Shenanigans

Remember being a kid?  Now that it's summer, maybe my son will.
The last time Dominic was written up on a disciplinary slip in elementary school-
*sigh*

Picture this:  three adolescent boys walking together.

Boy on right:  "Right ball".
Boy on left:  "Left ball".
Boy on right:  "There's a penis between us".
All three boys laugh.

I remember in third grade, all the boys ever did on recess was try to knee or punch each other in the balls.  I was barely amused, because I didn't really understand it.  Now I have a son, and I get it.  It's a right of passage.  It's part of growing up.  A necessary part of growing up.

I remember when recess was linked to words like shenanigans, tomfoolery, and immaturity.

I've said it before... my best memories from childhood happened when I was doing something I probably wasn't supposed to.  All children do this.  This is autonomy, children finding their way in the world without their parents.  Children trying out mature language and ideals.  Children getting an inappropriate education about intimate subjects from their stupid friends.  Shock and awe being silly and funny, making these scary subjects easier to handle.

On the playground in sixth grade, my girls and I talked about love, sex, and our periods.  (Not that any of experienced any of these-- but we had all types of discussions preparing us for them).  When I think back to these conversations, they were laughable.  But...they prepared me for the grown up world.  They prepared me for the intimate relationships I would have during puberty with other girls, becoming women.  They gave me a chance to speak frankly without the audience of parents, health books, and human growth and development films.

Granted... my son was stupid enough to take the role of "right ball" within earshot of a recess duty.  (They call the recess staff recess duties.  Duty.  Heehee.  Gets me every time).

So to Dominic and all the other gross, stupid boys out there- have fun.  Be disgusting.  We expect it of you.  Just look over your shoulder and check your audience now and then, ya jack wagons!

Summertime

Summer break and childhood.  Two things have never gone together so well.

I remember the wonder of summer vacation.   We spent a lot of time riding bikes.  Walked to the local convenience store to buy penny candy.  Climbed trees in the woods.  Looked for crayfish in the local creek.  Fed apples to the neighbor horse.  Picked blackberries from the wild bushes near our house, which my parents would turn into shortcake and jam.  Hide and seek. Swing set. Popsicles.  Sprinklers.  T.V., video games, and movies on HBO.  One summer, I swear I saw Poltergeist and Grease 2 a hundred times. 

My typical childhood summer morning usually started with a cup of tea (that's right- I was a weird tea drinker since I was 8).  I would watch a rerun of Love Boat, put on my shorty shorts and tank top, and head out on my bike.

My dad's truck had an air horn that played Dixie.  Just like the Dukes of Hazzard car.  Pretty cool, huh!?  I knew it was dinner time when I heard them blow this horn.

We painted rocks, sold lemonade, made puppet shows.

My children have access to all of these things.  Well, we don't have a horse or creek nearby, but all the others are attainable.

So... why in the world are my kids so bored??

“Right now we're stading at a massive point of rebirth.” Lars Ulrich, Metallica

I've been pondering how to write about today.  This is the day my baby boy finishes elementary school.  As coincidence would have it, it's also one of my best friend's divorce day.  Heavy day to take in.

At first I thought I'd use some quotes to reflect the day.  There is such change, such bittersweet, such melancholy.  But I'm just not sure these two events deserve the same feelings.

When you are in a child's life, the downfall, as I've said many times, is if you do your job, they move on.  The clear sign that I've given that child the support and tools they need is when they leave.  Or distance themselves.  Or grow up.  My boy is ready for the next challenge.  *sigh*

Divorce is a different kind of change.  It shares the same bittersweet and melancholy, but is entirely different.  I can't bring myself to type if you've done your marriage well because there is too much gray in that area.  When people get divorced, that doesn't mean they failed.  You give it your all, and sometimes, beyond control, it doesn't work.  Sometimes people grow and change in positive, distinctively different ways.  Sometimes dark times cannot be forgiven and forgotten.  My son and my friend's events share change and future, but divorce is plagued with the difficult challenge of rebirth.

So today I watch my friend and my son move forward.  Hesitantly move forward.  Change and growth are in the air.  So is a sadness of all that's left behind.

What do I write to them?

To my dear friend:  Learn and grow from the darkness.  Embrace the warmth to come.  You deserve all the friendship and love in the world.  If times get tough, just remember that tomorrow will be better.  You always have me.  And beer. 

Sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from your own ashes and believe in yourself and love yourself to become a new person.”

― Gerard Way

“Fear, uncertainty and discomfort are your compasses toward growth.”

"Sometimes, good things fall apart, So better things can fall together." 
 - Marilyn Monroe

For my son:  You have been a wonder to watch through these years.  You came into this world a silly blue eyed boy, and continue to live life with that happiness.  You are focused and serious, and then goofy and funny.  I love this balance you have.  I think it will serve you well in life.  You strive for greatness, which will be yours.

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.
And will you succeed:
Yes!  You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)
KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!
So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!
-Dr. Seuss

For both of you.  When you feel scared.  When you feel frustrated.  When your locker won't open or you feel lonely:

"Taking one foot and putting it in front of the other, that is the only way to travel forward...If however you take steps forward whilst looking backward; well -then you will fall over because you end up tripping over something you would easily have seen if looking where you were going in the first place. So, when looking back just stay still for a moment, allow yourself to reflect, but then you must at some point turn around and just keep moving - or you will stagnant on the spot which means going nowhere at all."

 -Jacquelene Close Moore

Fond memories my kids don't appreciate

My early years are filled with lots of southern California memories.  My grandparents lived in Orange County, near Laguna Beach.  I can fondly recall the adventures I had with them... Lion Country Safari, Dana Point, Busch Gardens, Queen Mary. 

Lion Country Safari was an outdoor drive through park full of animals.  I remember the ostrich that stuck it's head in our window.  I remember seeing the lions lounging in the sun.  I remember the little hippo pedal boats and the snow cones.

Busch Gardens had a bird sanctuary, boat rides, overhead trams and unknown to me at the time, a free beer sampling tent.  I sometimes went there on my birthday.  Looking back, I'm thinking my parents were pretty smart.

Dana Point, located near Laguna Beach, had a beautiful bluff setting where I enjoyed taking photos and watching the sailboats come across the bar.

Queen Mary was one of my favorite memories.  I loved exploring it, not even realizing the historical importance of these old ships.  I loved the shark tank, and all the valves and dials in the engine room.  I marveled at the tiny sleeping quarters and large dining halls.

Thinking my children had missed out on this wonderful experience, I took some time on our vacation to take them to see the Queen Mary.  Anticipating the excitement on their faces as the ship came into sight, I didn't tell them where we were going.  As we rounded the corner for the amazing first glimpse of this valuable relic, I noticed... a commercial cruise line sitting next to the Queen Mary, dwarfing it in comparison.

The trek from the car was equally unimpressive.  Dominic actually, in a whiny kid voice, announced he didn't want to get out of the car.  After yelling and threatening careful persuasion, we walked toward the boat.

They were not impressed.  They were actually bored.  They questioned did we have to actually go on the ship??  I managed to engage them for a half hour.  Part of that time was spent finding a bathroom.  I did get them to pose for a picture though.

They truly hated me had a great time!

Happiest place on earth

Just returned from a family trip to Disneyland.  A week of crazy, excited, sometimes tired and crabby, living the life family fun. 

So here is the discovery I made that warms my heart.  Ripley really is my girl.

Ripley has been waiting with anticipation for this trip, finally tall enough to ride the coasters.  She has been measured over the past few weeks, looking for any indication of growth.  She has tried different shoes on.  She has practiced standing tall.  Last we measured, she was 47.5 inches with shoes.

Hmm.  You need to be 48 inches to ride California Screamin'.  We planned around this.  Maybe the height markers are not perfectly accurate.  Maybe, like the last trip, we will buy her bejeweled Minnie mouse shoes with a heal to push her over the edge.  She continued to practice inhaling, and pretending an invisible string was pulling her up by the top of her head.

We told her to be patient.  We would assess the situation, and figure out what to do.

Upon entering Disneyland, Ripley wanted to go on Space Mountain first.  She was plenty tall to go on this ride, but had never been.

Her anticipation while waiting in line was contagious.  She had a million questions.  She bounced through the line on her toes.

Then we reached the ride platform.  My girl- my chip off the old block, mini me, uttered a sentence that I will remember for the rest of my life.

"Can we ask for the front row?"

*big smile*

And she loved it.

The second official ride choice for our 2012 Disneyland trip... Space Mountain again.  Front row, please.

Eventually, the time came that we entered Disney California Adventure.  The moment of truth.  Was she tall enough to ride California Screamin'?

Whew.  It's all good.
So she really is my girl.  She has figured out that the happiest place on earth is actually the front seat of a roller coaster.

Chicken or the egg?

Long story short... the boy that caused enough stress for Dominic to drop out of Math Olympiad?  He walked up to a football game at recess, and popped a child's ball.

Dominic?  Oh- he tackled him.  Football style.

Let me interrupt here to tell you I have received so many "awesome" and "way to go Dominic" messages from parents that were just waiting for that child to get what's coming!

So of course, Dominic was taken to the Principal's office, got another behavior slip, and missed a day of recess. 

Let me just get this straight.  My son defended a friend that was wronged.  My son didn't let a bully well, bully.  My son took full responsibility and was completely honest.  In my parenting handbook, he's doing all the things that make me proud.  So what are we teaching these kids?

Talking with a friend today, I made a connection I hadn't noticed before.  I was aware that as kids get older, the problems get tougher.  I have also noticed that our school seems to be in a bit of a crisis lately.  What I hadn't noticed was the complicated bully formula that educators are not handling correctly.

Bully is the ten dollar word of this decade.  The problem is children are being bullied, but not receiving any tools to handle it.  There is no bully education.  They haven't formed a task team or parent group to discuss the problem.  The same children keep causing the problems, getting a slap on the wrist, and we actually expect that to change them?

Enter the other children.  The victims.  Given no information or tools to handle a bully, they are taking it into their own hands to handle.  And safe to say however they handle it, they will get in trouble. 

My son flipped off a child.  I get that it was wrong.  He learned from the experience.  What was not adequately assessed is why my son was so angry with the other child.  He had his reasons.

My son stood up to a child that was already pretty ticked off at my son.  A child that had already caused problems in their personal relationship.  A child that regularly picks on other kids.

My son, with courage, put a stop to it.

So again, to sum it up, this is a chicken and egg situation.  If we educated children and took the time to change the status quo, perhaps his intervention would never happen.  Teaching children tools to handle these situations is surely something that will stop the bullies in their tracks, and enable bullied children to cope.  Cope within the accepted behavior.

The way they're doing it now?  Seems pretty ass-backwards to me.

Math frustrations

Remember all those times when your parents told you life isn't fair?

Remember when you realized they were right?

Remember when you had to share that bit of wisdom with your own kids, and watch their bewildered, crestfallen faces absorb this information?

Grrr.

Dominic was chosen for a math Olympiad team at his school.  And yes-- I'm sure you're asking if Chris was a little amused by this.  He has called them the denominators and asked if they were getting matching t-shirts.

The arbitrary group of four that compete together that he was placed in includes a child my son doesn't care for.  Actually, this kid bugs me, too.  This child can be best described as a really smart screw off.

Dominic went to two practices, and came home frustrated and agitated at this other child.  I asked if he needed me to intervene.  He firmly said he thought he could handle it.  Turns out, he couldn't.

I talked to the teachers in charge, and they were disappointed I hadn't said anything sooner.  This was not in reflection of my son.  Just a fact.  These teams are already established and they can't change them.  The only option is for Dominic to drop out and be replaced by someone else.

When I explained this to him, he realized he would have to spend the competition day with this other child.  His exact words were, "No way am I spending eight hours in competition with (unmentioned name!)"

So... he forfeits his spot.

I feel frustrated for him.  I feel frustrated, too.

It is very hard to gage when to say something, when to see if it gets better, or when to give up.  I didn't want to be that parent that came in after just one practice and complained.  I assumed (yes, my first mistake) that they would tell me to just wait and see how it plays out.  I guessed wrong.  They would have changed the teams.

Now it's too late.

There is no fault here.  It just is what it is.  And why?  Right- because life's not fair.

Now I get to give him the second part of that lesson:  Life's not fair, and it never changes.

Letting go

My fifth grade son rode his bike to school.

I realize this doesn't seem newsworthy.  It seems like any day in Everywhere, USA.  As a mother, it means so much more.

You raise your children the best you can with what you have.  You hope they will become self sufficient, responsible decision makers in their own life.  Then you have to let go.  If you've done your job right, their autonomy grows and blooms.  I've said it before... why is it so hard to accept that if you've done your job, they leave.  So bittersweet.

Ryan and Dominic

Dominic came into this world smiling.  He is just a happy boy.  You should have seen the gleam in his eye when I finally relented, allowing him to ride his bike to school.  A little over a mile.  Half of it with park walking paths to ride on.

But half of it is 192nd avenue. Crazy walmart people. Vicious dogs being walked. Distracted school parking lot parents. People late to work, pretending not to notice the school zone speed limit.


He wore his helmet and we checked his tires for air. He had the path mapped out, and a responsible friend to ride with. His friend has a phone, and promised to text when they got to school. He used the front clip on his backpack, the one that goes around your torso, for weight stability. He knows how to cross the street, check for cars, and give bike hand signals.

I felt a mixture of pride and fear.

I tried to act like I could handle all this. I even left the house, with my cell phone of course, and joined a neighbor for coffee. Nonchalant. No worries. People can't see inside my head, right?

When the text came... made it to school... I let out a sigh of relief. My boy, future leader, world traveller, made it to school. On his bike. By himself.

The bus stop is actually my driveway. As the youngsters lined up, Dominic whipped past them and yelled out, "See ya, suckers."

My boy is growing up.


Ryan and Dominic's bikes at school.  Clearly they wouldn't pose for a picture



Princess and the Pea

I worry that spoiling children too early in life leaves them full of future disappointment, or a thirst that will never be quenched.

I didn't fly in first class until I was in my thirties.  I knew it would change me.  Sure enough, the next time I flew in coach, I was especially irritable at the annoying neighbors that sat way too close to me, and the curt behavior from the flight attendant.  It ruined me.

My children have been complaining about their mattresses.  I think it's because of mom's super comfy bed as comparison.  Having a fabulous place to sleep is important to me.  Nice mattress, egyptian cotton sheets, down blanket.

This weekend, we caved and bought the kids new mattresses.  Now I'm worried.

When I was a kid, as most my peers will remember, I slept on a crappy mattress.  For a few years, I slept on the foam insert from a small couch set.  I slept wherever a pillow was. 

When I went to college, the dorm room did not look like the ones from 90210.  My room looked like a holding cell for prisoners, with an equally inviting mattress.  A mattress so broken that twin sheets didn't fit tightly, and hung over the side.  Looked more inviting than the floor, though.  Hard tile flooring- I'm pretty sure it's the same floor they have at Walmart.

The point is... I survived.  I don't know if my children will survive.  When they head off to college (knock on wood), will they immediately call home in complaint: "this mattress is unacceptable, mummy." 

(In my vision of this, they have an English accent and call me mummy)

The entire college experience needs survival training.  Cafeteria food, hikes to class (mine were always uphill, I went to WSU) trudging through rain and snow, squalor living conditions, endless noisy neighbors, and toilet paper in dorm bathrooms that is clearly not two-ply.

The first apartment.  The first bed, minus a boxspring.  Their first set of plates, either from a garage sale or handed down from grandma.  The car that comes with a rusty door and lacks 2nd gear.  Living on generic brand mac and cheese.

Ugh.  My kids don't even eat boxed mac and cheese.  I make homemade.  They call kraft the orange kind.

Have I spoiled my kids?  Then again, I'm old.  I want the fancy stuff for my tired old mind and body.  I've paid my dues.  How do I make them pay their dues without skimping on my acquired rights and priveledges?

Or are all the kids going to be like this?  Maybe the dorms really do look like the ones on 90210 now.  Maybe I'll be telling my grandkids about the glory days when airplanes only had 4 rows of first class, instead of half the plane.

Happy candy day

Let me start by assuring my cynic supporters that I think Valentine's day is pretty stupid, commercially artificial, and exists to make people feel bad.

I do, however, think Valentine's day is a kid holiday.  I loved collecting all the little paper cards, reading them over and over, pasting them in a scrapbook.  I remember in fourth grade when one of the classmates (she's a facebook friend to this day, but will remain unnamed) sent out scratch and sniff valentines.  Oh the technology!

Today, there is rarely a card attached to the mass of candy my kids receive.  Or the candy just has a to and from on the actual package.  Thanks for being my valentine... for about 40 seconds.  Nothing to re-read.  Nothing to paste in a memory book.

I refuse to let my kids give candy for Valentine's day.  I even dislike the assorted non-earth friendly trinkets that you can use in lieu of candy.  This year, my son handed out angry bird cards with a tiny tattoo.  (I caved a little bit).  My daughter handed out valentines that can be folded into fortune tellers, cootie catchers... whatever you want to call them, they are fabulous.

The kitchen table was decorated this morning with a little candy and small gifts for my little valentines.  Then I made them a breakfast of eggs and bacon-- they're going to need the protein to offset the sugar today.

Breakfast at school, chocolate chunk muffins.  Lunch at school, chocolate cake dessert.  During school, sucker sale continues.  End of day, party time.  Cookies and punch served to wash down the candy in their valentine collection boxes.

So basically we celebrate and show love with candy and confections?

Everything old is... well, old

Being around kids all the time, I can't help but notice this year's Christmas gift was the ipod touch.  EVERYONE has one.  For once, my kids are accurate.  The retail price dropped drastically for these high tech gadgets, and the consumers responded accordingly.

My son has an old ipod.  A hand me down from his dad.  The generation just before the touch revolution.  He wants an ipod touch, and a phone.  Even better, an iphone.  Ya, I don't think so.  He has been preached a lot lately how some kids don't have shoes or a warm coat.  Some kids don't have the medicine they desperately need, or food for dinner.  He has responded well to these age old tactics.

His peers?  Not so much. 

It's hard to raise a grateful child when every peer opinion contradicts it.  My son was told on the bus that his ipod was uncool, or whatever the hip way to say that is.  Isn't that like saying your Bentley is sooo the wrong color?

When my kids say EVERYONE has one, they aren't making that up!

And the age level keeps lowering by the minute.  Soon, we will be seeing children in preschool with a bedazzled phone and ipad.

We have old ipods, updated phones only as needed, and some tv's that aren't even flat.  I guess we're not cool.

A child spied my ipod in the kitchen the other day and asked what was wrong with it.  What was wrong with it?  Apparently it was nearly unrecognizable with it's first generation style.  That child had an ipod touch fourth generation, and looked over my ipod touch first generation like he was touring a hands on antique museum.

I am worried about this materialistic generation and the lessons we are teaching these children.  I am worried about the children that really do worry about food, clothing, and a safe home.  Imagine how they must be feeling.

The latest 4-D tv?  Hey kids- know what else is in 4-D?  Outside!

Christmas past, Christmas present

Drumroll please...

Dominic has always been a math whiz!  From the early age of second grade, he has declared his future is in engineering. 

No shock.  At three he was telling me directions in the car.  Spacial math.

At four he was building room covering wooden train designs more intricate than any railway I've witnessed.  Design.

At ten, he is being pushed to compete in higher math levels in middle school. He speaks math like a second language.

His ultimate goal is to attend a good engineering college.  He has already researched many options.  This boy cracks me up.

When reviewing the top engineering schools, we help him set his heart on big names... if we can save to afford it, and he can get the grades, he'll be able to go anywhere.  Why not shoot for the stars.

Berkeley is an obvious choice.  Most reasonably priced of the big name engineering schools.  Shocking sticker price, but half the price of the big name techs. 

He also reasons that staying in state would clearly be a wise choice.  Therefore, his local pick is University of Washington.  Good price.  Not far from home.  Far enough away to have the full college experience.  PAC 12 school, so he can attend lots of good games.  Great engineering program.

Settled.  Good goals.  I support them.

Hmmm... but I was a WSU Cougar.  Ouch.

So now I have my daughter to carry on the Coug legacy.

Maybe...

Oh, and don't forget this...

At least they have goals.

Wear red for general ed

Budgets are being discussed, as you read this, on general education for Washington state.  There is threat that they will cut the usual eight bajillion dollars. 

Does anyone else think there is a lot of chicken being played?  Every year we are braced for the worse case scenario.  Every year we wear the assigned color, post signs in our yard, and march on the steps of the capitol.  Every year, the worse case scenario does not happen, but we also don't get adequate funding for our educational system.

Does anyone else think they threaten the desperation so that we are happy with what we get?

How is education not a priority?  There is constant complaint that American children are not ready for the global market.  Their math scores are appalling.  They are not conditioned for the drive and expectations to succeed.

And if a child is pushed towards this, their parents complain.  Don't pick on my poor, helpless baby.  Do these parents realize their child's future is paying for their retirement, shaping the direction of the world?

Big concerns for the congressional decision makers... the I've-grown-so-tired-thinking-about-it I-5 bridge?  The general condition of our roads and buildings?  Earthquake preparedness?  The judicial system and our overcrowded prisons? 

Don't we need engineers, police officers, judges and lawyers?  Don't children need adequate educational funding to reach these goals?  Doesn't education itself deter a life of crime?

Put the money in education, people!  In time, we will all reap the rewards.

By the way, just in case, my son wore red to school today.

Visions of sugar plums

My darling daughter has been wishing for an American Girl doll for over a year now.  They cost $100, before accessories and clothes.  Seriously??

I came to a realization recently:  this is the Cabbage Patch Kid of this generation. 

Ahhh... remember the sweet, squished face dolls?  Trying to find a doll that looked like you?  Well, at least the same basic hair and eye color.  I wished for one for so long.  Pleaded with my mom, negotiated with Santa...

My parents firmly declared they would not spend $40 on a doll and wait in line with other crazy parents just to get one.  My heart was deflated. 

When the novelty wore off, my parents finally got me one.  I was nine years old.  So many years lost of enjoying that doll.

I get the ideals my parents were instilling-  same ones I hope to instill in my own children.  Often, I've wondered, how to balance my children behaving grateful with spoiling them.  I worry that my children won't feel grateful unless they do without, and my whole experience as a parent is to provide more to my children than I had.  I think we all struggle with this.

I remember my best friend had a coke shirt.  Not a coca-cola shirt, a coke shirt.  I had a bright yellow, couldn't sell that color, esprit bag.  I had a plastic'ish flight jacket.  Oh the humility.

The good news is there is hope in the world.  My children can feel grateful while I spoil them.  My children can decipher between love and materials.  My children can understand the difference between brand name and generic, and appreciate the decision process that comes with it.

My daughter saw the "just like" American Girl dolls at Michael's.  They are $22.  She decided, completely on her own, it would make more sense to ask for one of those instead.  They look the same, and cost less.  She reasoned she would probably get more accessories and outfits at the reduced price.

My heart smiled. 

Guess what the dear daughter is getting for Christmas...

Thankful...

I always have a hard time digesting the vast amount of thankfulness that comes in November.  Maybe it's my quest to be different.  Maybe it's my un-American way of disliking Thanksgiving.  Maybe it's because while the world is saying they're thankful, the stores are preparing for the onslaught of materialistic capitalism.

Most of the time, I feel thankful.  Not just in November, but in my daily life.  I know my life is blessed.  Perhaps too many blessings to fit in a month.

But I will weigh in on the thankful-palooza...

Perhaps this is just my pragmatic side speaking, (yes... I'm not all dreams and rainbows) but I think the most important thing to be thankful for is good health.  You rarely hear this.  It is, of the many blessings, the most important.  If you don't have your health, how can you begin to enjoy the others?  So I am thankful for my good health.  I am thankful for the health of my family and friends.  This is the foundation for everything else.

While my life is rosy and good, I resent that I cannot socially complain because that makes me ungrateful.  Just because someone else has it worse, why can't I be unhappy with something?  Isn't this often the very power that forces us to change?  Improve?  Accept?  I am thankful that I don't always see my glass half full. 

Many circumstances in my life result from hard work and good choices.  What I am thankful for are the surprises.  The unexpected occurrences.  The serendipitous moments. 

I am thankful for many unexpected things:  children's laughter that leaks out at the wrong time, connecting with someone you didn't expect, warm feelings you get from others, loyal friends that stand by your side, and those oh so bittersweet moments.

Basically dreams and rainbows.

How do you beat a liar?

As an adult, I've had my fair share of run ins with liars.  I've been accused, I've had conferences, I've tried to tell my side of the story to no avail.  What I've learned is that you just can't beat a liar.

The other thing I've learned is that karma is a bitch, and it will eventually prevail.  I can't stop the liar, but I have to stand with my head high, knowing they will get theirs in the end.

So how do you explain this to a kid?

My son is tangled in a messy situation with tattling and blame involved.  It's easy to dismiss that perhaps my child isn't telling me everything.  Perhaps he is doing bad things.  Enough time has passed, and enough stories conflict and lack any sense for me to know that it is not my child.  And for goodness sake... I hope he's smart enough not to commit the offences once he's under the microscope.

There seems to be a child that has it out for mine.  My child is being accused of being a bully.  Ironic, isn't it.

As an adult, I can sit back and wait for a person to eventually come to justice.  Maybe not in the situation with me, but eventually.  How can my poor ten year old comprehend this while his name is being dragged through the mud?  Where hormonal kids are emotional, hot and cold, and changing every single day?

How can I face my child's name being slandered and walk away?  His bright, clean record taking a blow.

I can take the high road.  I can take one for the team.  I can understand life isn't fair.  I can live with the knowledge that in the end, justice will triumph.

But now you're messing with my kid.

Baby talk

My best friend's daughter currently has a class assigned, high tech baby.  Don't even get me started on the debate about the cost of these high tech babies versus the expense through the welfare system of teenagers with babies.  Not from the same budget, people!

Anyway... I never took a child/family class in high school.  I actually don't remember them as an elective option.  But, we've come a long way since the egg or flour sack of yesteryears.

These babies cry and fuss and need to be fed around the clock.  The experience is to assimilate having a baby.  A difficult baby.  My question is... what is the purpose of this experiment, and does it actually work?

The baby has a scanner embedded to verify the student is actually doing all the work.  The "parent" wears a corresponding bracelet.  Myth number one:  new parents have to do all the work themselves.  Isn't it the first rule of parenting to enlist help?  Doesn't it take a village to raise a child?

This baby needs to be soothed in a variety of computer generated cause and effect situations.  Myth number two:  there is a correct way to soothe a baby.  Finding the solution to lull a baby is a two part process;  the trick, and the maternal instinct.  Neither the baby, nor the parent, have this maternal bond.

Is the theory that kids with these babies will have a light bulb above their head moment when they realize how much their lives would change if they got pregnant?  Myth number three:  a baby is, in itself, a form of birth control for teenagers.  I haven't been a teenager for quite some time, but I don't remember my emotionally and hormonally charged self being swayed by that voice in my head when faced with a cute teenage boy. 

Independent, idealistic teens will balk at the idea of having someone depend on them.  Myth number four:  kids don't want a dependant.  There are girls out there so starved for love, they dream of the idea of having a baby, just so someone will unconditionally love them.  And who thinks having a "pretend marriage" with a guy will deter these longings?

My hope for the future is that my kids won't have kids until they are ready.  All I can do is parent them the best I can.  I believe these years of parenting will trump any mechanical baby.  Therefore, I don't believe kids that lack this parenting will find their purpose over a weekend with a baby doll.

The closest I ever got to having a pretend dependant was a spider Traci and I found at school.  We carried him around for several periods, until he was sadly lost.  I remember making a pencil drawing on a table in the media tech room that said:

Lost.  Richard the spider.  If found, please contact Sam. 

Followed, of course, by a crude sketch for identification purpose.

Never did find Richard, but I didn't have children until I was 27.  Hmmm...

All Hallows Eve

While hanging with the other parents in the middle of the street, while our goblins ran house to house begging candy, I mentioned it reminded me of the movie E.T.  Sounds of laughter, porch lights illuminating the road, chill in the air. 

But... it wasn't like E.T.  It wasn't children running around in sheets and homemade costumes.  It was different.  Amplified. 

I remember all those times when our parents compared our cushy easy life to theirs.  I remember all the times my mom said "I wish we had that," or started a sentence with "when I was a kid..."

Now I'm that parent.   When we were kids, our store bought, fancy costumes were a decorated plastic apron with a molded mask that lacked breathability.  We trick or treated in our own neighborhoods and were happy to get a few handfuls of candy.  Halloween decorations were paper cats and ghosts.  Our jack-o-lanterns just had a face, with an actual *gasp* fiery candle inside them.

Now, there are entire stores dedicated to finding that way overpriced perfect costume that looks like it's off a Broadway stage.  People give out full size candy bars, gift certificates, and pinata prizes.  Children are no longer capable of carrying their own weight of candy.  And the decorations... it's like being in the haunted mansion at Disneyland-  with live, costumed performers to scare and/or greet you. 

And someday... my kids will be telling the story about how it was when they were kids...

The Great Pumpkin, and other Halloween myths

I was planning to write a spooky, carefully crafted Halloween monologue today, but the inspiration escapes me.  Halloween was always my favorite holiday.  One that embraces childhood and fun, without getting too commercial.  Sure, we buy costumes and candy, but it always seemed to be an equal opportunity fun holiday.

Long before I had kids, I would drag the husband to the pumpkin patch, carve pumpkins, and decorate the house.  Somehow this year, I forgot to do these things with my seven year old.  Bad mom, I know.

So what changed?  Too busy with football season?  Have I done all these things too many times?  Should I consult a therapist about the all too painful memory of the perfect jack-o-lantern that was smashed 12 years ago?

Halloween, like most things in life, is eventually jaded. 

Love taking the kids trick or treating... but they have school the next morning. 

The best costumes will usually leave your child complaining they are too cold, or they will destroy it in the first mud puddle they find.

Candy leads to the argument of how well teeth were actually brushed.

My daughter is allergic to peanuts, so 1/3 of her candy is a loss anyway.

Jack-o-lanterns get smashed.  Houses get egged.  Someone steals all the candy in your bowl.  Half the neighbors turn their lights off.  Some of your neighbors don't even celebrate, leaving you to explain how this holiday is super fun, but some people think it's evil.

And every year, without fail, Charlie Brown gets a rock... again.

Ugh.  Happy Halloween.