ok...seriously?????
We haven't had a drop of rain in a few weeks, and now - apparently the entire metro-Atlanta has lost all common sense. You would have thought this morning that the President was in town! What normally takes 45 minutes took an amazing 2 1/2 hours! I LIVE 20 miles away!!! MY Lord!
Anyhow, crushed or cubed question of the day....
Will I be a helicopter mom to my two daughters? Will I conform to society's vision of how a child should be raised? Will I therein allow my daughters to conform?
In my seemingly never-ending quest to get to work this morning, I heard an interesting statement/story about a woman who is dressing her son (a third grade student) very "preppy" and therefore he is being teased at school. According to the father (who might I add sought out the advice of the millions of listeners to this radio station instead of, oh I don't know, confronting the issue head on (which by the way should his wife find out, may or may not earn him the divorce of the year award), yeah he totally took the high road) the son has no other issues at school. He has friends, he's academically sound, and seems to be doing fine in all other areas.
Now when the father finally did grow a pair and confront the wife (aka Fashionista-extraordinaire), she turned it all around on the school and blames the school for not taking care of the bullying aspect of the situation. Did she take any responsibility? NO! Take a moment and think about this....we'll come back.
When did we become a society that coddles our children? I heard about a football team that forfeited a game b/c the opposing team was so much bigger and they didn't want to get hurt. UM...hello - it's football, not underwater basket weaving!
My daughter called me today asking if she could go home because she had a stomach ache... to which I replied, do you have a fever? No mom, no fever. Then hang in there, your day's almost done! Am I a bad mom for that? She needs to get a grip around the idea that we are all going to have bad days and times where we don't feel wonderful, but we have to push through and make it work!
So yes, I have two daughters. They are precious. One is in elementary school, and the other is in middle school. My younger daughter is hilarious, adorable and full of such fun energy, it can sometimes be exhausting. She creates songs, drawings, cheers, plays, monologues, you name it. She can dance with the best of them - her booty dance makes me giggle. She is just full of so much life, it's intoxicating. Her sister is the same, only hormonal. My oldest daughter has now passed the age of being energetic and exploded onto the in-depth conversations and drama scene. Everything is a soap-opera (which makes for good entertainment)! Her monologues are more inner-monologues and involve a ton of texting. Like OMG my BFFL and BF POWMS & I was GFL! (for us old-geezers, that's text for Oh My God, my best friend for life and boy friend played outside with my sister and I was grounded for life!)... which is a total true story by the way! She is though adorable and beautiful in ways I could never have dreamt of while I was pregnant with her... She makes me smile each and every day!
I had both my daughters at a young age and now that I am getting remarried, I am wondering if I want another child (I'm leaning towards yes)...and this is where the parenting question comes in.
I remember as a child waking in the morning from my sleep-induced coma to get dressed and head downstairs for breakfast. The moment (and I mean moment) I would step one foot on the kitchen floor, I would be sent straight back upstairs to find something more appropriate to wear to school. Mind you I wasn't dressing like a hooker or anything, but I did try to put my own style to things. My mother was VERY conservative and personal style was a no-no. This is something I struggle with to this day. Picking out what to wear each day is a huge issue for me. Most of the time, I stick to blacks or grays. Rarely do I have a huge punch of color, but it would be nice to have my own theme.
If it were me, and my daughter was being teased, I know exactly what I would do.
In this aspect, I am cubed. Easily, I conform to what everyone else wants me to wear. It happens all the time. It is unnerving! Do I want this for my daughters? Do I want them to worry worry worry about what they are wearing? YES! Of course I do! I want them to worry like crazy! Keep in mind that I don't want them to become obsessed in a sense, but I want them to WANT to look appropriate. Now with that said, am I going to dictate to my teenager what she is going to wear each and every day? No. With my younger daughter, most certainly.
If I were in the position of the "Fashionista-extraordinaire", I would be reevaluating my idea of what is appropriate for a 3rd grader to wear to school. Are layered sweaters and corduroys necessary? NO! Geez lady, do you want your kid to get annihilated?
UGH! I hate the idea that I am cubed!
I shouldn't worry about spinning this around so I can be crushed, but at the same time, the idea that I am like a postage stamp (completely identical to others) bugs the crap out of me! So here's my justification, I want my daughters to look appropriate and dress well so that they don't worry about the social implications. However, there is no need to stifle them into my idea of the theme they should be. Whether that is preppy, or punk, or whatever. YAY! Crushed again! To my daughters, EXPRESS YOURSELF!
Let the cycle be undone!
Talk soon!
C or C
Monday, October 25, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Crushed or Cubed - ch1
Alright, so here we go.
I awoke this morning from a crazy dream. I dreamt that I was hovering over my life lamenting on my failures, my disappointments, my let-downs when, I realized that I, in my hovering was so self deprecating and judgmental. Who am I to put myself down so terribly? I am my own advocate! So my grounded self decided to put an end to it. I looked up at my "spirit" and said "BACK THE HELL OFF"!
Enter my annoying alarm clock and the impending traffic that would consume most of my morning.
After downing a very lovely coffee and peanut butter toast, I felt it again. That self-loathing hovering feeling. That feeling that tells me that I am worthless, ugly, painfully boring, and sometimes embarrassing. Why do I do this?
Can't I take one day and just let it all go? Be happy with myself, and ok with my decisions.
This is why I have decided to write. Maybe it will all come out in this progression.
So you're probably wondering about this whole crushed or cubed thing. I'll try my best to explain in two scenarios.
1. I just moved in with my fiance to our adorable house. We have this terrific side-by-side fridge with the ice-maker in the door. When we hooked up the ice-maker, the crushed ice in that glass of water was so refreshing and wonderful, I couldn't stand it! I love crushed ice. Though my mother insisted that I, as a child, not crunch the ice with my teeth (she was a dental assistant at the time). When we go to restaurants that have the "ballpark" ice, I almost lose it! There's just something about how it melts, how you always seem to get that one renegade sliver of ice in your coca-cola that just swooshes around until your teeth come crashing down upon it. It makes things taste better. I can even remember going to church functions with my family and down in that fellowship hall (that's what the baptists call it), they had an ice-maker that I think my grandfather (who was the preacher at the time) raised the money to purchase. The kids in my sunday-school class would sneak in the back room while the little old ladies were preparing our "BYOD" (bring your own dish) dinner. We would plunge our dirty hands into that ice-maker and steal out a fist full of delicious ball park ice. That's one of my most intense memories of the church, surprisingly enough.
2. Another more metaphorical scenario is more about self-discovery than possible dental woes. Am I a crushed ice or a cubed ice kind of person. What about me is molded into a perfect little cube-like shape, and what about me is a unique sliver of refreshment?
I'm getting married in a year. Ken's great - he makes me laugh often, protects me and my daughters, and loves me dearly. I needed that in my life so terribly badly. I am so completely blessed to have him. And so are my daughters - they're in later blogs - so much to say!
So here's our journey (should you choose to follow). We're deciding on which to be, crushed or cubed. And in this journey, hopefully I'll be able to regain some of my self confidence and be a better mother, wife, friend, daughter, and sister. Let's see!
Talk soon!
C or C!
I awoke this morning from a crazy dream. I dreamt that I was hovering over my life lamenting on my failures, my disappointments, my let-downs when, I realized that I, in my hovering was so self deprecating and judgmental. Who am I to put myself down so terribly? I am my own advocate! So my grounded self decided to put an end to it. I looked up at my "spirit" and said "BACK THE HELL OFF"!
Enter my annoying alarm clock and the impending traffic that would consume most of my morning.
After downing a very lovely coffee and peanut butter toast, I felt it again. That self-loathing hovering feeling. That feeling that tells me that I am worthless, ugly, painfully boring, and sometimes embarrassing. Why do I do this?
Can't I take one day and just let it all go? Be happy with myself, and ok with my decisions.
This is why I have decided to write. Maybe it will all come out in this progression.
So you're probably wondering about this whole crushed or cubed thing. I'll try my best to explain in two scenarios.
1. I just moved in with my fiance to our adorable house. We have this terrific side-by-side fridge with the ice-maker in the door. When we hooked up the ice-maker, the crushed ice in that glass of water was so refreshing and wonderful, I couldn't stand it! I love crushed ice. Though my mother insisted that I, as a child, not crunch the ice with my teeth (she was a dental assistant at the time). When we go to restaurants that have the "ballpark" ice, I almost lose it! There's just something about how it melts, how you always seem to get that one renegade sliver of ice in your coca-cola that just swooshes around until your teeth come crashing down upon it. It makes things taste better. I can even remember going to church functions with my family and down in that fellowship hall (that's what the baptists call it), they had an ice-maker that I think my grandfather (who was the preacher at the time) raised the money to purchase. The kids in my sunday-school class would sneak in the back room while the little old ladies were preparing our "BYOD" (bring your own dish) dinner. We would plunge our dirty hands into that ice-maker and steal out a fist full of delicious ball park ice. That's one of my most intense memories of the church, surprisingly enough.
2. Another more metaphorical scenario is more about self-discovery than possible dental woes. Am I a crushed ice or a cubed ice kind of person. What about me is molded into a perfect little cube-like shape, and what about me is a unique sliver of refreshment?
I'm getting married in a year. Ken's great - he makes me laugh often, protects me and my daughters, and loves me dearly. I needed that in my life so terribly badly. I am so completely blessed to have him. And so are my daughters - they're in later blogs - so much to say!
So here's our journey (should you choose to follow). We're deciding on which to be, crushed or cubed. And in this journey, hopefully I'll be able to regain some of my self confidence and be a better mother, wife, friend, daughter, and sister. Let's see!
Talk soon!
C or C!
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