My father, a fellow blogger, just wrote an excellent blog about pet peeves of his. I could write pages - volumes - about things which irritate me. The apple does not fall far from the tree. I responded to his blog with a quote from A Christmas Carol, one of my favorite books of all time: "How can I be merry when I live in a world of fools such as this?" My father retorted with another line from the classic book.
I am not sure why this book fascinates me so much. It is definitely one of my favorites, if not the best book I ever read. I read it every year at Christmas time. And I watch the 1951 version of the movie every year. I think the idea of the 3 ghosts is so clever. And I just love to read the words as they appear. They are poetic and intelligent. One must have a solid knowledge of the English language to understand the text. I know I sound like a snob, but I am not. I have read other books by Charles Dickens, even if it was under duress for school. There's something about HAVING to read a book that makes it less enjoyable. I enjoy his work, but not nearly as much as I enjoy A Christmas Carol.
I love the words he uses. I love his descriptions, and I love the fact that Scrooge is a grumpy old sot who doesn't give a hoot or holler about what anyone thinks....until he gets those visits from the Three Ghosts. I enjoy the glimpse into the life of Victorian England. (I wouldn't have lasted 10 minutes.) It seems the poor of that time, e.g. Bob Cratchit, didn't have ovens so they had to bring their roasts to the butcher or another marketplace to be cooked. We know they had a fire upon which to cook, as Mrs. Cratchit was described as being nervous about her plum pudding (she was unsure about the quantity of flour) as it steamed in the kettle. By the way I've had plum pudding and it's awful. Desserts in Victorian England were crap. (Not a quote from Dickens, by the way).
I am also intrigued with the scenes where the "laundress" and the undertaker fight over Scrooge's belongings, the ones the laundress and the housekeeper have stolen from Scrooge in death. The took the "fine shirt" off his cold, dead body ("As if calico ain't good enough for buryin") and sold it. They took down the bedcurtains "rings and all, with him lyin' there" and sold those as well. I was scared to death (no pun intended) of this part as a child, but yet found it morbidly fascinating.
I know Christmas is a ways off. But if you're looking for something to read, try A Christmas Carol. Read all the lines over and over until you get the true meaning. Realize the beauty of language and how it can convey so much. And then go have a dessert other than plum pudding.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Watch Out CCD!
Another summer is behind us. Well, it's not really, since we'll likely get a 98-degree heat wave in Sept and Oct, and fall doesn't actually start until Sept. 21. ( think). However, the whole ritual of Labor Day signals that summer is about to come to a close and autumn will soon follow. Fall is my favorite season. I love the cool, crisp air; the ability to be outside without melting in the heat; and the days coming to a close a little earlier. I like the school schedule now. I hated it as a student and as a teacher, but as a stay-at-home Mom it rocks! Most people dread winter, but as I've said before I don't mind it at all. I definitely could do without the snow and ice, but the cold and dark don't bother me one bit.
This year, along with starting first grade, Ava will embark on a new chapter - her religious education. She is scheduled to begin CCD classes at the end of September. In preparation, I have been teaching her to pray each night, and I took her to church yesterday. I've been wanting to go more often myself, so this is a good excuse to put Mass back into our weekly schedule. I have tried as best as I can to explain God to her; I haven't even attempted any of the more complex ideas, such as the Trinity, the Resurrection, or Communion.
I don't recall how I learned any of these things. They were taught to us in Catholic school, but I remember not really understanding any of it. We were just told to believe it, and that was that. Because of all Ava's been through surgically, I have tried to break down complex ideas into terms she can understand. But I am not sure how to break down religion; I am going to wait and see what the CCD teacher does. I am apparently the Assistant Teacher, since I have to stay in the room because of Ava's trach. So I might as well make myself useful.
Of course, our church visit was a typical Laura Beeler event. Ava has been to church before, but she is getting more curious. Of course, I was running late, and here in CT the 10:30 mass starts at 10:30 and not a minute after. I waited in the back of the church until everyone sat down for the readings, and then Ava and I, along with another tardy mother and kids, scrambled to an empty pew. It's a full house at our church, which is nice. There are only 2 Sun. am masses, so it gets full. We no sooner sit down when Ava gives me the potty sign. I knew it was coming..she has her tube feed an hour earlier so I knew she had to go. She wiggled around until everyone stood for the Alleluia, and then we hurried out the back door into the hallway to use the bathroom. I timed our re-entry perfectly, while everyone was still standing for the Gospel, but I forgot where we were sitting so as everyone is sitting waiting for the homily, Ava and I are wandering about looking for our seats. "HI everyone, please stare at us!" I was cursing under my breath, and then had to say a prayer of confession for thinking swear words in Church. I finally found our seats and sat down, mortified.
Ava was quite well behaved. I brought a book for her, but she was quite content to look around and listen to the music. The likes the kneeler. She wanted to stand and jump on it, so I had to put the ki-bosh on that. She tried kneeling but then decided she's rather sit. During the Our Father Ava signed potty again. (At least she's polite enough to sign instead of loudly stating what she needs, which is her usual MO.) Again she grabbed at her crotch while I waited until Communion and made a second mad dash for the bathroom. We entered as the Communion line was dwindling and I was able to get Communion and slither back to our seats. She liked the rest of the Mass, particularly passing the basket of money.
I didn't even know my church had a bathroom until i was about 14. I was standing in the Church hallway waiting for something, and a door swung open. I peered in, thinking it was an entrance to a secret crypt, but was I surprised to discover a bathroom in there! A BATHROOM? In CHURCH? How had this escaped me all these years? I am sure my parents never told us about it as they did not want to spend the entire Mass running to the bathroom with us. We either went before we left the house or suffered through the Mass, our own private little Passion.
I told Ava we'd be going to Church more often and that we'd be going to a class to learn more about God. She looked interested, but asked few questions. All I know is it will be interesting to see what Ava does with a bunch of nuns...God help me.
This year, along with starting first grade, Ava will embark on a new chapter - her religious education. She is scheduled to begin CCD classes at the end of September. In preparation, I have been teaching her to pray each night, and I took her to church yesterday. I've been wanting to go more often myself, so this is a good excuse to put Mass back into our weekly schedule. I have tried as best as I can to explain God to her; I haven't even attempted any of the more complex ideas, such as the Trinity, the Resurrection, or Communion.
I don't recall how I learned any of these things. They were taught to us in Catholic school, but I remember not really understanding any of it. We were just told to believe it, and that was that. Because of all Ava's been through surgically, I have tried to break down complex ideas into terms she can understand. But I am not sure how to break down religion; I am going to wait and see what the CCD teacher does. I am apparently the Assistant Teacher, since I have to stay in the room because of Ava's trach. So I might as well make myself useful.
Of course, our church visit was a typical Laura Beeler event. Ava has been to church before, but she is getting more curious. Of course, I was running late, and here in CT the 10:30 mass starts at 10:30 and not a minute after. I waited in the back of the church until everyone sat down for the readings, and then Ava and I, along with another tardy mother and kids, scrambled to an empty pew. It's a full house at our church, which is nice. There are only 2 Sun. am masses, so it gets full. We no sooner sit down when Ava gives me the potty sign. I knew it was coming..she has her tube feed an hour earlier so I knew she had to go. She wiggled around until everyone stood for the Alleluia, and then we hurried out the back door into the hallway to use the bathroom. I timed our re-entry perfectly, while everyone was still standing for the Gospel, but I forgot where we were sitting so as everyone is sitting waiting for the homily, Ava and I are wandering about looking for our seats. "HI everyone, please stare at us!" I was cursing under my breath, and then had to say a prayer of confession for thinking swear words in Church. I finally found our seats and sat down, mortified.
Ava was quite well behaved. I brought a book for her, but she was quite content to look around and listen to the music. The likes the kneeler. She wanted to stand and jump on it, so I had to put the ki-bosh on that. She tried kneeling but then decided she's rather sit. During the Our Father Ava signed potty again. (At least she's polite enough to sign instead of loudly stating what she needs, which is her usual MO.) Again she grabbed at her crotch while I waited until Communion and made a second mad dash for the bathroom. We entered as the Communion line was dwindling and I was able to get Communion and slither back to our seats. She liked the rest of the Mass, particularly passing the basket of money.
I didn't even know my church had a bathroom until i was about 14. I was standing in the Church hallway waiting for something, and a door swung open. I peered in, thinking it was an entrance to a secret crypt, but was I surprised to discover a bathroom in there! A BATHROOM? In CHURCH? How had this escaped me all these years? I am sure my parents never told us about it as they did not want to spend the entire Mass running to the bathroom with us. We either went before we left the house or suffered through the Mass, our own private little Passion.
I told Ava we'd be going to Church more often and that we'd be going to a class to learn more about God. She looked interested, but asked few questions. All I know is it will be interesting to see what Ava does with a bunch of nuns...God help me.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Welcome to the World of the Dull
Well here we are again. Saturday night and I am ready for bed. (Did I mention it's 7:30 pm?) Sometimes I feel like such a slacker. It was a beautiful day, but instead of going to the beach we decided to stay at home and hang out in the backyard. Now, I do have to say, I worked at the office until 11:30, went grocery shopping, and did a few errands, so by the timeI got home it was 1:30. Malcolm had already taken Ava to the park and for a bike ride, so the idea of staying home was fine with her. We filled her wading pool, and took out her Bouncy House, so she had plenty of amusements. Malcolm and I sat (well, for minutes in between answering requests) and chatted and enjoyed the sun and outdoors.
We are meeting some friends for dinner tomorrow evening (with Ava) and so I just wanted to hang out today. The beach involves a one-hour drive (more, if traffic is bad), paying for parking, shlepping countless items onto the beach, setting up beach spot, and then trying to keep as much sand as possible away from Ava. (Did I mention that kids with trachs really should not be near sand? She can wear a trach cap, but we still have to be hyper vigilant.) We also have to watch her carefully in the ocean, as does any parent.
I watch my friends go to the beach. They have to shlepp a ton of stuff too, but they seem to have a higher tolernace for the sand and heat than I do. And, if I was at a rental house,or hotel on the beach, I'd likely have more patience too. it just seems like so much work for so little payoff. But I do love the beach. I love swimming in the ocean and bouncing in the waves. I always did, even as a kid. I have a healthy respect for the ocean, as its waves tossed me around and washed me upon shore like an old soda can many times. I will always love the smell of the sea, the riding on the waves, and the thrill of watching a wave build and seeing if it was going to kick my butt. I love the beach.
But, as I've said many times, things are different when you are the parents of small children. My friend Debbie recently wrote a blog about vacationing with small children, and it was so true. Vacations are rarely restfull or relaxing for adults; they are really for kids, BUT they are so worth it when you see your children smile with joy. And a beach vacation is something special. Last year, we went to Myrtle Beach in SC with a bunch of craniofacial families. It was Ava's first time in the ocean and she really enjoyed it.It was kind of funny...all these kids with trachs were under umbrellas, with not one grain of sand on them, while every other kid was covered in the stuff.
We always used to get sand everywhere, and my mother diligently scrubbed us all when we got home. We knew before we went anywhere, we had to have a bath. I also recall my mother's cousins Joan and John had a summer beach house in Long Island; we'd go there at least once a summer to spend a day or two at the beach. It was very rocky...there were pebbles everywhere. But we loved it, especially because there was a playground (the old-fashioned kind where the metal slide hit 108 degrees by noon) and a man who sold Italian ice from a push-wagon. I am thinking of getting a push wagon and selling hot dogs, beer, and Italian ice from my propery next to the golf course. My husband insists I'd need a liquor license and a few other assorted permits, but he is a spoiled sport, and I bet none of the golfers would rat me out. While I know this is crazy, I would love to do it.
But I digress, as usual...I am not sure what my point was when I started...oh yes! It was that one can be content in one's life, even if one is just sitting about in one's livingroom. Whether at the beach or at home, today was one nice day!
We are meeting some friends for dinner tomorrow evening (with Ava) and so I just wanted to hang out today. The beach involves a one-hour drive (more, if traffic is bad), paying for parking, shlepping countless items onto the beach, setting up beach spot, and then trying to keep as much sand as possible away from Ava. (Did I mention that kids with trachs really should not be near sand? She can wear a trach cap, but we still have to be hyper vigilant.) We also have to watch her carefully in the ocean, as does any parent.
I watch my friends go to the beach. They have to shlepp a ton of stuff too, but they seem to have a higher tolernace for the sand and heat than I do. And, if I was at a rental house,or hotel on the beach, I'd likely have more patience too. it just seems like so much work for so little payoff. But I do love the beach. I love swimming in the ocean and bouncing in the waves. I always did, even as a kid. I have a healthy respect for the ocean, as its waves tossed me around and washed me upon shore like an old soda can many times. I will always love the smell of the sea, the riding on the waves, and the thrill of watching a wave build and seeing if it was going to kick my butt. I love the beach.
But, as I've said many times, things are different when you are the parents of small children. My friend Debbie recently wrote a blog about vacationing with small children, and it was so true. Vacations are rarely restfull or relaxing for adults; they are really for kids, BUT they are so worth it when you see your children smile with joy. And a beach vacation is something special. Last year, we went to Myrtle Beach in SC with a bunch of craniofacial families. It was Ava's first time in the ocean and she really enjoyed it.It was kind of funny...all these kids with trachs were under umbrellas, with not one grain of sand on them, while every other kid was covered in the stuff.
We always used to get sand everywhere, and my mother diligently scrubbed us all when we got home. We knew before we went anywhere, we had to have a bath. I also recall my mother's cousins Joan and John had a summer beach house in Long Island; we'd go there at least once a summer to spend a day or two at the beach. It was very rocky...there were pebbles everywhere. But we loved it, especially because there was a playground (the old-fashioned kind where the metal slide hit 108 degrees by noon) and a man who sold Italian ice from a push-wagon. I am thinking of getting a push wagon and selling hot dogs, beer, and Italian ice from my propery next to the golf course. My husband insists I'd need a liquor license and a few other assorted permits, but he is a spoiled sport, and I bet none of the golfers would rat me out. While I know this is crazy, I would love to do it.
But I digress, as usual...I am not sure what my point was when I started...oh yes! It was that one can be content in one's life, even if one is just sitting about in one's livingroom. Whether at the beach or at home, today was one nice day!
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Weekend Notes
Well it's been a busy weekend here in Beeler-ville. Friday night started out with my monthly game of Bunco. Bunco a really easy, pointless dice game that you play with a group of 12. It's usually played by housewives who will take any excuse to get out of the house and have a cocktail. ("What are we doing? Cleaning out your garage? But you're providing wine and snacks? Count me in!") Anyway the game went on for a couple of hours and then a few of us hung around in my friend's hot tub. It was fun but by the time 11:00 came around I had to go home. I've learned something: I don't like being out late at night. The spirit is willing, but the body can't take it. I am tired. Always. By 10pm my favorite place is in my bed, under the covers, watching TV.
I didn't always used to be this way. I remember my parents moaning and groaning when I went out at 10pm. I thought they were so uncool. Now I get it. They were sleepy and didn't want to stay up to wait for me to drag my skinny little teenage butt into the house. I recall my poor father driving my boyfriend home on Saturday nights because my boyfriend was too young to have a car. I am sure the last thing my Dad wanted to do was schlep some loser across Staten Island at 11 pm, but he did it. And my Mom waited for us to return.
Anyway, back to the weekend. Saturday morning I worked, while Dad took Ava to a birthday party at a gymnastics place. Ava loved it. of course she did...the kids jumped on a huge trampoline and ran around like maniacs. After I got home we took Ava mini golfing at our local place. Ava said last weekend "I want to go mini-golfing as a family." Ava has a "thing" about her family, meaning me, my husband and her. She likes it when it's just the 3 of us. She also loves big family parties, but she gets very excited when the 3 of us go somewhere "as a family." She will say "Isn't it nice to do something as a family?" It's very sweet and cute, and I am glad she enjoys this time, as someday she will want me to hide behind a potted plant so no one knows we're related. The rest of Saturday was spent in our yard, with Ava on her swings and us making a barbecue.
Today Malcolm mowed the "lawn", which actually contains some grass now as opposed to just moss and weeds. Ava played in her wading pool, her bouncy house, and swings, while I chased after her and and helped her change activities every 15 minutes. She does something for a while, then moves onto the next thing. She did enjoy the wading pool and brought her doll along to "give her a swimming lesson." Tonight we had another barbecue and Malcolm is already asleep on the couch.
Life is funny sometimes. We plan and we plan, and things don't always work out how we imagined. If I planned these two days, they would have never worked...we just went with the flow and did just enough to keep us occupied, but not too much as to make us exhausted (although the snoring from the living room leads me to believe that Malcolm may disagree). It was a nice weekend and I enjoyed myself. And the best part is i can go to bed early tonight.
I didn't always used to be this way. I remember my parents moaning and groaning when I went out at 10pm. I thought they were so uncool. Now I get it. They were sleepy and didn't want to stay up to wait for me to drag my skinny little teenage butt into the house. I recall my poor father driving my boyfriend home on Saturday nights because my boyfriend was too young to have a car. I am sure the last thing my Dad wanted to do was schlep some loser across Staten Island at 11 pm, but he did it. And my Mom waited for us to return.
Anyway, back to the weekend. Saturday morning I worked, while Dad took Ava to a birthday party at a gymnastics place. Ava loved it. of course she did...the kids jumped on a huge trampoline and ran around like maniacs. After I got home we took Ava mini golfing at our local place. Ava said last weekend "I want to go mini-golfing as a family." Ava has a "thing" about her family, meaning me, my husband and her. She likes it when it's just the 3 of us. She also loves big family parties, but she gets very excited when the 3 of us go somewhere "as a family." She will say "Isn't it nice to do something as a family?" It's very sweet and cute, and I am glad she enjoys this time, as someday she will want me to hide behind a potted plant so no one knows we're related. The rest of Saturday was spent in our yard, with Ava on her swings and us making a barbecue.
Today Malcolm mowed the "lawn", which actually contains some grass now as opposed to just moss and weeds. Ava played in her wading pool, her bouncy house, and swings, while I chased after her and and helped her change activities every 15 minutes. She does something for a while, then moves onto the next thing. She did enjoy the wading pool and brought her doll along to "give her a swimming lesson." Tonight we had another barbecue and Malcolm is already asleep on the couch.
Life is funny sometimes. We plan and we plan, and things don't always work out how we imagined. If I planned these two days, they would have never worked...we just went with the flow and did just enough to keep us occupied, but not too much as to make us exhausted (although the snoring from the living room leads me to believe that Malcolm may disagree). It was a nice weekend and I enjoyed myself. And the best part is i can go to bed early tonight.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Random Thoughts
Well July 4th is here. For some strange reason, there aren't many fireworks on July 4 itself here in CT. Most of them are the weekend before, the day before, the week after. Who knows why. CT has some strange laws. For example, fireworks are legal, but you can't buy alcohol on Sunday. This must date back to some Puritan code that dictated that alcohol was the Devil's Drink. I guess God was OK with explosives.
I've heard only one firecracker today, a sharp contrast to yesteryear, when the idiot who lived across from me as a child would spend the whole day and night setting them off. I learned a good many swear words from my father as he cursed this kid, who was making just a heap of noise all day. I remember as a young adult going with a boyfriend to his friend's house for July 4. This friend had a last name that just so happened to be the same as several famous Mafia members, and the boatload of illegal fireworks he assembled on July 4 was confirmation of his obvious "connections." He would start by setting off the pretty ones and then end the night basically setting the whole street on fire. I remember one year, the noise was so loud, it somehow tripped some electronic device in my boyfriend's car, and the car would not start. I have no clue how we got home, but we obviously made it.
Today was an interesting July 4. The weather was OK, which means it didn't rain continuously, as it has for the past 40 days and 40 nights. My daughter won a Perfect Attendance award at her karate class this past week, so we decided to let her pick a place she'd like to go. She chose the park with 3 playscapes and a sprinkler park. She put on her little bathing suit and played happily in the sprinkler for about 15 minutes. Then she got cold and played on the playground. We ate the picnic lunch we brought. All of a sudden she decided she wanted to go home and was being quite a brat about it. (We had been there a total of 45 minutes.) We told her that it was too nice to go home and watch TV, and she proceeded to throw a huge screaming fit. After several minutes of this we told her firmly that if we left, we were not going home, but were going to do a "Mommy and Daddy" thing instead. "I DON"T WANT TO DO A MOMMY AND DADDY THING I WANT TO GO HOME!" After threatening to take away all TV privileges for the day, she quieted down and we stopped at a local winery, since any "Mommy and Daddy thing" required a drink by that time. She behaved perfectly there, of course. The person pouring the wine even commented on how well behaved she was, and I swear that my daughter gave me the finger. Only my child would be happier at a winery than at a playground.
Next we did go home and she watched one hour of TV and then we shut it off and played in the backyard. She swung on her swing, jumped in her bouncy house and ate shrimp cocktail (she's 6, but acts like she's 40). My husband and I had a few beers and barbecued, and all was OK.
Sometimes I feel sorry for myself. My little girl has a lot of medical needs, and this sometimes interferes with her ability to either do things other kids can do easily, or just makes it harder for her; thus, it makes things harder for her parents. I know all kids have meltdowns and are uncooperative; but other parents can sit back and not worry if their child's airway will get plugged. Other parents don't need to worry if their child is screaming because they're being a normal kid, or is the shunt that diverts excess cerebral spinal fluid from her brain clogged? Most parents just feed their kid; they don't need to count calories to make sure they're eating enough to make up for a tube feeding.
And then I come out of my little pity party and watch my daughter swinging and laughing on her little swing, something she couldn't - and wouldn't- do 2 years ago. She says "Thank you, Daddy, for making my playground nice." (Daddy put down nice, soft rubber mulch under her playground last weekend.) I think of our little family of 3 and how much we all love each other. And then things are OK again. Things will never be perfect, I know that. I am just grateful life has given me the chance to realize that perfection is not necessary; what we have is wonderful. Happy July 4th everyone.
I've heard only one firecracker today, a sharp contrast to yesteryear, when the idiot who lived across from me as a child would spend the whole day and night setting them off. I learned a good many swear words from my father as he cursed this kid, who was making just a heap of noise all day. I remember as a young adult going with a boyfriend to his friend's house for July 4. This friend had a last name that just so happened to be the same as several famous Mafia members, and the boatload of illegal fireworks he assembled on July 4 was confirmation of his obvious "connections." He would start by setting off the pretty ones and then end the night basically setting the whole street on fire. I remember one year, the noise was so loud, it somehow tripped some electronic device in my boyfriend's car, and the car would not start. I have no clue how we got home, but we obviously made it.
Today was an interesting July 4. The weather was OK, which means it didn't rain continuously, as it has for the past 40 days and 40 nights. My daughter won a Perfect Attendance award at her karate class this past week, so we decided to let her pick a place she'd like to go. She chose the park with 3 playscapes and a sprinkler park. She put on her little bathing suit and played happily in the sprinkler for about 15 minutes. Then she got cold and played on the playground. We ate the picnic lunch we brought. All of a sudden she decided she wanted to go home and was being quite a brat about it. (We had been there a total of 45 minutes.) We told her that it was too nice to go home and watch TV, and she proceeded to throw a huge screaming fit. After several minutes of this we told her firmly that if we left, we were not going home, but were going to do a "Mommy and Daddy" thing instead. "I DON"T WANT TO DO A MOMMY AND DADDY THING I WANT TO GO HOME!" After threatening to take away all TV privileges for the day, she quieted down and we stopped at a local winery, since any "Mommy and Daddy thing" required a drink by that time. She behaved perfectly there, of course. The person pouring the wine even commented on how well behaved she was, and I swear that my daughter gave me the finger. Only my child would be happier at a winery than at a playground.
Next we did go home and she watched one hour of TV and then we shut it off and played in the backyard. She swung on her swing, jumped in her bouncy house and ate shrimp cocktail (she's 6, but acts like she's 40). My husband and I had a few beers and barbecued, and all was OK.
Sometimes I feel sorry for myself. My little girl has a lot of medical needs, and this sometimes interferes with her ability to either do things other kids can do easily, or just makes it harder for her; thus, it makes things harder for her parents. I know all kids have meltdowns and are uncooperative; but other parents can sit back and not worry if their child's airway will get plugged. Other parents don't need to worry if their child is screaming because they're being a normal kid, or is the shunt that diverts excess cerebral spinal fluid from her brain clogged? Most parents just feed their kid; they don't need to count calories to make sure they're eating enough to make up for a tube feeding.
And then I come out of my little pity party and watch my daughter swinging and laughing on her little swing, something she couldn't - and wouldn't- do 2 years ago. She says "Thank you, Daddy, for making my playground nice." (Daddy put down nice, soft rubber mulch under her playground last weekend.) I think of our little family of 3 and how much we all love each other. And then things are OK again. Things will never be perfect, I know that. I am just grateful life has given me the chance to realize that perfection is not necessary; what we have is wonderful. Happy July 4th everyone.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
"Ask Not for Whom the Bell Tolls...
....it tolls for thee, butthead." Once upon a time before Roseanne Barr - or whatever she calls herself now - went nuts, she had a very funny sitcom on TV. It was a realistic program about a middle class family where the parents were always working to make ends meet, the kids were a pain in the neck, and the people wore jeans and sweatshirts. This blog is not about Roseanne; however that quote is from the show, something Roseanne said to her TV husband, Dan.
I believe the original line is from a poem (minus the "butthead" part) and refers to a person's inevitable demise. In this case, the demise is of a reality show and a family, not just a single person.
Yes, I am back on my Jon and Kate Plus 8 rant. I know I have wasted 2 blogs on these idiots, not to mention time and energy. They have just really hit a nerve with me. Apparently, on the season premiere of their reality show this past week, they were interviewed separately (usually it's together) and Kate spoke of the fact that they may be heading for separation. She is crying, saying "it's not what she wanted or envisioned for her family." Hmmmm...am I supposed to feel bad for her?
This woman and her husband decided to bring 8 kids into this world. I have no judgement on this (well I do, but it's not my business). They then decided to allow TV cameras 24-hour access to their home, their marriage, and their kids. As if the stress of raising 8 kids isn't enough, these fools decided to add more stress to their lives by having it filmed and blasted all over TV. I have one question for Jon and Kate: How stupid are you? Did you think this was a good idea? Oh wait, let me guess; the promise of making lots of money, becoming famous, getting all kinds of free perks (including vacations and plastic surgery for Mom) overshadowed the thought of what was best for your family.
I am not a perfect parent, nor am I am perfect person. But, honestly now, you couldn't see this coming? Jon "quit" his job 2 years ago to stay home with the 8 kids, who, by the way, are always screaming. Maybe it's the constant TV lighting in their faces. Kate, meanwhile, decided to write books and has been "gone a lot", traveling to promote whatever she's fooled people into thinking is worthwhile reading. Hmmm, dumb Dad alone with 8 kids, self-absorbed Mom gone, TV cameras all over...why I believe that's we call a recipe for disaster! Add to this the fact that Jon is about as smart and personable as a fence post, and Kate is an over controlling squawker. Sounds like heaven to me!
I have no sympathy for Jon and Kate. They made poor choices - choices a 6th grader probably would have predicated were bad - and they are now paying the price. I do feel bad for their children, who will pay the ultimate price: the loss of their family as they now know it. Maybe in the long run it's for the best. Maybe whatever damage has been done can be repaired and these poor kids can live a normal life, a life out of the spotlight.
I believe the original line is from a poem (minus the "butthead" part) and refers to a person's inevitable demise. In this case, the demise is of a reality show and a family, not just a single person.
Yes, I am back on my Jon and Kate Plus 8 rant. I know I have wasted 2 blogs on these idiots, not to mention time and energy. They have just really hit a nerve with me. Apparently, on the season premiere of their reality show this past week, they were interviewed separately (usually it's together) and Kate spoke of the fact that they may be heading for separation. She is crying, saying "it's not what she wanted or envisioned for her family." Hmmmm...am I supposed to feel bad for her?
This woman and her husband decided to bring 8 kids into this world. I have no judgement on this (well I do, but it's not my business). They then decided to allow TV cameras 24-hour access to their home, their marriage, and their kids. As if the stress of raising 8 kids isn't enough, these fools decided to add more stress to their lives by having it filmed and blasted all over TV. I have one question for Jon and Kate: How stupid are you? Did you think this was a good idea? Oh wait, let me guess; the promise of making lots of money, becoming famous, getting all kinds of free perks (including vacations and plastic surgery for Mom) overshadowed the thought of what was best for your family.
I am not a perfect parent, nor am I am perfect person. But, honestly now, you couldn't see this coming? Jon "quit" his job 2 years ago to stay home with the 8 kids, who, by the way, are always screaming. Maybe it's the constant TV lighting in their faces. Kate, meanwhile, decided to write books and has been "gone a lot", traveling to promote whatever she's fooled people into thinking is worthwhile reading. Hmmm, dumb Dad alone with 8 kids, self-absorbed Mom gone, TV cameras all over...why I believe that's we call a recipe for disaster! Add to this the fact that Jon is about as smart and personable as a fence post, and Kate is an over controlling squawker. Sounds like heaven to me!
I have no sympathy for Jon and Kate. They made poor choices - choices a 6th grader probably would have predicated were bad - and they are now paying the price. I do feel bad for their children, who will pay the ultimate price: the loss of their family as they now know it. Maybe in the long run it's for the best. Maybe whatever damage has been done can be repaired and these poor kids can live a normal life, a life out of the spotlight.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Hot Fun in the Summa-time
Well I have spent enough time and energy ranting about Jon and Kate, and as the kids say, "I am soooo done with them."
Both my legs are covered in mosquito bites, which means summer is officially here. Summer brings a multitude of things, including shorts, sleeveless shirts, and (insert shudder) the bathing suit. I enjoyed summer more as a young adult; after all, it meant no school, parties at the beach, suntans, and just plain old fun. Plus I was a size 6 and looked pretty good in a bikini.
Fast forward about 25 years: I am a stay-at-home Mom with no days off, we don't get to the beach very often, I have to wear sunscreen for fear of skin cancer, and I wouldn't wear a bikini if you paid me. Like most things in life, summer for me has changed drastically. First of all, we live in a rural area; we own 2.7 acres of land, most of which is woods. There is also a "wetlands" on our property, aka, a swamp. We live next door to a golf course with a lot of ponds, which means we have lots of mosquitoes. I am a mosquito magnet. Scientists have never been able to explain why mosquitoes are attracted to some people more than others, but they are. (Don't question my mosquito credentials...I have them.) So, if I want to be outside I need to covered in OFF insect repellent. Even this does not completely protect me and I get huge bites, which drive me crazy. As a result I spend the entire summer smelling of DEET and calamine lotion. Not like the old days when I smelled like Estee Lauder perfume and fruity hair conditioner. Being covered in bug bites is not comfortable. Neither is the rash i get from touching plants. That's right, plants. Any plant. I have no idea why, but I get a rash from plants. So if I do any gardening I need to wear gloves. Sometimes thick socks too to protect my legs. This is so attractive.
Another thing I find uncomfortable is being hot. I HATE being hot. Nothing can be gained from it. All it does is make me perspire, which makes my sunscreen, DEET and calamine lotion all run, thus requiring them all to be reapplied. The only way I like to be outside if I am next to a pool and can roll in like a lazy seal if I get too hot. I love being outside if the temperature is moderate, as in below 83 degrees. Any hotter than that and you will find me inside in the air conditioning.
All this leads to feelings of guilt. (I am Catholic so all things eventually lead to feelings of guilt.) I feel guilty because I should be outside in the beautiful sunshine. And often I am, I am just not enjoying it because I am hot and itchy. Plus nice weather always makes me feel like I should be doing something. Anything. Flying a kite, running through the ocean, playing at the park, or riding a bike. Laying down on the couch and napping in the sun like my cat is just not as satisfying in the summer. There's no blanket to snuggle under, and, again, I feel guilty for wasting a nice day just lying around.
I also don't like sleeping in the summer. Again this is a heat issue. I like my flannel pajamas and my cozy comforters. Since we installed central AC (by the way, a very worthwhile investment), this is not as much of a problem as it used to be.
Don't get me wrong; I enjoy cooking outdoors, summer parties, having my daughter home from school, and just the carefree attitude of summer. I just have come to realize that, strange as it sounds, I am a winter person. Actually, I love fall and spring, what little we have of them now. It's 98 degrees until the end of September these days, and then it seems fall is about 2 weeks long. Same with spring; it can be snowing here in New England as late as April, we have a few moderate days, and then the heat begins.
I realize it's a waste of time to complain about the weather. The one place on Earth that has perfect weather is San Francisco, where I spent 8 years. I will leave it at that, since if even discuss moving there again both my parents will instantly die of a stroke. (Don't worry, Mom and Dad, I'm not going anywhere.)
Both my legs are covered in mosquito bites, which means summer is officially here. Summer brings a multitude of things, including shorts, sleeveless shirts, and (insert shudder) the bathing suit. I enjoyed summer more as a young adult; after all, it meant no school, parties at the beach, suntans, and just plain old fun. Plus I was a size 6 and looked pretty good in a bikini.
Fast forward about 25 years: I am a stay-at-home Mom with no days off, we don't get to the beach very often, I have to wear sunscreen for fear of skin cancer, and I wouldn't wear a bikini if you paid me. Like most things in life, summer for me has changed drastically. First of all, we live in a rural area; we own 2.7 acres of land, most of which is woods. There is also a "wetlands" on our property, aka, a swamp. We live next door to a golf course with a lot of ponds, which means we have lots of mosquitoes. I am a mosquito magnet. Scientists have never been able to explain why mosquitoes are attracted to some people more than others, but they are. (Don't question my mosquito credentials...I have them.) So, if I want to be outside I need to covered in OFF insect repellent. Even this does not completely protect me and I get huge bites, which drive me crazy. As a result I spend the entire summer smelling of DEET and calamine lotion. Not like the old days when I smelled like Estee Lauder perfume and fruity hair conditioner. Being covered in bug bites is not comfortable. Neither is the rash i get from touching plants. That's right, plants. Any plant. I have no idea why, but I get a rash from plants. So if I do any gardening I need to wear gloves. Sometimes thick socks too to protect my legs. This is so attractive.
Another thing I find uncomfortable is being hot. I HATE being hot. Nothing can be gained from it. All it does is make me perspire, which makes my sunscreen, DEET and calamine lotion all run, thus requiring them all to be reapplied. The only way I like to be outside if I am next to a pool and can roll in like a lazy seal if I get too hot. I love being outside if the temperature is moderate, as in below 83 degrees. Any hotter than that and you will find me inside in the air conditioning.
All this leads to feelings of guilt. (I am Catholic so all things eventually lead to feelings of guilt.) I feel guilty because I should be outside in the beautiful sunshine. And often I am, I am just not enjoying it because I am hot and itchy. Plus nice weather always makes me feel like I should be doing something. Anything. Flying a kite, running through the ocean, playing at the park, or riding a bike. Laying down on the couch and napping in the sun like my cat is just not as satisfying in the summer. There's no blanket to snuggle under, and, again, I feel guilty for wasting a nice day just lying around.
I also don't like sleeping in the summer. Again this is a heat issue. I like my flannel pajamas and my cozy comforters. Since we installed central AC (by the way, a very worthwhile investment), this is not as much of a problem as it used to be.
Don't get me wrong; I enjoy cooking outdoors, summer parties, having my daughter home from school, and just the carefree attitude of summer. I just have come to realize that, strange as it sounds, I am a winter person. Actually, I love fall and spring, what little we have of them now. It's 98 degrees until the end of September these days, and then it seems fall is about 2 weeks long. Same with spring; it can be snowing here in New England as late as April, we have a few moderate days, and then the heat begins.
I realize it's a waste of time to complain about the weather. The one place on Earth that has perfect weather is San Francisco, where I spent 8 years. I will leave it at that, since if even discuss moving there again both my parents will instantly die of a stroke. (Don't worry, Mom and Dad, I'm not going anywhere.)
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