The One About the Parenting Thing

Just because I'm difficult that way, I'm going to keep the whole Amy Chua, Tiger Moms thing going for one more day. To tell the whole truth, I actually do my writing the day before posting, so this topic is pretty fresh while I'm writing it, it may be redundant to you..

If you haven't already read the WSJ piece, you can read it here: 

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704111504576059713528698754.html

Go ahead, I'll wait....

There have been a number of pieces written about this. Google the topic and you should receive a plethora of opinions. Some grounded in fact, some in emotion. Almost all of them disagree with the idea that the Chinese or Asian style of parenting is somehow superior to western style. I'm not sure that I agree.

Many will cite the high rate of suicide among Asian Americans (women in particular). While it's certainly not something to ignore, it is quite possible that there are other factors that contribute to that number besides the pressure to excel and conform. WHO statistics still put the US rate of suicide considerably higher than any Asian country and I would think that the pressure to excel and conform is much higher in home countries where an entire family's very survival may depend on the earning capabilities of their children. 


The next thing that comes to my mind are the western "uber" moms along with their partners, the "sports" dads. Aren't they, in essence. doing the same thing? The articles on over scheduling and ten-year pre-school waiting lists, not to mention the numerous incidents of sports related fights and worse among PARENTS would indicate that these parents are viewing sports and education as anything but pressure free... I suppose that they might say that they're creating a "well-rounded" child, but are they??

The next thing that seems to bring about great furor is the name calling thing. This subject is the one that seems to get under people's skin the most. As parents, there are those moments, there are those days, when "my beloved child" is just not the correct description. Heck, we call our daughter TLC (the littlest communist) as a joke, but there are days when it fits her to a tee. I have looked at my child and told her to stop being a "brat". Does anyone out there really think that a four year old kid can differentiate between the verbs "being" and "acting"??? Have I damaged her already?? Puhleeze! If my, or any other child for that matter, is somehow "damaged" by the occasional rantings of a frustrated parent, they've got bigger problems than whatever name they're being called.

My favorite thought on this whole discussion is the education part. Asian children consistently outperform their western counterparts across the board in education. There's a dirty little rumor out there that many universities were, for a time, limiting enrollment of Asian students. Why? Because the Asian students were skewing the curve, making the US students and the schools they attended look less competent, thus, less attractive to alumni and prospective students alike. Unless someone can point me to a genetic difference in Asian students, I almost have to believe that there are distinct cultural and societal differences throughout an Asian childhood. That leaves the door wide open to debate the difference between Asian and Western philosophy in parenting, both at the nuclear and extended level.


Certainly no one has to agree entirely with Ms.Chua's thesis. But one would be a fool not to consider it....

The One About Defective and the Rhetoric

This past weekend in Tuscon Arizona, a young man made a somewhat conscious decision to shoot a congresswoman, kill a young child, a federal judge, a few other folks and wound over a dozen more. I have no words for the act, just prayers for the families and those who were hurt or killed.

Himself and I watched and listened with interest in the next few days, and I think we were both disheartened by what we heard and saw.

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I have known my vets since they we were all in high school. We have a friendship as well as a business relationship. They have cried with me, debated with me, and worked with me over more than twenty years. I have never known them to be anything other than thoughtful, compassionate and responsible. So it came as a great surprise to me when I brought the Sentinel and I encountered what I did.

As I was leashing up the Sentinel, a gentleman in a truck next to me took out his Pitbull. The animal was beautiful. Huge head, muscular but proportionate body and that strut... they headed into the office. I chose to wait a few moments, because the 27 pound Sentinel believes that she is a 160 pound Rottweiler. She was in heat at the time and I had noticed that the Pit wasn't neutered. Discretion is the better part of valor and all. A few minutes in the waiting room and I could hear the low, throaty growl of the Pit in the exam room. Then the vet tech came out. And there was more growling. I ushered the Sentinel into another exam room while the receptionist closed the door and windows to her office. 

I heard my vet, my friend, tell the dogs owner, "This dog needs to be destroyed." "He is a liability." "He is dangerous and shouldn't be around people." "This animal is defective." The owner was none to happy and as he strode out of the office, my friend ended with "For God's sake keep that dog away from children!" Needless to say, I was appalled. 

When we stopped talking about the Sentinel, I made mention of the fact that I was shocked by his reaction to that animal. I'm a bleeding heart when it comes to animals (and kids, and old people) and I just couldn't wrap my head around what had happened. "Sometimes, no matter what you do or how you feel, things are just defective" he told me. "As much as I want it to be different, I can't change it and I can't, in good conscience, pretend that it doesn't exist." I spent days thinking about what he said.

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After the shooting in Tuscon, the television, radio and internet were abuzz with a singular theory. That somehow, someway, political rhetoric and the divisiveness of the current political climate caused this young man to do the things he did. 

First the blame was laid at the feet of the Tea Party. Then the "right-wingers", then came the right as a whole, and we mustn't forget Sarah Palin... What was missing was the idea that this man was responsible for his own actions. Not that, the rhetoric made him do it. What was missing was the idea that this young man might just be "defective". 

As of this writing, it has come to light that this young man had a very troubled past. That he was refused by the military, dropped out of school, removed from community college, and a whole litany of other things that in hindsight, were warning signs to the nth degree. He is, by all reasonable criteria, "defective". But that's not what people are going to remember. That's not what's going to be printed on the front page of every newspaper, that's not going to be what fuels discussion in the next few weeks...

But maybe it should be.....

The One About Changing History

I'm always curious as to why folks try so hard to change history. The first time I remember being incensed by it is back the the 80's when Turner obtained the Hanna-Barbera catalogs and began systematically re-coloring, re-voicing, or shelving altogether, episodes of Tom and Jerry that may have contained characters that were less than "politically correct". Mammy Two Shoes was given a new voice, the cannibals were set on the shelf and scenes with characters in black face were edited out all together. I'm a bit of a cartoon buff, although Hanna-Barbera was never my thing, I was (and still am) more than annoyed that the "art" of a generation (or two, or three) was altered in the name of "political correctness".

 

These so called "offensive" cartoons were drawn in the 1940's, 50's, and 60's and that language, those depictions were part of the time and the culture. It doesn't make them "right" in doesn't make them less offensive to some, but they are a record of the history of the time. Removing the images and/or altering the language is not going to magically make that history disappear.

The same thing is going on again, this time with Mark Twain's "Huckleberry Finn" This time the idea is to remove the N-word (who am I kidding? the word is "nigger") from the text and replace it with the word "slave". Sadly, these words are not synonyms.

 

"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter. It is the difference between the lightening bug and the lightening."  - Mark Twain

 

Huckleberry Finn is not just a work of fiction, it is in many senses a historical record. It may not reflect that past in the best light, none the less, it is a reflection. 

I was surprised when I started buying books for the Eggroll. Many of the childhood stories I remember have been altered to be "gentler" or more politically correct. The first one that comes to mind is Little Red Riding Hood. Did you know that the woodsman lets the wolf escape? Yeah, me neither. 

 

I wonder how it is our children are to learn from the past if we continue to change it. We tell them, and ourselves for that matter, that the past is something to be valued, and something to be learned from. And yet, we allow the changes or in some cases make those changes ourselves. To what end?

The One About Legalities and Sensitivities

So, apparently, there's a little church somewhere in the wilds of Florida, that has decided it would be a smashing idea to have a bonfire with copies of the Quran on the anniversary of September 11th. The pastor seems to believe that somehow, this makes a statement against radical Islam. I shall not discuss radical Christians or the fact that this act makes you exactly the same as the people you're making a "statement" against. That, of course, would be foolish.

  

What I will discuss, or mull over as it were, is the fact that this Pastor and his congregation have every right to roast marshmallows over any book they choose. Including, but not limited to, the Quran. It's not the most sensitive or intelligent thing to do, but it is their right to do so. Period.

What I'm struck by here, is not that people are all over this tiny little church but that people are screaming "insensitivity!" all around town. The same people by the way, who were screaming that it's a right to build a mosque at Ground Zero. Because sensitivity should never trump a constitutional right.... right?? Because after all, if you put sensitivity ahead of a persons right you must be anti something. After all, you're infringing on somebody's right . That's un-American after all.... right? You've got to be discriminating...right? 

So not right. Let me be perfectly clear here. I do not agree with the actions of this Florida church. I don't think anyone of any persuasion is going to listen to what you say after you kick them in the shin. That being said, I will defend their right to have a bonfire with whatever they want to. It is their right as Americans.

It's fascinating to me that rights only apply to the cause of the day. It's also fascinating to me that the very same people who wave the flag, and cloak themselves in the title of American will defend the right of one group to act insensitively and yet decry the insensitivity of another as they exercise their own right. 

Hypocrisy never healed a damn thing.

The One About Heirlooms and Albatrosses

 

 

 

Momma was a great collector of stuff, a saver of things, a shopaholic. Every item had meaning and value to her, whether she used it or not. She could pretty much tell you the history and story behind just about every item she possessed. We had a standing joke between us, I would mercilessly tease her about her accumulating exploits and tell her that she couldn't die until she got her "stuff" in order. She would tell me her accumulations were guaranteeing that she would live forever... She didn't and without notice or preparation, I became the Shepard Of Stuff.

 

I grew up learning about the "things" that surrounded me. So many items were tagged with the admonishment to "never get rid of this" or "this belonged to.." or whatever reason she believed gave importance to the selected item. I carry these admonishments with me to this day.

And therein lies the problem...

 

In no particular order I am the owner of:

2 full sets of fine china along with a smattering of odd pieces left over from generations before...

 

An entire set (and I mean every piece made) of Waterford Crystal along with an almost full set of Orrefors.

 

2 full sets of sterling silverware 

 

A 60's era dining room set that I've never really been crazy about but it was my grandmothers so I've toted it with me for the last 20 years...

 

A vast array of chachtkes , paintings and decorative items. Some "quality", some not so much...

 

Plus 20 years of my OWN accumulations and those of Himself..

My many cups runneth over...

 

Recently, Himself and I came to the decision that we are staying right where we are until circumstances change so much that we can't live here. We've been in this house almost seven years and with a little tweaking, it will fit us for many years to come. We've decided to swap some rooms, change some furniture and really make this place suit the way we live. We are not fancy people. Should you enter our home we want you to feel free to have a seat, have a drink, have a meal, tell us your stories, listen to ours, relax, recreate...rest...  We want to be focused on you, your focus to be on us, our mutual focus to be on one another. It's about family, friends and fine times for us, not fancy stuff.

 

Achieving this means unloading much of the "stuff". The same "stuff" that I was told for years was important "stuff", heirloom "stuff", "stuff" that I should never get rid of. But I need to get rid of it. And I'm having a hell of a time doing it. Logically and rationally I know the "stuff" is weighing us down. It's weighing me down. I know that it would never be fair to saddle my husband or my child with the "stuff". But I feel a tremendous amount of guilt each and every time I even consider getting rid of the "stuff". And then there's the "what if I find out that I NEED this "stuff"?" portion of the program. It's making a kind of large project into a kind of huge project. 

 

And it's making me slightly more insane than I was to start with...

The One Where Falling Behind is Disguised as Keeping Up

 

 

 

 

Every parent is convinced that their child is special. And it's true, every child is special in their own way. 

 

An interesting discussion happened around these parts not too long ago.

 

Some of you may know that Himself teaches at both the undergraduate and graduate levels. In addition to a regular job, he takes great joy in teaching. It's something I'm convinced he'll be doing for the rest of his life. What he's discovering, however, is that students are rarely arriving fully prepared for undergraduate or graduate studies. Darn near every student is lacking in some basic skill (math comes first followed closely by writing skills) and many students ask for adjustments to either tests or assignments. And don't even get him started on critical thinking... It will be the end of all of us.

That being said, it got me thinking about what's happening to our kids. How do we think we can educate our children well if we're so busy accommodating every child's "special" circumstances? How do our children fare in classrooms where there is one teacher for every 30 or so students? Especially if any number of those students have a "need" that is above and beyond the ordinary? Since the law requires that all students be given an "appropriate" education how do we administer that fairly across the board? And are we short-changing our children with the "feel-good" style of parenting and teaching.

 

I see my own child, as young as she is, being given the answers to  questions if she so much as hesitates before answering. Is that because her hesitation holds up the rest of the class, or is it part of the feel good thing? I see backwards letters being accepted as correct, slurred or incorrect pronunciation being accepted as correct. (I was actually chided by a young speech teacher when I corrected my child for saying "mines" instead of "mine". Apparently I should have known that "mines" is the Black English form of "mine" and therefore perfectly acceptable).

I can't help but wonder if we lower the standard for the 5 kids in a classroom who we must "accommodate" are we not then lowering the standards for the other 25 kids? In our zeal to make sure that some keep up with the rest are we not holding the rest back?

 

The Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development ranks the U.S. 18th out of 36 nations examined. That means that 50% of the world educates their children better than we educate ours. How in the world can that be? Have we accommodated ourselves right out of the competition?

Right here, right now, it looks as though we have...

The One With The Sad But Funny Truth

A few snippets from the last few days....

Flipper and Himself took the field with the dogs again. This was the Swooper's second time in the field aaaannndddd he did nothing. He didn't have to be fished out from underneath the van, but he really didn't do a darn thing. Flipper seems to believe that it's the dogs fault... it really isn't. Back in the day when we were competing, our dogs were exposed several times a week during season. There were 3 day trips to do nothing but hunting and field work. It's not like that anymore. Himself works for a living and most of Flippers compatriots have passed on. I let Flipper blame the dogs, I don't want to highlight his losses over the past few years...

Momma was always the one who was involved in everyone's health. Flipper showed up for dinner on Sunday with the results of his latest blood test. I tried my best to keep my eyebrows from disappearing into my hairline. I read the results, made a suggestion or two and then heard the sentence that Momma waited 30 years for "Okay, If you say so." I had that mixed-feeling thing. I still do. I want to chuckle because we've waited 30 or so years for the "mule" thing to come to an end, 30 years waiting for the sharing to begin. And it began... and part of me wanted to laugh, and the other part of me wanted to cry. And all of me wondered if this is wrapped around his acceptance of age and mortality?

Speaking of age and mortality, Himself and I had the following conversation about mortality and my shitty, money-grubbing family...

Himself: You know, they're going to try and stand in your way if you try and make Flipper's health decisions. I hope he has it written down somewhere. If he doesn't, you don't have a legal leg to stand on.

Nyt: Doesn't matter, I'll do what I have to. He's actually said that he wants me to do the medical stuff, and Ungrateful Nephew to handle the money, so I'm thinking he's got it written down.

Himself: Even if it is, they're still going to give you trouble.

Nyt: Look, it's a non-issue. Once we reach that part of the program, being decent to them, or holding my tongue just doesn't apply anymore. We've always known that once Flipper moves on, there will be no relationship with those people. Contact with them will end. It's up to them whether or not it ends with a bang or a whimper.

Himself: I'm betting on the bang.

Come to think of it, this stuff is way more sad than funny.....

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The One About Being A Writer

I've been meandering about the internet for years. I've always enjoyed a peek into others lives, and I've always enjoyed hearing opinions other than my own. For years, blogs have afforded me just those things. Recently though, I've noticed a disturbing trend. Maybe it's not disturbing in general, but it's disturbing to me. Everyone seems to fancy themselves a "writer". And in my opinion, once you fancy yourself a "writer", it's the actual writing that suffers.

What's happened over the past few years is that media and money has invaded the blogosphere. As bloggers unite under different labels and as the media recognizes the power of those labels, the creativity and much of the "truth" is sucked right out of the process. Folks begin shilling for numbers, both in traffic and literal dollars. And it's the writing that suffers.

It's like a virus really,and the infection begins when their popularity grows. The writing growers weaker, the opinions become weaker, and dissension or disagreement is not tolerated. The other symptom is the proliferation of plagiarized writing styles or subject matter. The writers claim that they're taking inspiration from other bloggers, in reality, it's plagiarism. Ideas and subjects literally stolen from somewhere else. To the reader, it becomes the equivalent of a 7th grade English class. You get to read 30 articles on the same subject, using basically the same tone.

Then the virus spreads, like a head cold moving to your chest. The endorsements show up, the review blogs begin. The opening of all of these is the formula "I'm here to help" post. It should actually read "I'm here to help as long as someone places the product with me and pays me to use it." Not exactly an honest appraisal. But the sycophants eat it up.

I have nothing against making a few bucks when you can. I would never say that I wouldn't do the same things given the opportunity. But I can't help but mourn the loss of the true voice, the true artists. The folks who just say it because it's on their mind, the folks who write for themselves and not the audience. The people who are just "people who write" not "writers".

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The One Where I Am Awed By Simple Compassion

There are days when the mundane changes your view, days when you see things that were right in front of you for the very first time...days like yesterday....

Yesterday the Spinner and I set off for the vets for his annual shots and checkup. I should have known that something was "off" when I exited my car in the lot, there were several people standing outside with their animals, but my addled brain just blew past it without so much as a second thought. As I exchanged greetings with the standees, I didn't notice anything different and no one said anything other than basic pleasantries. Then I opened the door...

Inside was a man and a woman, the woman held a small dog wrapped in a blanket. She was keening and wailing with a pain that was palpable. He was stoic and rigid in his chair. For many of us, that kind of pain invades our soul. Maybe we've been there, maybe we haven't, but that kind of primal sound touches places inside of us that we'd much rather leave untouched. I wanted to run out the door. I wanted to say something, anything to ease their pain, to somehow make it better, but I couldn't, I didn't want to invade, I didn't want to open my heart for fear of feeling their pain and reminding me of the pains of the past. Instead, I slipped into the opposite side of the divided waiting room. The Spinner settled himself onto my lap.

The couple was ushered into an exam room. I could hear more keening and wailing through the door and then the woman ran outside. Several minutes later, the man followed suit, expressionless, holding the empty leash and collar. My heart hurt for him. As women, we often make the men in our lives responsible for the most umpleasant tasks, and because they love us, they do it without complaint.

The Spinner and I were ushered into another exam room, and the whole vaccination, check-up thing went flawlessly. For a few minutes anyway, the drama unfolding seemed far away...

I've written about the Spinner before. What I haven't talked about is the fact that the Spinner is a one person dog. He's MY dog. He's perfectly pleasant to strangers, and he'd never bite a soul, but he'll never actively seek out another human, at least when I'm around. It's just his way...

While I stood at the counter, waiting for my bill and tags, the Spinner took to spinning in front of the exit. The man entered the room, sat down, put his head in his hands and began to weep silently.

Then a very peculiar thing happened. While I stood there frozen, the Spinner stopped spinning. While searched my brain for the right thing to say, the Spinner walked to the man and sat down in front of him. While I debated whether or not I should call my dog, the Spinner began gently licking the tears from the weeping man. While time stopped for me, the Spinner sat with the man who wept openly while clutching the Spinner with all his might. And I couldn't think of one thing to say... And my dog, the dog who is not so fond of strangers, stayed with that man until his tears subsided...

I don't know how long it lasted. I know that when it was over, the Spinner returned to the exit and began spinning again. I know that I had no words, I know that I was overwhelmed in so many ways. I know that for all our bluster as human beings, for all our intelligence and dominance in this world, for all our words and superiority.... the only thing that I saw in those moments, was the pure compassion shown by an animal. As much as I, and the others in that office recognized the pain, for whatever reason, the only creature that even tried to help was the former foofy dog that I call my friend...and I'm in awe...

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The One About Motherhood, Missing Parts and Me

Greetings from the Great Southwest! Now for a list of the things that are rattling around in my brain recently. There's something about this place that makes my brain work differently. Not better, mind you, just different. There are plenty of folks who believe that the desert has a different "energy" , and maybe, just maybe, that's true....

• The menfolk have spent the week traversing the links in the annual golf outing. Much fun and frolicking was had by all. All the men that is. As for the Eggroll and I, well, most of the festivities were for the grown-ups... and I had no babysitter....so....well.... To be honest, I missed the freedom of choice, not necessarily the activities themselves.
• Speaking of freedom of choice, motherhood leaves you with none. That sounds very dark doesn't it? I don't mean it that way...it's just become glaringly apparent that motherhood and I are often at odds. There is a lack of time and choice that happens with kids, and for me, that often poses a few difficulties. It doesn't erase the "wonderful" that happens with kids, it just underlines the fact that women are often shortchanged in the whole grand scheme of life. Still sounding dark?? Bear with me....
• As an adult, we first care for ourselves. And by care I mean it in the holistic sense of the word. We nurture our bodies, our minds, our spirits, and our souls. Then, we marry, and we put our spouses care ahead of our own. We love and adore them, so it's only natural to put their well-being ahead of our own. As we age (and in my case) perhaps our aging parents require our energy. We move their well-being to the top of the "energy" list, and our own well-being is now regaled to third-place. Next comes the child or children and we find ourselves in fourth or fifth place. Then one day we notice that there is not a hell of a lot of leftover time or energy to give to ourselves. We wither, we atrophy... and we discover that we're low on places and time to re-fuel... it becomes a rather bleak existence..
• Eventually, we will have nothing to offer our spouses, children or parents. Eventually we will have nothing left to offer anyone, not even ourselves... and for those of us who were or are self-aware..it's painful...
• We've all seen those women... you know the ones. They were beautiful once, they were intelligent, independent and brave.. and then you see them again, maybe a few years or a few kids later. They schlep around in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, babbling on about diapers, schools, and juice boxes. They've not read anything beyond US weekly and whatever the school sends home with their kid. Devoid of any kind of self-esteem, they move through life like robots, spending their days gratifying everyone but themselves. They use phrases like "when I have the time..." "I've been meaning to..." "As soon as..."
• The quest continues to keep that from happening to your lovely host. If anything, my time in the desert, my time here, may have just given me that little bit of perspective that I so desperately needed....
  

The One About The "Story"

One of my favorite websites is www.salsainchina.blogspot.com. M3 has done a wonderful job of chronicling their adoption journey and their daily life. I check in almost daily, although I've just de-lurked recently. Her current topic is talking to your children about adoption. Any surprise here that I find myself on the "other side of the fence"?

The current trend is to tell your children all about their adoption. I'm not sure I agree. As a matter of fact, I know I don't.....

For starters, it should be mentioned that I am an adult adoptee of an adoptee. Yes, that's right folks, I'm a third generation adopter. My view is different. I'm also a good ten to fifteen years older than most of the folks with children the Eggroll's age. That makes the view a bit different as well.

I am pretty much stunned that folks are choosing to burden their (young) children with the past. Pouring over life-books, telling the "story" over and over...really?!? Ooo and the ones that try and explain the "one-child" thing to a small child? They flat-out scare me.

Kids need to know that they're adopted. But they need to know within the context of RIGHT NOW, not yesterday. They need to know that all families are different, and every family comes to be a family a different way. They need to know that they belong with OUR family, that they are wanted by the family that they have RIGHT NOW and that nothing is ever, ever, going to change that.

I've never agreed with the families that choose to emphasize the differences. There's a whole group of families out there that celebrate all things Chinese. Because their children are Chinese... but how many of these families are celebrating all things from their own heritage as well? How many of these families are actually celebrating and reveling in ALL of the cultures that make up their family? My best guess is, not many....

So, there are families out there trying to be "honest" with their children. And I think that's a good thing.. but when the "honesty" becomes consuming, when the "story" of the past takes precedent over the "story" of the present...that's a problem..

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The One About Being Punished for Playing By The Rules


Yet another unfinished post sitting in draft

I've never been particularly shy. Most folks that know me will tell you that the previous sentence is an understatement. And I've never been particularly PC. Also an understatement. If you're one of those easily offended types, move on now... I'm not interested in intentionally offending everyone..

The "Octomom" is the topic of much conversation as of late. 14 children, all through IVF, all under the age of 7, all, in one form or another, on the dole. I can't even begin to express how nauseous the entire situation makes me. Every one of these children should be taken from this woman, her parental rights need to be terminated immediately and ideally, she should be jailed. Yes, that's right, I said take her kids and slap her ass in jail. Never mind the idiot doctor that did the procedures in the first place. Fertility treatments are a for profit business. The medical moron did the job he was paid to do.

It infuriates me that there are folks out there who scrimp and save, pinch and plan, just to be able to have a single child. And then you have Nadya...the woman who not only brought into the world 6 children she couldn't possibly afford, but then 8 more?? Who in the world has the ability to care for 14 children? By themselves??

This is not a family like the Duggars (who, BTW, I think are plain old bat-shit crazy) Their 18 kids are spread out over the course of 15 years or so, and, they are totally self-sufficient. They made their choices, lived by their decisions and rely on no one but themselves. I think it's crazy, but I can't argue with it.

Speaking of decisions... I'm going for the totally inappropriate here... but I'm going for the gorilla in the room.... Whenever I see one of these litter dropping women, they answer the whole selective reduction question with the same basic answer "it's God's will that I have these kids". Really?? What about the not getting pregnant in the first place thing?? Wasn't that God's will too?? Oh wait, the medical technology thing solved that problem for you and that was alright?? Just what to you apply God's will to anyway?? Is it everything, just some stuff, what you want....where's the line?? I know I'm a lapsed Catholic and everything, but I'm thinking that there might be a flaw in your whole interpretation thing.

So, the litter arrives and suddenly these women are cause celebre. Now we subjected to the "Madonna" moms... you know the ones, they're holy, they're pious, they're totally devoted to their children... and they're expecting rewards. At the very least they want applause... and the rest, well the rest they claim is just people being kind.

The One About Sentimentality and Pajamas

Life changes over time. It's inevitable. It's the way the universe is.


Back over the Holidaze, Flipper and I had a conversation about changes in our lives. Yes, that's right, a real conversation about feelings and everything... Anyway, we were driving past a billboard for the movie "marley and me". I remarked that there was no way that I could see that movie. When he asked why, I told him that the dog will inevitably die in the end, and that I just can't take stuff like that anymore, it turns me into a blubbering idiot. Hell, I cry at some commercials... Flipper is the same way...

This just happened in the last few years. Since Momma left us... there's something about that kind of life change that colors absolutely everything. It's funny now, because we made fun of Momma for years...Momma cried at the drop of a hat. Seriously, she cried when she was happy, sad, angry, while she was laughing.... you name it. Church would do it to her every time.. years ago, we went all through Ireland...do you have any idea how many churches and cathedrals are it Ireland??? I literally carried a Kleenex box instead of a camera...

Anyhooo... I cried today...over a pair of flannel pajamas... and it seemed stupid and ridiculous, but it came with a story...see, when I became an "adult" (I use that word loosely) Xmas presents became kind of superfluous. I mean once your kids reach a certain age, you basically just give them money to get what they want anyway.... and Momma would do that....and she would do something else as well....

She would fill a box... with "stuff"... You know, all the "stuff" you never remember to get for yourself?? Stuff like underwear, socks, bras, belts, make-up cases, new pens, journals....all those things that you think about in passing...but never seem to get around to buying for yourself. And every year there was one pair of ridiculously expensive, crazy patterned, flannel pj's. And a pair of them died today... I've literally worn right through the fabric.... and I cried.... because no one will ever make sure that I have crazy flannel pj's again...no one will ever make sure that I have all the odd "stuff" that I need... no one but me... and it makes me sad....and it makes me cry...

And it reminds me how much I miss my Mom...

(It also reminds me that waterproof mascara is ALWAYS a good investment)

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The One About Declarations

I don't make New Year's Resolutions. I gave up after about 20 years of consistent failure. When I began making the resolution to fail, I knew it was time to try a different direction. Nowdays, I make declarations. (I also make demands and ultimatums, but we'll get to those later :0 ) Declarations imply that the actions have already taken place, or at least the plan for action. That being said..let's look at the current batch of declarations.....

2009 will be the Year of Economizing
2008 was the Year of Spend Every Dime You Have, this year will be the year of leftover money. Every item will have a purpose, every purchase will be used until it dies a natural death. We're eating what's in the freezer, using what's in the fridge and the cabinets and dining out will be a special occasion.
Please don't think that I'm some kind of household queen... I'm not... My big problem with the last year (actually the last few years) is the sheer amount of waste this house and it's occupants generate. Seriously, there was a point where darn near the entire grocery budget was wasted because we chose to eat out instead. There were items purchased that touted themselves as "newer, faster, better". They may have been "newer", but they certainly were not faster or better. For 2009, if a company wants to sell me something "newer, faster and better" they had better send out the old free sample. And don't waste my time with the 2x2 square of goodness...you had better send me a sample I can use more than once..

2009 will be the Year of Expanding One's Mind
I used to be a voracious reader. Emphasis on the "used to be" portion of the sentence. These days, my reading is limited to the interwebz, the local paper, and a couple of magazines that are still delivered to the house. No one likes stupid. Least of all me. I don't suffer fools lightly, and if my current pace continues, I'm in danger of becoming a fool myself. The last thing I ever want to be in this life (and the next) is one of those vapid, self-absorbed, suburban Moms. You know the ones I'm talking about...the ones who have nothing more to discuss than potty-training, what my kid did today, yada, yada, yada. If I don't have the time to actually sit down and read a book, there's always the Ipod and audio books... Speaking of that, the same declaration can be applied to music and movies as well....

2009 will be the Year of Self
Sounds pretty darn narcissistic doesn't it? Well, it's not meant to be that way. See, I have a wonderful habit of taking care of everyone. Everyone but me that is. And I'm suffering for it. It doesn't have to be large things.. Heaven know that none of us really have the time for large things. But it does have to be just for me.....

2009 will be the Year of the Purge
I have no idea how it happens. I wish I did...When we bought the House of Nyt, it seemed unbelievably large. I remember looking into the crawl space and thinking "we'll never, ever, use all that space" HAH! Not only have we used all that space, we've used even more... We don't need all this stuff.... and we spend an inordinate amount of time dealing with the "stuff". And it detracts from the joys of everyday living...it must be destroyed...

2009 will be the Year of Taking Advantage of What We Have
We have a horrible habit of joining everything that might entertain us and then claiming that there's nothing to do. We have another horrible habit of pledging lifestyle changes and then finding every excuse in the world not to do them. Take the Wii Fit for example....it "fits" perfectly under the table where it mocks me from it's tidy little box.... Museum memberships? Used maybe once a year... I say "Phooey" to that.. this will be the year of doing the stuff we signed up for....

That about sums it up for now dear readers.... oh, and if this post looks a little wonkier than usual....blame Blogger....I swear I did the same exact thing for every paragraph...

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The One About Family and Frustration

Ahhhh, the holidaze....They're approaching rapidly aren't they? Every year around here, the holidaze bring about a multitude of problems. Some are solvable, some, not so much. Almost all of them revolve around family.

For those of you that know me, you're probably aware that I have a pretty shitty family. With the exception of Flipper, the rest of them pretty much suck. Hard.

Over the years the tension within the family grew and flourished. If I told you most of it was over money, would you be surprised? It's long and complicated but suffice it to say it revolves around the fact that although Flipper has been with me since I was nine years old, I'm not "legitimate" in their eyes. And now it's passing through to the next generation. And that's just one side of the "family"

On the other side? Well, let's just say that they'll show up, they'll take interest you when you write a check, other than that? Not so much.

Himself's family? Pretty much non-existent. His older sister is wrapped up in her religion and her own family. His younger sister?? Well let's just say that "teh crazy" really is a sexually transmitted disease... We never hear from them. Perhaps they too, feel that we're not a "legitimate" family...I'm an "other" wife, so maybe that's where their primary problem lies. (BTW, I don't remember actually doing anything to offend them. I'm from the camp that says I can't fix it if you don't tell me what "it" is)

Moving on.....

The Holidaze involve dealing with my family, both side A (Flipper's) and side B (mine). First we'll deal with side A. The A side will be here for Thanksgiving. I do this every year because it makes Flipper happy. Even though at some level he realizes that his family sucks, they are still his family and in some peculiar way, it makes him happy to have them here. It causes a load of stress that can only be tolerated with controlled outbursts of rage and OCD. Some of the "things" that have been said and or done over the years?

"Arrogant" tells me that I must be gone from my family home so that he and his girlfriend can romp in the Jacuzzi. I protest..he tells me that "it doesn't matter what you think, all this will be mine anyway when Flipper dies" He never saw the shovel coming....he refused medical treatment....

"Disturbed" asks me to stand up in her wedding. I agree (it makes Flipper happy) It costs me more than $500.00 to do so. The wedding is out of town. I'm housed away from the rest of the wedding party. I'm uninvited to the wedding party festivities, I drive myself to and from the church and reception.

"Piggy" tells me that "Your husband won't be excited over your adoption, he's had "real" children"

I asked "Disturbed" to do a reading at Momma's funeral. (in fairness, she was my very last choice) She accepts and then assaults me with the statement "We never got to know Flipper because your mother was such a bitch"

These are but a few examples of what has transpired over the years. The hardest part for me is to put on the "happy face". I want to be a good person, I really do. I want Flipper to have everything that makes him happy for as long as he's on this Earth. But I also want peace in my own home. I want peace for my daughter and husband. I want home to be a safe place, and letting these people in my home risks safety. One never knows what they may say or do... the anticipation of disaster causes unbelievable amounts of stress.

My counter for all of this... is that everything must be "perfect"... and my "perfect" is generally over and above everyone else's perfect... Anyone seeing my problem here??

Most days I can give up life's difficulties to the universe and move on... Holidaze? I give them up to the OCD monster and anger...and I don't know how to make it stop while making everyone happy at the same time......

Le Sigh.....

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The One About High School...

We all have memories of high school. Some great, some not so great. Some of you were the "popular" or the "cool" kids, others were the "freaks" "geeks" and "jocks". Many of you often felt that you didn't fit in, maybe there are even some of you out there that "ruled the school".

Up until today, I never gave much thought to my high school experience. I always thought that there were probably only three remarkable things that went on during those years. The first was that I was expelled from the hoity-toity all girls Catholic high school that Momma Nyt always wanted me to attend. (Surprised!? Anyone!???? I didn't think so..) The second was that I spent almost my entire junior and senior year (and three years afterward) dating a guy who was already out of school. (this will be important later) and third was I discovered theater.

So many people relate high school to the experiences. Football games, homecomings, proms..there's the stuff you got away with, and the stuff you didn't. I missed a lot of the regular stuff (see reason number two) and I got away with and was caught for a fair amount of stuff. None of that is what has me thinking today. Today, I'm thinking about the people....and about the mark they left on my life.

After expulsion from Sister Mary's Boot Camp for Young Women, I landed at the local public high school. I arrived in the middle of my sophmore year. And I was most definitely "the new kid". My family had recently made the exodus from the city to the wide open suburbs, and everything was brand new and scary...

First on the list of people who left their mark was J. J. was the wiry, Irish ,working class kid, with what would probably called ADHD today. He was the Biology partner I was assigned to. The partner that no one else really wanted. I remember the teacher, scanning my grades from St.Mary's Boot Camp and announcing in front of the whole class.."Congratulations J. with her as your partner, you now have a hope of passing the class." I made sure he passed. He taught me to just sit still and listen. He taught me to "hear" though the static. I remain forever grateful. I might have missed many things in my life if I hadn't learned the lessons that J. had to teach me.

Next up came E. and T. They saw me standing there, on my first day, in the cafeteria and offered me a seat at their table. We dined together for the rest of the year and most of the following year. I remember being so grateful for that first offer. They taught me to always extend a hand. Always try. And to this day, I always do....

M. and I had a friendship that developed without fanfare. It's as though one day she was just some kid in class with me, and the next we were inseperable. She was beautiful, boheme, brilliant and unconcerned with the conventional wisdom. She taught me that being different was a good thing. Being brilliant was better. She encouraged the curiousity in me that I still have today. Sometime during junior year, M. became involved with S. He was dark, brooding, along with brilliant and sensitive. He hated me upon first meeting...overtime M, S, and I became something like the three musketeers. He taught me that opposites really can become friends. He taught me to appreciate the differences, perhaps even to embrace them.

Lastly, there was T2. Unconventional looking, unconventional thinking, smart, funny, and artistic as hell. She taught me about standing up. And how to really appreciate a good laugh. And that there's no sin in following your bliss...no matter what anyone says...

All of this comes to mind today because today, I found out that one of these people who so shaped my life is no longer with us. Someone who left their mark on me has been gone for close to ten years now. And I never knew......and I never got to tell them just how much I learned in such a short amount of time. Part of me thinks its normal...to lose track of people after such a long time.....part of me believes that it's natural....

But then there's another part of me. It's the part of me that mourns a death I never knew, and cries tears for a soul that I never should have let slip away from my own life. And the other part of me, the part of me that knows I could have done better..

Good-bye my friend.....I hope you know....and I hope we meet again....

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The One Where I Toss P.C. Aside (again)

Well, then, here we are, together again. And yes, I'm still composing the China posts, but today I thought I'd chat about the latest adventures in the House of Nyt. It's been several weeks of the krazee around here, but we've managed to have a little bit of fun as well.


First off, Himself's other eye turned out to be defective. We discovered this while at a consultation on repairing the first defective eye that was repaired (sort of correctly) in March. Three doctors, two hospitals, and roughly eight hours later we had a fourth doctor and an appointment for the next day. Ever try to amuse a 2 and 1/2 year old with nothing more than a dress-up monkey and a pair of shiny shoes? Yeah, I rock. Actually, the Eggroll rocks, she really sailed through that day with nary a problem. Over the next 7 days, we travelled to the doc's office 5 times, for gas bubbles and check-ups. We survived the worst of it (himself is a LOUSY patient) and hopefully this coming Monday will be the last of the appointments for a while.

Now for one of the politically incorrect portions of the program. Why the hell are all the good doctors in areas of this city where the poorest folks are? Can someone please explain to me why I must ( yes, must) travel a minimum of 30 miles one way to see a teaching doctor in any specialty? Why are there no quality doctors here? We live in a middle to upper class suburb, we pay exorbitant taxes, and yet our community hospital is good for nothing more than stitches. And why are all the liberal blow hards whining about health care? I walked the halls of these hospitals, I sat it waiting rooms, and I can pretty much guarantee that we were the only folks there who weren't on Medicare or Medicaid. What gives? And why are so many doctors saying they can't make any money?? Hello!! Life is simple fellas, go where the money is.....

More incorrectness....the Eggroll is fascinated with people of color. I can't fault her for it, she's probably never seen them before she came to this country. She's only been here a couple of months folks.... Anywhooo... standing outside one of the jillion hospitals I visited, I struck up a conversation with an older lady who had a small child with her. The Eggroll kept poking at the small child, and I couldn't figure out why. Then, the following week at pre-school (she's enrolled in a pretty diverse place), she tried to wash the black off the teacher. Now, actually, to me, that's pretty damn funny. She's tried to wash the scar off my hand innumerable times. However, other folks don't find it so funny and I'm stuck explaining that she's only been here several months and has never really seen people of color before. It annoys me that people just can't take any action for what it is. It must mean something else. Or that everything must be explained... Like the lady we walked past who Eggroll was staring at, and the woman felt it necessary not to say hello, but to announce to my 2 and 1/2 year old "I'm African American" literally, no greeting, nothing. Seriously? And what's with that anyway.... is it a nationality, is it a race, what?? Is everyone of color African American, or are they Kenyan African American? or Ghanaian African American? What's up with that?? Why does it matter? I don't saunter up to every person who's different from me and announce that I'm Nyt and I'm Caucasian Irish American and this is my husband Himself, who is Caucasian German American, and this is our Eggroll whose Asian Chinese American......although, maybe I should....

We did manage to have a lovely day at the zoo during all this hoopla. You've just got to love the zoo in the middle of the week. Not crowded at all..

I love a good merry-go round. I'm glad she does too.....Props to Himself for making this shot work. He never uses my camera and of course, he's rocking the busted eye. I told him to hold the camera up and hold the button down. LOL! And wouldn't you know, he got a shot worth keeping....


Butterflies with Himself.

And then, there was the Sandwich Fair. The last fair of the season. We really had a good time. I'm not a big "country" girl...something about nature getting all over my shoes, but it really is fun to see all the tractors and animals. The Eggroll had a blast as well. I was so excited that she decided that the backpack was a good thing. (we toted that damn thing all over China and she HATED it) She hung out in it whenever there wasn't something that she wanted to see, it really is sooooo much easier in crowds. Himself wore it for a while and then it was my turn for the rest of the night. It didn't feel like much when I was wearing it but OMG! the next day my legs hurt, my abs hurt.. I must be in really bad shape, I have purses heavier than that. I guess because it forces you to stand aligned... you get a bit more exercise than what you think...
One thing I did notice, traipsing around in the wilds of farm town. People have some pretty strong feelings about blended families. And often times, it's written all over their faces. Some were happy, but there were some that had disapproval written all over them. No one said anything, as X and I (we went with our friends X and Y) were walking one particular path, I asked her.... do you feel it... she did... That's precisely when the Eggroll threw her hands up in the air and yelled "Ta Daa". It really doesn't get any better than that.....


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