Because it is Mother's Day

Lately my mothering has fallen under the scrutiny of friends and neighbors, and since today is Mother's Day, I figured I would take this time to reflect on my parenting. I don't apologize for the parent I am because I don't feel I have anything to apologize for. I am far from the poster child for wonderful mothers, but like all the mom's out there, I do the best I can. Maybe I do yell at my kids too much sometimes, but anyone that spends a great deal of time with my very energetic boys usually feels the same way by the end of the day. I have a loud voice and it carries across miles, but I refuse to allow my kids to get away with murder because I fear that the neighbors might judge me. It is not my job to be my boys' friend or playmate. It is my job to raise them to be respectful, hardworking, productive members of society. At least that is the way I was raised. I see the mother's who spend their days entertaining their children. They plan out playdates and activities. I don't really do that. I was always taught to entertain myself and use my imagination as a child and I expect for my children to do the same. Like most kids these days, they have a bedroom full of toys that they rarely play with. I don't want them babysat by game stations and television. I want my kids to play games together, ride bikes, pretend to be cowboys or cops and robbers. I want them to know that not everything they do in life has to be organized or monitored by their mother. I want to be their parent and not their activities director. I watch plenty of families spend money that they don't have, dragging their kids from one festival to the next because it would be a "fun" thing to do. Those same kids are growing up not knowing the joy to be found getting lost in a book on a Sunday afternoon. I want them to get exhausted just running around and playing chase or riding bikes and pretending they are chasing the bad guys. I don't think that it is bad parenting to want your children to be independent, self-sufficient people. It is not bad parenting to teach your children how to do chores so they don't grow up not knowing how to clean up after themselves and how to seperate the whites and darks. It should never be seen as bad parenting to try and teach your kids respect for their elders and basic good manners. If caring more about how my children will turn out as people instead of having an agenda for their day and how to "entertain" them is bad parenting, then I will gladly take the title of bad parent. When your kids are still wanting you to do everything with them because they have no idea how to do things on their own, you are more than welcome to call this bad parent and ask me how to get them to grow up. Of course, I will probably laugh and say...maybe you should have just been the same kind of bad parent I was. My family doesn't have alot to leave in inheritance. We aren't rich people, but there is one picture that hangs on my mother's wall and I hope to inherit it one day. It is the following poem: "The Meanest Mother" I had the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids ate candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As you can guess, my supper was different than the other kids' also. But at least, I wasn't alone in my sufferings. My sister and two brothers had the same mean mother as I did. My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and where we were going. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an hour, that we be gone one hour or less--not one hour and one minute. I am nearly ashamed to admit it, but she actually struck us. Not once, but each time we had a mind of our own and did as we pleased. That poor belt was used more on our seats than it was to hold up Daddy's pants. Can you imagine someone actualy hitting a child just because he disobeyed? Now you can begin to see how mean she really was. We had to wear clean clothes and take a bath. The other kids always wore their clothes for days. We reached the height of insults because she made our clothes herself, just to save money. Why, oh why, did we have to have a mother who made us feel different from our friends? The worst is yet to come. We had to be in bed by nine each night and up at eight the next morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our friends. So while they slept-my mother actually had the nerve to break the child-labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us. She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, even if it killed us- and it nearly did. By the time we were teen-agers, she was much wiser, and our life became even more unbearable. None of this tooting the horn of a car for us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates and friends come to the door to get us. If I spent the night with a girlfriend, can you imagine she checked on me to see if I were really there. I never had the chance to elope to Mexico. That is if I'd had a boyfriend to elope with. I forgot to mention, while my friends were dating at the mature age of 12 and 13, my old fashioned mother refused to let me date until the age of 15 and 16. Fifteen, that is, if you dated only to go to a school function. And that was maybe twice a year. Through the years, things didn't improve a bit. We could not lie in bed, "sick" like our friends did, and miss school. If our friends had a toe ache, a hang nail or serious ailment, they could stay home from school. Our marks in school had to be up to par. Our friends' report cards had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red for failing. My mother being as different as she was, would settle for nothing less than ugly black marks. As the years rolled by, first one and then the other of us was put to shame. We were graduated from high school. With our mother behind us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none of us was allowed the pleasure of being a drop-out. My mother was a complete failure as a mother. Out of four children, a couple of us attained some higher education. None of us have ever been arrested, divorced or beaten his mate. Each of my brothers served his time in the service of this country. And whom do we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out? You're right, our mean mother. Look at the things we missed. We never got to march in a protest parade, nor to take part in a riot, burn draft cards, and a million and one other things that our friends did. She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults. Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three children. I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my children call me mean. Because, you see, I thank God, He gave me the meanest mother in the whole world. written by Bobbie Pingaro (1967)

Male Bonding

Both of my boys miss their dad terribly and the one thing I have realized during this time that Chris has been gone is that little boys need a man in their life. I know there may be many people who argue that, but I am not saying a "father", but someone who can do all those male bonding activities with them. As mothers, we may think that we can do all it takes to meet their needs, but I can tell you from experience that sometimes they just want to learn to be one of the guys. Lucky for me that I have some wonderful friends who have equally wonderful husbands. If it wasn't for these guys, Dalton would probably be even more lost this year than he already is. People looking from the outside probably think that he is pretty well adjusted, and on most accounts he is, but he is 7 years old and he craves that male bonding. Peyton, being only 3, is pretty content to still be a Mama's boy, but Dalton gravitates towards males, uncles, cousins, grandfathers and even neighbors. I want to take this time to publicly (well, almost) thank some outstanding men who have done their all to help me out this year. Bryan B. who plays basketball, rough-houses and just reminds him that there is a constant male authority figure around. Brian K. who allows him to tagalong on trips to boating shops and bike rides with his son. David H. who treats him just like one of his kids and lets him hang out with their family and attempts to teach him to fish even when his interest is short-lived. I appreciate what these men are doing for him and I hope their wives know how lucky they are to have such wonderful fathers in their kids' lives. I am sure that Chris appreciates these friends of his as much as I do for being there when he has no way to be.

Decisions Decisions

There are no easy decisions in life. No matter what you choose, there is always someone waiting to tell you why your choice was wrong. It gets so much harder when you have children. All of a sudden you have to make choices in their life until they are old enough and also every choice you make all of a sudden affects you and your entire family. Immediately you go from responsible for yourself to so much weight on your shoulders. I don't know if everybody realizes this, but adding the duty of military spouse to my resume' only adds to the weight. Everything I do or say can have an effect on my husband's career without me even knowing it. With him being gone this year, I live constantly under a microscope. People keep up with my comings and goings. They know who visits my house, when they visit and how long they stay. People actually keep up with me via my Facebook account and make their own judgements as to whether I am having too much fun or if I seem to be emotionally unstable. All that said, I am a grown, educated woman. I do, in fact, make all my own decisions and whatever consequences result from those decisions I can gladly accept. I am not a woman who is easily swayed by others' opinions. So, I absolutely despise when people blame uninvolved people for my decisions. Sometimes it takes awhile for me to weigh the pros and cons and analyze the things that don't quite sit right with me, but in the end, if you disagree, I am the only person to blame.

IT IS WHAT IT IS

It is what it is...I think my mom says that to me almost everyday; it is her new "thing". Sadly, she is right. This hasn't been the greatest of weeks for me, but most of the things I can do little about so why dwell on them. I won't even get into any of it simply because it is not stuff I want to make public right now. Instead of moaning and groaning, I have decided to accept what happens, work through it and stay positive. Hopefully some of that positive energy will yield some positive results. I haven't blogged often as I promised myself I would. Not that anyone probably reads this stuff, but it helps me to vent and I swear it lowers my blood pressure just a little. There is lots I can vent about this week.... For instance, I really do care that unemployment is on the rise; especially when many of those people want to work. So, it really irks me when I go into the Shoppette on base and at this one register which handles regular purchases and tobacco. Unlike the old days, people can't just walk up and get what they want, it is behind the counter. Anyway, there is this old woman who always works that register and she sits on a stool the entire time. No one else gets to do this, but apparently she can't stand. However, she has to get up almost every other customer and get them cigarettes or something. Anytime she is asked to do that, she gets all huffy like it is an imposition. I supposed I could almost understand that if it weren't that after she rings you up, she points to the printer and says "there is your receipt". She is too lazy to reach up there and tear the thing off. Well, today, the man in front of me obviously didn't want his receipt because when my purchase was done and I went to retrieve my receipt, his was attached. I looked down to make sure I kept the right one and she snatched it from me and yelled that "he paid with a credit card and I shouldn't be looking at his receipt", so I snatched my receipt back and said that I am also not supposed to be doing part of her job retrieving my receipt either and I walked out. Did I mention it has been a rough week? It doesn't help that I despise lazy people! Lazy is not reserved for the working class. I am so afraid that we are raising an entire generation of lazy kids who know nothing about doing for themselves and taking care of themselves. I won't mention names because if she reads this she will know who she is anyway, but college students these days piss me off too. Please follow me for my elaboration..... I went to public school my entire life. Our textbooks were old, our lab equipment was from the stone age and I laugh when I think about how excited we were to get computers. My parents believe in public education and I do too, but there was always a twinge of jealousy when I would watch the private school kids have the best of everything; all the amenities that I would have died to have. The only thing that ever helped the jealousy was that in academic competitions, we prevailed; in sports, we prevailed; and when it came to college, when we went, we excelled and completed. I thought that the stereotype of the spoiled kids taking everything for granted would lessen somehow from then. I somehow thought that when the economy started taking a nose-dive and people started having to do what they never anticipated to get by, maybe the parents would start showing those kids about real-life, working for what you have, not taking anything, even education for granted. Well, fat chance on that. I have now seen that first hand. Picture it...not so rich girl wants to go to a "college prep" private school; Daddy can't possibly say no, so she goes; grades are tolerable; she graduates; goes to state college; apparently no scholarship and not sure if that "college fund" was spent to fund "college prep" education; doesn't do so well first semester (guess college prep didn't prep much); more concerned with high school drama and "serious" boyfriend; ends up on academic probation (yes, this means less than a 2.0); now says, college is hard...wow! you want it to be easy and it is preparing you for a career?...is thinking she may not want to stay in college and works longer at devising a plan to do this than the time she spends studying that "hard" stuff....did I mention she has never held a real job for very long, but is contemplating entering the real world.....Six words for ya...WOULD YOU LIKE FRIES WITH THAT? What exactly was the purpose of that expensive, private education? Lazy people not only anger me; they disappoint me too. It infuriates me when people take opportunities they are given for granted. I want to cry when I see some bratty kid driving his brand new F150 and acting like he is king of the world, while a grown man is using a 20 year old truck held together by prayers and duct tape to do landscaping work to feed his family...what's worse is when that kid is laughing and pointing at that truck; insulting this poor man who probably has more character and integrity in one finger than this kid would ever have. Unfortunately, the things that make you a good and honorable person can not be purchased by daddy or your trust fund. I know this was long. Don't shoot me. Imagine how long it would have been if I had included the rest of the stuff that made my week so frustrating and long.

Whiners Beware!

I HATE whiners! Little kids who whine are bad enough and I know that hate is a very strong word, but there is no word strong enough for the disgust I hold for adults who whine. Facebook is sometimes one big pity party. I admit, sometimes my status updates are not positive, but I am not whining, just letting you know what is going on. However, often times you have those "friends" who have to bitch and moan about everything simply because they feel that they are not at fault and the world is out to get them. Haven't you ever just wanted to slap those people? I want to shake them and say "get over it!" I firmly believe that life is what you make it and you are in control of your future. That is a big statement coming from someone who looks at the cup as half empty all the time. I do that to avoid utter disappointment at those things I can't control like illness, weather and other people's attitudes. However, when it comes to things I can control, I take control. Now, I will say this, if you are complaining to me about something because you genuinely want my help and input, I will listen, but if you don't want to do something about it, then keep it to yourself. Don't complain about your weight and then sit on your butt watching TV and eating junk food...I don't want to hear it! Don't complain about your finances, but refuse to follow a budget and buy stupid things...I don't want to hear it! If you are ill and need some medicine picked up, I am here. If you really need assistance with something and truly want my help, I am here. If life is absolutely crap and you need a shoulder because there is nothing anyone can really do about your situation, I am here to cry with you. But always remember, if all you want is for someone to agree with you that the world is out to get you; if you want someone who will commiserate over your financial problems while watching your big screen TV and eating take-out food for the 5th time in a week or tell you that deadlines that were to be met or due dates should be overlooked just because you are who you are....DON'T LOOK TO ME! I can be the most unsympathetic, often brutally honest person in the world. Chances are if you are reading this and thinking about how you should remove me as your friend or delete me from your life, then I am not your real problem. Obviously the truth hurts and you should really be evaluating how you can take control of your life and all those crappy situations.

In My Opinion

I promised myself that after the new year, I would be more dedicated to blogging. Honestly, blogging makes me feel better, but here it is almost 11 days into the new year and I am just finding time. I have lots of opinions to voice and soapbox rants to get on, so if you aren't interested in reading them, get off my blog! Personal blogs and facebook pages are just that, my voice of interests and opinions. I don't care if you agree with me. I don't care if you read them. Just don't try to stifle my thoughts because of your own ignorance. Much like my parents raised me, I plan to raise my children to think. I want them to look beyond what the media tells them or what their friends believe and say, "I believe this because....". What if they don't agree with me? Then I foresee some great dinner table debates. I want them to know that their opinion matters as long as they have thought the ideas through and often researched the information and have a little something to back it up. Occasionally it may just be a feeling that they get, something deep in their gut saying something isn't quite right, but they need to believe in that feeling with conviction. Our children are seldom taught to think anymore. Classrooms that used to have teachers who wanted to teach beyond the text are now ridden with teachers prohibited by state and federal mandates, teaching to the test and paperwork on top of paperwork. Students are so consumed by required work that they don't have the time to give to after-hours instruction. This all started when I was in school; however, there were a few of us even then who craved more. I was on the Scholar's Bowl team, 6 members and 2 alternates, 8 students who spent free periods and hours after school and sometimes Saturdays studying current events, history, sports, science, math, pop culture...you named it, we learned it. The only kids wanting to put in that time today are usually involved in sports. I visited my old teacher, Coach Morlino, while I was home for Thanksgiving. He was watching an episode of Cash Cab and said he thought about his scholar's team every time he watched that show and he would think about how much money we could have all made together. He doesn't teach much anymore. Health and bureaucracy got him down, but I will always be glad he was there to encourage all of us to think. I am considering going back to get certified to teach, but I am so uncertain about that because I don't want to just teach the facts in a book, I want to teach kids how to think, not what to think. My husband will say that he is a Republican, but he resides only slightly to the right of the line. I would say that there is just one leg over the fence. I, however, am about the same way to the left. Basically, this is an independent thinking household and I believe that gives my children a slight advantage. By residing in the middle, I find it is easier to see both sides of the argument. Maybe it is by listening to people that I somehow ended up in the middle. I get a little perturbed when people assume that means I am indecisive. Those that know me got a real laugh out of that. In fact, I believe strongly in those things which I believe, but I don't believe things just because a certain party does. I won't get into what those things are, but I will be more than happy to share if asked. It is funny how I grew up in a family where I never knew how my parents voted. We weren't allowed to ask, but I always knew they voted. I don't think they wanted to sway our convictions out of some expected loyalty to them. I will say that on my 18th birthday, I registered to vote. My grandpa didn't give me any real option and I had been waiting for that day like most people waited for their driver's license. When my sister turned 18 I begged her to register and she said it didn't matter to her and none of it pertained to her. Needless to say, she is registered now. She has a good job, no kids, no major deductions and now she knows that it matters to her. Yet, I married into a family who freely voice their opinions about world events and matters. There is no doubt in your mind for who they cast their votes. At the same time, I never feel that it is a place for a free-flowing exchange of ideas, but rather a lecture as to why you should think the same way they think. Right or wrong. Agree or disagree. They do pay attention. I think with all that is going on now in our government, there is no better time for all Americans to start thinking. Critical thinking. Don't listen to one news report or read just one newspaper and decide that your mind is made up about anything. Remember that most mainstream journalism is a little slanted. Often you have to pay attention to what they are telling you while picking up on what they aren't. It is your job to know more about the issue than what Bobby Jo down at the barber shop told you. We are at a very critical time for our nation and if I had a crystal ball, I would say that this all doesn't bode well for our future. It is time to think for yourself and stop being so apathetic about politics and government.

Secrets Matter (a follow-up to the Seven Year Itch)

There is an understood rule among most couples, if you tell me something and tell me not to tell anyone, you must make it clear that it also includes my husband or I will most definitely tell him. When it comes to secrets, couples are considered one person. However, if keeping your secret will somehow lessen the trust that my husband has in me, then I can't do it. Before we were married, Chris and I were required to attend the Catholic Church's marriage encounter weekend. During that 48 hours, we discussed everything....budgets, kids, family, jobs, sex, you name it, it was discussed. However, at no time were we asked to talk about the past. Whether you realize it or not, the past matters. When you try to keep things about your past hidden, it can often eat away at you like a parasite inside your body. You constantly wonder if someone will find out and what they will think of you. Sometimes the secret involves someone else and then you feel like telling that secret will somehow cause turmoil between them and their significant other. A word to the wise....all secrets matter when it comes to a marriage. Things that happened a decade ago can turn your marriage upside down. Often times you have to deal with the reprecussions all alone and that is not what a marriage is about. Marriage means that another person has chosen to spend their life with you, good and bad, and that they are willing to share in both your happiness and pain. I had dealt with a secret on my own for over 12 years. I thought I was doing a wonderful job of internalizing everything. However, it finally boar a hole right into our relationship. Chris knew something was there, but he couldn't figure out what. It hurt him to think I didn't trust him and it hurt me to keep the secret. Luckily for us, everything was discussed and settled prior to him leaving the country this year. If not, the time we are spending apart could have been much different. Remember that no matter what has happened in your life, your partner is the person who should love you no matter what has happened. They should be the one you turn to when you need a shoulder. If they can't listen to you tell them about the one thing that you are either too embarrassed or too afraid to tell anyone and still put their arms around you and kiss away your tears, then as I said before, it isn't real love, so move along.