Our new bathroom is almost done. Kit asked Tish if he could make a sign for the door. Here's the masterpiece:
1.31.2011
1.30.2011
Report Cards
The boys all brought their report cards home. Doc is doing great. Still some pronunciation issues but should be at par by first grade. Tio always gets good grades because he's bright and his former school had higher achievement that they still haven't reached. His big weakness is that he doesn't study, rushes his work and doesn't check. That's also consistent with his world view in general: if it doesn't come easy, don't bother. Kit, who we know is trouble in school, brought home a report that described his inattention, constant meddling in other people's affairs, disrupting the class, and disobeying teacher's instruction. All in all no surprises but I was really hoping for better. I want Tio to spark to academics instead of just seeing them as a necessary evil and Kit has to accept that avoiding learning isn't an option.
After Buddy got home, I asked if he saw the report cards.
"Yes," he said excitedly. "They're AWESOME."
Now, I know that awesome is an overworked word these days but --- really? Awesome? Is there that big a divide between what he and I see? Am I expecting too much not wanting Kit to sink and Tio to do more than skate through? I didn't want to ask what his expectation is because he might get defensive and that won't help. At the same time, he goes to all the same teacher conferences and the special meetings that I do. Maybe he thinks we've covered this and the report is just a formality. I couldn't say.
What I can say is that I believe both of these boys can do much better. Will he be there to help with the heavy lifting?
After Buddy got home, I asked if he saw the report cards.
"Yes," he said excitedly. "They're AWESOME."
Now, I know that awesome is an overworked word these days but --- really? Awesome? Is there that big a divide between what he and I see? Am I expecting too much not wanting Kit to sink and Tio to do more than skate through? I didn't want to ask what his expectation is because he might get defensive and that won't help. At the same time, he goes to all the same teacher conferences and the special meetings that I do. Maybe he thinks we've covered this and the report is just a formality. I couldn't say.
What I can say is that I believe both of these boys can do much better. Will he be there to help with the heavy lifting?
1.28.2011
Guest blog from the nanahood.
Teresa Bell Kindred is the mom of five mostly grown (but sometimes
immature) children and proud nana of one precious granddaughter. She
blogs about the agony and ecstasy of parenting and grandparenting.
NanaHood (Teresa's blog) is the second half of the motherhood journey and
so far it's been a great ride! You can visit Teresa at www.nanahood.com.
This blog is about something all us grand folk age people go through.
******
What is it about the first work day of the week that causes it to be
associated with trouble? Remember the Mamas and the Papas song about Monday?
Every other day
Every other day
Every other day
Of the week is fine, yeah.
But whenever Monday comes
But whenever Monday comes
You can find me crying
All of the time.
You have probably guessed by now that my day did not start well. First, I
couldn't find my car keys. My boys borrow my car often (so they can run out
my gas...not theirs) I strongly suspected that they had put my keys
somewhere but they had already left for school so I couldn't ask them. The
more I looked, the more sure I was that they had moved my keys and I admit
it, I was mad.
I took a deep breath, poured myself a cup of coffee and decided to grab the
spare set of keys and look for the other one later. I took off to do an
errand before work, leaving in plenty of time to get where I needed to be
and back. Alas, things did not go smoothly and when I came back home I
quickly realized that I didn't have a key to the house (other key ring) and
all the doors were locked. Windows too. That wouldn't have been too bad but
suddenly I realized I needed to go to the bathroom....real fast.
What to do?
Our church is right down the road and I know where they hide the key.
Problem solved, if I could make it. I wheeled into the parking lot
screeching tires, left the car running and ran to the ladies room.
Thankfully there wasn't a line and I made it in time.
My day didn't get much better, but it didn't get worse and I did find my car
keys.
In my coat pocket
immature) children and proud nana of one precious granddaughter. She
blogs about the agony and ecstasy of parenting and grandparenting.
NanaHood (Teresa's blog) is the second half of the motherhood journey and
so far it's been a great ride! You can visit Teresa at www.nanahood.com.
This blog is about something all us grand folk age people go through.
******
What is it about the first work day of the week that causes it to be
associated with trouble? Remember the Mamas and the Papas song about Monday?
Every other day
Every other day
Every other day
Of the week is fine, yeah.
But whenever Monday comes
But whenever Monday comes
You can find me crying
All of the time.
You have probably guessed by now that my day did not start well. First, I
couldn't find my car keys. My boys borrow my car often (so they can run out
my gas...not theirs) I strongly suspected that they had put my keys
somewhere but they had already left for school so I couldn't ask them. The
more I looked, the more sure I was that they had moved my keys and I admit
it, I was mad.
I took a deep breath, poured myself a cup of coffee and decided to grab the
spare set of keys and look for the other one later. I took off to do an
errand before work, leaving in plenty of time to get where I needed to be
and back. Alas, things did not go smoothly and when I came back home I
quickly realized that I didn't have a key to the house (other key ring) and
all the doors were locked. Windows too. That wouldn't have been too bad but
suddenly I realized I needed to go to the bathroom....real fast.
What to do?
Our church is right down the road and I know where they hide the key.
Problem solved, if I could make it. I wheeled into the parking lot
screeching tires, left the car running and ran to the ladies room.
Thankfully there wasn't a line and I made it in time.
My day didn't get much better, but it didn't get worse and I did find my car
keys.
In my coat pocket
1.26.2011
The wages of vanity
Tio was strutting his stuff around the house in the new clothes he got on a shopping trip out with Marcia last weekend. Real "sick" stuff according to him. Sick being his slang for great.
He was so enamored of himself that he pulled a muscle in his neck while trying to admire his own butt.
He was so enamored of himself that he pulled a muscle in his neck while trying to admire his own butt.
1.25.2011
Only Myself To Blame
I got delivered a smack in the reality today. This afternoon I didn't have enough time to take the boys skating or play at all. I made Doc a snack, paid bills, hung loads of laundry on the line and then went out to get Kit from an after school program before making supper, getting it on the table and then scrubbing through the day's stack of dishes. I made sure Tio got to his homework, gave him facebook time, pushed both boys through their reading before reading Doc stories in bed, assuring him that the doctor wasn't going to cut off his head at tomorrow's appointment, as Tio had suggested, he was just going to make sure the congestion in his cough was harmless.
While I was fishing around behind the TV trying to untangle a problem with the cable and Internet so both boys could indulge in their favorite screen time, I heard Tio in the kitchen ask, "Who did the dishes?"
I suspect he wanted to complain about a speck on a spoon.
"Who do you think did them?" Tish asked.
"I don't know," he said, digging a hole.
"Who usually does them?" she asked pointedly.
"I don't know," he said.
I leaned out from behind the wires. "Really? You don't know who did tonight's dishes? Are you kidding or do you really not know who does the dishes every night?" I figured that hint was a gimme.
"I really don't know." He said with his own brand of confident assurance.
Really. With his foot already so far down his throat, I was surprised there was room for the other one.
For a second, I was taken aback to learn that I'm that invisible. I can accept being taken for granted at times but to not even be seen? I recalled him handing me a bowl while I was up to my elbows in suds only a half hour earlier.
I didn't launch into the liturgy of what I do for them. I didn't tell him he should respect me more or be thankful for what I do. I said, "Starting tomorrow, you'll be doing the dishes."
I should have done that months ago.
While I was fishing around behind the TV trying to untangle a problem with the cable and Internet so both boys could indulge in their favorite screen time, I heard Tio in the kitchen ask, "Who did the dishes?"
I suspect he wanted to complain about a speck on a spoon.
"Who do you think did them?" Tish asked.
"I don't know," he said, digging a hole.
"Who usually does them?" she asked pointedly.
"I don't know," he said.
I leaned out from behind the wires. "Really? You don't know who did tonight's dishes? Are you kidding or do you really not know who does the dishes every night?" I figured that hint was a gimme.
"I really don't know." He said with his own brand of confident assurance.
Really. With his foot already so far down his throat, I was surprised there was room for the other one.
For a second, I was taken aback to learn that I'm that invisible. I can accept being taken for granted at times but to not even be seen? I recalled him handing me a bowl while I was up to my elbows in suds only a half hour earlier.
I didn't launch into the liturgy of what I do for them. I didn't tell him he should respect me more or be thankful for what I do. I said, "Starting tomorrow, you'll be doing the dishes."
I should have done that months ago.
1.24.2011
"So if you want it, you can lean on me." - The Rolling Stones
As an example of my being as screwed up as the rest of my crazy family, I've been on anti-anxiety meds for the past 3 years and last night for some reason, I forgot to take them. As today rolled in, I felt anxious and dizzy, like I'd taken too many antihistamines for a bad head cold. I was so hot that I stripped down to a T shirt in the grocery store on a sub zero day. Later, while I was melting down further with a loud noise in my ears like TV static, it finally dawned on me what I'd done. Wow. What a reaction. Talk about heavy withdrawal!
All my life I've been an obsessive over-achiever in everything I do. Family, work, business, you name it. I'd over-think an issue or idea or problem and squeeze it like a cobra until every possible angle dripped out. It made me work all the harder and not all that easy to get along with. It was an excellent way to avoid dealing with deeper issues of self doubt, rejection, and all the things that make us human. Well, hiding behind obsessiveness stopped working one year when I was driving a hundred miles to work every week to bail a flute company out of it's self inflicted troubles, traveling to China for them, and up to my ears in Buddy's messy divorce trial. My world came crashing down.
Turns out my brain chemistry has been wacky my whole life and I masked it in obsessive behavior. The meds have evened out the imbalance so I need not live a life of furious desperation. In some small measure I miss not having the drive to achieve but I can enjoy my life, marriage, and the kids much better than I could otherwise.
But that creepy withdrawal episode only hours after missing one dose gives me pause about such a dependency. I'm staring a life of pills in the face from here to the end. Not so terrible in itself, but strange to think of when you've spent a life being totally self reliant and self contained that a day without causes serious repercussions. It shattered my false sense of control that has been central to my world.
Which brings me to the emotional side effect of having to accept "help", albeit from a pill. I can accept that I can't live any kind of contented life without it. By the same token, I need "help" learning to reach out better as a grampy who has 3 needy boys that rely so heavily on him. I may believe I can handle it all, like I did with my obsessive nature, but that's only going to drive me up another dead end unless I'm willing to ask for advice, support to lean on, and accept that there will be times I fail them, no matter how hard I try.
Talk about giving up control. Man, that little pill sure packs a whollup.
All my life I've been an obsessive over-achiever in everything I do. Family, work, business, you name it. I'd over-think an issue or idea or problem and squeeze it like a cobra until every possible angle dripped out. It made me work all the harder and not all that easy to get along with. It was an excellent way to avoid dealing with deeper issues of self doubt, rejection, and all the things that make us human. Well, hiding behind obsessiveness stopped working one year when I was driving a hundred miles to work every week to bail a flute company out of it's self inflicted troubles, traveling to China for them, and up to my ears in Buddy's messy divorce trial. My world came crashing down.
Turns out my brain chemistry has been wacky my whole life and I masked it in obsessive behavior. The meds have evened out the imbalance so I need not live a life of furious desperation. In some small measure I miss not having the drive to achieve but I can enjoy my life, marriage, and the kids much better than I could otherwise.
But that creepy withdrawal episode only hours after missing one dose gives me pause about such a dependency. I'm staring a life of pills in the face from here to the end. Not so terrible in itself, but strange to think of when you've spent a life being totally self reliant and self contained that a day without causes serious repercussions. It shattered my false sense of control that has been central to my world.
Which brings me to the emotional side effect of having to accept "help", albeit from a pill. I can accept that I can't live any kind of contented life without it. By the same token, I need "help" learning to reach out better as a grampy who has 3 needy boys that rely so heavily on him. I may believe I can handle it all, like I did with my obsessive nature, but that's only going to drive me up another dead end unless I'm willing to ask for advice, support to lean on, and accept that there will be times I fail them, no matter how hard I try.
Talk about giving up control. Man, that little pill sure packs a whollup.
1.23.2011
Tattle tale, snakes and snails...
Bit of a breakthrough with Doc a couple of days ago.
We were driving along with him and Kit scrapping in the back seat. He shouts out, "Grampy? Kit -- never mind."
I broke out laughing. The others asked what just happened and Doc said "Nothing."
"He was just about to tattle and stopped himself," I said. I had a candy in my pocket and quickly landed it in his little paw.
He caught himself again today and he and I enjoyed the in joke. I can only hope that we can make more fun out of this than him ratting out his brothers at every turn until it sinks in for keeps.
We were driving along with him and Kit scrapping in the back seat. He shouts out, "Grampy? Kit -- never mind."
I broke out laughing. The others asked what just happened and Doc said "Nothing."
"He was just about to tattle and stopped himself," I said. I had a candy in my pocket and quickly landed it in his little paw.
He caught himself again today and he and I enjoyed the in joke. I can only hope that we can make more fun out of this than him ratting out his brothers at every turn until it sinks in for keeps.
1.22.2011
A Night Out With Miss Tess
I try to write a post every day and missed a couple deadlines this week. The first was from being so burned out I passed out on the couch. But last night, I found out a great jazz band I first heard last spring was playing at a pub only an hour's drive away. So I got the floors washed, the dishes done, Doc into bed, left the boys in Grammo's capable hands, and headed south on my own for a rare night out.
Miss Tess and The Bon Ton Parade. They're almost impossible to describe. Jazz, a bit honky-tonk, blues, and a tint of country rock, all mixed in some great arrangements of classic standards and her original songs. Tess writes and arranges in a genre defying style, works a sweet pair of hands on a vintage electric guitar, and sings like a blend of Ella, Sarah Vaughn, and Norah Jones. The piano player, James Rohr, whipped up a mix of stride and rag style with modern jazz harmonies in a frenzy of great solos. He was so much fun to watch that he didn't leave me any time to watch all the pretty girls on the dance floor. Along with great stand up bass work by Danny Weller, the whole quartet, including Matt Meyer on drums, was a treat to watch and a unique pleasure to hear.
Like I said, a great night out and long overdue. I go home around 2 am and then got up this morning to drive Tio an hour to the mall to meet Marcia. They're off shopping and I'm slurping mucho coffee.
If you get a chance to see Miss Tess, don't pass it up. She defies genre. I'm sure her CDs are online and at iTunes.
Miss Tess and The Bon Ton Parade. They're almost impossible to describe. Jazz, a bit honky-tonk, blues, and a tint of country rock, all mixed in some great arrangements of classic standards and her original songs. Tess writes and arranges in a genre defying style, works a sweet pair of hands on a vintage electric guitar, and sings like a blend of Ella, Sarah Vaughn, and Norah Jones. The piano player, James Rohr, whipped up a mix of stride and rag style with modern jazz harmonies in a frenzy of great solos. He was so much fun to watch that he didn't leave me any time to watch all the pretty girls on the dance floor. Along with great stand up bass work by Danny Weller, the whole quartet, including Matt Meyer on drums, was a treat to watch and a unique pleasure to hear.
Like I said, a great night out and long overdue. I go home around 2 am and then got up this morning to drive Tio an hour to the mall to meet Marcia. They're off shopping and I'm slurping mucho coffee.
If you get a chance to see Miss Tess, don't pass it up. She defies genre. I'm sure her CDs are online and at iTunes.
1.20.2011
I'm Getting Too Old For This Crap
I took Tio and Kit to a girls basketball game this evening. Tio wanted to hang out with his friends, Kit wanted to tag along, and I thought it would be a good thing to get the boys out of the house so Tish could have a couple of hours of quiet after a tiring day at work.
At the game I ended up having to tag around after Tio to keep him and his girlfriend from wandering off into a dark hall to play doctor. So far "girlfriend" meant a text buddy and someone to break up with over not texting enough or not sharing bubble gum at recess.
I think we're entering a new phase here and I'm not ready.
At the game I ended up having to tag around after Tio to keep him and his girlfriend from wandering off into a dark hall to play doctor. So far "girlfriend" meant a text buddy and someone to break up with over not texting enough or not sharing bubble gum at recess.
I think we're entering a new phase here and I'm not ready.
1.19.2011
Born Under A Strange Sign
"Hello?"
"It was a bitter cold, cold January night a long time ago-"
"Hi, Ma." Time for the birth day story.
"You were almost born in the back seat of an Edsel..."
For those who don't remember, the Ford Edsel has the distinction of being the icon in the car industry for being the biggest flop ever. The word Edsel means failure or loser, so I wear my birthday encounter with humility and honor.
"It was 3 am and the car wouldn't start it was so cold." she continued fondly. "I remember Sinatra was singing 'The Road To Mandalay' on the radio."
This is an annual birthday recitation. "Ah, yes!," I inquire, "How is Old Blue Eyes doing these days?"
"Dead."
"Not so good, then."
"I'd have to say he's been better," she agreed.
"Don't tell me my dear father was dumb enough to buy an Edsel?" I asked.
"Your father was many things. Stupid wasn't one of them," she scolded kindly. "it was the stupid neighbor's car."
And so it always goes.
A couple of weeks ago I heard another birthday story that was lots of fun, too: Tio's. I was there the day he was born but a few hours after the fact. When Tio and I saw Marcia, his mom, the other day, she told this tale.
"You were the easiest of the three," she said to him. I could see how pleased he was to hear this because it really helped hit home that this really was his mom he was with after so many years apart. "I was doing something around the apartment and your father was still sleeping. My water broke all of a sudden all over the floor - splash! Buddy sits bolt upright in bed and yells out 'who's throwing water balloons in the house!' then goes right back to sleep."
Tio laughed. We all laughed. That's Buddy all the way. He's been yelling at the kids that way ever since. Make some noise -- ignore the consequence.
"I'm having your kid, I said, and we better get to the hospital. Well...he jumped up and ran out and drove a hundred and twenty miles an hour to the hospital. 'slow down, we have some time and I don't want to get killed on the way there'. Ir turned out a good thing we went fast because you nearly popped out in hospital waiting room while he was checking us in."
Birth is such an amazing thing that I imagine we all arrive under peculiar circumstances.
"It was a bitter cold, cold January night a long time ago-"
"Hi, Ma." Time for the birth day story.
"You were almost born in the back seat of an Edsel..."
For those who don't remember, the Ford Edsel has the distinction of being the icon in the car industry for being the biggest flop ever. The word Edsel means failure or loser, so I wear my birthday encounter with humility and honor.
"It was 3 am and the car wouldn't start it was so cold." she continued fondly. "I remember Sinatra was singing 'The Road To Mandalay' on the radio."
This is an annual birthday recitation. "Ah, yes!," I inquire, "How is Old Blue Eyes doing these days?"
"Dead."
"Not so good, then."
"I'd have to say he's been better," she agreed.
"Don't tell me my dear father was dumb enough to buy an Edsel?" I asked.
"Your father was many things. Stupid wasn't one of them," she scolded kindly. "it was the stupid neighbor's car."
And so it always goes.
A couple of weeks ago I heard another birthday story that was lots of fun, too: Tio's. I was there the day he was born but a few hours after the fact. When Tio and I saw Marcia, his mom, the other day, she told this tale.
"You were the easiest of the three," she said to him. I could see how pleased he was to hear this because it really helped hit home that this really was his mom he was with after so many years apart. "I was doing something around the apartment and your father was still sleeping. My water broke all of a sudden all over the floor - splash! Buddy sits bolt upright in bed and yells out 'who's throwing water balloons in the house!' then goes right back to sleep."
Tio laughed. We all laughed. That's Buddy all the way. He's been yelling at the kids that way ever since. Make some noise -- ignore the consequence.
"I'm having your kid, I said, and we better get to the hospital. Well...he jumped up and ran out and drove a hundred and twenty miles an hour to the hospital. 'slow down, we have some time and I don't want to get killed on the way there'. Ir turned out a good thing we went fast because you nearly popped out in hospital waiting room while he was checking us in."
Birth is such an amazing thing that I imagine we all arrive under peculiar circumstances.
1.18.2011
Does "Father Know Best"?
While tucking Kit in for the night, we talked about the team of teachers and specialists that are trying to help him get over this bump that's got him stuck in a learning/attention rut. He said something almost word for word that Tio had said to me a couple of months ago. When I told him that we wanted to include the thoughts and ideas of his therapist, he said, "Why do I need to keep going to counseling when I can talk to you?"
I explained it as I had to Tio, "You need an objective person to talk to about your problems. Someone who isn't part of the family."
"I'd still rather talk with you," he said, echoing what his big brother said.
While I'm glad that their trust in me is strong I feel it's important that they have an objective ear to listen to them. It would be one thing if we lived in single family with one household history. But these boys have a lot of deep issues to work through in a troubled world. I want their trust and to be part of the talk but I also really want them to have other outlets.
The problem I face is how to get them to confide in a counsellor on the same level they confide in me.
I explained it as I had to Tio, "You need an objective person to talk to about your problems. Someone who isn't part of the family."
"I'd still rather talk with you," he said, echoing what his big brother said.
While I'm glad that their trust in me is strong I feel it's important that they have an objective ear to listen to them. It would be one thing if we lived in single family with one household history. But these boys have a lot of deep issues to work through in a troubled world. I want their trust and to be part of the talk but I also really want them to have other outlets.
The problem I face is how to get them to confide in a counsellor on the same level they confide in me.
1.17.2011
Remembering a Great Dog
 |
| Tricorns Bluestockings "Zoe" |
Through the past twenty odd years we've had over 20 dogs living in our home. Of them only 2 were truly dominant dogs and of those only Zoe had a clear eye and calm control over our herd. True dominant means exerting order and keeping everyone in their place without fighting or chaos. Just by look and stance all the others knew she was in charge and stayed in their place. When she was a young acolyte she allowed Roxy, her predecessor, to grow old and lose power with dignity before she took over the role of dominant dog. It was an amazing thing to watch but that's how smart and caring she was. We called her Miss P. - "the perfect girl".
During her lifetime she became a role model in local schools and at the library as "the community dog". Tish took her into classrooms to teach dog bite safety, took her to nursing home to perform and share her good nature with the residents. She loved to play ball, smell the flowers and learn. Whenever Tish started to teach her a new trick or ability her eyes would light up and her focus was laser sharp.
Up until last night when a stroke robbed her of her ability to swallow, she could still run around the yard with the others and enjoy reasonable good health even though she was a very old girl. We raised both her parents and she is the end of her line. Without her watchful leadership it will be interesting to see which of the remaining three will try to fill her shoes. Alas none of them has even the slightest idea how.
Goodbye Zoe. You were and always will be a part of the heart of our home. Our lives won't be the same without you.
1.16.2011
OCD - History's true motivation
Here's another crossover post from my Sci Fi blog planckscaleblog that seems fitting in our world, and especially the world of our hyper kids. I wrote it last May. I suppose with the kids already living here, it's no surprise that I chose this topic...
It's amazing how we each can get so absorbed into our own endeavors that we become fascinated with the tiniest nibblets of information about our passion. Abraham Lincoln's chipped tooth, the slightly lower engine output in the early '67 Lotus vs. the same model later that year, a misprinted 1st edition, and so forth. Our lives have become so removed from necessity that we hone our natural OCD in less than essential directions.
I've come to the conclusion that we don't suffer from Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder, we thrive on it. It's what drives us. We climbed down out of the trees because of it, we invented the wheel, we pushed our way to the Moon on the stuff. How else would we ever have dragged our asses off the floor of the cave to create a bison trap if it weren't for our compulsions? We could have stayed by the fire and eaten whatever came our way.
You see, we have it backwards. The real in downfall of our bored society is a Disinterested Unmotivated Disorder (DUD). People who could care less about curiosity. We are naturally curious and motivated to learn. We're just wearing ourselves down to the bone on the mundane.
Time to celebrate our obsessions! Don't let them run your life, but don't dismiss them either. Obsession in moderation, I say!
Okay maybe that's a tad simplistic. Let me research it....and do a poll....and start a newsletter....and write a paper.....and get funding.....
It's amazing how we each can get so absorbed into our own endeavors that we become fascinated with the tiniest nibblets of information about our passion. Abraham Lincoln's chipped tooth, the slightly lower engine output in the early '67 Lotus vs. the same model later that year, a misprinted 1st edition, and so forth. Our lives have become so removed from necessity that we hone our natural OCD in less than essential directions.
I've come to the conclusion that we don't suffer from Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder, we thrive on it. It's what drives us. We climbed down out of the trees because of it, we invented the wheel, we pushed our way to the Moon on the stuff. How else would we ever have dragged our asses off the floor of the cave to create a bison trap if it weren't for our compulsions? We could have stayed by the fire and eaten whatever came our way.
You see, we have it backwards. The real in downfall of our bored society is a Disinterested Unmotivated Disorder (DUD). People who could care less about curiosity. We are naturally curious and motivated to learn. We're just wearing ourselves down to the bone on the mundane.
Time to celebrate our obsessions! Don't let them run your life, but don't dismiss them either. Obsession in moderation, I say!
Okay maybe that's a tad simplistic. Let me research it....and do a poll....and start a newsletter....and write a paper.....and get funding.....
1.14.2011
Bless The Women
I enrolled Kit in an after school program for hyperactive and high energy kids today. The woman who runs the program is an ADD specialist and handles 60 wild and often out of control kids day after day. Three days ago Buddy and I met with Kit's teachers and educational specialists - all kind and caring women. The same thing with the Special Ed team that Doc needed for his speech help last spring. At the library, the director and staff are great women who, while taking care of adult patrons like me, deal with kids all the time. The children's librarian creates and runs hundreds of programs a year and they love her.The sponsor for the dances that Tio goes to was the mother of a teen who decided to continue even after her daughter grew up. The woman who runs a local teen and children's theater company works full time at a day job only to do this in her evenings and weekends for love of kids and the performance arts.
This list goes on - daycare center, teen center, welfare investigators, you name it. These women are the underpinning of the well being of our kids. Much of what they do is thankless and goes unseen. They have chosen careers that sprouted from their love of working with kids. Their compassion and patience is astounding. They continue to smile and stay positive even when they're exhausted and need to put their feet up and shut the world out.
It's been that way since time began, the women in our lives that guided and cared for us as girls and boys growing up. There are men who take this on, but not many by comparison (a shout out goes to our great town rec director) and I'm an exception as a grandfather/caretaker since that usually falls to the grandmas.
I'm delighted every time I open a new door in this town to meet another strong, smart capable woman contributing to the betterment of our kids. Thank you all for the time and dignity you give to our children. Their world would not be so bright without you.
As a footnote - it is probably a strange sight for the school to see a father and son show up for parent/teacher meetings. Buddy and I look an odd couple sitting in those tiny chairs.
This list goes on - daycare center, teen center, welfare investigators, you name it. These women are the underpinning of the well being of our kids. Much of what they do is thankless and goes unseen. They have chosen careers that sprouted from their love of working with kids. Their compassion and patience is astounding. They continue to smile and stay positive even when they're exhausted and need to put their feet up and shut the world out.
It's been that way since time began, the women in our lives that guided and cared for us as girls and boys growing up. There are men who take this on, but not many by comparison (a shout out goes to our great town rec director) and I'm an exception as a grandfather/caretaker since that usually falls to the grandmas.
I'm delighted every time I open a new door in this town to meet another strong, smart capable woman contributing to the betterment of our kids. Thank you all for the time and dignity you give to our children. Their world would not be so bright without you.
As a footnote - it is probably a strange sight for the school to see a father and son show up for parent/teacher meetings. Buddy and I look an odd couple sitting in those tiny chairs.
1.13.2011
Boys will be...
Doc has an infection on his toe today and really didn't want to go to the doctor to get medicine. Why? Because his brother Tio told him that the doctor was going to cut it off. Thanks, bro. We owe you for that.
Boys are really good at this. I was one of four brothers, I raised one son and now three grandsons. Boys like to make stuff up. My experience with girls is limited to one sister and a daughter and I didn't find then quite so bad but someone could correct that if they have better knowledge. It all seems part of the show-off psyche. Tio used to back up the most ridiculous stories with even worse evidence and I could imagine him swapping it for worse with his friends at school. My mom said my dad used to make up some serious howlers and she being gullible bought them all.
Last spring a boy from school told Kit that some strange man, a "six footer" by his description broke into the boy's house and told him at gunpoint that he better convince their third grade teacher that Kit was saying bad things about her on a facebook page or else the six footer would kill him. How elaborate is that for you? Kit believed it, of course. Who wouldn't at that age? It gave the kid a license to tell lies. It blew up in his face over the course of a couple of days but poor Kit was in a panic over something he had no part in,
When I was 9 my brother and best friend at the time told me he'd read an article in National Geographic about six foot inch worms in Africa that the natives could hear rumbling under their feet when they went by. I thought this was great and told it to my entire fifth grade class. Half way through I realized what a load of poop I was dishing and turned purple while my voice got drowned in laughter. The teacher's was the loudest.
I can't decide if this is control or ego thing. Are we trying to show that we are stronger by laying a sack of dirt at a friend's feet and expecting him to pick it up. Or maybe it's just control, knowing we can get them to believe whatever they say. Either way, we've got some wild stories coming our way.
Boys are really good at this. I was one of four brothers, I raised one son and now three grandsons. Boys like to make stuff up. My experience with girls is limited to one sister and a daughter and I didn't find then quite so bad but someone could correct that if they have better knowledge. It all seems part of the show-off psyche. Tio used to back up the most ridiculous stories with even worse evidence and I could imagine him swapping it for worse with his friends at school. My mom said my dad used to make up some serious howlers and she being gullible bought them all.
Last spring a boy from school told Kit that some strange man, a "six footer" by his description broke into the boy's house and told him at gunpoint that he better convince their third grade teacher that Kit was saying bad things about her on a facebook page or else the six footer would kill him. How elaborate is that for you? Kit believed it, of course. Who wouldn't at that age? It gave the kid a license to tell lies. It blew up in his face over the course of a couple of days but poor Kit was in a panic over something he had no part in,
When I was 9 my brother and best friend at the time told me he'd read an article in National Geographic about six foot inch worms in Africa that the natives could hear rumbling under their feet when they went by. I thought this was great and told it to my entire fifth grade class. Half way through I realized what a load of poop I was dishing and turned purple while my voice got drowned in laughter. The teacher's was the loudest.
I can't decide if this is control or ego thing. Are we trying to show that we are stronger by laying a sack of dirt at a friend's feet and expecting him to pick it up. Or maybe it's just control, knowing we can get them to believe whatever they say. Either way, we've got some wild stories coming our way.
Beagle and cream cheese & girl cheese sandwiches.
It's always fun watching what kids will mishear and think is something else altogether. Today while making grilled cheese sandwiches Kit asked why it's always called girl cheese and not any boy cheese.
I remember always screwing up The Lord's Prayer and God Save The Queen (that's what Canadians sang in school before we had our own anthem).
It went something like this: "Our father, who art in Heaven, how will it be thy name?" I couldn't figure that out at all. Or "thy will be done". Will be done what? And to whom?
As for the poor queen, the second last line went something like "Long to Ray Noverus..." Who in the world was Ray Noverus?
If you have a sec, share some of your faves...
I remember always screwing up The Lord's Prayer and God Save The Queen (that's what Canadians sang in school before we had our own anthem).
It went something like this: "Our father, who art in Heaven, how will it be thy name?" I couldn't figure that out at all. Or "thy will be done". Will be done what? And to whom?
As for the poor queen, the second last line went something like "Long to Ray Noverus..." Who in the world was Ray Noverus?
If you have a sec, share some of your faves...
1.12.2011
 |
| Doc Skating on Town Common |
I love to skate. It's the one place this Grampopotumus can feel the least bit graceful and lighter than air. Kind of like the hippos on Fantasia. I taught Tio and Kit how to skate 3 or 4 years ago and they aren't bad for the limited amount we've actually been on the ice.
I took the boys ice skating today for the first time this season. We strapped on our blades and drove into town but poor Doc had to stick to his feet. He really wanted to try a pair of skates out but I thought he should try sliding first. We'll start the falling down lessons next time. With a snowstorm on it's way, we'll have to wait for our next trip to the ice.
Finally, something we all like to do together!
1.10.2011
We have eyes...but do we really see?
This is a repost from my science fiction blogsite: planckscaleblog , written last May. It was intended to posit the possibility of unseen lifeforms hiding in plain sight right here on Earth. But I think it's relevant to the life we lead raising children and navigating our way through life without seeing the things about each other that also seem to "hide in plain sight".
An obvious observation about a dog is that you can hand them anything and they'll accept it without understanding. A lump of food, a digital watch, a stick, can of soda are all in the same basic place to them: can I or can't I eat it? When they're through with it, the item joins the background noise of their lives.
But a less overused metaphor is when you point at the clouds or the stars for the dog and all they see is the end of your finger. Looking up, or observing the background of the world, is not only incomprehensible but irrelevant to them.
I wonder if the same rings true for us on some level. Are we staring so hard at our surroundings that we don't see 50% of it? I don't mean quarks and microwaves and viruses and infrared. I mean something that is so clear that all it needs is relevance to spot it. What might it consist of? Metaphysical? Consciousness? Interchangeable density and energy? Another level or species of life that shares our world without our notice?
What if one time you lifted your Schnauzer's snout to the stars and for the very first time he saw the twinkle of Venus next to the Moon. He'd bark, look to you for approval and move on to the next thing.
I suspect that's what most of us do when we spot the unknown.
Posted May 22, 2010 on planckscaleblog
An obvious observation about a dog is that you can hand them anything and they'll accept it without understanding. A lump of food, a digital watch, a stick, can of soda are all in the same basic place to them: can I or can't I eat it? When they're through with it, the item joins the background noise of their lives.
But a less overused metaphor is when you point at the clouds or the stars for the dog and all they see is the end of your finger. Looking up, or observing the background of the world, is not only incomprehensible but irrelevant to them.
I wonder if the same rings true for us on some level. Are we staring so hard at our surroundings that we don't see 50% of it? I don't mean quarks and microwaves and viruses and infrared. I mean something that is so clear that all it needs is relevance to spot it. What might it consist of? Metaphysical? Consciousness? Interchangeable density and energy? Another level or species of life that shares our world without our notice?
What if one time you lifted your Schnauzer's snout to the stars and for the very first time he saw the twinkle of Venus next to the Moon. He'd bark, look to you for approval and move on to the next thing.
I suspect that's what most of us do when we spot the unknown.
Posted May 22, 2010 on planckscaleblog
A Day To Remember
Tio met his natural mother today for the first time in about 7 years. He was nervous for the past week about it, not eating much and quiet. Today he was especially worried about his appearance, thinking that might be important to her. Of course, it wasn't but it made him feel better. Because they'd been estranged under bad circumstances when he was small this was a subdued reunion but very emotional. He was also reuniting with a half sister, Liz, who also fell out of his life at the same time. As close as I am to him there was nothing I could do to make this easier. It was like sending him out to school for the first time or letting go of the bike and hoping he wouldn't fall off. I wanted him to take this bike ride I just didn't want him to get hurt.
The problem in that is we don't, and can't, control everything in our loved ones lives. We take them to the edge of the nest and say " jump, my child" with no guarantee they'll fly. This was one of those times. As we pulled up to McDonald's he shook my hand and said "thank you". That adult gesture said so much. He'd been waiting for this moment for years, longing for it, and didn't think it would come for a long time yet. The possibility of getting hurt again was worth the risk. He knew he was flying solo. But he needed to see his mother and sister and know what had happened to them and if they were real, not some distant memory he'd dreamt up to answer for the hole that had been left inside him so many years ago.
They were real alright and very genuine. We had nothing to worry about. After introductions with her, her husband, and Liz we all sat together for a couple of hours and Marcia was gracious, comfortably intimate, and genuinely ecstatic to be eyeball to eyeball with her son. She asked questions, reminisced light heartedly about their life together in the past, and promised the future was a new land that would include them all. Liz was a mirror image of him. Seriously, a photo of them side by side you could Photoshop the faces and exchange them and be hard pressed to notice. She is as warm hearted and kind as he is, just a year older than him but already a lot taller. She seemed comfortable with herself and was obviously happy to see him again.
He was pretty quiet through most of the visit, unusual for him, and it reminded me of the caution he used to exhibit when he was really small. He learned to stand by climbing a chair leg and then climbing back down like that was enough for one day. He'd try letting go another time. His eyes were wide the whole time, taking it all in, enjoying the warmth from these two women that was meant just for him.
We parted with promises of future contacts, hockey games, and visits. We drove off and Tio said "She seems real." and remarked on how well he thought it went. I told him I thought it did, too. He has been fairly quiet about it the rest of the day. His appetite is back and he was in a good mood. It's going to take some time for him to really work through what just happened and how it will effect the rest of his life both present and future.
It will take me some time to sift it over to understand as I expect it will for both Marcia and Liz. I believe this is the beginning of something good for all of them and the rest of our family, too. I am glad that I could help make it happen and look forward to what happens next.
The problem in that is we don't, and can't, control everything in our loved ones lives. We take them to the edge of the nest and say " jump, my child" with no guarantee they'll fly. This was one of those times. As we pulled up to McDonald's he shook my hand and said "thank you". That adult gesture said so much. He'd been waiting for this moment for years, longing for it, and didn't think it would come for a long time yet. The possibility of getting hurt again was worth the risk. He knew he was flying solo. But he needed to see his mother and sister and know what had happened to them and if they were real, not some distant memory he'd dreamt up to answer for the hole that had been left inside him so many years ago.
They were real alright and very genuine. We had nothing to worry about. After introductions with her, her husband, and Liz we all sat together for a couple of hours and Marcia was gracious, comfortably intimate, and genuinely ecstatic to be eyeball to eyeball with her son. She asked questions, reminisced light heartedly about their life together in the past, and promised the future was a new land that would include them all. Liz was a mirror image of him. Seriously, a photo of them side by side you could Photoshop the faces and exchange them and be hard pressed to notice. She is as warm hearted and kind as he is, just a year older than him but already a lot taller. She seemed comfortable with herself and was obviously happy to see him again.
He was pretty quiet through most of the visit, unusual for him, and it reminded me of the caution he used to exhibit when he was really small. He learned to stand by climbing a chair leg and then climbing back down like that was enough for one day. He'd try letting go another time. His eyes were wide the whole time, taking it all in, enjoying the warmth from these two women that was meant just for him.
We parted with promises of future contacts, hockey games, and visits. We drove off and Tio said "She seems real." and remarked on how well he thought it went. I told him I thought it did, too. He has been fairly quiet about it the rest of the day. His appetite is back and he was in a good mood. It's going to take some time for him to really work through what just happened and how it will effect the rest of his life both present and future.
It will take me some time to sift it over to understand as I expect it will for both Marcia and Liz. I believe this is the beginning of something good for all of them and the rest of our family, too. I am glad that I could help make it happen and look forward to what happens next.
1.09.2011
The Princess and the Peabrain
I'm warming up the video to make another video of the family, a portrait of the times, and I was pawing through the stuff we've done before. Over the years, the 2 older boys boys and I have made some fun music and movie shorts which for me is a family album because I never take many photos. Being a lousy archivist, I've lost a few gems along the way but what I have still goes back a bit.
Here's one called "The Princess & The Peabrain" we made entirely in a 15x15 studio on a bored Saturday morning about four years ago (that would make them about 8 & 6). It's only :43 seconds long.
Enjoy!
Here's one called "The Princess & The Peabrain" we made entirely in a 15x15 studio on a bored Saturday morning about four years ago (that would make them about 8 & 6). It's only :43 seconds long.
Enjoy!
1.08.2011
Home Makeover: Terlet Edition
A year has gone by but we're finally getting the upstairs bathroom makeover that Tish so desperately needs to keep her sanity. Right now the tub is unusable, the floor is impossible to really clean since the last time the boys lived here, and the sink is too low for two tall people like us. We Home Depoted the tub and fixtures, sink and tiles and beadboard for the walls. With Danny doing the work, the cost is within our budget (much scaled down from the full renovation that we originally planned), and he hopes to complete it in about a week. This will really make a difference to our upstairs, where Tish and I get what little privacy we can.
I'm glad we're finally doing it. Sorry we didn't get to it sooner, sweetheart.
I'm glad we're finally doing it. Sorry we didn't get to it sooner, sweetheart.
1.07.2011
A dog's life
I think my relationship with my dog is getting a bit too symbiotic. Every time I fart, she sniffs her butt.
I was thinking about renaming the dogs to help teach the kids some manners. We'll call one PLEASE, the second one THANK YOU, another YOU'RE WELCOME and so forth. That way the talk around the house would be as follows:
"Sit, Please, sit."
"Shut up! Thank You."
"Get off the table, Please."
"You're Welcome, now get off of Mr. Beasely!"
Doc wanted to call one of them NO FAIR. "Don't eat my toast, No Fair!". "Come back here, No Fair."
Hello? Is this thing on?
I was thinking about renaming the dogs to help teach the kids some manners. We'll call one PLEASE, the second one THANK YOU, another YOU'RE WELCOME and so forth. That way the talk around the house would be as follows:
"Sit, Please, sit."
"Shut up! Thank You."
"Get off the table, Please."
"You're Welcome, now get off of Mr. Beasely!"
Doc wanted to call one of them NO FAIR. "Don't eat my toast, No Fair!". "Come back here, No Fair."
Hello? Is this thing on?
1.06.2011
Letter To A Friend
Dear David,
These last few weeks have been filled with Christmas, school, vacation, schedules, keeping my brains on my head and blogging and given me no time to write to you. Sorry about that. I feel like I’m pedaling fast and going nowhere. I guess that's what most of raising children is all about. You push and prod and hope and watch and they move along at a snails pace until finally you notice a change. Not a life for the faint of heart.
I was sitting here thinking about how different our world is from a year ago. There's nothing going on now that even remotely resembles January 5, 2010. I was making silver glories, quietly working on a flute, writing Circe and hanging out with Tish. Buddy just got temporary custody of the boys and moved into an apartment. Tish had lots of classes to teach and was thinking about possible retirement except for the classes. Well, here we are a shy 12 months later and you know the rest. I haven’t been in my flute shop in a couple of weeks and I’ve only had time to work on my novel for a couple of hours in the last month and that makes me edgy.
What makes this a day to mark is that the final court papers came through and the judge granted Buddy permanent full custody of all three boys along with all the other protective stipulations he asked for. Debbie has the same visits she’s had all year and so do her parents. The boys really are here to stay and that's a great thing, somewhat a scary thing, and inevitably an exhausting thing. My hair hasn’t turned gray yet but, like every president that takes the oath, before my term is over I'll have aged more than my years.
This evening didn't go so well with Kit and that always leaves me anxious. It was supposed to be my day off but it never really is. I got home from the pub, where I did a bit of writing, to feed dogs and make supper for me and Tish. Bud was an hour late getting the boys fed, nothing new and Kit hadn't done much with his homework (also nothing new). So I had to push things along and settle down with Kit after supper to work through his math.
Because we have a parent/teacher meeting next week, I'm pushing him. I need to learn the limits of what he understands and what he just doesn’t care about. We’re both frustrated. He doesn't want to do anything that requires even the slightest complication and after we butt heads neither of us feels very good about it. He told me last night he doesn't think school matters because he's going to be a famous singer. He's in the fourth grade and he's already talking about being a drop out.
I told him about me being a smart kid who finished high school 2 years early but got no encouragement from my family to succeed so I barely passed my grades and never made it to college. He couldn't understand why I'd still have that regret and want to go to college even now. I guess learning for it's own sake isn't particularly a 9 year old's concept of a good time. Of course, it's something that Tish and I have in common - and did even when we were kids. She was raising her chickens and getting herself to church and studying about Greece all without a single prod from her parents. That makes it harder for us to understand kids with no motivation.
Sorry to sound so down, but these worries weigh me down like wet clothes. Anxieties about my own well being got substituted with anxieties about theirs. I guess we could all see that coming. You know my theory on self doubt being the root of all human achievement and failure. There's a fine line between finding success and happiness or dropping over the edge and it all hinges on self doubt. These boys are riddled with the stuff. Tio hides it behind bravado and clique and Kit wears his on his sleeve. If only understanding it were the cure!
Anyway, I shouldn't bear down on you with my late night hand wringing. I haven't heard from you in a while and some news about work and your family would be nice to hear. I've been dreaming about Mudda recently and miss her, so I really should find time to take a trip your way, maybe even bring one of the boys for an overnight.
I found a Star Trek trivia game for both of us for Christmas that should pit us against some seriously useless information for a few of our late night bouts. Tish and I have seen 4 Cary Grant movies on our fest. Let me know your faves (we already saw His Girl Friday and Father Goose - sorry) and I'll dig them up. I've probably got 15 more.
love
These last few weeks have been filled with Christmas, school, vacation, schedules, keeping my brains on my head and blogging and given me no time to write to you. Sorry about that. I feel like I’m pedaling fast and going nowhere. I guess that's what most of raising children is all about. You push and prod and hope and watch and they move along at a snails pace until finally you notice a change. Not a life for the faint of heart.
I was sitting here thinking about how different our world is from a year ago. There's nothing going on now that even remotely resembles January 5, 2010. I was making silver glories, quietly working on a flute, writing Circe and hanging out with Tish. Buddy just got temporary custody of the boys and moved into an apartment. Tish had lots of classes to teach and was thinking about possible retirement except for the classes. Well, here we are a shy 12 months later and you know the rest. I haven’t been in my flute shop in a couple of weeks and I’ve only had time to work on my novel for a couple of hours in the last month and that makes me edgy.
What makes this a day to mark is that the final court papers came through and the judge granted Buddy permanent full custody of all three boys along with all the other protective stipulations he asked for. Debbie has the same visits she’s had all year and so do her parents. The boys really are here to stay and that's a great thing, somewhat a scary thing, and inevitably an exhausting thing. My hair hasn’t turned gray yet but, like every president that takes the oath, before my term is over I'll have aged more than my years.
This evening didn't go so well with Kit and that always leaves me anxious. It was supposed to be my day off but it never really is. I got home from the pub, where I did a bit of writing, to feed dogs and make supper for me and Tish. Bud was an hour late getting the boys fed, nothing new and Kit hadn't done much with his homework (also nothing new). So I had to push things along and settle down with Kit after supper to work through his math.
Because we have a parent/teacher meeting next week, I'm pushing him. I need to learn the limits of what he understands and what he just doesn’t care about. We’re both frustrated. He doesn't want to do anything that requires even the slightest complication and after we butt heads neither of us feels very good about it. He told me last night he doesn't think school matters because he's going to be a famous singer. He's in the fourth grade and he's already talking about being a drop out.
I told him about me being a smart kid who finished high school 2 years early but got no encouragement from my family to succeed so I barely passed my grades and never made it to college. He couldn't understand why I'd still have that regret and want to go to college even now. I guess learning for it's own sake isn't particularly a 9 year old's concept of a good time. Of course, it's something that Tish and I have in common - and did even when we were kids. She was raising her chickens and getting herself to church and studying about Greece all without a single prod from her parents. That makes it harder for us to understand kids with no motivation.
Sorry to sound so down, but these worries weigh me down like wet clothes. Anxieties about my own well being got substituted with anxieties about theirs. I guess we could all see that coming. You know my theory on self doubt being the root of all human achievement and failure. There's a fine line between finding success and happiness or dropping over the edge and it all hinges on self doubt. These boys are riddled with the stuff. Tio hides it behind bravado and clique and Kit wears his on his sleeve. If only understanding it were the cure!
Anyway, I shouldn't bear down on you with my late night hand wringing. I haven't heard from you in a while and some news about work and your family would be nice to hear. I've been dreaming about Mudda recently and miss her, so I really should find time to take a trip your way, maybe even bring one of the boys for an overnight.
I found a Star Trek trivia game for both of us for Christmas that should pit us against some seriously useless information for a few of our late night bouts. Tish and I have seen 4 Cary Grant movies on our fest. Let me know your faves (we already saw His Girl Friday and Father Goose - sorry) and I'll dig them up. I've probably got 15 more.
love
1.05.2011
Grampopotamus? I get no respect.
I may have put on a few of extra pounds in the past couple of years. I’m six-two and two ten and change. The kids often joke and pat my gut asking when the baby is due. Ha ha. Yesterday, Kit came up with grampopotamus. Really? Am I that bad?
Tonight, another bout of tears and whining over homework I stepped out so Kit could solve a problem and sat, absolutely spent, with everyone the grownups on the sofa. Danny and Sugar were visiting and Danny leaned back and smiled. “I wish you were my Grampy, too!” he said in a kid’s voice.
See what I mean? No respect. (But a fair amount of good laughs)
Tonight, another bout of tears and whining over homework I stepped out so Kit could solve a problem and sat, absolutely spent, with everyone the grownups on the sofa. Danny and Sugar were visiting and Danny leaned back and smiled. “I wish you were my Grampy, too!” he said in a kid’s voice.
See what I mean? No respect. (But a fair amount of good laughs)
1.03.2011
Sometimes Just showing Up Isn't Quite Enough
Since it's the start of a new year and new school term, I'm trying a fresh tack with Kit to get him mainstreamed with his class learning level. On our way to running some errands, after school, I asked him what he'd learned today. Just one thing. He could't think of anything. After we got home he did his homework, 7 math questions, and after I looked them over I asked if he thought he understood the material. He said he did and I agreed. It was basic numeric ordering from high to low. But he got 4 of the 7 wrong. I asked why he thought that happened and after a couple of 'I don't knows' he said that maybe he wasn't paying attention. "Bingo!" says I and asked what he was thinking while he worked. "When it would be over, my new rock group name, you know - stuff."
"What about in math class today?" i asked.
"Same thing."
I don't know if it clicked strongly with him but he did realize there was a connections between his concentration and understanding his class. When I put him to bed he asked me if I really had to go to the parent teacher meeting this month. "You know, you really could use a day off," he said encouragingly, as if my not going would mean his teacher would think he was doing better.
I'm not sure, but I'm hopeful that he's beginning to see the solution to this problem lies with him, and that paying more attention in class could really help. If he's willing to try to take on some of the heavy lifting to get through this, half the battle is won.
"What about in math class today?" i asked.
"Same thing."
I don't know if it clicked strongly with him but he did realize there was a connections between his concentration and understanding his class. When I put him to bed he asked me if I really had to go to the parent teacher meeting this month. "You know, you really could use a day off," he said encouragingly, as if my not going would mean his teacher would think he was doing better.
I'm not sure, but I'm hopeful that he's beginning to see the solution to this problem lies with him, and that paying more attention in class could really help. If he's willing to try to take on some of the heavy lifting to get through this, half the battle is won.
As if there wasn't enough going on in our lives...
There is a family change that's been brewing for a couple of months and is now coming to a head. For almost 6 years Tio has been estranged from his natural mother, Marcia. Circumstances, problems, and trouble too deep to go into here caused her to move across the country and for Debbie to legally adopt him. Buddy is his natural father and the plan was for he and Debbie to raise him with their other children. That all fell apart when they fought, separated, reconnected, fought, separated and finally filed for divorce. Meanwhile, Marcia stayed out of sight since he was six and he's wondered about her continuously.
A situation developed in the past month, coupled with her moving back to our state for other reasons, that will reunite them. However, this isn't going to be easy. Tio buries his real feelings in bravado. There are hard feelings, unresolved emotions and a host of other things hanging out there that will take a lot of time to sort out. He has questions that won't be easily answered. Some he won't even know how to ask. A mother and son and two siblings (Tio and his half sister, Liz.) reuniting after a very long time is bound to have some high expectations, many they may be unable to meet. I can only hope that Debbie and her family will understand how important this is and that he will still love them and that the woman he's called mom most of his life is still that.
But Marcia is as much a part of him as Debbie and as time goes by he will be a better person by knowing this part of himself again. He will be better for himself and better for everyone else in his life. At the same time, Marcia and Liz will be finding a part of themselves that was lost and will make them whole.
Tish and Buddy were reluctant to move so fast when this all came about and I've been the strongest advocate. However, I'm relying on the whole family to help make this work. Tio will need all of us to back him up with our love and support.
Whoever thought family life was easy is a fool.
A situation developed in the past month, coupled with her moving back to our state for other reasons, that will reunite them. However, this isn't going to be easy. Tio buries his real feelings in bravado. There are hard feelings, unresolved emotions and a host of other things hanging out there that will take a lot of time to sort out. He has questions that won't be easily answered. Some he won't even know how to ask. A mother and son and two siblings (Tio and his half sister, Liz.) reuniting after a very long time is bound to have some high expectations, many they may be unable to meet. I can only hope that Debbie and her family will understand how important this is and that he will still love them and that the woman he's called mom most of his life is still that.
But Marcia is as much a part of him as Debbie and as time goes by he will be a better person by knowing this part of himself again. He will be better for himself and better for everyone else in his life. At the same time, Marcia and Liz will be finding a part of themselves that was lost and will make them whole.
Tish and Buddy were reluctant to move so fast when this all came about and I've been the strongest advocate. However, I'm relying on the whole family to help make this work. Tio will need all of us to back him up with our love and support.
Whoever thought family life was easy is a fool.
1.01.2011
We're not supposed to like our kid's music - but our Grandchidren's?
Periodically, I sit down with the boys to listen to their music and lyrics so that inappropriate tunes get taken out of the mix. Since Christmas just passed by and they are buying new stuff, I just spent 2 days catching up on what’s new and I’m taken aback yet again by the out of control content of the songs they choose.
The first thing both Tio and Kit say is “it’s an edited version”, which means that any words that are for adult ears get cut or changed. Just because they substitute a word doesn’t take away the context or mean that the boys aren’t going to repeat and repeat and repeat the original word that was replaced. As if “mothafunner” is somehow a reference to Mother Teresa and we should be happy that the rapper who’s saying it is offering to “blow her away”. If it’s a ‘bad word’ in passing, I don’t care, but this is much more than that.
Kit wants Lady GaGa, KeSha and Katy Perry which for the most part are verbally harmless. But the songs themselves are about drunken sex, sleazy attitudes and superficial attitudes towards lust and fame. Stuff that is way over a nine year old’s head. He says it himself that he doesn’t understand it. He’s safer with Hannah Montana and Justin Bieber, who he also likes.
Tio is a whole other dish. He’s into heavy metal and rap. Eminem to be precise. He spent his own money on a CD that I said in the store if it was inappropriate I would confiscate it. “I know. It’s fine,” he said “this is the edited version.”
Right. Edited. I looked up the lyrics for every title on the disc online. Tio has no idea what this stuff is about. First off, Eminem is writing about his own feelings at the age of 38. That in itself is beyond Tio. Second, every song is full of self pity, self loathing and rage at people who he thinks don’t understand him or falsely glorify him. And he expresses it in ugly and raw terms. This is no music for a twelve year old. The music itself has some compelling points but the lyrics are not written for children, even if it is ‘edited’. And they listen to it over and over until it’s drilled into their thoughts without comprehension until the misogynist and violent images are there for life.
I don’t want to choose their music or tell them what they should or shouldn’t like. I grew up in the 60's. That’s what that was all about. But Jim Morrison on his wildest coke dream would cringe hearing some of this stuff. I wanted to emulate Bob Dylan and John Lennon. Tio struts around like he’s some kind of street hood ready to “pop a cap in a cop” like the rappers on MTV. What kind of role models are that?
I would like to give them a couple more years to be children and not have to face such raw self indulgence and hate so young.
The first thing both Tio and Kit say is “it’s an edited version”, which means that any words that are for adult ears get cut or changed. Just because they substitute a word doesn’t take away the context or mean that the boys aren’t going to repeat and repeat and repeat the original word that was replaced. As if “mothafunner” is somehow a reference to Mother Teresa and we should be happy that the rapper who’s saying it is offering to “blow her away”. If it’s a ‘bad word’ in passing, I don’t care, but this is much more than that.
Kit wants Lady GaGa, KeSha and Katy Perry which for the most part are verbally harmless. But the songs themselves are about drunken sex, sleazy attitudes and superficial attitudes towards lust and fame. Stuff that is way over a nine year old’s head. He says it himself that he doesn’t understand it. He’s safer with Hannah Montana and Justin Bieber, who he also likes.
Tio is a whole other dish. He’s into heavy metal and rap. Eminem to be precise. He spent his own money on a CD that I said in the store if it was inappropriate I would confiscate it. “I know. It’s fine,” he said “this is the edited version.”
Right. Edited. I looked up the lyrics for every title on the disc online. Tio has no idea what this stuff is about. First off, Eminem is writing about his own feelings at the age of 38. That in itself is beyond Tio. Second, every song is full of self pity, self loathing and rage at people who he thinks don’t understand him or falsely glorify him. And he expresses it in ugly and raw terms. This is no music for a twelve year old. The music itself has some compelling points but the lyrics are not written for children, even if it is ‘edited’. And they listen to it over and over until it’s drilled into their thoughts without comprehension until the misogynist and violent images are there for life.
I don’t want to choose their music or tell them what they should or shouldn’t like. I grew up in the 60's. That’s what that was all about. But Jim Morrison on his wildest coke dream would cringe hearing some of this stuff. I wanted to emulate Bob Dylan and John Lennon. Tio struts around like he’s some kind of street hood ready to “pop a cap in a cop” like the rappers on MTV. What kind of role models are that?
I would like to give them a couple more years to be children and not have to face such raw self indulgence and hate so young.
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