I think it's time to take up drinking. Unfortunately, I only have enough money to cover toilet paper.
Friday, April 20, 2007
A Letter to My Darling Boy
Dear G,
There are so many words I need to say to you. So often you don't listen or just don't understand the things that I need to communicate to you. So often my own frustrations get in the way and distort the things that come out of my mouth. So often we just miss each other completely.
I wish there was some way to tell you just how much I love you. You were my first child, and my first true love. I never knew that your heart could ache so much, could strain so hard to beat out of your chest, until the moment I held you. Once you were in my arms, I never wanted to let you go.
In the nearly seven years that have passed now, you've pushed away from me, becoming an independent, and often moody, little man. In the past few months you've screamed at me and told me how much you hate hate me. You've called me "Mr. Meany" (I still don't understand the "Mr.") when I make dinner you don't like, and kick the walls when I have to take away your computer time. Your words, your tears, your hurt has cut me deeper than I knew was possible.
I've cried for you too my darling boy. Every time you're in the grip of one of your fits, when I know you just can't help yourself, I cry because I know there's nothing I can do but wait it out and come to hold you when you're finally calm again. I know there are things happening within you that you just don't understand, and I cry tears of frustration for you. When the pediatrics department tells me there's a year long wait before you can see someone who can help you, I cry a little more.
I know that deep-down you always know that I love you. I tell you over and over that no matter how angry we are at each other I will always love you. When you speak to me like a little grown-up I tell you that I love you. When you smile I tell you I love you. I tell you I love you a hundred times a day. I'll never let you forget that.
My heart will always ache as it tried to contain how much I love you. I'll always want to hold you forever. Some how, some way, I'll help you to slay all of these dragons that are standing in your way right now.
Love,
Your mom, forever and always
There are so many words I need to say to you. So often you don't listen or just don't understand the things that I need to communicate to you. So often my own frustrations get in the way and distort the things that come out of my mouth. So often we just miss each other completely.
I wish there was some way to tell you just how much I love you. You were my first child, and my first true love. I never knew that your heart could ache so much, could strain so hard to beat out of your chest, until the moment I held you. Once you were in my arms, I never wanted to let you go.
In the nearly seven years that have passed now, you've pushed away from me, becoming an independent, and often moody, little man. In the past few months you've screamed at me and told me how much you hate hate me. You've called me "Mr. Meany" (I still don't understand the "Mr.") when I make dinner you don't like, and kick the walls when I have to take away your computer time. Your words, your tears, your hurt has cut me deeper than I knew was possible.
I've cried for you too my darling boy. Every time you're in the grip of one of your fits, when I know you just can't help yourself, I cry because I know there's nothing I can do but wait it out and come to hold you when you're finally calm again. I know there are things happening within you that you just don't understand, and I cry tears of frustration for you. When the pediatrics department tells me there's a year long wait before you can see someone who can help you, I cry a little more.
I know that deep-down you always know that I love you. I tell you over and over that no matter how angry we are at each other I will always love you. When you speak to me like a little grown-up I tell you that I love you. When you smile I tell you I love you. I tell you I love you a hundred times a day. I'll never let you forget that.
My heart will always ache as it tried to contain how much I love you. I'll always want to hold you forever. Some how, some way, I'll help you to slay all of these dragons that are standing in your way right now.
Love,
Your mom, forever and always
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Mommy Purgatory
Thanks to an artful comment by LawyerMamma in her most recent post (http://lawyermama.blogspot.com/2007/03/its-end-of-world-as-we-know-it.html) I have finally discovered a great label for my my position in the ever raging "Mommy Wars"- Mommy Purgatory.
Like LawyerMamma, I feel strongly that the "Mommy Wars" are a big waste of time. Why on earth should we spend what little time and energy we have left as parents tearing down the parenting choices of others? What works for one person, doesn't necessarily work for another. Just because a person is passionate about their career, doesn't mean their not equally, or most likely more, passionate about their children. After all, why shouldn't a woman be allowed to have personal and professional achievements as well? And, on the other side of the coin, being a stay-at-home mom doesn't mean you're lazy or worthless, or given up on life. Often these women have chosen a more difficult role, as staying home can be isolating, thankless and incredibly exhausting.
Frankly, as long as your children are healthy, happy and well-loved, you're doing a a great job as a parent, whether you choose to have a career, or stay at home. We face so many challenges as parents, that it only seems natural that we stand together to support each other when we can. However, because we spend so much time wrestling with our parenting decisions inside ourselves, perhaps it's just as natural to lash out at each other in defence of decisions that are sometimes painful and hard fought in our own hearts.
Here in Mommy Purgatory, there are different battles. When a career isn't a conscious choice, but rather necessity, things become murkier, a little more complex.
In one of my recent articles for Associated Content, I tried to highlight the challenges of mothers who had to work in order to keep their families afloat financially. While I received a lot of positive feedback, there was one comment that really surprised me:
"Great article. I disagree however that most moms go back to work out of a financial "need". I think that what people think is a "need" is often actually a "want". People often dont understand how to make sacrifice. There are plenty of ways dual income homes can cut corners so that one parent doesnt have to go back to work. I just think many people arent creative enough to think of ways to do that. That's why I love all these SAHMs on ebay who found ways to stay at home and bring in an income. I know not everyone woman has that option (my mom was a single mom) but I do think that when SAHMs get upset about working moms, it isnt the ones who truly need to work but the ones who say they "need" to work. Regardless, at the end of the day, its nobody's business. However, women need to be honest about the REAL reason they go back to work. Some just cant stand to be with their children all day. "
These comments really bothered me. I felt personally attacked, as I consider myself to be a mother who "has" to work, not "wants" to work. My household budget already has so many corners cut that it's round. Not to mention the fact that I am technically the "bread winner" of the family- without my income we wouldn't even be able to pay my most basic expenses. Perhaps, as this helpful commenter indicated, I am selfish to think of food as a "need" or frivolous not to cut luxuries like heat out of my life.
However, there is a lurking, vicious 1950's housewife that dwells deep down inside my darker regions, those firmly suppressed regions that sometimes whisper to me that skirts might be fun, and that maybe a little pink would really brighten up my life. This housewife agrees with the commenter. She tells me that with a little sacrifice, I too could spend my days at home, providing a stable and loving environment for my children. While they were at school, I could work on new and exciting recipes, further my craft obsession and actually keep up with the laundry. Even she, however, doubts that we could support our household selling things on eBay. Sorry oh helpful commenter, even 50's Mom doesn't think we're that resourceful.
I gag 50's mom firmly with my well forged core of feminism, education and self-reliance. I tell her that I did not work my ass off (she frowns as I use the word ass) for four years just to stay home and sacrifice my identity on the alter of motherhood.
Deny it as I may, 50's Mom is part of my identity. I genuinely enjoy making home cooked meals, having fresh laundry, and creating new craft projects for my bright and imaginative munchkins. There are many days when, at my desk, I yearn to be home to greet my children as they get off the bus.
Perhaps it would be easier to reconcile these internal battles if I was working at a job I enjoyed. Due to financial need (yes need helful commenter, not want) I'm currently working outside of my desired career field. Because of this, I have a job, not a career. Maybe, on that eventual day (yes, it will happen) when I finally have a true career, and not just a job to pay the bills, 50's Mom will be easier to quiet. I will still let her out on weekends however, for good behavior. What can I say, she bakes a hell of a pie.
Like LawyerMamma, I feel strongly that the "Mommy Wars" are a big waste of time. Why on earth should we spend what little time and energy we have left as parents tearing down the parenting choices of others? What works for one person, doesn't necessarily work for another. Just because a person is passionate about their career, doesn't mean their not equally, or most likely more, passionate about their children. After all, why shouldn't a woman be allowed to have personal and professional achievements as well? And, on the other side of the coin, being a stay-at-home mom doesn't mean you're lazy or worthless, or given up on life. Often these women have chosen a more difficult role, as staying home can be isolating, thankless and incredibly exhausting.
Frankly, as long as your children are healthy, happy and well-loved, you're doing a a great job as a parent, whether you choose to have a career, or stay at home. We face so many challenges as parents, that it only seems natural that we stand together to support each other when we can. However, because we spend so much time wrestling with our parenting decisions inside ourselves, perhaps it's just as natural to lash out at each other in defence of decisions that are sometimes painful and hard fought in our own hearts.
Here in Mommy Purgatory, there are different battles. When a career isn't a conscious choice, but rather necessity, things become murkier, a little more complex.
In one of my recent articles for Associated Content, I tried to highlight the challenges of mothers who had to work in order to keep their families afloat financially. While I received a lot of positive feedback, there was one comment that really surprised me:
"Great article. I disagree however that most moms go back to work out of a financial "need". I think that what people think is a "need" is often actually a "want". People often dont understand how to make sacrifice. There are plenty of ways dual income homes can cut corners so that one parent doesnt have to go back to work. I just think many people arent creative enough to think of ways to do that. That's why I love all these SAHMs on ebay who found ways to stay at home and bring in an income. I know not everyone woman has that option (my mom was a single mom) but I do think that when SAHMs get upset about working moms, it isnt the ones who truly need to work but the ones who say they "need" to work. Regardless, at the end of the day, its nobody's business. However, women need to be honest about the REAL reason they go back to work. Some just cant stand to be with their children all day. "
These comments really bothered me. I felt personally attacked, as I consider myself to be a mother who "has" to work, not "wants" to work. My household budget already has so many corners cut that it's round. Not to mention the fact that I am technically the "bread winner" of the family- without my income we wouldn't even be able to pay my most basic expenses. Perhaps, as this helpful commenter indicated, I am selfish to think of food as a "need" or frivolous not to cut luxuries like heat out of my life.
However, there is a lurking, vicious 1950's housewife that dwells deep down inside my darker regions, those firmly suppressed regions that sometimes whisper to me that skirts might be fun, and that maybe a little pink would really brighten up my life. This housewife agrees with the commenter. She tells me that with a little sacrifice, I too could spend my days at home, providing a stable and loving environment for my children. While they were at school, I could work on new and exciting recipes, further my craft obsession and actually keep up with the laundry. Even she, however, doubts that we could support our household selling things on eBay. Sorry oh helpful commenter, even 50's Mom doesn't think we're that resourceful.
I gag 50's mom firmly with my well forged core of feminism, education and self-reliance. I tell her that I did not work my ass off (she frowns as I use the word ass) for four years just to stay home and sacrifice my identity on the alter of motherhood.
Deny it as I may, 50's Mom is part of my identity. I genuinely enjoy making home cooked meals, having fresh laundry, and creating new craft projects for my bright and imaginative munchkins. There are many days when, at my desk, I yearn to be home to greet my children as they get off the bus.
Perhaps it would be easier to reconcile these internal battles if I was working at a job I enjoyed. Due to financial need (yes need helful commenter, not want) I'm currently working outside of my desired career field. Because of this, I have a job, not a career. Maybe, on that eventual day (yes, it will happen) when I finally have a true career, and not just a job to pay the bills, 50's Mom will be easier to quiet. I will still let her out on weekends however, for good behavior. What can I say, she bakes a hell of a pie.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Taxes
I am an early tax filer. As soon as that last W-2 in hand, I'm on it. The promise of a tax refund always drives me to get it done as soon as humanly possible. With heating fuel that needs refilling, a dryer who's heating coils have official bitten the dust, and all of the other expenses that pile up, I just can't afford to wait.
This year, my taxes reflected the changes in my life, last year's marriage, the move to Maine, etc. All of these new numbers forced me to take a closed look at all of the numbers. The result was a whopping anxiety attack.
This year's taxes brought to light that 1/4 of my husband's and mine combined income went to rent. This only reinforced my drive to start working on buying a house. I felt as if all of that money had been flushed down the toilet.
Another startling realization was that more than 1/4 of our combined income was being spent on daycare. This number staggered me. In previous years, my daycare was always broken up with care provided by my family, not to mention the fact that my Vermont daycare was far cheaper. Running the numbers again, I wondered how this was possible, if there was a way to fix it. Was I seriously spending that much of our household income in order to spend time away from my beloved children?
My husband and I have tentatively brought up switching daycares in the past. However, that seems to be an impossible option. For starters, I love our current daycare. I feel confident in all of the care providers. I know that K will have a full day, packed with learning, and socializing with her friends (vital). G gets a great place to go before and after school, with teachers he trusts and friends he enjoys. The indoor pool allows them both to have swimming lessons twice a week, something both of my little fish adore. I know that center is safe- all rooms are monitored with cameras, and non-parental pick-ups must be parent approved, and then photo ID'd by the staff. With my level of paranoia, this is a key element.
Another key element is not wanting to disrupt my children's lives again. The move was hard on them both, and they are finally comfortable in their daily ebb and flow. To take them from a place where they feel safe and comfortable would break their hearts, and mine too.
So, we will suck up the expense. When the tax refund comes, we will invest it in all of the important things we can't afford the rest of the year. Who knows, maybe we'll even have enough left over for a family outing to McDonald's. :)
This year, my taxes reflected the changes in my life, last year's marriage, the move to Maine, etc. All of these new numbers forced me to take a closed look at all of the numbers. The result was a whopping anxiety attack.
This year's taxes brought to light that 1/4 of my husband's and mine combined income went to rent. This only reinforced my drive to start working on buying a house. I felt as if all of that money had been flushed down the toilet.
Another startling realization was that more than 1/4 of our combined income was being spent on daycare. This number staggered me. In previous years, my daycare was always broken up with care provided by my family, not to mention the fact that my Vermont daycare was far cheaper. Running the numbers again, I wondered how this was possible, if there was a way to fix it. Was I seriously spending that much of our household income in order to spend time away from my beloved children?
My husband and I have tentatively brought up switching daycares in the past. However, that seems to be an impossible option. For starters, I love our current daycare. I feel confident in all of the care providers. I know that K will have a full day, packed with learning, and socializing with her friends (vital). G gets a great place to go before and after school, with teachers he trusts and friends he enjoys. The indoor pool allows them both to have swimming lessons twice a week, something both of my little fish adore. I know that center is safe- all rooms are monitored with cameras, and non-parental pick-ups must be parent approved, and then photo ID'd by the staff. With my level of paranoia, this is a key element.
Another key element is not wanting to disrupt my children's lives again. The move was hard on them both, and they are finally comfortable in their daily ebb and flow. To take them from a place where they feel safe and comfortable would break their hearts, and mine too.
So, we will suck up the expense. When the tax refund comes, we will invest it in all of the important things we can't afford the rest of the year. Who knows, maybe we'll even have enough left over for a family outing to McDonald's. :)
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Just Kick 'Em
On the way home from picking the kids up from daycare last night, G confided in me that another boy had been picking on him in the pool that afternoon (the daycare has an indoor pool). This troubled me, since it seems G has been getting picked on a lot by other kids, both boys and girls. Being smaller than everyone else in his class makes him an easy target. This has always been a big concern for me, as I've witnessed the hell both my older and younger brother experienced all through school being the smallest kid by far in their grades.
Fighting back the urge to tell him to hold the other boy's head under water, I instead gave him the "good mom" advice.
"Did you ask him to stop?"
"Yeah, I told him I didn't like it and he just kept on doing it."
"Did you tell the teacher?
"I tried, but she was busy"
"Did you try just moving away from him?"
"Yeah, but he's much bigger than me and just kept following me."
A little heart-broken, and at a loss for what to say, I paused. The silence was soon filled with sweet girly voice of K, the fairy princess in the backseat. "I would just kick him in the rear."
Stunned for a minute. "What did you say?"
"I said, I would just kick him in the rear." she repeated matter-of-factly.
Automatic mom response: "K! We don't kick people!" With a hasty: "And don't talk about rears, that's rude."
Inside though, I cheered a little for my mini-Amazon. Yeah, kick him in the rear! You don't give my little boy a hard time. I couldn't help but feel a little swelling of pride at K's aggressive and effective solution, when I so badly would like to kick that boy in the rear myself.
Upon further reflection, I had to remark to myself how odd it was that I seem to have transposed these attitudes in my girl child and in my boy child. In my efforts of gender equality, have I unwittingly pushed for a confident and strong female and created a tiny mega-feminist warrior princess? And, in my efforts to raise a sensitive and gentle male, instead created a little boy who can't defend himself against the school yard bullies of the world?
As a mother, it's hard not to take personal responsibility for the hardships your child faces. Is it my fault G bites his nails? Did I do something to make K put her friends into time out when they play house? Perhaps I'm just paranoid. Perhaps I'm just a mom.
Fighting back the urge to tell him to hold the other boy's head under water, I instead gave him the "good mom" advice.
"Did you ask him to stop?"
"Yeah, I told him I didn't like it and he just kept on doing it."
"Did you tell the teacher?
"I tried, but she was busy"
"Did you try just moving away from him?"
"Yeah, but he's much bigger than me and just kept following me."
A little heart-broken, and at a loss for what to say, I paused. The silence was soon filled with sweet girly voice of K, the fairy princess in the backseat. "I would just kick him in the rear."
Stunned for a minute. "What did you say?"
"I said, I would just kick him in the rear." she repeated matter-of-factly.
Automatic mom response: "K! We don't kick people!" With a hasty: "And don't talk about rears, that's rude."
Inside though, I cheered a little for my mini-Amazon. Yeah, kick him in the rear! You don't give my little boy a hard time. I couldn't help but feel a little swelling of pride at K's aggressive and effective solution, when I so badly would like to kick that boy in the rear myself.
Upon further reflection, I had to remark to myself how odd it was that I seem to have transposed these attitudes in my girl child and in my boy child. In my efforts of gender equality, have I unwittingly pushed for a confident and strong female and created a tiny mega-feminist warrior princess? And, in my efforts to raise a sensitive and gentle male, instead created a little boy who can't defend himself against the school yard bullies of the world?
As a mother, it's hard not to take personal responsibility for the hardships your child faces. Is it my fault G bites his nails? Did I do something to make K put her friends into time out when they play house? Perhaps I'm just paranoid. Perhaps I'm just a mom.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Dear Santa
Dear Santa,
Well, it's that time of year again, so I'd like to put in my two-scents on this year's delivery to my house. Not that I don't think you've been keeping up mind you, but I know how hard it must be to keep an eye on things this close to Christmas.
In case you've missed it, G has been having random attacks of rage when his fellow classmates, in the name of helping, get him classroom materials that he wanted to get up and get himself. This week, it was a calculator, which he promptly flung across his room. Though he does seem suitable impressed by your powers ("Can Santa see into my brain???")he is not intimidated enough to behave.
In light of this development, please bring G some notebooks, and pencils. I know he's been asking for a Game Boy and a new Batman computer, but honestly, he needs something quiet and boring to keep him occupied for the numerous times he's been sent to his room lately. A notebook and pencils should not over stimulate him, not be too fun, and hopefully keep him from kicking the walls.
As you may have noticed, sweet little K has been something of a nightmare lately as well. Her "Diva-tude" has amped it's self up to a new an exciting level, and angry tears flow faster than ever. Please do not bring K any jewelry or dress up clothes- she already spends far to much time reinforcing her own fabulousness. Instead, please send along a nice weighty book filled with terrifying cautionary tales, of what happens when cuteness fades......
For my husband, please write him a heartfelt note informing him that wanting a clean house is not at all neurotic.
As for me, my list is simple. For starters, please crash the Dungeons and Dragons Online server and all other related internet sources. This will force my husband into far more quality time with the rest of us mere mortals.
Also, please pay next months bills, as this year's gift giving spree has left me unable to do so. I'm far to generous for my own good, as I'm sure you know.
Thank you Santa, I'll be sure to leave extra cookies and a glass of Merlot.
Sincerely,
Sarcasta-Mom
Well, it's that time of year again, so I'd like to put in my two-scents on this year's delivery to my house. Not that I don't think you've been keeping up mind you, but I know how hard it must be to keep an eye on things this close to Christmas.
In case you've missed it, G has been having random attacks of rage when his fellow classmates, in the name of helping, get him classroom materials that he wanted to get up and get himself. This week, it was a calculator, which he promptly flung across his room. Though he does seem suitable impressed by your powers ("Can Santa see into my brain???")he is not intimidated enough to behave.
In light of this development, please bring G some notebooks, and pencils. I know he's been asking for a Game Boy and a new Batman computer, but honestly, he needs something quiet and boring to keep him occupied for the numerous times he's been sent to his room lately. A notebook and pencils should not over stimulate him, not be too fun, and hopefully keep him from kicking the walls.
As you may have noticed, sweet little K has been something of a nightmare lately as well. Her "Diva-tude" has amped it's self up to a new an exciting level, and angry tears flow faster than ever. Please do not bring K any jewelry or dress up clothes- she already spends far to much time reinforcing her own fabulousness. Instead, please send along a nice weighty book filled with terrifying cautionary tales, of what happens when cuteness fades......
For my husband, please write him a heartfelt note informing him that wanting a clean house is not at all neurotic.
As for me, my list is simple. For starters, please crash the Dungeons and Dragons Online server and all other related internet sources. This will force my husband into far more quality time with the rest of us mere mortals.
Also, please pay next months bills, as this year's gift giving spree has left me unable to do so. I'm far to generous for my own good, as I'm sure you know.
Thank you Santa, I'll be sure to leave extra cookies and a glass of Merlot.
Sincerely,
Sarcasta-Mom
Friday, December 08, 2006
Holiday PC
When I received my kid's monthly daycare newsletter last night, I read it through thoroughly, as I always do. Being a mother that works full time induces bouts of guilt that inevitably causes you to cling to each piece of your child's life that you miss out on. I avidly read my daughter's daily reports, my son's weekly classroom updates, and of course, the daycare monthly bulletin.
As I was reading the bulletin, I was happy to learn my children were learning about a variety of holidays during this season of joy, including Christmas, Hacunakah, Kwanza and Eid. Wait a minute. Eid? What the heck is Eid? After a moment of confusion, and then despair at being out of touch with this new holiday, I promptly Googled Eid to find out what it was.
Apparently Eid ul-Fitr is a Muslim holiday which marks the end of Ramadan. This is a joyous event that marks a month long fasting. I suppose if I had to fast for a month I'd throw a huge party when I was allowed to eat too. But, that aside...
Who included Eid on the official holiday list? Why wasn't I informed? Was there a committee, a vote, a deliberation? What's next, Saturnalia?
Now don't get me wrong. I'm in no way saying that Muslims don't deserve to have their holiday included in the vast sea of the American holiday season. But please, I'm still trying to adjust to Kwanza.
In this day and age of PC sensitivities, things just keep getting out of hand. I'm still not sure if I'm allowed to say "Merry Christmas" anymore. Worried about the wrong holiday greeting, I often blurt out "Ba Hum Bug!" in a state of panicked confusion. At least everyone is equally offended by that.
As I was reading the bulletin, I was happy to learn my children were learning about a variety of holidays during this season of joy, including Christmas, Hacunakah, Kwanza and Eid. Wait a minute. Eid? What the heck is Eid? After a moment of confusion, and then despair at being out of touch with this new holiday, I promptly Googled Eid to find out what it was.
Apparently Eid ul-Fitr is a Muslim holiday which marks the end of Ramadan. This is a joyous event that marks a month long fasting. I suppose if I had to fast for a month I'd throw a huge party when I was allowed to eat too. But, that aside...
Who included Eid on the official holiday list? Why wasn't I informed? Was there a committee, a vote, a deliberation? What's next, Saturnalia?
Now don't get me wrong. I'm in no way saying that Muslims don't deserve to have their holiday included in the vast sea of the American holiday season. But please, I'm still trying to adjust to Kwanza.
In this day and age of PC sensitivities, things just keep getting out of hand. I'm still not sure if I'm allowed to say "Merry Christmas" anymore. Worried about the wrong holiday greeting, I often blurt out "Ba Hum Bug!" in a state of panicked confusion. At least everyone is equally offended by that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)