So here we are in the new year – decorations for Thanksgiving, Chanukah, and Christmas are boxed and ready to go back to the attic. Right after we took down the Christmas tree, we put up the Mardi Gras tree. When finished I asked hubby Shelby if there were any holidays we didn’t celebrate. His replied “Maybe – but I’m thinkin’ no.” With our wide experiences and backgrounds, we celebrate quite a few things, but they all revolve around one thing: food. Yes, I am proud to admit that if it involves food, we probably celebrate it.
While Shelby had a much more conservative, single-strand upbringing, my family was all over the place. My grandmother made oyster stew every Christmas Eve for some reason and absolutely no one mentioned the word “reveillon”. There was never a New Year’s without black-eyed peas, greens, and cornbread and the Easter Bunny brought colorful eggs that reappeared a time or two with a bowl of saltwater and, later, as egg salad. We’re talking the New York Marathon of eggs here! I honestly think one of the main reasons Shelby married me was because he found out about the culinary backgrounds of my grandmothers, particularly my maternal grandmother from Louisiana. I really think the closing deal was the one he made with her for her recipes for biscuits, gumbo, and coconut cake. Anyway, I digress…
Another tradition that our families taught us, like many others, was the “New Year’s resolution”. This is one that hits across the time-space-religious continuum. Aside from all the regular resolutions of losing weight, reduce spending, clean out the closets, sell the kids, etc.; Shelby and I decided to regain control of the household from our offsprings. Let me just say that Custard had better odds at his last stand. I was recently loaned a great book from my good friend Nancy called, “The Blessings of B-“ – yes, this is the sequel to “The Blessings of A Skinned Knee”. This book picks up where the other left off and addresses the adolescent period. Ms. Mogul still uses her “logical consequences” to get the behaviour we desire in our offsprings. It is here that I must concede that both my psychiatrist and Ms. Mogul are in co-hoots with the devil. There is absolutely no way that the words “logical” and “consequences” can be used in the same context.
Let me just say, I totally agree with their ideas. The teachers of two of my darlings have requested conferences with me during the past week. Did I mention that Alex’s teachers thought he was just adorable when he and fellow classmates decided to paint each other at the art station – can you figure out the children in question yet? Here is the difference: the one that is the smartest, could care less about school while the one that has the most problems academically, is a perfectionist to the point of driving himself over the edge. I think Alanis Morrisette said it best – isn’t it ironic?
While complaining for the umpteenth million time about the status of the household, my shrink keep wondering why I was getting upset. The boys like those little beef sausages for breakfast and, apparently, one morning little Alex climbed up on our bed to look out our window, like he is known to do, and left a sausage there – for a week and a half. I left it there on purpose to see if anyone but me would notice. After bringing it to Shelby’s attention he looked at me with the wonderment of a child seeing a deer for the first time. Another example I brought to Dr. G. was the entire household’s inability to take a dish/cup/wrapper to the kitchen. While I seem to think this is not rocket science, she informs me that while it might not be, it seems that no one else in my house has my brain and knows what I want. To which I immediately asked if there was an option to have it replicated and installed in each of my beloveds. Another mark in the debate column that G-d is NOT a woman. Anyway, it seems I have “pseudo-agreements” with the people in my household (and most likely everywhere else). Since I have never formally made known my expectations, how can anyone be held accountable? Fine. So I have become the list queen. I should have bought stock in 3-M before I started this endeavor. There are sticky notes covering my entire house. One in the kitchen notating the afterschool homework & chores session. One on the bathroom mirror reminding the older children the order of business for getting ready for bed. One on the television for reminding everyone the steps needed for getting dressed in the morning. I’m thinking of putting one on everyone’s shirt reminding them to breathe, however, they would probably lose it. The goal here is to reduce my amount of nagging a.k.a. screeching like a banshee and increase the level of responsibility in my children. It provides them with “logical consequences”. If I wasn’t personally going through this ridiculous charade, I might actually find this amusing in a dark and sadistic manner - especially since I haven’t tried this new plan of action on the hubby! Oy vey – that’s another whole episode!
I now know why children don’t come with instruction manuals. Seriously, I’ve been known to skip ahead a few chapters in a book to see where it’s going. Can you imagine what would have happen if I had found out about this in the hospital after giving birth? I would have would up in the psych ward repeating the mantra “What have I done?” rocking back and forth while sucking my thumb. And friends of mine with adult children don’t help. “Oh, honey, just wait!” they say. Thanks. Who needs friends…
While they don’t practice what I preach at home, I am often told that they are polite and helpful when in the presence of other adults. They are kind to younger children. I also have the opportunity to see other children in action. I can’t count how often I’ve been in line at the store, watching the family in front of me and heard the adolescent’s call to arms, “But mom, I NEED it!” complete with the accompanying eye roll and foot stomp. As I catch the other mom’s eye, we exchange the secret “handshake” of the motherhood club by rolling our eyes, shaking our heads, and chuckling. It’s even better when we’re with close friends because we moms might actually have the advantage for once. See, children are free game. Regardless of who birthed the child, the nearest adult gets the honor of calling out the cheeky little monkey. Hey, it takes a village to raise a child and we know that most of the Y-chromosomed members of the tribe are not in tune to this skill set.
Sorry folks, I have no closing bit of wisdom to share here although I do endorse the martini method of getting through the rough spots. I saw this mother’s day card one time that had a picture of 1950 style kitchen with a mother in an apron pouring herself a glass of wine. Her child was standing in the doorway and she called out to him that mommy was just getting a glass of special mommy juice to finish playing the 100th round of the “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” This is a rough time for me as a parent but I have to remember it is a rough time for my oldest as well. He is trying to find out who he is and where he is going. I was walking down the hall the other night and he called out from his “new” room (one without a bunk bed and a sibling). I went in and he asked me if Santa was real. Of course I asked why and he said that one of his teachers posted a writing assignment with the prompt, “Would you rather live knowing that Santa is your parents or would you rather live believing a lie?” I crawled in to bed with him and we had a good discussion. We actually talked, dialogued, a give-and-take of ideas and thoughts. There in the dark I found that my sweet, vulnerable child was still there inside of that sometimes rough exterior. He still needed me for more than a chauffeur or Sherpa. He needed me to help him figure out the big scary things and hold his hand. Instead of being smelly and sweaty, at that moment he smelled fresh and clean like he did so long ago when I used to hold him in the dark of the wee hours of the morning. I had, for a brief moment, reclaimed the past when my only new year’s resolution was not to drop him and know that I would love and protect him forever. Now this is what I signed up for.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
An Army of One versus a Battalion of “It’s-All-About-Me”
Happy New Year everyone!
Okay, get ready for some all out, Grade A, prime kvetching. I’m on strike – for real. Wait, for legal reasons or at least the incessant guilt trips I’m sure I would hear, let me place the disclaimer. While this is in fact MY blog, I have always refrained from listing names to protect the innocent. HOWEVER, these are true stories so if the reader finds some eerie similarities to current events then either stop reading this thing or take it to the shrink and not me. I obviously wouldn’t be blogging about it if it didn’t bug me, and believe me, my shrink has heard it from me already. Share the wealth – keep a mental health professional in business. So here we go…
My first gripe is the person I’ll call the “One Upper.” You never have a conversation with a One Upper without him reporting on the better deal he got at the car dealership, or how much more busy she is, or in this case how much more pain he is suffering from ailments. For those of you that don’t know me well, let me explain a little bit here. When I am sick or injured, I’m kind of like an old dog. I just want to disappear under the front porch and not reappear until I’m better. I’m a private person and I just don’t complain about my ailments. Herein lies the problem. Talking to a particular One Upper about my back pain versus his knee pain always end ups up with this person in the throws of pain while mine is dismissed as a mere bump in which might warrant a band-aid. Of course my favorite part of the conversation came with the person informing me that she (I’m purposely changing gender pronouns to hide the identity – see? I’m fair.) was actually feeling okay and that the pain came-and-went but when informed that my pain had come to the point it was ever present, he immediately decided that his pain, too, was ever present and began to moan about how much pain she was in at the moment. Apparently that “come-and-go” pain is faster than Mario Andretti…
Neeext. This little portrayal is about the “Situation to Perspective Ratio Radar Challenged.” These people truly have no sense of gauging a situation by putting it into perspective. For this, I have two examples. The first happened a number of years ago and I can actually laugh about it now. The day after my brother died, I went to take oldest Christopher to preschool so I could go about taking care of necessary details. A co-worker came up to offer condolences but he took a turn into the annals of “It’s all about me”ness. After saying how sorry she was for my lost, he informed me that when he went out to get in the car to come to work, he noticed someone had keyed her car. After that and when he heard about my brother, “I new it was going to be a bad day,” he said. Actual quote, folks. The second was during my back surgery last week. I had to be there so early that someone (my caretaker as the hospital calls it) had to drop me off at the hospital, take the kids to school, and come back to spring me from the hospital. The surgery got a later start time than was anticipated and I was in more pain after the surgery requiring additional doses of morphine. Apparently, the time between the surgeon telling my caretaker the surgery was a success and the time in which the caretaker was called to get me was longer that the caretaker thought it should have taken and no one informed said caretaker. Also it was getting close to lunch and this particular caretaker becomes fussy and grouchy when hungry. Now here is where I have to jump in as the receiver of the surgery. If the caretaker was really worried about the patient, why wait and not inquire of the patient’s health and status? Mental note – go through the express surgery line – 10 or less procedures - so as not to take up so much of your caretaker’s precious time. Also when I actually got to be checked out, the caretaker had a plate of food that she had just received but hadn’t gotten to eat yet. Thus the caretaker was so grouchy all he wanted to do was leave and made it know by not really listen to the instructions the nurse was providing. Next mental note - bring food for caretaker because eating and having to wait are far more important that any surgery near the spine. I implore everyone reading this – make note, caretakers need to be handled with care. Their needs are FAR more important than any silly ol’ surgery you might be facing. Bring a lunchable!
The next foe we will be outlining here today is the “Ungrateful Whiner.” These people rely on you for EVERYTHING – food, shelter, clothing, entertainment, you name it – but have no sense of appreciation for what it entails to provide the above listed items. The majority of this group are comprised of readers’ off-springs, spouses, or other deadbeat relatives. For instance, no matter how many times you’ve told the ungrateful whiner of the plans you’ve made or the help you need around the house, the whiner is oblivious. The whiner will sit during the most chaotic of time or ignore any previous calendar events and forge ahead with her plans with the blinders similar to those worn by Secretariat in the Triple Crown. Regardless of what these creatures received for the most recent religious-based holiday, the moment they see something shiny that catches the eye, they just HAVE to have it. They NEED it. They will just DIE without it! It is actually amazing at the life span longevity of said whiner after that “I’ll just DIE without it!” moment. In fact, much like the cat with the mouse pinned under a paw, I like to remind them of their prolonged existence – “Oh sweetie, look –you’ve survived for FIVE more days than you anticipated after not getting _____! Mazel tov!
There’s a few others, the “Guilt Shifters” – the ones who feel guilty about some circumstance and feel the need to shift the blame in order to feel better about what they’ve missed. And we can’t forget the “Fakers” – the ones that pretend they are interested in you and your well-being until something really big comes up say, a medical emergency, and then all bets are off because they are spending the weekend at the lake with their boy/girl friend.
When I started this I was so angry by the barrage of the plethora of these personalities. Since then, I’ve mellowed. I’ve had back surgery, worked during my vacation, and dealt with non-medicated children. But as the holiday season comes to a lull (the season of Mardi Gras starts in 3 days!!!), I find that the new year is time for a change. I also saw my shrink today so that must have something to do with this diminishing anger, but I digress… You know, I have always been the “I am woman hear me roar” type, but as I have gotten older (I turned 40 this year – woohoo!), I’m starting to realize that priorities, whether mine or someone else’s, are not the be-all-end-all of life. My dear and wonderful mother, great mother-in-law Gayle, and friends have blessed me with a number of books on motherhood, love, and life. There are several quotes that resonate with me:
- To handle yourself, use your head. To handle your children, use your heart.
- A child may not inherit his parents’ talents, but he will absorb their values.
- As we get older, it’s amazing how wise our own parents become. AND, there’s nothing wrong with the younger generation that twenty years won’t cure.
- Never raise your hands to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected!
I guess what I’ve found is the characters described here are all too common in our lives. After discussing this with several co-workers and friends, I’ve found that we all experience people that aren’t, well, nice. But it IS our job to be the better person, teach our children and those within our influence what it means to be sympathetic, empathetic, and kind. It is our job in the new year to make one of our resolutions be to teach a child what it means to care about another person and not just his or herself. After all, as humans that is not only what we signed up for but is expected of us. Happy New Year!
Alright, I apologize for this being such a long, drawn-out grousing session especially right after the holiday season, so I will leave you with a great joke that was sent to me today at work. Regardless of your political affiliation, this is just too funny not to pass along!
Subject: No Christmas in DC This Year
There will be no Nativity Scene in Washington this year! The Supreme Court has ruled that there cannot be a Nativity Scene in the United States' Capital this Christmas season. This isn't for any religious reason. They simply have not been able to find Three Wise Men in the Nation's Capitol. A search for a Virgin continues. There was no problem, however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.
...and that's the way it is....
Okay, get ready for some all out, Grade A, prime kvetching. I’m on strike – for real. Wait, for legal reasons or at least the incessant guilt trips I’m sure I would hear, let me place the disclaimer. While this is in fact MY blog, I have always refrained from listing names to protect the innocent. HOWEVER, these are true stories so if the reader finds some eerie similarities to current events then either stop reading this thing or take it to the shrink and not me. I obviously wouldn’t be blogging about it if it didn’t bug me, and believe me, my shrink has heard it from me already. Share the wealth – keep a mental health professional in business. So here we go…
My first gripe is the person I’ll call the “One Upper.” You never have a conversation with a One Upper without him reporting on the better deal he got at the car dealership, or how much more busy she is, or in this case how much more pain he is suffering from ailments. For those of you that don’t know me well, let me explain a little bit here. When I am sick or injured, I’m kind of like an old dog. I just want to disappear under the front porch and not reappear until I’m better. I’m a private person and I just don’t complain about my ailments. Herein lies the problem. Talking to a particular One Upper about my back pain versus his knee pain always end ups up with this person in the throws of pain while mine is dismissed as a mere bump in which might warrant a band-aid. Of course my favorite part of the conversation came with the person informing me that she (I’m purposely changing gender pronouns to hide the identity – see? I’m fair.) was actually feeling okay and that the pain came-and-went but when informed that my pain had come to the point it was ever present, he immediately decided that his pain, too, was ever present and began to moan about how much pain she was in at the moment. Apparently that “come-and-go” pain is faster than Mario Andretti…
Neeext. This little portrayal is about the “Situation to Perspective Ratio Radar Challenged.” These people truly have no sense of gauging a situation by putting it into perspective. For this, I have two examples. The first happened a number of years ago and I can actually laugh about it now. The day after my brother died, I went to take oldest Christopher to preschool so I could go about taking care of necessary details. A co-worker came up to offer condolences but he took a turn into the annals of “It’s all about me”ness. After saying how sorry she was for my lost, he informed me that when he went out to get in the car to come to work, he noticed someone had keyed her car. After that and when he heard about my brother, “I new it was going to be a bad day,” he said. Actual quote, folks. The second was during my back surgery last week. I had to be there so early that someone (my caretaker as the hospital calls it) had to drop me off at the hospital, take the kids to school, and come back to spring me from the hospital. The surgery got a later start time than was anticipated and I was in more pain after the surgery requiring additional doses of morphine. Apparently, the time between the surgeon telling my caretaker the surgery was a success and the time in which the caretaker was called to get me was longer that the caretaker thought it should have taken and no one informed said caretaker. Also it was getting close to lunch and this particular caretaker becomes fussy and grouchy when hungry. Now here is where I have to jump in as the receiver of the surgery. If the caretaker was really worried about the patient, why wait and not inquire of the patient’s health and status? Mental note – go through the express surgery line – 10 or less procedures - so as not to take up so much of your caretaker’s precious time. Also when I actually got to be checked out, the caretaker had a plate of food that she had just received but hadn’t gotten to eat yet. Thus the caretaker was so grouchy all he wanted to do was leave and made it know by not really listen to the instructions the nurse was providing. Next mental note - bring food for caretaker because eating and having to wait are far more important that any surgery near the spine. I implore everyone reading this – make note, caretakers need to be handled with care. Their needs are FAR more important than any silly ol’ surgery you might be facing. Bring a lunchable!
The next foe we will be outlining here today is the “Ungrateful Whiner.” These people rely on you for EVERYTHING – food, shelter, clothing, entertainment, you name it – but have no sense of appreciation for what it entails to provide the above listed items. The majority of this group are comprised of readers’ off-springs, spouses, or other deadbeat relatives. For instance, no matter how many times you’ve told the ungrateful whiner of the plans you’ve made or the help you need around the house, the whiner is oblivious. The whiner will sit during the most chaotic of time or ignore any previous calendar events and forge ahead with her plans with the blinders similar to those worn by Secretariat in the Triple Crown. Regardless of what these creatures received for the most recent religious-based holiday, the moment they see something shiny that catches the eye, they just HAVE to have it. They NEED it. They will just DIE without it! It is actually amazing at the life span longevity of said whiner after that “I’ll just DIE without it!” moment. In fact, much like the cat with the mouse pinned under a paw, I like to remind them of their prolonged existence – “Oh sweetie, look –you’ve survived for FIVE more days than you anticipated after not getting _____! Mazel tov!
There’s a few others, the “Guilt Shifters” – the ones who feel guilty about some circumstance and feel the need to shift the blame in order to feel better about what they’ve missed. And we can’t forget the “Fakers” – the ones that pretend they are interested in you and your well-being until something really big comes up say, a medical emergency, and then all bets are off because they are spending the weekend at the lake with their boy/girl friend.
When I started this I was so angry by the barrage of the plethora of these personalities. Since then, I’ve mellowed. I’ve had back surgery, worked during my vacation, and dealt with non-medicated children. But as the holiday season comes to a lull (the season of Mardi Gras starts in 3 days!!!), I find that the new year is time for a change. I also saw my shrink today so that must have something to do with this diminishing anger, but I digress… You know, I have always been the “I am woman hear me roar” type, but as I have gotten older (I turned 40 this year – woohoo!), I’m starting to realize that priorities, whether mine or someone else’s, are not the be-all-end-all of life. My dear and wonderful mother, great mother-in-law Gayle, and friends have blessed me with a number of books on motherhood, love, and life. There are several quotes that resonate with me:
- To handle yourself, use your head. To handle your children, use your heart.
- A child may not inherit his parents’ talents, but he will absorb their values.
- As we get older, it’s amazing how wise our own parents become. AND, there’s nothing wrong with the younger generation that twenty years won’t cure.
- Never raise your hands to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected!
I guess what I’ve found is the characters described here are all too common in our lives. After discussing this with several co-workers and friends, I’ve found that we all experience people that aren’t, well, nice. But it IS our job to be the better person, teach our children and those within our influence what it means to be sympathetic, empathetic, and kind. It is our job in the new year to make one of our resolutions be to teach a child what it means to care about another person and not just his or herself. After all, as humans that is not only what we signed up for but is expected of us. Happy New Year!
Alright, I apologize for this being such a long, drawn-out grousing session especially right after the holiday season, so I will leave you with a great joke that was sent to me today at work. Regardless of your political affiliation, this is just too funny not to pass along!
Subject: No Christmas in DC This Year
There will be no Nativity Scene in Washington this year! The Supreme Court has ruled that there cannot be a Nativity Scene in the United States' Capital this Christmas season. This isn't for any religious reason. They simply have not been able to find Three Wise Men in the Nation's Capitol. A search for a Virgin continues. There was no problem, however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.
...and that's the way it is....
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