I know most parents are proud of their kids; it's their job.
As a former teacher I can say without hesitation, that for the most part, parents these days are proud for all the wrong reasons or even worse, for no reason at all.
It is true, there has been a cultural shift in the people we are producing and the people who are raising them. I'm not sure why this is happening. I tend to lean towards the notion that our culture has become devastatingly narcissistic over the last 20+ years.
Why? I don't know.
People tend to value themselves a little more than is deserved; a little more than is earned. Add to the mix the instant feedback of social networking sites and sites which allow you to market anything (think YouTube) and suddenly, people feel they are deserving of a special place in history.
We have created not only a trophy generation where everyone thinks themselves entitled to a trophy just for showing up and trying (to what degree is completely subjective to the whim of the "participant") but we have created an entire generation of parents who support that mode of thinking because their identity is so wrapped up in their kids, they are devoid of autonomy.
The sad thing about all of this twisted thinking is, when you get down to the truth of it all, there are hoards of people out there missing out on living - truly living and truly being happy.
They are more concerned with everyone feeling good about themselves and feeling included (again narcissism in it's purest form) that they fail to forge new paths and discover what brings genuine joy.
The irony in all this is that only by discovering what brings you genuine happiness can you truly make others around you happy. Another benefit is others around you can learn to become happy by observing your behavior.
As the only child of two incredibly successful and civic minded parents I have struggled with my sense of value and place in this world. I have struggled with feelings of inadequacy as I have plugged along. I have struggled with what legacy, if any, I will leave behind.
Just recently, I've let that go.
I've accepted the idea that happiness isn't achieved by the accolades of others. Yes, it's nice to get props and genuine appreciation for what you do, but it shouldn't be the goal. I'm happy with my own personal victories. I'm happy when I do something well. I'm happy when I know I've made a positive change in the world and don't care who knows about it.
As a parent, it's this lesson I'm trying to teach my kids. I think they "get it."
It's the end of the school year and my daughter came home with an award from school the other day - Most Creative. I can't tell you how happy that makes me; more than Best Reader or Most Likely to Achieve, my baby is Most Creative! I know she will be able to roll with the punches with a mind like that. I think that might help set her up for a happy life.
Tonight, my oldest came in to show me he was published in his school Literary Magazine. He wrote a short piece the night he was at my Father in laws visitation.
Something there inspired these words:
Who are you?
Well, I've never heard that one before.
The BIGGER question is who do you want to be?
A leader or a follower?
A nobody or a somebody?
Well, here is how it works.
I will wait around until you figure out who you want to be.
When the time is right I'll be here so you can use me to your full advantage.
Now I'm sure you're wondering who I am telling you what to do and who to become?
To answer your question, I'm you.
I'm your thoughts actually.
I've been working with you since day one, helping you grow and learn.
There will be days when I will be pushed to my limits, then you'll know who you really are and what you're capable of.
Until then, stop looking at yourself in the mirror; you've got a test to study for.
It's not that they got an award or were published in the school magazine, who really cares about those subjective/relative moments?
My pride comes from the fact that her creative spirit is too strong to ignore and he seems to understands autonomy, the concept of work and the importance of being a person of substance.
That is what makes me proud.
I hope I'm raising kids who are able to counter-balance the deep shallowness I see in others their ages.
I know most parents see their kids with blinders on; I hope I am never that parent.
I am proud of the people my kids are.
They have incredibly great heads on their shoulders.
I don't care if they secure a spot in history.
I don't.
I know they are on a path to find their happiness and in doing so will make the world a better place, even if no one but themselves knows it.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Not by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin
There is a certain beauty in growing old, specifically the glide toward accepting that everything falls apart at some point.
Humor is the only way to secure sanity when noticing the depletion and decline of our personal vessel.
I no longer find myself defined by my concave stomach (which vanished some 17 years ago never to be heard from again), or my muscular toned legs (which checked out when I got lazy and stopped dancing), or my clavicle (which only appears nowadays via some well placed bronzer).
And truth be told, I'm okay with it. Oh sure, I want to lose those extra 30 lbs, eat clean, and learn to jog, but there much be some part of me that's okay with the whole getting older thing and the accompanying permission to let it all go.
There's a part of me that can't wait to be the somewhat chunky grandma in the room with fire in her eyes and not a care in the world.
The stage I'm at in the aging process, however, seems to foreshadow the irony of things to come.
Some background info: I'm the woman who leaves the house every morning without a stitch of makeup on and rarely even looking at myself in a mirror.
This means I have the tendency to waltz into places with eye boogers and overnight white heads for all to see, but feeling overly confident with my appearance.
Realizing this about myself, I thought I maybe needed to look in the mirror a little more; this is what I found:
Aside from the eye boogers and the zits, some nicely placed in the crease of a wrinkle, I noticed that my hair is growing in much thinner, finer and white. I don't have any problem with this part of getting older. I think white hair is badass. My grandpa had gorgeous silver hair which I'm hoping I inherit. I find white/silver hair regal. It's also a good thing if I don't need to highlight my hair anymore; the thinning and wispy thing though - eh.
But, and I say this with a long pause...
But the hair on my chin is another story all together. The hair on my chin is growing in thicker, coarser and blacker, which is no where near regal.
Not even remotely.
Nope.
The irony is not lost on me; not just the physical irony, the emotional irony as well.
Remember how I want to be the somewhat chunky grandma with fire in her eyes and not a care in the world?
Well, I could embrace the freaky black chin hairs and run with it, but then I might scare the grandchildren but that's just uncool. And what kid wants a grandma they describe as "Round, with white hair and a goatee?"
Kind of kicks the embracing-aging-with-reckless-abandon thing on it's ass, if you ask me.
So, I will try to remember to check myself in the mirror on a regular basis - with my reading glasses on of course because I can't see a friggin' thing without them - and I will temper my embracing the freedom of aging with some regard for not freaking out the rest of the population with whom I come into contact.
And I will monitor the eye boogers, whiteheads and chin hairs for the grandchildren.
Dammit, I'm doin' it for the grandchildren!
Humor is the only way to secure sanity when noticing the depletion and decline of our personal vessel.
I no longer find myself defined by my concave stomach (which vanished some 17 years ago never to be heard from again), or my muscular toned legs (which checked out when I got lazy and stopped dancing), or my clavicle (which only appears nowadays via some well placed bronzer).
And truth be told, I'm okay with it. Oh sure, I want to lose those extra 30 lbs, eat clean, and learn to jog, but there much be some part of me that's okay with the whole getting older thing and the accompanying permission to let it all go.
There's a part of me that can't wait to be the somewhat chunky grandma in the room with fire in her eyes and not a care in the world.
The stage I'm at in the aging process, however, seems to foreshadow the irony of things to come.
Some background info: I'm the woman who leaves the house every morning without a stitch of makeup on and rarely even looking at myself in a mirror.
This means I have the tendency to waltz into places with eye boogers and overnight white heads for all to see, but feeling overly confident with my appearance.
Realizing this about myself, I thought I maybe needed to look in the mirror a little more; this is what I found:
Aside from the eye boogers and the zits, some nicely placed in the crease of a wrinkle, I noticed that my hair is growing in much thinner, finer and white. I don't have any problem with this part of getting older. I think white hair is badass. My grandpa had gorgeous silver hair which I'm hoping I inherit. I find white/silver hair regal. It's also a good thing if I don't need to highlight my hair anymore; the thinning and wispy thing though - eh.
But, and I say this with a long pause...
But the hair on my chin is another story all together. The hair on my chin is growing in thicker, coarser and blacker, which is no where near regal.
Not even remotely.
Nope.
The irony is not lost on me; not just the physical irony, the emotional irony as well.
Remember how I want to be the somewhat chunky grandma with fire in her eyes and not a care in the world?
Well, I could embrace the freaky black chin hairs and run with it, but then I might scare the grandchildren but that's just uncool. And what kid wants a grandma they describe as "Round, with white hair and a goatee?"
Kind of kicks the embracing-aging-with-reckless-abandon thing on it's ass, if you ask me.
So, I will try to remember to check myself in the mirror on a regular basis - with my reading glasses on of course because I can't see a friggin' thing without them - and I will temper my embracing the freedom of aging with some regard for not freaking out the rest of the population with whom I come into contact.
And I will monitor the eye boogers, whiteheads and chin hairs for the grandchildren.
Dammit, I'm doin' it for the grandchildren!
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Lotus Buddha and little tearful Sweet
A little while ago the very sweet neighbor girl came over to our house to play with Sass.
I was in the other end of the house when out of nowhere I hear "Sweet" ask my daughter, "Do you love Jesus? Have you taken him into your heart?"
I immediately bolted into the other room.
We are a family comprised of an Atheist, an Agnostic and three undecideds - two strongly leaning the direction of the two aforementioned viewpoints.
"What?," I asked.
Sweet repeated her questions.
"Well Sass, what did you say?"
"I said yes.," she replied.
"Do you know anything about him?," I asked.
She shook her head.
"Don't you think you shouldn't say you love someone until you know who they are first?"
She nodded.
I then looked over at Sweet who looked as though she was on the verge of tears; completely perplexed and frightened by the dialogue happening before her.
"Sweetie, you're not in trouble," I told her, "It's just that we're going to let out children decide for themselves when they get a little older what they believe in as far as God goes."
She broke out in tears.
I asked her why she was crying and told her there was no need for it.
Her response confused me.
It still does.
"It's just that I love my Daddy so much.," she struggled to say through her tears.
"What's that have to do with asking Sass if she loves Jesus?"
"It's just that I love my Daddy so much and he loves Jesus."
"Yes, I know he does, but we don't discuss God and religion here, okay?"
She nodded her head.
And then the conversation shifted to Monster High dolls, and Build-A-Bears.
Indoctrination is not something I understand.
I know there are parents out there who believe it vital to raise a child who believes in God.
I do not.
I don't believe spirituality is something you train a child to understand.
Spirituality, or lack thereof, is a personal journey.
As with most other behaviors I observe the masses engaging, lack of support for free-thought, personal exploration and decision making regarding an individuals spiritual belief system is one of the most frustrating to me.
I truly believe that most of the people who are passionately religious as a result of their upbringing have never honestly questioned and examined why they have the viewpoint they do.
And I am deeply saddened by the overtly sexist mentality that seems to accompany the indoctrination process.
That is why the little girls response about loving her daddy troubled me so much.
Is she being taught to fear him?
Is she being taught that he is the ultimate authority and anyone who deviates from his sentiment is wrong?
Why else would she cry at the conversation and respond as she did?
I have had some concerns about this family. They don't let their children play outside much, seemingly forcing them to steer clear of the other children - ignoring their obvious desire to engage. Their house is on a constant state of disarray & hazardous clutter. They don't allow the children to go to school, opting to home school instead. And it's not the homeschooling I have an issue with, per se, it's the fact that the children are scathingly behind in what they should know. Their cognitive skills are incredibly remedial for what they should be at their age. Their 7 year old son writes "I love Jesus" all over in sidewalk chalk, but said, and I quote, "I'm going to be 9 in three more numbers."
When you compare their comprehension and communication skills with that of Sass and the other kids in the neighborhood, it's really quite disheartening.
But, I digress.
Back to not discussing religion in this house... Should mention all this happened on the very day we planted a brand new Buddha fountain on the front porch - in the direct sight line of their front yard?
No?
Okay.
We're not discussing it.
I was in the other end of the house when out of nowhere I hear "Sweet" ask my daughter, "Do you love Jesus? Have you taken him into your heart?"
I immediately bolted into the other room.
We are a family comprised of an Atheist, an Agnostic and three undecideds - two strongly leaning the direction of the two aforementioned viewpoints.
"What?," I asked.
Sweet repeated her questions.
"Well Sass, what did you say?"
"I said yes.," she replied.
"Do you know anything about him?," I asked.
She shook her head.
"Don't you think you shouldn't say you love someone until you know who they are first?"
She nodded.
I then looked over at Sweet who looked as though she was on the verge of tears; completely perplexed and frightened by the dialogue happening before her.
"Sweetie, you're not in trouble," I told her, "It's just that we're going to let out children decide for themselves when they get a little older what they believe in as far as God goes."
She broke out in tears.
I asked her why she was crying and told her there was no need for it.
Her response confused me.
It still does.
"It's just that I love my Daddy so much.," she struggled to say through her tears.
"What's that have to do with asking Sass if she loves Jesus?"
"It's just that I love my Daddy so much and he loves Jesus."
"Yes, I know he does, but we don't discuss God and religion here, okay?"
She nodded her head.
And then the conversation shifted to Monster High dolls, and Build-A-Bears.
Indoctrination is not something I understand.
I know there are parents out there who believe it vital to raise a child who believes in God.
I do not.
I don't believe spirituality is something you train a child to understand.
Spirituality, or lack thereof, is a personal journey.
As with most other behaviors I observe the masses engaging, lack of support for free-thought, personal exploration and decision making regarding an individuals spiritual belief system is one of the most frustrating to me.
I truly believe that most of the people who are passionately religious as a result of their upbringing have never honestly questioned and examined why they have the viewpoint they do.
And I am deeply saddened by the overtly sexist mentality that seems to accompany the indoctrination process.
That is why the little girls response about loving her daddy troubled me so much.
Is she being taught to fear him?
Is she being taught that he is the ultimate authority and anyone who deviates from his sentiment is wrong?
Why else would she cry at the conversation and respond as she did?
I have had some concerns about this family. They don't let their children play outside much, seemingly forcing them to steer clear of the other children - ignoring their obvious desire to engage. Their house is on a constant state of disarray & hazardous clutter. They don't allow the children to go to school, opting to home school instead. And it's not the homeschooling I have an issue with, per se, it's the fact that the children are scathingly behind in what they should know. Their cognitive skills are incredibly remedial for what they should be at their age. Their 7 year old son writes "I love Jesus" all over in sidewalk chalk, but said, and I quote, "I'm going to be 9 in three more numbers."
When you compare their comprehension and communication skills with that of Sass and the other kids in the neighborhood, it's really quite disheartening.
But, I digress.
Back to not discussing religion in this house... Should mention all this happened on the very day we planted a brand new Buddha fountain on the front porch - in the direct sight line of their front yard?
No?
Okay.
We're not discussing it.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
I think we might be doing something right...
Even the birds cast shadows
(but not the magical bunny).
Her poetry.
I'm pretty impressed by her
thought process for this project.
Note: the reference to Tigers on a Plane is because she saw tigers on her spring break and "most people go someplace on a plane for Spring Break."
Makes sense.
(click on pic to enlarge)
(click on pic to enlarge)
Cat.
Robot.
Robot details.
I like them.
I like them.
Scientist.
sigh... :)
You go Baby!!
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Happy Ester
Today was Easter, or as we call it in our house "Ester," after an elementary school aged Son #1 misspelled the word on an egg some 9 years ago.
It was a splendid Spring day here - light breeze, sunny, warm, bright clear skies, birds singing; a damn fine day.
Sassy woke up bright and early amped to see what the Ester Bunny brought her. After scouring the contents of her basket, she waited patiently for an hour & a half (!) for her brothers to get up for the egg hunt.
She busted out the door and charged full steam ahead to collect as many of the eggs the bunny, named Harvey, had stashed for she and her brothers.
As soon as I walked outside I noticed that some of the eggs were open and empty.
The trail of compromised and violated eggs lead from our front door, along the front wall of the house, over the rock wall, under the trampoline, and down into the woods behind our house; a total of 8 eggs!
I busted out laughing!
In the 12 years we have lived in this house, never before have the raccoon's raided the Ester stash, ever!
We had an agreement, dammit!
This year however, it seems Hershey's kisses, Kit Kat's, and Peppermint Patties were just too much to resist and the agreement went by the wayside.
All day long I imagined that somewhere down in the woods, a raccoon spending the day suffering with an aching belly.
I pictured him/her rolling around on their back, holding their little belly, and trying to breathe through the cramping, gas and bloating.
I laughed, and shook my head at the orneriness of it all.
I think it's funny they seized the moment and went for the sugary goodness.
In line with my slightly twisted thinking, I have named "her" Ester the Easter Raccoon.
I lay money on the fact that today she was not happy.
It was a splendid Spring day here - light breeze, sunny, warm, bright clear skies, birds singing; a damn fine day.
Sassy woke up bright and early amped to see what the Ester Bunny brought her. After scouring the contents of her basket, she waited patiently for an hour & a half (!) for her brothers to get up for the egg hunt.
She busted out the door and charged full steam ahead to collect as many of the eggs the bunny, named Harvey, had stashed for she and her brothers.
As soon as I walked outside I noticed that some of the eggs were open and empty.
The trail of compromised and violated eggs lead from our front door, along the front wall of the house, over the rock wall, under the trampoline, and down into the woods behind our house; a total of 8 eggs!
I busted out laughing!
In the 12 years we have lived in this house, never before have the raccoon's raided the Ester stash, ever!
We had an agreement, dammit!
This year however, it seems Hershey's kisses, Kit Kat's, and Peppermint Patties were just too much to resist and the agreement went by the wayside.
All day long I imagined that somewhere down in the woods, a raccoon spending the day suffering with an aching belly.
I pictured him/her rolling around on their back, holding their little belly, and trying to breathe through the cramping, gas and bloating.
I laughed, and shook my head at the orneriness of it all.
I think it's funny they seized the moment and went for the sugary goodness.
In line with my slightly twisted thinking, I have named "her" Ester the Easter Raccoon.
I lay money on the fact that today she was not happy.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Not sure what she was thinking but...
This morning Sass was thrilled to share a picture she had drawn for me yesterday in her spare time at school.
It came neatly folded like this...
.jpg)
And when I opened it, I saw this...
"What is this?," I asked.
"It's a finger!," she replied.
"What finger?"
"This one; it's my first time drawing a finger!"
Whew.
It came neatly folded like this...
.jpg)
And when I opened it, I saw this...
"What is this?," I asked.
"It's a finger!," she replied.
"What finger?"
"This one; it's my first time drawing a finger!"
Whew.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Two steps back isn't always a bad thing
Time to revert and launch... stay tuned for something brilliant.
lol
lol
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