12.31.2010
Happy New Year’s Eve!
May the next year bring much happiness, love, and warmth . If 2010 was crappy, may this next one be good, and if it was good may the next be even better. Most importantly, may it bring contentment. Appreciation begins with the simple and, like a ripple in a pond, expands. Hold your family close.
I’m curious what adventures 2011 will bring to Rob and me… Salut![1]
[1] A salutation in French and other languages to most commonly mean a toast, “to your health.”
12.30.2010
I decided tonight that friendship is more important than any silly grudge I might have toward someone. If my friend who’s pregnant still wants me to throw her a shower, I’m going to do it. She’s like a sister to me and as I’d do anything for her, I’d do anything for my little “niece”-to-be too. I will relish the control (unless I’m to share it with anyone other than this particular person against whom I hold a grudge). Life’s too short.
12.29.2010
Very often we take for granted what we have here in the US. We’re so far removed from the early days of the first immigrants who perished trying to figure out the lay of the land. Years passed, land expanded and laws formed shaping the country in which we find ourselves today.
We women don’t know a world without having the choice to work or voting, and can’t comprehend what suffragettes like Alice Paul and Lucy Burns had to endure. I also don’t think anyone can understand the value of education like the first and second generation of freed blacks did. We, as a culture, don’t (want to) understand pain and hardship because we search for escape whether it’s through medication, food, or shopping. It's also difficult to comprehend that the rest of the world doesn’t live this way.
I read an article in today’s LA Times that made me appreciate living in this country and in the time period. [1] The article was about the lower class of girls in Nepal who are sold into slavery to pay off their parents’ debts. Often these debts are for basic necessities including fertilizer so that they can farm their land. The money they owe is roughly equivalent to $25 and these girls don’t ever have a chance of leaving their positions because one debt leads to another. These girls’ brothers are, of course, not sold into slavery and are allowed to pursue an education. Hearing such news always angers me. Women endure so much regardless of status or wealth and men will never understand. How do explain any simple injustice to someone whose genitalia opens any door from the get go?
Thankfully, the reason this article was in the Times at all is because things are changing there. Various foundations led by the US-based Nepal Youth Foundation are convincing the fathers that there are other ways to pay off their debt. Ten years ago about 14,000 girls were enslaved. Today the estimates are at 1,000. Many girls are going to school and one said she plans to become a lawyer and help girls like her get out of the slums and get an education.
Those of you with daughters hold them near and my humble advice is to keep the memory of women before us alive and in your daughter’s consciousness, and to those with sons my humble advice is the same. History is not meant to be forgotten. It is to be appreciated and learned from because nothing comes for free. Sacrifices were made on our behalf so that we too could dream of reaching for the stars. By remembering the past, we honor those before us.
12.28.2010
I’m trying to launch a project that requires me to work with Dreamweaver CS. It’s taking a tremendous amount of patience, as I’m not the most tech-oriented person – ah, hell, I’m not tech-oriented at all – so I must complete tasks one painful baby-step at a time.
Under normal and any other circumstances I have an enormous amount of patience. But a computer and I are like oil and vinegar and my nasty side comes out. Rob has commented that when I get angry at the computer, he skulks away to his room, shuts the door and hides until the storm blows over. Yes, I get ugly.
Thus, in preparation for this project and knowing this, uh, “flaw” of mine, I coached myself by saying that it was necessary for me to approach this uncharted territory positively, to acknowledge that I will come to forks in the road and I won’t know which way to go, and to accept that I will make mistakes and hit up against brick walls. All of this is OK and I need to trust in myself and not be afraid to ask for help but to, most importantly, understand that I’m not in a race and am working under no deadline.
I reminded myself of all of this, repeated it like a mantra and eventually realized that these same sentiments apply to parenthood. However, before I get to that (and just stay with me), I wanted to address that I keep waiting for that “click” to occur, the one where people say you wake up one morning and know it’s time (to have a kid). That hasn’t happened to me and, I think, what’s happening is I hide behind my fear. There are, of course, other factors, but I keep waiting and wondering and nothing’s happening.
Now, I put off for weeks starting my project because of fear and the fact that I was waiting for the “right” moment – for some divine inspiration to knock me over and bless me. But I don’t know if the divine is ignoring me or perhaps I’ve pissed it off but I didn’t get any signs so, I buckled down and started on my own.
Parenthood is uncharted territory and needs to be approached positively knowing that fear is part of the equation but not the answer. You will come to forks in the road and not know which way to go. Mistakes will occur and there’ll be moments where you feel like you’re hitting your head up against the wall. And you know what? That’s OK.
The journey of weaving a dream begins with the first baby-step. My road beckons…
12.27.2010
What is baby shower etiquette? Who throws a shower for someone?
I’m going to find myself in a real pickle in a few months when it’s be time for a friend to have her baby shower. I already told her that I wouldn’t organize it. Sound mean? Well, yes. But it’s also for my protection.
I would do absolutely anything for this friend; however, my friend has a friend who is a nightmare to deal with. When my friend got married, I had to witness how this particular person brought my friend to tears or would stress her out beyond words because of her selfishness. Being the matron-of-honor, I threw the bridal shower and I refuse to go through what I went through to put that shower together. Granted, were I to throw the baby shower for my friend, I wouldn’t have to involve anyone else…but the negative energy of this friend would find its way into the planning processes, I’m sure. She single-handedly almost ruined my friend’s wedding because she insisted on making everything about her. I don’t want to have to deal with that, were I to throw a baby shower, because, Lord, it’s my friend who’s having a baby, not her. I told Rob that if I do throw the shower, I’m going to be one hell of a bitch. I’m done being polite.
I know my friend was slightly hurt when I made my declaration but I want to enjoy the process of throwing a party, not finding myself trying to swat away mosquitoes buzzing in my ear with their opinions. So I guess what I’m seeking is advice and/or thoughts on how to best handle this situation: Should I flat out refuse or should I do it but make sure the other woman isn’t involved and not feel like I’m doing something wrong?
(I already suggested that the other woman throw the shower but my friend refuses to entertain that idea.)
12.26.2010
I had an intense discussion with my mother-in-law about pregnancy, labor and epidurals today. I sense the winds they are a-changing…
12.25.2010
Merry Christmas!
Santa comes the night before at our house, but whenever Santa comes to your home I hope that, more than any item you may covet, your heart was filled with warmth and happiness to be surrounded by the ones you love and the ones who love you. My opinions of Christmas may differ from the traditional kind but it certainly is never wrong to appreciate what one has.
12.24.2010
Happy Christmas Eve! What a successful evening… It would’ve been great to have my mom and grandmother here but we were all together in spirit. I had a great time and the food came out particularly well, which I’m happy about.
I’m lucky and blessed to have such a wonderful family and should a little one enter our lives, I know that he or she (and I) will have a tremendous amount of support. And amidst the crazy amount of concerns and reasons for hesitation I have, knowing this gives me comfort.
12.23.2010
I’m taking a pass on writing anything remotely interesting. I’ve just been cooking for the past 4 hours and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Boo!
I will say, though, that while I prepped food, I thought about all those times growing up and spending Christmas in Chicago, and how my sister and I would be taken out after dinner to go see all the different decorated houses. We were told that when we got back Santa might be there dropping off gifts so as much as I enjoyed seeing all the different homes, I couldn’t wait until it was time to head back to my grandmother’s. And, of course, every time we arrived, Santa had “just left,” and I remember the feeling of disappointment that I, yet again, wouldn’t be the only kid in my class to come back to school and report that I had, indeed, seen and met Santa. Oddly, almost 30 years later, I could still remember that feeling of anticipation…
12.22.2010
I’ve been slowly getting ready for our traditional Lithuanian Christmas Eve dinner which, a couple of weeks ago, I was debating on whether or not I even wanted to do. It’s a lot of preparation. Growing up, we’d all be assigned different tasks in order to make the dinner but, now, it’s all on my shoulders.
I decided to do it because it’s the only thing I have left connected to my childhood. Not having any family in the States anymore (other than my sister but I’m the older one…) so it’s kind of up to me to follow through on any traditions. But what’s sad is that those traditions, as they stand now, are hanging by a thread. I’m having a rough time with this. When you’re a kid, the adults figure it out for you.
My mom, sister and I would always go to Chicago for Christmas. Very rarely would we not, so by Thanksgiving, there was a trip in the next month for which to plan. I looked forward to the travel and to the prospect of having an actual white Christmas. I’d see my extended family, get to eat my grandmother’s pancakes, and stay up late. It’s been many years since this and I’ve been floundering. At least for a while my mom was still in the States and we’d go to Lithuania for Christmas or my grandmother would fly out here. Things were different but we could at least pretend that there was some sort of “normalcy” to how they were before. But then that stopped and I haven’t been able to figure out what’s going to happen. Every year this time comes around and I have no idea what to expect. Honestly, I don’t know why I really care because Christmas is a fabrication of the Church to stamp out paganism, but, whatever the reason, it still makes me sad that there isn’t a definite plan that I know of ahead of time.
Part of me tells myself that things would change if kids were in the picture. I think parents want to create a similar experience for their kids and so family traditions, rituals, etc are created or brought back. And I’m OK with creating our own new traditions and rituals but this makes me feel scared. It’s one more example of getting older, of life moving forward and a separation from my past. This space that I’m in right now, and have been for a while, puts me in limbo and the unknown is always scary. I don’t know when I’ll next have a Christmas with my mom and my grandmother, if at all, and so I’m left to reinvent this holiday for myself and my (new) family. As much potential as this might present, it’s bittersweet. But in life, I guess, that’s nothing new.
12.21.2010
Happy Winter Solstice!
It gives me great joy to give a child a gift especially when I hedge my bets that the child will love what they’re getting. I gave two little girls gifts in the last week and it brought me such warmth to see how happy my (our) gift made them. I feel like Mrs. Claus.
12.20.2010
I understand that there are people in this world who believe blindly whether it be religion, economics or in nothing. There are those who believe without questioning intellectually why they believe what they believe. Though I may disagree with such a mentality, I can accept it. To a point.
I’ve had my share of people approach me and evangelize and I’ve been scolded by friends for not attending church. I know of at least one person whose family members ostracize them for not having a religious wedding. All these actions are done in the name of Jesus Christ and God. Again, I disagree but I can accept. To a point.
I was raised Roman Catholic, attended Catholic schools most of my life and clearly remember lessons of God’s love, acceptance and patience of His children who, according to Christianity, we are all. I had a bit of a faith crisis at 17 but, in time, came to believe that a Higher Power exists although, to me, it isn’t in the way “God” was presented to me while growing up. I believe in respect, in love and in equality and I try my best to live each day in that regard. Therefore, it astounds me when I see those same people who evangelize (and who have criticized me) turn around and act mean, with prejudice or with hatred.
I wrote last week about one of my students who is blind. I have learned to work around his special needs and push myself to figure out ways to make lessons interesting and engaging. Whether I succeed or not, I don’t know, but at least I know I try.
It was agreed upon several weeks ago that this student and I would share a reading during the Christmas pageant while his classmates reenacted the Nativity scene on stage. I waited for three weeks for the reading. I pleaded with the religion teacher every week to send the reading because my student’s mother needed to make sure it got transferred into Braille, not to mention giving us both a chance to rehearse.
I received the reading the night before the pageant. Not evening, night. This was too late for the student to get the reading and I ended up reading it myself. I was appalled, disgusted and embarrassed. This student, as it is, gets left out of a lot of activities and now a co-worker, and adult who should know better, contributed to him being left out of something in which his entire class and school was partaking. I was livid.
When I confronted this woman, she had excuse upon excuse as to why the reading was sent late but what she eventually admitted to is what sent my anger through the roof. This deeply religious, God-loving woman told me that having him read during the pageant wouldn’t have worked for her because he “needed to see what was on stage.” Barely containing my anger, I replied, “We would’ve worked out a signal when needed. Remember, we were to read together.” An onslaught of more excuses followed.
How do you do this to anyone much less a child? What disgusts me is how these religious fantatics don’t see their own hypocrisy. This woman preaches about God’s love and acceptance and yet doesn’t take the time to live by example. Is it a matter of convenience? When it’s comfortable to do good things then do them, if not then, oh well?
She serves as a living reason why I don’t go to Church anymore. It’s impossible to listen to someone tell me how I should live my life when I know the person cherry picks who to be kind to and who to conveniently ignore. That’s not how my Higher Power operates.
12.19.2010
In the Travel Section of today’s LA Times, there was an interesting article about giving the gift of travel to a loved.[1] Although the article didn’t focus entirely on kids, I want to include its opening paragraph:
As parents struggle to find just the right gift for their children this holiday season, let me make a suggestion: I’d give the gift of independence. In this age of “helicopter parenting” – our unceasing hovering over our children – it’s not always easy to instill in them the joy of independence and its corollary, self-reliance. Do we really want them to put us aside and embark on some other journey, separate from our care? Yes, I’m not suggesting dropping a teenager in the middle of the Gobi Desert and wishing him good luck…but a series of escalating challenges is the quickest route to becoming your own person. Travel not only opens a window to the world; it also grants the traveler an opportunity to peer deeply inside himself…When we travel, we change under the influence of impressions, memories and experiences that force us to reexamine and reevaluate our present, our past, who we are and what we aspire to be. Travel puts life into perspective, often reminding us of what’s important.
I was sixteen years old when I spent my junior year of high school abroad. As a teen, of course, you think know absolutely everything but when I think about how young I was, I’m astonished that my mother, very much a control freak, allowed me to go. It was also the year where I began to grow up emotionally in ways that I wouldn’t have ever been able to do otherwise. I was always “older” than most because of my situation at home and the responsibilities I had but that year abroad…it made me see the world and what was possible. I agree with the journalist that when you travel alone (or with a select few friends) and become faced with decisions that only you can make, it forces you to draw from within in order to find a solution. This produces confidence and allows a “take charge” mentality to emerge. As parents, I imagine that the point is to help your child develop these kinds of characteristics and I believe that traveling is a perfect template.
12.18.2010
An incident occurred that I want to write about but I haven’t brought down my anger. I have to come up with a diplomatic way to explain the situation and my opinions and I can't do that yet. But, rest assured, I will discuss it because, I feel, it is emblematic of a larger portrayal of problems in our society when it comes to religion (and its fanatics).
12.16.2010
A friend of mine has raised three grown sons and she told me the other day that she still has to remind herself that she is, in fact, a mom.
This struck me because I was under the impression that at some point in one’s life, quite possibly when you have a kid, things just click in to place. Not that you have everything figured out but that you, you know, grow up and that somehow having a kid makes you smarter. I know that may sound silly and/or may not make much sense but one of the reasons I’m scared of having a kid is because I have trouble seeing myself as “an adult.” Would having a child make me lose my sense of play? Would I lose my sense of wonder as I was bogged down with the responsibility of raising another human being? Would I see myself differently?
Perhaps there’s some truth to all those questions and that, yes, a part of my current definition of “play” would change or my sense of wonder would change as I witnessed the world through my child’s eyes and, yes, I suppose I would see myself differently. But we are all individuals before the child comes into our world with our own set of interests, likes and dislikes and though some of that may alter over time, I think the core of who we are remains the same post-child. What I’m starting to realize is that many of us have difficulty recognizing the movement of time and that the wistful days of our youth have long gone. Life moves forward, and that’s OK.
12.15.2010
I walked out of the market this afternoon and passed by what looked like a mommy convention. There must’ve been about 15 new moms with their babies and strollers sitting outside of the store having lunch. I scanned the crowd trying to find someone I could identify with and couldn’t. What exactly I was looking for I couldn’t tell you. Someone who looked like me? Someone who looked terrified? Someone who didn’t belong there? I don’t know. Maybe all of those things.
What I do know is how both scared and sad I felt while looking at this group. I’m not someone who ever fit into one particular crowd. As a teen, I floated between the jocks, the nerds, and, on a rare occasion, the popular crowd. I didn’t want to label myself and made it a point to be friends with everyone. Despite having gone to an all girl’s high school, those cliques were definitely there and I had a rough time freshman year.
But this isn’t a “woe is me” story because, obviously, I survived and I eventually found my circle of friends. But this group of mothers today reminded me of the typical popular girls you see in movies. They were loud, showing off their babies, and clacking like a group of hens. I realized that I would never be a part of a group like that. Not that I really care to be but I feel like because we’re waiting to have a kid, I’m going to find myself outside of the circle of parents who all had kids at about the same time and, like in so many other areas of my life, lagging behind everyone else. It struck me how I might feel like an outsider even while holding a baby amongst other mothers.
12.14.2010
The apple truly doesn’t fall far from the tree.
What kind of a tree are you?
12.13.2010
It broke my heart today to read in the papers that Bernie Madoff’s son hanged himself in his home while his two-year old son was napping. Apparently his wife knew something was very wrong after receiving ominous texts from him and contacted authorities to check on him. They were, obviously, too late, he was already dead when they found him.
It’s not clear whether his son was napping when the authorities came in because, I think, I read one account that he was playing nearby and then I read another account that he was napping, but whatever the truth may be, to do that to your child is abysmal. I know the likelihood of him not remembering any details is high, but there is a strong chance that he’ll grow up thinking that maybe his father’s death had something to do with him.
I understand suicide tendencies well and I also understand that when you remove yourself from the situation and look back, you realize what a selfish act it is. Obviously Bernie Madoff’s son had made up his mind to kill himself but what he should’ve done is waited to be alone. His selfishness will bruise his son and forever keep a hole in the family.
12.12.2010
My cold-hearted stance toward children must be dissipating because some friends came over with their 7–month old who would smile at me and cause my heart to melt.
12.11.2010
Today’s entry is very personal.
I have a blind student whom I’ve had once before as a 4th grader. Having a student with a disability is a challenge and, I have to admit, there are moments where I wish the situation were different – particularly when I would like to incorporate art into the lesson. I usually can’t, though I try whenever I can and discuss with his mother ahead of time.
As a whole, this student is exceptional and I predict he will achieve great things. I remember noticing him when he was little and how he stood out from the rest, blindness aside. He’s engaged, curious, and a real pleasure with which to work. It’s obvious the other students in the class don’t quite know what to make of him despite knowing him for 10 years, and because he can’t participate in many extra-curricular activities there’s little opportunity for them to get to know him outside of the classroom.
Today’s events gave me a glimpse into what I imagine to be his parents’ daily life. (I should mention that his younger brother is also blind.) We were rehearsing for next week’s Christmas pageant and I had to make sure I was with him at all times to cue him, guide him to the stage, direct him once there whether to sit or stand, guide him back to his seat, and to basically serve as a pair of eyes for him including informing him of what was going on and for what to listen. Now, I had and have no problem doing this. It wasn’t this big huge sacrifice by any means. But, I have to admit that after an hour and half of this routine, I was exhausted. When the entire student body rehearsed the ending of the pageant by singing and mimicking the hand and body gestures the teachers were directing at them, I observed both boys’ parents help with as many gestures as they could. I almost broke down in tears.
It wasn’t out of pity for these boys. They don’t know any different. Their world since birth is what it is. I grieved for the parents, for their work, dedication and sacrifice that they make on a daily basis. I know each parent makes sacrifices but I would argue not on the level of parents with a child with a disability. Even what I consider to be a tiny glimpse into these parents’ world is a joke. I get to walk away.
These two blind boys interpret the world in a way their parents, or any of us with sight, couldn’t ever imagine. And this is where the greatest part of my grief is found: As a parent, I imagine you want to give your child the world, to experience life through their eyes, and to be able to help them awake to the world around them. These parents can’t do that. Sight separates parent and child. That’s not to say they can’t do it at all, but the way people with sight interpret the world is, obviously, different from those who are blind. It makes me sad that these parents can’t share their world with their kids. And, ostensibly, their kids can’t share their world with them.
We all have a purpose, or so I believe, and I know that these two boys are adapting and that they’ll be OK. There are many things that they can still do and they work around their challenges. Lord knows we all have challenges with which to contend. I hope, though, that we remember to often pause and appreciate ourselves, our lives, our parents, our kids. I know that any time I may feel frustrated with whatever it is when it comes to accommodating this student, that I will quickly check myself. Prepping my lessons a day or two earlier than I normally would so that they may be transcribed for him is nothing compared to what his parents have to do. And each time I see a smile on this kid’s face or hear him laugh, I will remind myself that happiness and joy don’t need eyes.
12.10.2010
HypnoBirthing.[1] Ready for this?
It started in the early 1990s and is gaining ground. Women are turning to hypnotherapy for childbirth as an alternative to medication and helping to minimize pain. Now, because I tend to be unconventional, I’m actually quite interested in this. I believe the mind is a powerful tool and we don’t use it as much as we should. I’m also someone who can become more focused than anyone I know which is why I’m convinced I have an abnormal tolerance for pain. I can see myself digging HypnoBirthing.
The catch? It’s damn expensive. But, now that I think about it, I wonder how much an epidural costs. (checking Google.) Huh, apparently, back in 2007, an epidural cost “roughly” $1,000 with insurance covering about 90%. Good ol’ insurance. You know it wouldn’t cover anything alternative like HypnoBirthing.
There was one item with which I disagreed. The HypnoBirthing founder, Marie Mongan, claims is that doctors force a woman to push. She states in her book, “Pushing can be counterproductive and actually slow down the birthing process.” This doesn’t make sense to me. Every mom I’ve talked to in more detail about childbirth says there’s an urge to push, your body physically wants to push. In fact, I saw on one of those baby shows once where a woman felt the urge to push and the doctor encouraged her not to because her cervix wasn’t ready. So I’m not quite sure what Ms. Mongan means. Other than that, I would be so down to investigate this further.
[1] http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703493504576007512674579874.html?mod=yhoofront It’s very difficult to read the article because of the black background. Hit print and read it that way.
12.09.2010
I’m probably a Scrooge but what is this fad of pregnant women taking photos of themselves and their bellies while somewhat naked? I understand that most people consider pregnancy to be beautiful and something to be celebrated, and I can certainly appreciate the art of the photos separate from the subject matter but I don’t know. I just find it a tad bit creepy. There was one photo I saw once where a ribbon was tied around a very pregnant and protruding belly. I raised an eyebrow unsure of what to make of this Dali-esque image in front of me. And hey, Dali’s one of my favorite artists.
I’m not saying a pregnant woman should hide. Hell, I’m learning that pregnant women can keep a sense of fashion. And that’s awesome. But I just don’t want to see flaunting bellies. I don’t find that cute.
I mean, if someone like me were to take a photo like that, I would have jelly rolls hanging off the side of my body AND a big, fat belly. That’s gross. So when I see mainly skinny women taking these photos (and most of them look amazing, beautiful, and still bloody skinny), it makes me relive my insecure teens all over again. Can’t we find other ways to celebrate pregnancy, like with clothes on?
12.08.2010
I went to an event last night with comedians Dick Cavett and Mel Brooks and, in addition to laughing my butt off, I discovered something about entertainment that I had either never connected or had forgotten about. There was a moment when Mel Brooks broke into character and began to tell a story in a voice for little kids about meeting Dick Cavett for the first time. It was a fictional story but a very creative one, like you’d find in a storybook.
At this point I realized what makes a great entertainer: the ability to never lose one’s inner child and the inability to lose one’s sense of inquiry, wonder and amazement. To be able to draw people in to your world without them realizing it is an incredible art; one that I’ve just recently begun to learn about, though I have a long way to go and much to learn. I can only hope that the imagination that I’ve always had and that now am learning to put down on paper doesn’t disappear and/or get lost in the daily struggles of parenthood and the constant discipline that must occur. I want to continue taking flight aboard space ships or become a pirate dressed in jewels or hide from ghosts because I’ve lost that part of me before under a tent of obligations. I’ve recently rekindled that spirit and I don’t want to ever lose it again.
While growing up, my apartment building had a lot of families with kids and though we didn’t all play together (because of age differences), we still knew each other. Today, the building’s demographic is different and rarely friendly, which makes me sad. It’s mainly a stop-over for trustafarians, frat boys fresh out of college who can somehow afford the astronomical rent, or a group of roommates willing to share a compact space to have a Westside address. But this isn’t my point.
In one of the apartments, lived a Russian family whose son, Marc Kompaneyets (his real name) was, and still is, a very good artist. About a year or so ago he published a book for children titled The Squishiness of Things. When I saw the book I was amazed by and mesmerized with the illustrations. Earlier today I found out he just published his second book titled The Troll Control Expert. It’s somewhat strange for me to know an author and illustrator. Also, he and Rob were in school together and were friends so there’s this double weirdness going on for me.
Marc’s books are for children 4-8 and I highly recommend them. I’m very jealous of his skill as an artist and I never wanted to be an artist or an illustrator. His work in these books is really exquisite. (By the way, purchasing his 2nd book might be tricky because he couldn’t find a publisher for it – which is strange considering they published the 1st one – so Amazon won’t have it and if you Google it, you mainly find reviews and twitter announcements about it.)
12.06.2010
The universe must’ve read my yesterday’s posting because today I was having dinner at a food court when I heard a child crying uncontrollably while in the midst of a complete and utter meltdown. Like, the throw-himself-down-on-the-ground-kind of meltdown.
I took one look at the mom who seemed totally overwhelmed and my heart went out to her. After taking a moment to probably gather her strength, she lifted him off the ground, still screaming (though not kicking), and headed out of the food court. As hard as I know that was for her, I wanted to thank her because I knew once she was gone, we’d have quiet but she wouldn’t.
This reminded me of hearing stories from my mom and how she dealt with my sister’s screaming for the first 5 years of her life. I have a vague recollection of my sister’s constant crying but I do have a good recollection of our neighbor with a deep voice being the only one capable of calming her down. He spent many a night at our house while my mom was studying for her Master’s exams. My mom often retells the moments of how well she understood being pushed to the fringes of insanity by a crying child and would often walk away from her, go to the bathroom, cling to the sink and count for as long as it took her to calm down. She says that if she hadn’t done that she would’ve been arrested for child abuse.
I sometimes wonder how I’d be able to handle a child like that. Rob and I are pretty low key; I tend to have a lot of patience and it takes a lot to push me. But if I had a child that constantly cried and deprived me of sleep and sanity, then, well, I’m not quite sure what the outcome would be. I understand everything in phases…but…I don’t know…I’d be taking a lot of midnight walks and probably, like my mom, know how to count really, really, really well.
12.05.2010
I know that it’s easy for me to say what I’m about to say because I don’t have a kid, that I can pick up and go, and I don’t have to worry about all the little things that come with having a kid. So, having said that, I’m still going to continue writing because I don’t think what I am about to complain about has so much to do with having a kid as it is being the kind of human being one was to begin with (i.e., before the kid).
I really dislike it when parents do or allow for the following:
- letting a child scream his/her head off in the store while continuing to shop as if nothing's wrong.
- allowing the child to eat unpaid for product while shopping. (I used to work at Wild Oats Markets and saw this on a daily basis. It is a health hazard and the store can – and will – get cited and marked down for allowing customers to do this.) It also makes it too easy for the parent to conveniently forget to pay for the product once at the check-out. My “favorite” was this woman who'd come into Wild Oats with her hella spoiled son, allow him to eat the top part of a muffin and then leave the bottom part somewhere hidden in the store for us to find, like it’s a treasure hunt in which we couldn’t wait to partake. If the kid’s hungry, feed him/her before going into the store or use the moment as a teaching tool that it's important to eat something once it's paid for because, before then, it's not yours. It still belongs to the store.
- the next happens especially when a store is swarming with customers: A parent with a kid of about 5 or 6 rides in the shopping cart (for which he/she is too big) and the parent stops in the middle of the path, goes off somewhere while the kid is left behind to kick the air out of boredom or do whatever while totally clueless that there are other customers trying to get by.
Once again, as the parent, you set an example to your kid(s) in how to behave and what’s acceptable or not. We all have to share this world and people appreciate those who share and who are considerate.
12.04.2010
Today I have to brag. For all the lip service I give about teenagers, I was very proud of my kids today. I gave them an assignment a month ago to prepare a debate about whether or not they believe our society values art. They had to prepare both sides because they’d only found out on the day of (today) which side they were arguing. They did such a great job and two actually got into it trying to one-up each other with their supportive arguments.
What makes me so proud is that, well, first you have to understand that to get any kids to speak Lithuanian is nearly impossible because English is the default language and it’s the “cool” language. No one wants to speak Lithuanian. I remember how it was; I was the same way. So these little victories that I have in the classroom where the kids not only speak Lithuanian but argue in Lithuanian means the world to me. They probably won’t remember the day or the moment, but I will. And for what it’s worth, for that split moment in time, they were speaking a different language and having fun. That, as a teacher, is incredibly gratifying.
12.03.2010
Today I celebrate with my “twin sister” that she and her husband are expecting a girl. I knew it!
12.02.2010
You know how it is when you make a decision about something, let’s say buying a red Toyota, you start seeing red Toyotas all over the place? For some weird reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about pregnancy and in he past 2 days, pregnant women are popping up all over the place. I know that sounds funny because, uh, where in the world are there not pregnant women…but, it just seems that more of them are crossing my path. Maybe it’s some sort of a conspiracy…
…and I say that only half-jokingly. I believe that the universe sends us “testers” to challenge us to deal with certain issues that we have and the only way to pass the test is to overcome the issue. If anyone’s followed this blog to any capacity, I’m sure it’s easy to pick up the issues I have with pregnancy and, for whatever reason, I’m being forced to confront them now.
There are many hurdles for me to overcome when it comes to pregnancy and not just the issues of weight gain and the inevitable birth. I’ve had to start working on imagining getting pregnant as joyous news and as an exciting journey. This isn’t easy.
Even if I don’t ever get pregnant because of choice or it just doesn’t happen, there are challenges that I need to overcome, certain displaced perceptions about pregnancy that I have and that I need to clear. I’m no stranger to the notion that we govern our lives out of fear and not joy and there are certain fears that I need to work on clearing from my life regardless of whether or not it ends with pregnancy. These fears that I hold on to out of comfort hold me back and I need to let them go and bury them as a part of my past not keep them around as a reality of my present. Once I find a way to do that, the less of a “burden,” I think, will the idea of having a family be.
12.01.2010
There are more ways than one that our society teaches kids at a young age what’s considered to be “good” and what’s “bad.” Pick the topic: white is better than black, thin is better than not, rich is better than poor, taller is better than shorter etc.
Imagine yourself coming from the future to today’s world and think about what values you’d see our culture have. Our TV is filled with beautiful, rich people in the latest fashions, talking trash and/or looking for ways to exploit something or anyone for their own gain. What I wish is that we’d hear more stories like the one found in the Sports section of the LA Times from last week titled Finding Purpose.[1]
The story revolves around a high school student who came from a broken home, bounced back and forth from one home to another and eventually tried to kill himself but didn’t succeed. With the right help, he is one of the lucky ones to find himself today flourishing in high school, playing football.
We all have our troubles and we all have stories of obstacles that we overcame, and, obviously, that doesn’t ever stop but I wish we heard more of these stories in the media instead of how many babies Octomom has or what purse Paris Hilton has now. With all the bad news constantly bombarding us, it’s nice to know that there are real people trying to figure it out. It’s especially important, I think, for all teens, not just the troubled ones, to hear stories of those who worked through adversarial forces. Not giving up builds character, not how many parties one can go to in one night.
