Hello again! It's been a good long while since I've been here, and things have been good, but I've been busy. And, because I'm ADD, I've started another blog. But this time with my husband. Because he can do fun stuff with MS Paint and I can't. Some of the stuff on there you may have read a version of already on here. But the newest version will be funnier. Because there's pictures.
Anyway, take a peek - we're just getting started. And if you like it, follow it and tell your friends. Because I want to have a lot of followers. Because I'm egotistical like that. And I'll still post on here from time to time. In between work. And roller derby. And family time.
Happy reading, Y'all!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Dear Katie & Friends
Allow me a serious "Mom" moment. This is going to be long. So find a comfy spot to read this.
I just heard about the boy at your school that took his own life a couple days ago. While I know some of you were friends with him, I don't know if you all were, but it doesn't really matter. This was a boy your age and in your school that clearly felt his life had no meaning or was of value to anyone. And sadly he's not around now to see this is not the case. I can only imagine the kind of devastation this has brought to his friends, let alone his parents and family.
I know that most teens think no adult can understand how they feel, because we're old and don't know what it's like to be a teenager in this day and age. And maybe there is some truth to that -after all, we kept in touch with long-distance friends by physically writing letters to them - on paper! With ink! And spell check meant having your mom edit it (and then you'd have to rewrite the whole damn thing because your mother was a perfectionist and she didn't care that your friend wouldn't care if you weren't grammatically correct because her parents would care, and how would that make your mother look?? But I digress) – but some things are always the same, no matter the generation.
Everyone goes through a point in their life that they don't think they'll survive, or feel as if they want to. God knows I've had my share. I was bullied and teased and basically tortured when I was a kid because I looked different than the other kids at my school. Girls held me down on the ground during recess while other girls threw rocks and sticks at me. I was pushed off swings, tripped, locked in coat closets and mercilessly ridiculed with "Chinese, Japanese, whatanese" which, as stupid as that chant was (and always accompanied with the oh-so-clever slanty-eye face), made me feel about as horrible as one can feel about oneself, especially when you add to that the fact that I was adopted and all my siblings (save one sister, 7 years older who was also Korean, but was actually the popular kid so there was no common ground to be had) and my mother are White. I endured this on a daily basis. For 5 years. Until one day I lost it - I tried to tell my mom I was sick and didn't want to go to school, and she said, "no fever, you're fine, you're going" and I burst into uncontrollable sobbing. When my understandably baffled mother was finally able to get the truth out of me, she immediately pulled me out of that school and transferred me to the local public school, and my school life vastly improved (Katie can relate to this last part).
Here’s the thing all of you have to understand: you are never alone. Not completely. There is ALWAYS someone that is willing to talk to you, help you, and listen to you. There is a 95% chance that your parents are these people you can go to. Yes, you may think your particular problem is embarrassing. You may think there is NO way you can talk to your parents (they’re old!) and have them understand. But they will. And they do. No matter what it is you have to tell them. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, you have done by this stage in your life is so big and bad that you can’t find someone who will understand. Unless you’re a serial killer. But even then, there is still someone who loves you. Other than that – it’s been said/felt/heard/seen/done/attempted before. Probably by your very own parents at one point in their lives. And if you really, truly, absolutely can’t go to your parents? Find a friend. A counselor. An adult you trust & respect. A hotline. There is someone that can help you realize your value & make you understand how much life you actually have left to live.
And if this is another incident in which bullying has taken the ultimate toll? Enough. The time to turn a blind eye to the taunts you hear, the kids getting shoved, the brutal names that people are verbally assaulting other kids with is OVER. You HAVE to step in when you see/hear this kind of thing going on. No, you don’t have to get physical – fighting violence with violence never really works out well. But you can call those kids (boy OR girl) out on it. A simple “Leave him/her alone!” can be the difference between a kid going home feeling completely alone, lost and defeated or having that small, shimmering hope that someone does care. If YOU make it clear you won’t tolerate that kind of behavior, others will follow your lead. And if all of you that saw someone being mistreated actually DID say something? You know what? The bullying would decrease. Because people who taunt others and make them feel bad do that because of their own insecurities and they will stop when they realize their own peers won’t tolerate it. And if you happen to be friends with a bully (statistically speaking chances are good some of you are) – take some time to talk to them and explain to them they don’t have to treat people that way. That if folks can see the same good qualities you see in them they’d be friends with them too. Sometimes all a kid like that needs to hear is that they too are worth more than what they think they are.
Because what can’t happen is one more kid thinking there is no end in sight and the only way out is death. There’s too much out there to experience and enjoy and discover. Your first boyfriend or girlfriend (yes, it will happen - trust me). Driving a car. College. Living on your own and eating junk food all day long and staying out all night long. Starting your first job. Quitting your first job. Collecting all the spare change from your one room apartment or dorm and hoping you have enough to get a taco from Taco Bell, then realizing you don’t but that you do have enough for 2 packages of ramen noodles! Meeting people crazier and more messed up than you are (THAT will happen too) and finally feeling like you belong. ALL that happens. But it can’t if you cut it short. You are all old enough to make your own decisions. You’re old enough to see when something is wrong and old enough to be part of the solution. Take a chance. TALK to someone when you’re having problems. TALK to someone when you see him or her doing something hurtful. Reach out. Send an email or private message on FB or IM them or text them or call them or whatever. Take the chance and trust that someone will understand what you’re going through. Just don’t feel alone.
If you can’t talk to anyone else, then talk to me. I can listen. Believe me when I tell you there is not a single thing you can say that I have not either experienced myself or won’t understand. I won’t judge. And I will help in any way I can. Just please, don’t keep things to yourself. Because losing a classmate this way is senseless and my heart hurts from knowing this young man couldn’t find the words or the clarity to make his way through this one part of his life when I know SO many would have been willing to help him.
Feel free to pass this on to anyone you think could stand to read the ramblings of a concerned mother. And take care of yourselves. And each other. Because as cheesy as it may sound, you ARE loved and you ARE important and these are the thoughts you should remember during your moments of doubt and insecurity.
Love,
Mom
I just heard about the boy at your school that took his own life a couple days ago. While I know some of you were friends with him, I don't know if you all were, but it doesn't really matter. This was a boy your age and in your school that clearly felt his life had no meaning or was of value to anyone. And sadly he's not around now to see this is not the case. I can only imagine the kind of devastation this has brought to his friends, let alone his parents and family.
I know that most teens think no adult can understand how they feel, because we're old and don't know what it's like to be a teenager in this day and age. And maybe there is some truth to that -after all, we kept in touch with long-distance friends by physically writing letters to them - on paper! With ink! And spell check meant having your mom edit it (and then you'd have to rewrite the whole damn thing because your mother was a perfectionist and she didn't care that your friend wouldn't care if you weren't grammatically correct because her parents would care, and how would that make your mother look?? But I digress) – but some things are always the same, no matter the generation.
Everyone goes through a point in their life that they don't think they'll survive, or feel as if they want to. God knows I've had my share. I was bullied and teased and basically tortured when I was a kid because I looked different than the other kids at my school. Girls held me down on the ground during recess while other girls threw rocks and sticks at me. I was pushed off swings, tripped, locked in coat closets and mercilessly ridiculed with "Chinese, Japanese, whatanese" which, as stupid as that chant was (and always accompanied with the oh-so-clever slanty-eye face), made me feel about as horrible as one can feel about oneself, especially when you add to that the fact that I was adopted and all my siblings (save one sister, 7 years older who was also Korean, but was actually the popular kid so there was no common ground to be had) and my mother are White. I endured this on a daily basis. For 5 years. Until one day I lost it - I tried to tell my mom I was sick and didn't want to go to school, and she said, "no fever, you're fine, you're going" and I burst into uncontrollable sobbing. When my understandably baffled mother was finally able to get the truth out of me, she immediately pulled me out of that school and transferred me to the local public school, and my school life vastly improved (Katie can relate to this last part).
Here’s the thing all of you have to understand: you are never alone. Not completely. There is ALWAYS someone that is willing to talk to you, help you, and listen to you. There is a 95% chance that your parents are these people you can go to. Yes, you may think your particular problem is embarrassing. You may think there is NO way you can talk to your parents (they’re old!) and have them understand. But they will. And they do. No matter what it is you have to tell them. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, you have done by this stage in your life is so big and bad that you can’t find someone who will understand. Unless you’re a serial killer. But even then, there is still someone who loves you. Other than that – it’s been said/felt/heard/seen/done/attempted before. Probably by your very own parents at one point in their lives. And if you really, truly, absolutely can’t go to your parents? Find a friend. A counselor. An adult you trust & respect. A hotline. There is someone that can help you realize your value & make you understand how much life you actually have left to live.
And if this is another incident in which bullying has taken the ultimate toll? Enough. The time to turn a blind eye to the taunts you hear, the kids getting shoved, the brutal names that people are verbally assaulting other kids with is OVER. You HAVE to step in when you see/hear this kind of thing going on. No, you don’t have to get physical – fighting violence with violence never really works out well. But you can call those kids (boy OR girl) out on it. A simple “Leave him/her alone!” can be the difference between a kid going home feeling completely alone, lost and defeated or having that small, shimmering hope that someone does care. If YOU make it clear you won’t tolerate that kind of behavior, others will follow your lead. And if all of you that saw someone being mistreated actually DID say something? You know what? The bullying would decrease. Because people who taunt others and make them feel bad do that because of their own insecurities and they will stop when they realize their own peers won’t tolerate it. And if you happen to be friends with a bully (statistically speaking chances are good some of you are) – take some time to talk to them and explain to them they don’t have to treat people that way. That if folks can see the same good qualities you see in them they’d be friends with them too. Sometimes all a kid like that needs to hear is that they too are worth more than what they think they are.
Because what can’t happen is one more kid thinking there is no end in sight and the only way out is death. There’s too much out there to experience and enjoy and discover. Your first boyfriend or girlfriend (yes, it will happen - trust me). Driving a car. College. Living on your own and eating junk food all day long and staying out all night long. Starting your first job. Quitting your first job. Collecting all the spare change from your one room apartment or dorm and hoping you have enough to get a taco from Taco Bell, then realizing you don’t but that you do have enough for 2 packages of ramen noodles! Meeting people crazier and more messed up than you are (THAT will happen too) and finally feeling like you belong. ALL that happens. But it can’t if you cut it short. You are all old enough to make your own decisions. You’re old enough to see when something is wrong and old enough to be part of the solution. Take a chance. TALK to someone when you’re having problems. TALK to someone when you see him or her doing something hurtful. Reach out. Send an email or private message on FB or IM them or text them or call them or whatever. Take the chance and trust that someone will understand what you’re going through. Just don’t feel alone.
If you can’t talk to anyone else, then talk to me. I can listen. Believe me when I tell you there is not a single thing you can say that I have not either experienced myself or won’t understand. I won’t judge. And I will help in any way I can. Just please, don’t keep things to yourself. Because losing a classmate this way is senseless and my heart hurts from knowing this young man couldn’t find the words or the clarity to make his way through this one part of his life when I know SO many would have been willing to help him.
Feel free to pass this on to anyone you think could stand to read the ramblings of a concerned mother. And take care of yourselves. And each other. Because as cheesy as it may sound, you ARE loved and you ARE important and these are the thoughts you should remember during your moments of doubt and insecurity.
Love,
Mom
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Dear Dumbasses -
Yes, you, Mr. I Wear My Sunglasses Even Though the Sun Hasn't Risen Yet. You do not look cool wearing shades when there isn't even a glimmer of sun on the horizon. It was 6:30 in the morning. No sun yet. No daylight at all, actually. You look like a dumbass wearing them. Stop it. Now.
Yes, you, Miss I'm Going to Talk REALLY Loud on My Cell Phone with My Car Window Down in My Super High-Pitched Valley Girl Voice While I'm Trying to Drive a Stick Shift and Steer While Holding My Phone AND Trendy Environmentally Friendly Coffee Cup. First of all, it's creepy to maintain the same speed I am in the lane next to me for a solid 5 miles on the highway. Speed up or slow down, okay? Secondly, there's this amazing device shaped like a little headset that you can put on your ear that allows you to have free use of your hands AND talk on the phone at the same time! No, I swear, it's for real! You know what else they have nowadays? These nifty little niches in cars that are round and just big enough to hold drinks in them - I think they are called "cup holders" and they allow you to take a fountain beverage or cup of coffee with you while you're driving so you can still have both your hands free for that ever important steering that is necessary when one gets behind the driver's wheel of a car. Also, if you kept your window rolled up while driving at 70 miles an hour, you probably wouldn't have to yell into your cell phone in order to be heard by your caller. Because not only will this possibly enable the person on the other side of the phone to hear you, but everyone else around you can hear you too. No, you are not "the best human ever" because you bought an environmentally friendly coffee cup that you "get to use over & over again!" That's kind of the point of the cup, Dumbass. And I don't care that "it's soooo cute because it looks just like a disposable one!" Why is that a bonus? Do you want to trick people into thinking it's just a regular cardboard cup? Because that's just stupid. Oh, and when you're holding said cup while you're driving and not paying attention and suddenly have to stop short because there's traffic, OF COURSE it's going to spill all over the place!! Although I did chuckle at myself when I heard your blood curdling scream. So thanks for that.
Yes, you, Jerkwad Who Parked Your Car Right (at an ANGLE) on the Parking Line. Guess what? I drive a Jeep. It fits in really tiny spaces. I know how to park that thing on a dime. I don't care that you are parked in an effort to keep other people from parking next to your precious '86 Honda Accord. That parking space was close to the building, which, as you know since you work here as well, is a primo spot because it means you only have to walk 1/2 a mile to get inside instead of the typical day-long hike I do most days. I don't care if you barely have room to open up your driver's side door to get in later. Go ahead, ding up my Jeep. It's a CAR and already 10 years old and is rusting in spots so adding a nick to it really won't devastate me. Also, YOU DRIVE AN '86 HONDA ACCORD, so quit acting like it's a freakin' Ferrari, you dumbass!
And, of course, this includes you too, Khloe Kardashian. You cannot "literally" have butterflies in your stomach. Well, I suppose you could but that would require you actually digesting REAL butterflies. I'm thinking you didn't do that. So figure out the difference between "literally" and "figuratively" and stop making youself sound like a bigger dumbass than you probably are. I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Girlie. I'm trying to believe that you are not as stupid as you sound. So help a Sister out, okay?
And this goes out to the rest of you dumbasses - the ones that think it's okay to disrupt military funeral services to spew your anti-gay, bible thumping rhetoric that God's punishing those fallen solidiers because being gay is a mortal sin, thus allowing gays in the military requires God's discipline. I'm pretty sure you're screwing up the message God is actually trying to send, which is "Just be chill and live & let live, Dumbasses!"
And to the judge in Mississippi that forced a lawyer to sit in a jail cell for 5 hours because he didn't say the Pledge of Allegiance. "Contempt of Court" is not supposed to be used as your personal agenda to force people to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, or sing the National Anthem or pray or anything else that infringes upon a person's freedom of speech, which also gives a person the right to not speak if they so choose. It does not make one less American if they choose to not recite the Pledge, and one is not legally obligated to do so under any circumstance. Way to abuse your power and look like the hillbilly dumbass judge you really are.
Get a clue, people. Get a freakin' clue. This is 2010. You should be smarter by now. Stop doing stupid things and behaving like uneducated, unenlightened neanderthals. You will make my life so much easier if I don't have to constantly restrain myself from physically or verbally attacking you. Thank you in advance for your attention to this matter.
Sincerely,
Seoul Sister
Yes, you, Miss I'm Going to Talk REALLY Loud on My Cell Phone with My Car Window Down in My Super High-Pitched Valley Girl Voice While I'm Trying to Drive a Stick Shift and Steer While Holding My Phone AND Trendy Environmentally Friendly Coffee Cup. First of all, it's creepy to maintain the same speed I am in the lane next to me for a solid 5 miles on the highway. Speed up or slow down, okay? Secondly, there's this amazing device shaped like a little headset that you can put on your ear that allows you to have free use of your hands AND talk on the phone at the same time! No, I swear, it's for real! You know what else they have nowadays? These nifty little niches in cars that are round and just big enough to hold drinks in them - I think they are called "cup holders" and they allow you to take a fountain beverage or cup of coffee with you while you're driving so you can still have both your hands free for that ever important steering that is necessary when one gets behind the driver's wheel of a car. Also, if you kept your window rolled up while driving at 70 miles an hour, you probably wouldn't have to yell into your cell phone in order to be heard by your caller. Because not only will this possibly enable the person on the other side of the phone to hear you, but everyone else around you can hear you too. No, you are not "the best human ever" because you bought an environmentally friendly coffee cup that you "get to use over & over again!" That's kind of the point of the cup, Dumbass. And I don't care that "it's soooo cute because it looks just like a disposable one!" Why is that a bonus? Do you want to trick people into thinking it's just a regular cardboard cup? Because that's just stupid. Oh, and when you're holding said cup while you're driving and not paying attention and suddenly have to stop short because there's traffic, OF COURSE it's going to spill all over the place!! Although I did chuckle at myself when I heard your blood curdling scream. So thanks for that.
Yes, you, Jerkwad Who Parked Your Car Right (at an ANGLE) on the Parking Line. Guess what? I drive a Jeep. It fits in really tiny spaces. I know how to park that thing on a dime. I don't care that you are parked in an effort to keep other people from parking next to your precious '86 Honda Accord. That parking space was close to the building, which, as you know since you work here as well, is a primo spot because it means you only have to walk 1/2 a mile to get inside instead of the typical day-long hike I do most days. I don't care if you barely have room to open up your driver's side door to get in later. Go ahead, ding up my Jeep. It's a CAR and already 10 years old and is rusting in spots so adding a nick to it really won't devastate me. Also, YOU DRIVE AN '86 HONDA ACCORD, so quit acting like it's a freakin' Ferrari, you dumbass!
And, of course, this includes you too, Khloe Kardashian. You cannot "literally" have butterflies in your stomach. Well, I suppose you could but that would require you actually digesting REAL butterflies. I'm thinking you didn't do that. So figure out the difference between "literally" and "figuratively" and stop making youself sound like a bigger dumbass than you probably are. I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Girlie. I'm trying to believe that you are not as stupid as you sound. So help a Sister out, okay?
And this goes out to the rest of you dumbasses - the ones that think it's okay to disrupt military funeral services to spew your anti-gay, bible thumping rhetoric that God's punishing those fallen solidiers because being gay is a mortal sin, thus allowing gays in the military requires God's discipline. I'm pretty sure you're screwing up the message God is actually trying to send, which is "Just be chill and live & let live, Dumbasses!"
And to the judge in Mississippi that forced a lawyer to sit in a jail cell for 5 hours because he didn't say the Pledge of Allegiance. "Contempt of Court" is not supposed to be used as your personal agenda to force people to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, or sing the National Anthem or pray or anything else that infringes upon a person's freedom of speech, which also gives a person the right to not speak if they so choose. It does not make one less American if they choose to not recite the Pledge, and one is not legally obligated to do so under any circumstance. Way to abuse your power and look like the hillbilly dumbass judge you really are.
Get a clue, people. Get a freakin' clue. This is 2010. You should be smarter by now. Stop doing stupid things and behaving like uneducated, unenlightened neanderthals. You will make my life so much easier if I don't have to constantly restrain myself from physically or verbally attacking you. Thank you in advance for your attention to this matter.
Sincerely,
Seoul Sister
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
First Day of School
As most of you are now aware, I have some paranoia issues. And OCD. And probably a good dose of ADD thrown in for good measure. At any rate, I'm also married to a man that has yet to be run off by my...quirks...and takes my panic attacks about various situations (mostly imagined, but could totally possibly be real & happen, so it totally counts as legitimate!) in stride. Usually he's very supportive & understanding.
However, sometimes he doesn't fully grasp the severity of the potential threat about which I'm panicking, and thus ends up being snarky and sarcastic instead of supportive. I guess no one's perfect. Anyway, today was the kids' first day of school. They are now 7th & 10th graders. Every year since they've started school, I was able to either walk them to the bus stop, or when they got too "old" to be escorted, I would watch obsessively from our kitchen window to make sure they did indeed get on the bus and not kidnapped by crazy puppy & candy-weilding ninjas intent on abducting my children and throwing them into the back of a rape van so they could be sold off into slavery never to be seen or heard from again.
Seriously, there are times where I cannot sleep at night because of the horrific things I imagine happening to them, all because I was too lazy or falsely secure in my feeling they were safe to watch them physically get on the bus. And would that be any comfort to them while they are being repeatedly drugged & tortured in some dirty, smelly shack? NO, it most certainly would not. Nevermind the fact that the bus stop is literally 10 steps from our door. Or that even if I did see puppy & candy-weilding ninjas abducting my kids, I'd still be too far away to stop them. Or the fact that both my kids are black belts. Or that my 13 year old son is bigger than some of the 16 year olds in our neighborhood, and that my 15 year old daughter dresses like such a freak I'm fairly certain most folks in the area are afraid of her. It could happen, and that's all that's needed to get me all worked up and incapacitated at the thought of losing my children.
Anyway, this year, because of my crazy commute to work, I was unable to perform my annual task of making sure they weren't kidnapped and sold into slavery of some sort. However, my beloved husband reassured me that he would take over this duty and be ever diligent to make sure they made it on the school bus safely. I went to work, my mind at ease in knowing my husband (who is also a 2nd degree black belt, thus much more capable of catching and disabling any potential ninja kidnappers) had taken me seriously and would prevent any wrong doing from happening. I should have noticed him rolling his eyes...
So, I go to work this morning, and upon opening my email, I received this from my dear spouse:
"The kids are off to school. Both got on their busses okay and only had to fight off 2 or three waves of puppy and candy wielding kidnapper ninjas before doing so. Here is a picture I made for you to remember the kids first day of school this year! Have a Superwonderful day!
P.S. Just be aware this is an artist's rendering of this morning's events, not an actual photograph. Also it is only *based*on actual events...some liberties may have been taken, and names have been changed to protect the innocent."
However, sometimes he doesn't fully grasp the severity of the potential threat about which I'm panicking, and thus ends up being snarky and sarcastic instead of supportive. I guess no one's perfect. Anyway, today was the kids' first day of school. They are now 7th & 10th graders. Every year since they've started school, I was able to either walk them to the bus stop, or when they got too "old" to be escorted, I would watch obsessively from our kitchen window to make sure they did indeed get on the bus and not kidnapped by crazy puppy & candy-weilding ninjas intent on abducting my children and throwing them into the back of a rape van so they could be sold off into slavery never to be seen or heard from again.
Seriously, there are times where I cannot sleep at night because of the horrific things I imagine happening to them, all because I was too lazy or falsely secure in my feeling they were safe to watch them physically get on the bus. And would that be any comfort to them while they are being repeatedly drugged & tortured in some dirty, smelly shack? NO, it most certainly would not. Nevermind the fact that the bus stop is literally 10 steps from our door. Or that even if I did see puppy & candy-weilding ninjas abducting my kids, I'd still be too far away to stop them. Or the fact that both my kids are black belts. Or that my 13 year old son is bigger than some of the 16 year olds in our neighborhood, and that my 15 year old daughter dresses like such a freak I'm fairly certain most folks in the area are afraid of her. It could happen, and that's all that's needed to get me all worked up and incapacitated at the thought of losing my children.
Anyway, this year, because of my crazy commute to work, I was unable to perform my annual task of making sure they weren't kidnapped and sold into slavery of some sort. However, my beloved husband reassured me that he would take over this duty and be ever diligent to make sure they made it on the school bus safely. I went to work, my mind at ease in knowing my husband (who is also a 2nd degree black belt, thus much more capable of catching and disabling any potential ninja kidnappers) had taken me seriously and would prevent any wrong doing from happening. I should have noticed him rolling his eyes...
So, I go to work this morning, and upon opening my email, I received this from my dear spouse:
"The kids are off to school. Both got on their busses okay and only had to fight off 2 or three waves of puppy and candy wielding kidnapper ninjas before doing so. Here is a picture I made for you to remember the kids first day of school this year! Have a Superwonderful day!
P.S. Just be aware this is an artist's rendering of this morning's events, not an actual photograph. Also it is only *based*on actual events...some liberties may have been taken, and names have been changed to protect the innocent."
And this is why I'll be divorcing him for mental cruelty.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Fortunately/Unfortunately: A Tale of Misfortune, Paranoia and Stupidity
Once upon a time, there was a woman who suffered from terrible paranoia and fear that one day she would be murdered in her sleep. She has, on several occasions, awakened her husband from a sound sleep just to check the locks on the doors, convinced that one was left open, thereby allowing murderers, rapists and pyschopaths (or - her worst fear - a combination of all three) easy access to their home to inflict unspeakable amounts of violence and mayhem. However, when her husband is unavailable for door-checking, she makes certain to check, double check & triple check the locks herself. She also goes through this same ritual with her stove, because what good is it to lock all the doors to keep the psychopaths out only to burn to death in your own home because you forgot to turn off the stove or oven, and maybe there was a piece of paper or something that somehow got stuck on the stove or in the oven and then it catches fire, which then catches fire to the oven mitt you accidentally left out, which then catches fire to the wooden spoons (and let's face it, they might as well be kindling!!) and the next thing you know you've become your own personal deep fried wanton? It could happen, people. It could happen!
*Ahem* Anyway...
Recently, she found a job that requires her to commute long distances (160+ miles round trip), but fortunately she was able to work out a plan with her in-laws where upon she could stay at their house a few nights a week in an effort to save gas money and extra wear & tear to her vehicle. This worked out nicely because they no longer lived in the house and had put it up for sale. By staying in the vacant house, her in-laws had someone who could keep an eye on things and make it look as if it was still occupied. And of course (especially because she was All Alone in the house), whenever she stayed there, she was sure to lock all the doors, including the one that opened from the garage into the house, despite the fact that one can't actually enter the garage once the garage doors have been shut, thereby negating the need to lock the door into the home but you just never know.
One day her father in-law kindly asked her to check their basement for water damage, as it had stormed the night before. She agreed, and upon arrival at the home, proceeded to bring all her belongings (a rather hefty skate bag, her overnight bag & her giant purse) into the house, where she (of course) promptly locked the aforementioned garage door. After having checked to make sure the other doors & windows in the home were securely locked (she didn’t want someone to sneak in & murder her while she was in the basement, because you can get murdered during pre-dusk hours too, you know), she went down to the basement to see that, fortunately, no water damage had been done. What a relief! Her father in law would be so happy! She went to send him a text with the good news, only to discover her phone battery had died. So she plugged her phone in to charge it and left it on the nightstand next to her bed (so it would have enough charge to dial 911 if that was needed at some point during the night - always prepared, that one!), as she did nearly every night she stayed there.
Then she remembered that he also wanted her to check the gutter by the basement to make sure it wasn’t clogged up with leaves. Fortunately, the door to get outside was right next to the gutter so she slipped outside, remembering to close the door behind her (there were bugs flying about, and it would be just as traumatic for her to awaken with bugs crawling/flying on her as it would to be murdered. Yes, she knows she’s completely crazy), when she heard an ever so faint “click” that turned out to be the automatic locking mechanism to the door. Unfortunately, she had no key to the home in order to get herself back inside - she always used the remote key pad on the side of the garage to get into the house. More unfortunately, ALL her things were in the house, including her cell phone (which was dead anyway, so that really didn't help, but the idea of her phone being in the house and her current position of being out of the house was making her panic) and any kind of implement she could have used to maybe pick the lock to the garage door, because she could get into the garage, just not the house once she was in the garage.
However, wanting to complete her requested task, she quickly checked the gutter (fortunately leaf-free because she really didn’t like the idea of having to dig out leaves in all that muddy guck), and then walked round & round the house, checking all the windows and doors in case one may have been inadvertently left open but they were (of course) securely locked. She was nothing if not thorough in her quest for safety. Eventually she noticed the little basement window on the side of the house that was surrounded by dirt (okay, a flower bed, but it was still dirty and gross. Did I mention her great dislike for the outdoors and the dirt that goes with it?), and covered in cobwebs, spiders and other unidentifiable yuckiness. She also noticed the window lock was up.
She knew what she had to do. So she squatted down to the window and tried to pull the window up. Nothing. She cursed. A lot. She tried again to pull the window up, nearly giving herself a hernia in the process. Nothing. She took her shoes off and threw them. Obviously the shoes were not allowing her to get a firm stance in the dirt. Pulled some more. Still nothing. In fit of anger, she shoved the edge of the window while profanity poured out of her mouth faster than a runaway train. Miraculously it opened. Just a smidge. Because the window in question was not the kind of window that pulled up or pushed down to open and close. It was the kind one pushed in or out. Had she bothered to really look, she’d have noticed that a lot sooner, and before her feet were covered in dirt.
So she shimmied and squirmed her way through the window, fairly certain her sizeable bandonkadonk wasn’t going to make the trip. Visions of Winnie the Pooh came to mind and she thought how no one at work would believe she wasn’t able to make it in the next day because she managed to get herself stuck in a window. Fortunately, her ability to measure accurately is just as faulty as her observational skills, so she was able to get through the window and into the house, where she cleaned up the dirty footprints on the bathroom sink (fortunately for her, the window was directly over it because falling onto the tiled floor in a heap wasn’t a fun thought) and closed the window all the way, but didn’t lock it. After all, she figured, if a murderer is going to go through all the trouble of getting dirty and squeezing through a tiny basement window just to slit her throat in her sleep, then he earned it.
And the next time her father in-law asks her to check the gutters for leaves, she's going to tell him to check his g-damned gutters himself.
The end.
*Ahem* Anyway...
Recently, she found a job that requires her to commute long distances (160+ miles round trip), but fortunately she was able to work out a plan with her in-laws where upon she could stay at their house a few nights a week in an effort to save gas money and extra wear & tear to her vehicle. This worked out nicely because they no longer lived in the house and had put it up for sale. By staying in the vacant house, her in-laws had someone who could keep an eye on things and make it look as if it was still occupied. And of course (especially because she was All Alone in the house), whenever she stayed there, she was sure to lock all the doors, including the one that opened from the garage into the house, despite the fact that one can't actually enter the garage once the garage doors have been shut, thereby negating the need to lock the door into the home but you just never know.
One day her father in-law kindly asked her to check their basement for water damage, as it had stormed the night before. She agreed, and upon arrival at the home, proceeded to bring all her belongings (a rather hefty skate bag, her overnight bag & her giant purse) into the house, where she (of course) promptly locked the aforementioned garage door. After having checked to make sure the other doors & windows in the home were securely locked (she didn’t want someone to sneak in & murder her while she was in the basement, because you can get murdered during pre-dusk hours too, you know), she went down to the basement to see that, fortunately, no water damage had been done. What a relief! Her father in law would be so happy! She went to send him a text with the good news, only to discover her phone battery had died. So she plugged her phone in to charge it and left it on the nightstand next to her bed (so it would have enough charge to dial 911 if that was needed at some point during the night - always prepared, that one!), as she did nearly every night she stayed there.
Then she remembered that he also wanted her to check the gutter by the basement to make sure it wasn’t clogged up with leaves. Fortunately, the door to get outside was right next to the gutter so she slipped outside, remembering to close the door behind her (there were bugs flying about, and it would be just as traumatic for her to awaken with bugs crawling/flying on her as it would to be murdered. Yes, she knows she’s completely crazy), when she heard an ever so faint “click” that turned out to be the automatic locking mechanism to the door. Unfortunately, she had no key to the home in order to get herself back inside - she always used the remote key pad on the side of the garage to get into the house. More unfortunately, ALL her things were in the house, including her cell phone (which was dead anyway, so that really didn't help, but the idea of her phone being in the house and her current position of being out of the house was making her panic) and any kind of implement she could have used to maybe pick the lock to the garage door, because she could get into the garage, just not the house once she was in the garage.
However, wanting to complete her requested task, she quickly checked the gutter (fortunately leaf-free because she really didn’t like the idea of having to dig out leaves in all that muddy guck), and then walked round & round the house, checking all the windows and doors in case one may have been inadvertently left open but they were (of course) securely locked. She was nothing if not thorough in her quest for safety. Eventually she noticed the little basement window on the side of the house that was surrounded by dirt (okay, a flower bed, but it was still dirty and gross. Did I mention her great dislike for the outdoors and the dirt that goes with it?), and covered in cobwebs, spiders and other unidentifiable yuckiness. She also noticed the window lock was up.
She knew what she had to do. So she squatted down to the window and tried to pull the window up. Nothing. She cursed. A lot. She tried again to pull the window up, nearly giving herself a hernia in the process. Nothing. She took her shoes off and threw them. Obviously the shoes were not allowing her to get a firm stance in the dirt. Pulled some more. Still nothing. In fit of anger, she shoved the edge of the window while profanity poured out of her mouth faster than a runaway train. Miraculously it opened. Just a smidge. Because the window in question was not the kind of window that pulled up or pushed down to open and close. It was the kind one pushed in or out. Had she bothered to really look, she’d have noticed that a lot sooner, and before her feet were covered in dirt.
So she shimmied and squirmed her way through the window, fairly certain her sizeable bandonkadonk wasn’t going to make the trip. Visions of Winnie the Pooh came to mind and she thought how no one at work would believe she wasn’t able to make it in the next day because she managed to get herself stuck in a window. Fortunately, her ability to measure accurately is just as faulty as her observational skills, so she was able to get through the window and into the house, where she cleaned up the dirty footprints on the bathroom sink (fortunately for her, the window was directly over it because falling onto the tiled floor in a heap wasn’t a fun thought) and closed the window all the way, but didn’t lock it. After all, she figured, if a murderer is going to go through all the trouble of getting dirty and squeezing through a tiny basement window just to slit her throat in her sleep, then he earned it.
And the next time her father in-law asks her to check the gutters for leaves, she's going to tell him to check his g-damned gutters himself.
The end.
Monday, November 2, 2009
You're not serious, are you?
I was reading the "Dear Prudence" column on Slate.com over the weekend, which is something I'm wont to do (unless work is unusally slow, and then, dare I admit, I read it during "working" hours), and the past set of questions were just too awesome to ignore. Normally I leave the advice giving to those that are better equipped and more entertaining than I (see the Fly front page), but I just can't let these go without my own .02, so straight from me to you, free of charge, is my advice to these dimwitted letter writers, as well as my own paraphrasing of the original questions. If you want to see the original letters, go to Slate.com and look up the Dear Prudence column. I'm too lazy (and stupid) to post the link directly for you.
And away we go!
LW#1: Dear Prudie,
I have this super awesome boyfriend that's totally great and I just love him to pieces and we're all sunshine and rainbows except for this one little issue: he holds me down against my will and tickles me nearly every single day since the day I told him I HATE to be tickled (which was like, date #3 when he insisted we play the "What do you absolutely hate the most so I can torture you with it?" game) and even though I've told him repeatedly that it makes me super uncomfortable and I panic and hate it, he tells me that I need to go with it and learn to like it, because obviously since I'm laughing I must like it. You know, the whole "no really means yes" thing. And since he's cool with it and gets off on it, I should just deal with it, because then he wouldn't have to go through all the effort of pinning me down to do it. How do I tell him that I really, really, really, REALLY don't like it at all?
Sincerely,
Clueless Wonder
Dear Clueless:
Kick him in the nuts the second he starts toward you with his hands extended. Then dump his ass and date a guy that doesn't think holding you down against your will (for any reason) is the greatest thing since Rohypnol. Period.
LW#2: Dear Prudie,
My mom used to be a total drunk, but she's been sober now for 6 years and she wants to have a "What'd I miss?" lunch so I can fill her in on all the details of my adolescence when she was too sloshed to give a shit. I'm really uncomfortable doing this, because even though I'm proud of her for being sober, I really don't need that trip down memory lane. Am I being selfish?
Sincerely,
Lost in transformation
Dear Lost,
Not only are you not being selfish, but you don't owe it to her either. It's great that she's been sober and accepts/acknowledges that she lost a lot of good years she could have been spending bonding with you, but she completely missed out being able to help you through the most turbulent time in anyone's life. She doesn't get a do-over, and she needs to accept that some things you just can't get back, no matter how much you'd like.
And don't forget that it's not you that should be put into a situation of trying to make her feel better or whatever it is she's looking for in this scavenger hunt down memory lane. Tell her that you don't want to get into it because you've come to terms with it and need to keep that chapter closed. If she insists, tell her straight up that she's the one that owes you explanations and closure, not the other way around. My personal theory is that she wants some kind of assurance that she didn't royally fuck you over when she was too busy drinking to notice you were living in Hell on Earth because I imagine she's got some serious guilt, and she should. Sorry. I call 'em like I see 'em. And best of luck for a healthy relationship with her, because it sounds like she's still got some issues to work through.
LW#3: Dear Prudie,
Now that I'm out of Graduate school, I really want to show everyone how grown up and sophisticated (i.e. snooty) I've become, but I'm new to "grown up-style" socializing. I want to have a dinner party with the group I used to hang with, but they've all gone and gotten lives and have significant others or (gasp!) spouses. I don't want to play with them, because then the attention wouldn't be just on me. Can I invite my 10 friends over and tell them to keep their lousy loved ones at home? And can I use the lame excuse that my dining room table is too small to fit everyone?
Sincerely,
All about me
Dear All,
There's probably a good reason why that particular group of folks don't keep in touch with you anymore. Sounds like you're living in the past, and haven't figured out a way to get out of it. Not to mention, you're old enough to have gone through Graduate school and you're using terms like "grown up style socializing"? Really? And what's with your dining room table being too small? You're telling me that you can comfortably seat 11 people at your dining room table? That's the biggest "small" table I've ever heard of.
You know what I think? I think you got yourself a fancy little place, full of fancy little things, and you want to play Dinner Party and have all those folks over to rub in their face that you're doing sooo awesome but you don't want to deal with their significant others because you're actually jealous that you didn't bother to go out and get a life while you were furnishing your "small" place with your tiny-only-seats-11-comfortably-table. If you're really interested in catching up with lost friends, meet at a restaurant where they have space enough to fit your friends and their significant others, and quit acting like such a dumbass.
LW#4: Dear Prudie,
We adopted our daughter when she was 5 years old and a foster child in our care. Since then, we've been forcing her to keep in contact with the family members that were responsible for getting her put into foster care to begin with, because this therapist insisted that doing this wouldn't make her feel like a freak at all. After all, blood is thicker than water, right? Anyway, she's 12 now and wants to stop hanging out with her freak ass biological family members, but we don't think it's right. I mean, sure they've made some "bad" choices, but we love her sooo much that we think it's in her best interest to continue to force her seeing family members she has no interest in being around. Because we're that open minded and forward thinking! Tell us it's okay to continue to ignore our daughter's wishes for a normal childhood.
Sincerely,
Dr. Spock Didn't Have a Chapter for This
Dear Doc,
Having 1)been adopted myself and 2) grown up living with foster kids and taking care of them all my life, I feel like I have enough experience to tell you that you need to cut ties with your kid's biological family and let her really be a part of yours, no strings attached. Because what you're doing, despite the best of your intentions, is constantly reminding your kid that she's not really your kid. You realize all you've done this entire time is reinforce the fact that she's not really your child, right? That even though it says so on paper, all this time you've spent making her see her "other" family is just confusing the kid into thinking she doesn't really belong in yours, right? That's gotta make her think she's not good enough to just belong to you, hence her explanation to you that she's happy being here, with YOU.
Sure, you adopted her, but you've basically made her spend the entire time she's been part of your family spending it with the very people that put her in the position to be part of your family. They made "bad" choices? Ya think?? Child Welfare doesn't get involved with families who just aren't making their kids eat their veggies or brush their teeth, you know. There's a reason why that kid was taken away from the people she was with. And, being 5 years old when it happened means there's stuff that she remembers, and it's not good stuff either.
I don't know what kind of whacked out therapist you've been taking her to, but anyone with half a brain could tell you that allowing your child to be around the damaging, neglectful folks she was likely around, but only in a "safer" environment is not conducive to proper healing of traumatic events. She's your kid now, right? So let her be your kid. Respect her wishes now that she's old enough to voice them and tell those family members that she's not interested in continuing a relationship with them, and since it's her choice, they have to respect that. If she changes her mind when she gets older, then it's her choice to contact them again. That's your job as her parents - to do what's truly best for her, not what you think should be best because you have some weird Mary Poppins notion that some kind of perfect world exists where the neglectful, absuive family that gave you your child has completely changed their lives and turned out to be great people that totally wouldn't hurt your kid again.
Why are you taking more consideration of her other family's feelings than you are with her own? You want her well adjusted and happy? Let her have her family- her real family (that's YOU) - all to herself and really feel like she belongs to just you. That's what she wants, how many different ways does she have to say it?
And before I get a bunch of "People can change, you know! You're not being fair to that other family!" responses, here's what I know: in the course of living in my mother's house (for 18 years), there were no less than 15 different families that had their kids placed in our home for care (my mom was one of the few foster parents that wasn't willing to separate siblings from each other) while the parents tried to get their shit together. NONE of them ever did. Two of those kids (out of probably 20+total) ended up becoming my siblings, and the rest? Yup, all went back to those very same parents that had them taken away to begin with. And you know what happened? They all ended up back in the system again, or got too old to bother being put back in and ended up being stuck in a shitty situation with no real recourse but to run away and start life on their own. Of the ones I still keep in touch with, they either had babies themselves when they were 15 & 19, ended up in abusive relationships, turned into alcoholics/drug addicts themselves, or just plain disappeared. The ones that did manage to come out on the other side a bit better for the wear? The ones that continued to live with us (with their parents' permission because they really didn't want to bother being parents) as part of our family, even though it was never officially acknowledged.
So yes, miracles can happen, but it's pretty rare. And with regard to this particular letter writer, this kid is obviously not cool with hanging with her biological family, so the parents need to take the hint from their kid and let that relationship die. After all, she knows better than anyone else the kind of people they really are.
*steps off soap box*
Well, that's it for me today, folks. I'm actually going to do some real work now! Have a fantastic Monday!
And away we go!
LW#1: Dear Prudie,
I have this super awesome boyfriend that's totally great and I just love him to pieces and we're all sunshine and rainbows except for this one little issue: he holds me down against my will and tickles me nearly every single day since the day I told him I HATE to be tickled (which was like, date #3 when he insisted we play the "What do you absolutely hate the most so I can torture you with it?" game) and even though I've told him repeatedly that it makes me super uncomfortable and I panic and hate it, he tells me that I need to go with it and learn to like it, because obviously since I'm laughing I must like it. You know, the whole "no really means yes" thing. And since he's cool with it and gets off on it, I should just deal with it, because then he wouldn't have to go through all the effort of pinning me down to do it. How do I tell him that I really, really, really, REALLY don't like it at all?
Sincerely,
Clueless Wonder
Dear Clueless:
Kick him in the nuts the second he starts toward you with his hands extended. Then dump his ass and date a guy that doesn't think holding you down against your will (for any reason) is the greatest thing since Rohypnol. Period.
LW#2: Dear Prudie,
My mom used to be a total drunk, but she's been sober now for 6 years and she wants to have a "What'd I miss?" lunch so I can fill her in on all the details of my adolescence when she was too sloshed to give a shit. I'm really uncomfortable doing this, because even though I'm proud of her for being sober, I really don't need that trip down memory lane. Am I being selfish?
Sincerely,
Lost in transformation
Dear Lost,
Not only are you not being selfish, but you don't owe it to her either. It's great that she's been sober and accepts/acknowledges that she lost a lot of good years she could have been spending bonding with you, but she completely missed out being able to help you through the most turbulent time in anyone's life. She doesn't get a do-over, and she needs to accept that some things you just can't get back, no matter how much you'd like.
And don't forget that it's not you that should be put into a situation of trying to make her feel better or whatever it is she's looking for in this scavenger hunt down memory lane. Tell her that you don't want to get into it because you've come to terms with it and need to keep that chapter closed. If she insists, tell her straight up that she's the one that owes you explanations and closure, not the other way around. My personal theory is that she wants some kind of assurance that she didn't royally fuck you over when she was too busy drinking to notice you were living in Hell on Earth because I imagine she's got some serious guilt, and she should. Sorry. I call 'em like I see 'em. And best of luck for a healthy relationship with her, because it sounds like she's still got some issues to work through.
LW#3: Dear Prudie,
Now that I'm out of Graduate school, I really want to show everyone how grown up and sophisticated (i.e. snooty) I've become, but I'm new to "grown up-style" socializing. I want to have a dinner party with the group I used to hang with, but they've all gone and gotten lives and have significant others or (gasp!) spouses. I don't want to play with them, because then the attention wouldn't be just on me. Can I invite my 10 friends over and tell them to keep their lousy loved ones at home? And can I use the lame excuse that my dining room table is too small to fit everyone?
Sincerely,
All about me
Dear All,
There's probably a good reason why that particular group of folks don't keep in touch with you anymore. Sounds like you're living in the past, and haven't figured out a way to get out of it. Not to mention, you're old enough to have gone through Graduate school and you're using terms like "grown up style socializing"? Really? And what's with your dining room table being too small? You're telling me that you can comfortably seat 11 people at your dining room table? That's the biggest "small" table I've ever heard of.
You know what I think? I think you got yourself a fancy little place, full of fancy little things, and you want to play Dinner Party and have all those folks over to rub in their face that you're doing sooo awesome but you don't want to deal with their significant others because you're actually jealous that you didn't bother to go out and get a life while you were furnishing your "small" place with your tiny-only-seats-11-comfortably-table. If you're really interested in catching up with lost friends, meet at a restaurant where they have space enough to fit your friends and their significant others, and quit acting like such a dumbass.
LW#4: Dear Prudie,
We adopted our daughter when she was 5 years old and a foster child in our care. Since then, we've been forcing her to keep in contact with the family members that were responsible for getting her put into foster care to begin with, because this therapist insisted that doing this wouldn't make her feel like a freak at all. After all, blood is thicker than water, right? Anyway, she's 12 now and wants to stop hanging out with her freak ass biological family members, but we don't think it's right. I mean, sure they've made some "bad" choices, but we love her sooo much that we think it's in her best interest to continue to force her seeing family members she has no interest in being around. Because we're that open minded and forward thinking! Tell us it's okay to continue to ignore our daughter's wishes for a normal childhood.
Sincerely,
Dr. Spock Didn't Have a Chapter for This
Dear Doc,
Having 1)been adopted myself and 2) grown up living with foster kids and taking care of them all my life, I feel like I have enough experience to tell you that you need to cut ties with your kid's biological family and let her really be a part of yours, no strings attached. Because what you're doing, despite the best of your intentions, is constantly reminding your kid that she's not really your kid. You realize all you've done this entire time is reinforce the fact that she's not really your child, right? That even though it says so on paper, all this time you've spent making her see her "other" family is just confusing the kid into thinking she doesn't really belong in yours, right? That's gotta make her think she's not good enough to just belong to you, hence her explanation to you that she's happy being here, with YOU.
Sure, you adopted her, but you've basically made her spend the entire time she's been part of your family spending it with the very people that put her in the position to be part of your family. They made "bad" choices? Ya think?? Child Welfare doesn't get involved with families who just aren't making their kids eat their veggies or brush their teeth, you know. There's a reason why that kid was taken away from the people she was with. And, being 5 years old when it happened means there's stuff that she remembers, and it's not good stuff either.
I don't know what kind of whacked out therapist you've been taking her to, but anyone with half a brain could tell you that allowing your child to be around the damaging, neglectful folks she was likely around, but only in a "safer" environment is not conducive to proper healing of traumatic events. She's your kid now, right? So let her be your kid. Respect her wishes now that she's old enough to voice them and tell those family members that she's not interested in continuing a relationship with them, and since it's her choice, they have to respect that. If she changes her mind when she gets older, then it's her choice to contact them again. That's your job as her parents - to do what's truly best for her, not what you think should be best because you have some weird Mary Poppins notion that some kind of perfect world exists where the neglectful, absuive family that gave you your child has completely changed their lives and turned out to be great people that totally wouldn't hurt your kid again.
Why are you taking more consideration of her other family's feelings than you are with her own? You want her well adjusted and happy? Let her have her family- her real family (that's YOU) - all to herself and really feel like she belongs to just you. That's what she wants, how many different ways does she have to say it?
And before I get a bunch of "People can change, you know! You're not being fair to that other family!" responses, here's what I know: in the course of living in my mother's house (for 18 years), there were no less than 15 different families that had their kids placed in our home for care (my mom was one of the few foster parents that wasn't willing to separate siblings from each other) while the parents tried to get their shit together. NONE of them ever did. Two of those kids (out of probably 20+total) ended up becoming my siblings, and the rest? Yup, all went back to those very same parents that had them taken away to begin with. And you know what happened? They all ended up back in the system again, or got too old to bother being put back in and ended up being stuck in a shitty situation with no real recourse but to run away and start life on their own. Of the ones I still keep in touch with, they either had babies themselves when they were 15 & 19, ended up in abusive relationships, turned into alcoholics/drug addicts themselves, or just plain disappeared. The ones that did manage to come out on the other side a bit better for the wear? The ones that continued to live with us (with their parents' permission because they really didn't want to bother being parents) as part of our family, even though it was never officially acknowledged.
So yes, miracles can happen, but it's pretty rare. And with regard to this particular letter writer, this kid is obviously not cool with hanging with her biological family, so the parents need to take the hint from their kid and let that relationship die. After all, she knows better than anyone else the kind of people they really are.
*steps off soap box*
Well, that's it for me today, folks. I'm actually going to do some real work now! Have a fantastic Monday!
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Fruit of My Loins
You know those days when you watch your children, and you're in awe of the kind of people they are? You can see the compassion and thoughtfulness that fuel them? You get a brief glimpse of the kind of thoughtful, compassionate adults they will be? Of all the things they will accomplish? The positive Changes In Society they will make? And it makes you smile?
Well, today was not one of those days. Today I saw the other side of my kids. The bickering, argumentative "HEY, MOOOOOVE!!! No - YOU MOVE!!!" kind of kids. In order to paint a crystal clear picture for you, let me share with you our dinner conversation this evening.
Harry (H): You know, we haven't had Sloppy Joes in a long time. These are good.
The Boy (TB): These should be called Sloppy Katies, because she's a slob! (follow with incessant giggling)
Katie - aka Pre-Teen Drama Queen (DQ): Be quiet, Christopher. Just because I don't have OCD like you doesn't make me a slob.
(TB stops laughing, opting instead to burn holes through DQ with his eyes)
Me (Me): So we had a conference call at work today.
H: Really? What was it about? (said with mock interest)
DQ: Stop staring at me, Christopher!
TB: Make me!
DQ: Oooh, look at me, I'm Christopher, and I think I'm soooo smart. I'm so smart the only thing I can do is stare at my sister and say 'make me!'
TB: That's right - I'm so smart I get straight As - what kind of grades do you get, Katie? Not straight As!
H: Is this ground turkey? Because the meat looks funny.
DQ: You get straight As because you're in THIRD grade. Like that's hard...
Me: Yeah, it's turkey. We've eaten it like this a million times.
TB: Did you get straight As in third grade? NO. So I guess that means you're STILL dumb.
H: Well, I didn't say it was bad, I just happened to notice it didn't look like ground beef.
DQ: Whatever. Jerk. (directed toward her brother, not her dad)
TB: I know you are but what am I?
Me: Well, no, you didn't say it like you didn't like it, I just thought it was weird you were surprised by it, because we hardly eat ground beef anymore.
DQ: Right, Chris. SO mature (followed with exaggerated eye rolling)
H: Well, yeah, but I just never really noticed it before, I guess.
TB: (laughing)
DQ: STOP IT!
TB: Stop what?
DQ: Laughing! You're all " HUH HUH HUH" (makes crazy facial expressions while simultaneously leaving mouth open and snorting)
H: (viewing his pride and joy): Boy, I sure wish we were out in a restaurant so that everyone could see our kids like this.
Me: Yes, because they're AWESOME. I'm so proud.
Fast forward to bed time. Harry and I are on the couch, watching the last few minutes of Dodgeball, when we hear this:
DQ: Christopher, give me the toothpaste!
TB: Get YOUR toothpaste! This is mine!
DQ: Mine's gross. Just GIVE IT TO ME (this is squealed at an impossibly high pitch - so high the dog has actually hidden his head under a blanket in an attempt to keep his little doggie eardrums from bursting)
TB: No! I'm not giving you my toothpaste so you can make it all nasty by getting your HAIR in it!
Harry and I look at each other. And at the same time ask ourselves the 64 thousand dollar question: "How does she get her hair in the toothpaste?!"
DQ: I'm not going to get my hair in it, just let me have some so I can BRUSH MY TEETH (this time the dog whines and actually puts his little doggie paws over his head)
TB: You want some? HERE!!!
Then a blood curdling scream followed by maniacal laughter.
I walk into the bathroom to see my dear daughter with toothpaste covering her ENTIRE toothbrush and her wrist and The Boy laughing like a loon.
The dog has run away. Harry has suddenly become deaf. And, after banishing the children to their rooms, I closed my eyes and tried to find my happy place.
I'm off to watch Lost, where at least the people on that island only have to deal with murder and possibly mass destruction.
Well, today was not one of those days. Today I saw the other side of my kids. The bickering, argumentative "HEY, MOOOOOVE!!! No - YOU MOVE!!!" kind of kids. In order to paint a crystal clear picture for you, let me share with you our dinner conversation this evening.
Harry (H): You know, we haven't had Sloppy Joes in a long time. These are good.
The Boy (TB): These should be called Sloppy Katies, because she's a slob! (follow with incessant giggling)
Katie - aka Pre-Teen Drama Queen (DQ): Be quiet, Christopher. Just because I don't have OCD like you doesn't make me a slob.
(TB stops laughing, opting instead to burn holes through DQ with his eyes)
Me (Me): So we had a conference call at work today.
H: Really? What was it about? (said with mock interest)
DQ: Stop staring at me, Christopher!
TB: Make me!
DQ: Oooh, look at me, I'm Christopher, and I think I'm soooo smart. I'm so smart the only thing I can do is stare at my sister and say 'make me!'
TB: That's right - I'm so smart I get straight As - what kind of grades do you get, Katie? Not straight As!
H: Is this ground turkey? Because the meat looks funny.
DQ: You get straight As because you're in THIRD grade. Like that's hard...
Me: Yeah, it's turkey. We've eaten it like this a million times.
TB: Did you get straight As in third grade? NO. So I guess that means you're STILL dumb.
H: Well, I didn't say it was bad, I just happened to notice it didn't look like ground beef.
DQ: Whatever. Jerk. (directed toward her brother, not her dad)
TB: I know you are but what am I?
Me: Well, no, you didn't say it like you didn't like it, I just thought it was weird you were surprised by it, because we hardly eat ground beef anymore.
DQ: Right, Chris. SO mature (followed with exaggerated eye rolling)
H: Well, yeah, but I just never really noticed it before, I guess.
TB: (laughing)
DQ: STOP IT!
TB: Stop what?
DQ: Laughing! You're all " HUH HUH HUH" (makes crazy facial expressions while simultaneously leaving mouth open and snorting)
H: (viewing his pride and joy): Boy, I sure wish we were out in a restaurant so that everyone could see our kids like this.
Me: Yes, because they're AWESOME. I'm so proud.
Fast forward to bed time. Harry and I are on the couch, watching the last few minutes of Dodgeball, when we hear this:
DQ: Christopher, give me the toothpaste!
TB: Get YOUR toothpaste! This is mine!
DQ: Mine's gross. Just GIVE IT TO ME (this is squealed at an impossibly high pitch - so high the dog has actually hidden his head under a blanket in an attempt to keep his little doggie eardrums from bursting)
TB: No! I'm not giving you my toothpaste so you can make it all nasty by getting your HAIR in it!
Harry and I look at each other. And at the same time ask ourselves the 64 thousand dollar question: "How does she get her hair in the toothpaste?!"
DQ: I'm not going to get my hair in it, just let me have some so I can BRUSH MY TEETH (this time the dog whines and actually puts his little doggie paws over his head)
TB: You want some? HERE!!!
Then a blood curdling scream followed by maniacal laughter.
I walk into the bathroom to see my dear daughter with toothpaste covering her ENTIRE toothbrush and her wrist and The Boy laughing like a loon.
The dog has run away. Harry has suddenly become deaf. And, after banishing the children to their rooms, I closed my eyes and tried to find my happy place.
I'm off to watch Lost, where at least the people on that island only have to deal with murder and possibly mass destruction.
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