All I can say is an honest OMG. And that's between laughs.
My coworker recommended a Tumblr called "Reasons My Son Is Crying." (http://reasonsmysoniscrying.tumblr.com/)
If anyone actually reads this blog, please, please visit that site. Future me, go back to the site and have some hearty laughs.
Basically, this guy or lady (I am bad and didn't read the profile) created this collection of ridiculous reasons why his own baby would cry-- with accompanying pictures. Other people now submit theirs.
The tone of the reason-- coupled with this picture of a kid wailing his little arse off-- is often very direct and dry. Ex: (with pic of kid on plane) "We are not free to move about the cabin."
It's a relief of a reminder that parents are, as the cliche dictates, all in this together, and these little monsters cry at the weirdest times. Mabel has just recently started these little temper tantrums-- tears when shiz gets taken away from her, or when she can't, say, climb up the fireplace. The wailing is sometimes grating, but now that I have seen her do it, I am onto her! There's a stark difference between the "I am honestly hurt" cry and that for which she has decided to be a brat.
To completely plagiarize the idea of this Tumblr, I thought I would share a few reasons Mabel has cried as of late:
~ She was not allowed to color the carpeted stairs with a green and a brown crayon.
~ I was upstairs and she was downstairs (being watched by J, of course).
~ She was not allowed to carry a raw, uncleaned potato around the house.
~ She was not allowed to go to the basement.
~ We would not let her keep her hands in the freezer.
~ She was not allowed to eat a flower from the yard.
~ I did not let her dump a carton of puffs on the carpet.
More to come!
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
My Week with a Sunrise
Last week I was on vacation from work. Mabel and I were buds, hanging out together each day and enjoying the beginnings of spring. Flowers are blooming in our yard (planted by previous owners-- while I wish I were, I simply am not [yet] a green thumb), and we delighted in time on the slide and playing with beach toys. Mabel also accompanied me on errands- to Target, the post office, AutoZone, to name a few-- and was a fabulous lunch date at Panera.
The week's placidity was certainly broken by the despicable Marathon bombings. J and I became coverage- obsessed (I blogged once before about my need to know it all when it comes to these tragedies-- how it's an odd coping mechanism for me, but one that strangely works). But we all went to bed Thursday unaware of what would transpire in the wee hours of Friday-- a more- than- city- wide manhunt, a multi- community lockdown, and a state of raw anxiety for people living in those towns-- as well as for the onlookers-- the folks like us watching from afar. It was an honest relief when I gave Mabel lunch and put Sesame Street on for her. She lit up, as she always does, when she heard "Sunnny days, sweeping the clouuuuds away!" Mabel had no idea what was going on in the background of Abby Cadabby's Flying Fairy School and Elmo's World. I longed to be her, actually, in that the ignorance was bliss, and I enjoyed a carefree hour with her until we had to get into the car. Every radio station-- every single one-- aired news coverage, and there we were back in the mire. Don't get me wrong-- there was a twisted excitement to the ordeal, and I was bummed we were away from the TV when we had to go to a charity event that evening, but being away from it all was also sort of freeing by the 5th day.
But as everyone knows, they got the guy. The city and the state and the nation came together to support Beantown. The Red Sox gave a great tribute, and the Bruins did too. Bradley Cooper came to victims' bedsides. The governor and even the Vice- President of the country attended funerals. Donation funds were organized and have raised unfathomable amounts of money for victims. Memorials have been erected, flags flew at half- staff, and people have commemorated the deceased and injured on Twitter and Facebook. But now, as it's all over, people have to just go on. Parents have to live without the children they lost; adults and kids alike have to learn to walk without legs. People must return to the city for work, and we must keep at our daily routines. It's got to be the hardest part now. Grief has surely set in its purest form, and onward people have to go, despite the fear and terror and despair. When I think of these victims and their families, I hope they get to experience some "human sunrises," as Maya Angelou wrote about, and that I blogged about once before. I suppose it's all they've got.
And so while I don't want to insinuate in ANY way that I was gravely affected by what happened, I do want to say that on a much lesser scale, Mabel was my human sunrise all week. What joy there was in seeing her play, knowing that she knew nothing than what was right in front of her in our little house and in our grassy yard. We had a marvelous week together, and it seems the perfect time to explain just HOW she was a sunrise...
- Mabel is no longer allowed to come with me to Target-- at least for a while. :) The strap in the baby seat is just loose enough for her to turn around fully, shimmy up, and FULLY STAND. She insisted on this during our trip there last Monday. For safety's sake, I was left to take her out of the cart, and hold her in one arm while pushing the cart with the other. She demanded to be out of that seat, so this was her only alternative. While I was annoyed, her feisty way was also funny.
- She loves animals and babies, but recently, everything has been a "doggie"-- from the actual dogs she sees and hears (if she hears barking from afar-- even on TV-- she exclaims, "DOGGIIEEEE!!") to the red kangaroos we saw at Capron Zoo last Tuesday to little baby C, my friend's son who visited us on Thursday. She's said the word "baby" before but was cracking us up as she stood above C. repeating, 'Doggie!' while pointing at him. It's ok-- I get it-- puppies and babies are both cute, and you want to snuggle them
- Mabel also proclaims 'Doggie!' when you lie on the ground. She comes over and slams down over you, and all I can gather is that this is how she lies on my parents' dog (it's pretty effing cute), so she is reminded of him. So, yes, folks, we are all a bunch of doggies, really.
- She's still obsessed with going up the stairs, and when she enters the house, she runs over to them to see if by chance the gate isn't up. If we let her climb, we are always behind her.
- Mabel will now sit through an entire episode of Sesame. It's odd because we never forced it. But she loves to sit in a trance as she eats dinner. Hmmm... not sure if we are promoting Couch Potato- ism, but we will go with it because it is an educational show, not the crap I sometimes like to watch. If she were into the Kardashians, we would have an issue.
- Mabel also likes to say "cheese" and "shoe" (after she has taken her shoes OFF-- every single time we get in the car) and "tee" for TV, as she points the remote at it. She fusses if we refer to "night night?" if she isn't tired, as she fears a premature nap! And Mabel seems to have just discovered "no" while shaking her head that way. She's "saying" a bunch of other things repeatedly but I can't figure them out ("bubbyyyy??' not to be confused with "baba"; "naya- naya"; and "gaaa" and "geee" to name a few). Though, I do believe "meh" is milk. And as she has been for a while, she's still got the old stand- bys "mama" and "daddy" and "baba." When she hears J's key in the door, she runs like a mad-lady toward the door, chanting, "Dadddyyyy!"
- She loves to put on my bracelets and wear them around, and to put on J's shoes. She cracks up at that one.
- Alas, the little slugger still has only enough hair on the sides to be put into any kind of "style." Thus, she can rock these sweet little pig- tails, and that's about it. We sported the tails on Thursday, and it's funny how still and relaxed she gets when I do her hair. She must like it!
- Mabel likes arranging her babies and animals in her carriage and traveling about the house. She seems a woman on a mission. Her walk has evolved into a-- sometimes reckless- run. Poor Elmo and Abby probably have whiplash.
I could keep listing fun shiz that she is up to, but I remember that brevity is the soul of wit, and I think I've captured aptly a number of ways why my week with my Mabel was my week with a helper. A helper to see some of the cute and silly and light and airy when the condition of the world around us seemed dark.
The week's placidity was certainly broken by the despicable Marathon bombings. J and I became coverage- obsessed (I blogged once before about my need to know it all when it comes to these tragedies-- how it's an odd coping mechanism for me, but one that strangely works). But we all went to bed Thursday unaware of what would transpire in the wee hours of Friday-- a more- than- city- wide manhunt, a multi- community lockdown, and a state of raw anxiety for people living in those towns-- as well as for the onlookers-- the folks like us watching from afar. It was an honest relief when I gave Mabel lunch and put Sesame Street on for her. She lit up, as she always does, when she heard "Sunnny days, sweeping the clouuuuds away!" Mabel had no idea what was going on in the background of Abby Cadabby's Flying Fairy School and Elmo's World. I longed to be her, actually, in that the ignorance was bliss, and I enjoyed a carefree hour with her until we had to get into the car. Every radio station-- every single one-- aired news coverage, and there we were back in the mire. Don't get me wrong-- there was a twisted excitement to the ordeal, and I was bummed we were away from the TV when we had to go to a charity event that evening, but being away from it all was also sort of freeing by the 5th day.
But as everyone knows, they got the guy. The city and the state and the nation came together to support Beantown. The Red Sox gave a great tribute, and the Bruins did too. Bradley Cooper came to victims' bedsides. The governor and even the Vice- President of the country attended funerals. Donation funds were organized and have raised unfathomable amounts of money for victims. Memorials have been erected, flags flew at half- staff, and people have commemorated the deceased and injured on Twitter and Facebook. But now, as it's all over, people have to just go on. Parents have to live without the children they lost; adults and kids alike have to learn to walk without legs. People must return to the city for work, and we must keep at our daily routines. It's got to be the hardest part now. Grief has surely set in its purest form, and onward people have to go, despite the fear and terror and despair. When I think of these victims and their families, I hope they get to experience some "human sunrises," as Maya Angelou wrote about, and that I blogged about once before. I suppose it's all they've got.
And so while I don't want to insinuate in ANY way that I was gravely affected by what happened, I do want to say that on a much lesser scale, Mabel was my human sunrise all week. What joy there was in seeing her play, knowing that she knew nothing than what was right in front of her in our little house and in our grassy yard. We had a marvelous week together, and it seems the perfect time to explain just HOW she was a sunrise...
- Mabel is no longer allowed to come with me to Target-- at least for a while. :) The strap in the baby seat is just loose enough for her to turn around fully, shimmy up, and FULLY STAND. She insisted on this during our trip there last Monday. For safety's sake, I was left to take her out of the cart, and hold her in one arm while pushing the cart with the other. She demanded to be out of that seat, so this was her only alternative. While I was annoyed, her feisty way was also funny.
- She loves animals and babies, but recently, everything has been a "doggie"-- from the actual dogs she sees and hears (if she hears barking from afar-- even on TV-- she exclaims, "DOGGIIEEEE!!") to the red kangaroos we saw at Capron Zoo last Tuesday to little baby C, my friend's son who visited us on Thursday. She's said the word "baby" before but was cracking us up as she stood above C. repeating, 'Doggie!' while pointing at him. It's ok-- I get it-- puppies and babies are both cute, and you want to snuggle them
- Mabel also proclaims 'Doggie!' when you lie on the ground. She comes over and slams down over you, and all I can gather is that this is how she lies on my parents' dog (it's pretty effing cute), so she is reminded of him. So, yes, folks, we are all a bunch of doggies, really.
- She's still obsessed with going up the stairs, and when she enters the house, she runs over to them to see if by chance the gate isn't up. If we let her climb, we are always behind her.
- Mabel will now sit through an entire episode of Sesame. It's odd because we never forced it. But she loves to sit in a trance as she eats dinner. Hmmm... not sure if we are promoting Couch Potato- ism, but we will go with it because it is an educational show, not the crap I sometimes like to watch. If she were into the Kardashians, we would have an issue.
- Mabel also likes to say "cheese" and "shoe" (after she has taken her shoes OFF-- every single time we get in the car) and "tee" for TV, as she points the remote at it. She fusses if we refer to "night night?" if she isn't tired, as she fears a premature nap! And Mabel seems to have just discovered "no" while shaking her head that way. She's "saying" a bunch of other things repeatedly but I can't figure them out ("bubbyyyy??' not to be confused with "baba"; "naya- naya"; and "gaaa" and "geee" to name a few). Though, I do believe "meh" is milk. And as she has been for a while, she's still got the old stand- bys "mama" and "daddy" and "baba." When she hears J's key in the door, she runs like a mad-lady toward the door, chanting, "Dadddyyyy!"
- She loves to put on my bracelets and wear them around, and to put on J's shoes. She cracks up at that one.
- Alas, the little slugger still has only enough hair on the sides to be put into any kind of "style." Thus, she can rock these sweet little pig- tails, and that's about it. We sported the tails on Thursday, and it's funny how still and relaxed she gets when I do her hair. She must like it!
- Mabel likes arranging her babies and animals in her carriage and traveling about the house. She seems a woman on a mission. Her walk has evolved into a-- sometimes reckless- run. Poor Elmo and Abby probably have whiplash.
I could keep listing fun shiz that she is up to, but I remember that brevity is the soul of wit, and I think I've captured aptly a number of ways why my week with my Mabel was my week with a helper. A helper to see some of the cute and silly and light and airy when the condition of the world around us seemed dark.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Spuh- ringggg!
Spring is finally here after a lengthy and chilly winter. We had lots and lots of snow this year (is it okay yet to use past tense?? Am I jinxing things?!) and people were cooped up. It's been great fun over the past week to see people outside.
I'm lucky being a teacher, in that I can get Mabel from day care by 4, and we have time to frolic on the lawn at the house or visit the local playground. Mabel really enjoys the outdoors-- true to form for a toddler-- as she's got uncharted territory on which to run around and get all sandy and filthy. For the first time, she has been PISSED when I make her leave day care, as it means removing her from the toy car or the mini- bike or just the lawn. She is so strong now that she grapples with me to be put back down onto the grass-- and is almost successful-- shimmying her little body down the front of mine to get to the ground for more playtime. Feisty little thing!
Yesterday I took Mabel to the local playground, and met a friend of mine with her two kids there. The older kids-- above 2, that is-- took to the various play items, but Mabel was just on a mission to explore. Staying upright on such uneven and rough terrain is a challenge, and she was tuckering herself out. The funniest part was that Mabel wanted nothing more than to touch this other family's stroller. I kept trying to redirect her to the horsies and playcars and sandbox, but she would squirm and then run back to this stroller. The mom was good- natured and found it funny, but I know Mabel was probably bordering on annoying, so I continued to scoop her up repeatedly-- but man, would she whine! She's going through this fascination with babies right now, shouting "ayyyy-bee!" at any real baby, fellow toddler, or doll. Hence, the appeal of the stroller. Eventually I got her into the sandbox, and she had fun scooping sand into piles, despite the sand making its way into her eye a few times. She was perfectly content in her little sun hat-- scoop, dump, repeat. Ruin pile. Start again. As she sat, and I chatted with my friend C, I watched the "big kids" jump all over the playground-- the slides, bars, etc. And I got this chilling and startling feeling of, what if Mabel doesn't make friends? Obviously she was playing alone because she is one, and she can't truly socialize yet or keep up. But I couldn't help but feel a pang of heartbreak for moms and dads who have to watch their older kids sit alone at the sandbox. I nearly cried. That sadness was summarily obliterated by a few boys cheerily chanting, 'Bye Jack!' to some other boy. It was so innocent, so sweet, so non- judgey, so non- cliquey, so non- mean- girl/ boy. I hate to think that their unadulterated friendliness ends at some point. Sometimes I am so scared of the evils of the world and what they will do to Mabel that I want to block her from everything. I know that's the worst thing I could do though.
To end on a happier note, she loved the swings-- as always. She laughed uproariously when I pushed her, and into the wide open air she went! What a joy it was to finally be outside. She started calling out for both daddy and doggie while we were there-- all I can assume is something there made her think of them, but I'm not sure what. I love the brain associations-- my friend Doris told me her sweet little girl was shouting "Elmo!" on a walk, and she didn't know why-- until she noticed the RED fire hydrants!! Sooo cool!
Today is cloudy but still warm. If the rain holds off, we shall venture into the yard for some swing and slide. As a mom, it's so wonderful to have the time outside. Yeah, they have fun, and that's great, but all the playing and running also tires them out excellently. :)
I'm lucky being a teacher, in that I can get Mabel from day care by 4, and we have time to frolic on the lawn at the house or visit the local playground. Mabel really enjoys the outdoors-- true to form for a toddler-- as she's got uncharted territory on which to run around and get all sandy and filthy. For the first time, she has been PISSED when I make her leave day care, as it means removing her from the toy car or the mini- bike or just the lawn. She is so strong now that she grapples with me to be put back down onto the grass-- and is almost successful-- shimmying her little body down the front of mine to get to the ground for more playtime. Feisty little thing!
Yesterday I took Mabel to the local playground, and met a friend of mine with her two kids there. The older kids-- above 2, that is-- took to the various play items, but Mabel was just on a mission to explore. Staying upright on such uneven and rough terrain is a challenge, and she was tuckering herself out. The funniest part was that Mabel wanted nothing more than to touch this other family's stroller. I kept trying to redirect her to the horsies and playcars and sandbox, but she would squirm and then run back to this stroller. The mom was good- natured and found it funny, but I know Mabel was probably bordering on annoying, so I continued to scoop her up repeatedly-- but man, would she whine! She's going through this fascination with babies right now, shouting "ayyyy-bee!" at any real baby, fellow toddler, or doll. Hence, the appeal of the stroller. Eventually I got her into the sandbox, and she had fun scooping sand into piles, despite the sand making its way into her eye a few times. She was perfectly content in her little sun hat-- scoop, dump, repeat. Ruin pile. Start again. As she sat, and I chatted with my friend C, I watched the "big kids" jump all over the playground-- the slides, bars, etc. And I got this chilling and startling feeling of, what if Mabel doesn't make friends? Obviously she was playing alone because she is one, and she can't truly socialize yet or keep up. But I couldn't help but feel a pang of heartbreak for moms and dads who have to watch their older kids sit alone at the sandbox. I nearly cried. That sadness was summarily obliterated by a few boys cheerily chanting, 'Bye Jack!' to some other boy. It was so innocent, so sweet, so non- judgey, so non- cliquey, so non- mean- girl/ boy. I hate to think that their unadulterated friendliness ends at some point. Sometimes I am so scared of the evils of the world and what they will do to Mabel that I want to block her from everything. I know that's the worst thing I could do though.
To end on a happier note, she loved the swings-- as always. She laughed uproariously when I pushed her, and into the wide open air she went! What a joy it was to finally be outside. She started calling out for both daddy and doggie while we were there-- all I can assume is something there made her think of them, but I'm not sure what. I love the brain associations-- my friend Doris told me her sweet little girl was shouting "Elmo!" on a walk, and she didn't know why-- until she noticed the RED fire hydrants!! Sooo cool!
Today is cloudy but still warm. If the rain holds off, we shall venture into the yard for some swing and slide. As a mom, it's so wonderful to have the time outside. Yeah, they have fun, and that's great, but all the playing and running also tires them out excellently. :)
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Language Fails
This is going to be a short post, but today at lunch we all cracked up at stories about people mishearing words of cliches or lyrics to songs. Each person had a story about a "language fail," and it got me thinking about how we form our relationships with language. Some people are very into words-- how they sound, what they mean, what they suggest. I think I might be one of those people-- a total word dork-- and not just in terms of studying etymology. I like to think about the connotations of words and why we use them the way we do. I have a whole book of common phrases and where they came from (Anyone want to know the story of where "rule of thumb" came from? It's bad-- it's about a guy beating people...) I think a lot too about how hard the English language must be to learn, especially for kids in the ELL program. It's gotta be challenging to memorize that the "ough" sound in "through," "rough," and "bough" is pronounced differently in each case. And I ponder what Mabel must be thinking when she hears us talk. I'm sure she is formulating lots of language in her little brain right now, but do babies think most of what we say is gibberish, even once they start learning context and association? Someone in my period 8 class said that her Vietnamese friend told her she thought spoken English sounded like a dog barking. Yet, we talk and talk-- never realizing how FAST and maybe even DULL our words can sound to others.
It's easy, with such an expansive language as English, to mess things up as we are learning. We've got more cliches than anyone could count, and lots of idioms too (remember Amelia Bedelia, who didn't get metaphors/ allusions? When she was told to draw the drapes, she took out a crayon and paper). Yet, sometimes, even without thinking, we just learn said idioms and start using them. We might not even know what they mean (unless you've got that handy book I was talking about above :)). I started thinking about the language fails I was responsible for as a kid. Here are a few:
1. I thought "blind drive" meant the person who lived at the house was blind, so please watch out.
2. I thought a person referred to as (or as not) a Rhodes Scholar was a "road scholar," meaning he/ she was so smart that he/she had traveled a long academic road, and was covering a long road of knowledge... you know, to eventually end up at Harvard or something. On the road to success!
3. I thought the word primadonna was "pre- Madonna," meaning the person was a young version of the celeb. Like, she's headed to be a real rich, and maybe famous, but snotty *itch. Or she liked to show off her bod or something. Regardless, I thought of Madge.
4. I thought the phrase zero due at signing on those car commercials was "zero 'do it!' signing," alluding to a system whereby if you just "did it!" on the spot (the car purchase) you wouldn't have to pay anything at the signing. Zero "do it RIGHT NOW!" signing!!!!
I know I've had more, and I'm excited to think more about them (yup, dorking it up). What language fails (ok, maybe that's harsh- "language snafus"??) have you heard or executed? :)
It's easy, with such an expansive language as English, to mess things up as we are learning. We've got more cliches than anyone could count, and lots of idioms too (remember Amelia Bedelia, who didn't get metaphors/ allusions? When she was told to draw the drapes, she took out a crayon and paper). Yet, sometimes, even without thinking, we just learn said idioms and start using them. We might not even know what they mean (unless you've got that handy book I was talking about above :)). I started thinking about the language fails I was responsible for as a kid. Here are a few:
1. I thought "blind drive" meant the person who lived at the house was blind, so please watch out.
2. I thought a person referred to as (or as not) a Rhodes Scholar was a "road scholar," meaning he/ she was so smart that he/she had traveled a long academic road, and was covering a long road of knowledge... you know, to eventually end up at Harvard or something. On the road to success!
3. I thought the word primadonna was "pre- Madonna," meaning the person was a young version of the celeb. Like, she's headed to be a real rich, and maybe famous, but snotty *itch. Or she liked to show off her bod or something. Regardless, I thought of Madge.
4. I thought the phrase zero due at signing on those car commercials was "zero 'do it!' signing," alluding to a system whereby if you just "did it!" on the spot (the car purchase) you wouldn't have to pay anything at the signing. Zero "do it RIGHT NOW!" signing!!!!
I know I've had more, and I'm excited to think more about them (yup, dorking it up). What language fails (ok, maybe that's harsh- "language snafus"??) have you heard or executed? :)
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Generations
I remember a line from the movie Clueless where one of the main characters makes the revelation: "So the way I feel about Rolling Stones is the way my kids are gonna feel about Nine Inch Nails, so I probably shouldn't torture my mom anymore" (or something like that). Clueless is, in many ways, an excellent piece of satire, and it focuses a lot of its satire on my generation. (I'm not sure if we are considered Gen X, clinging to the tail of this demographic as its last inhabitants, but from what I have heard, yes. We are too old to be part of the Digital Natives, so we mid- nineties- high school grads get clumped into X. It makes sense really. We grew up loving John Hughes movies and playing Atari, after all.)
But Clueless is also a good sort of time- capsule- ish movie. I think it came out when I was a junior in high school or so, making me the same age, more or less, as the high schoolers it depicts. I remember Contempo (or 'Contrampo') Casuals at the mall, and the short plaid skirt with the thigh- highs trend. And then came the Birkenstocks with socks and fringey- bottomed jeans. We listened to Radiohead and Coolio. We said things like, 'As if!' I think Clueless is funny because of the satire, but I also like watching it because it gives me a fun, secure sense of "back then."
A lot of the kids I teach have seen Clueless and have even referred to it in front of me, which cracks me up because they probably think it to be some really radical, almost Indie look at the nineties. It's like how I felt cool for having seen Dazed and Confused. But anyhoo, the kids seem fascinated with nineties culture because they were only toddlers (frightening). They don't know that Alicia Silverstone was also in those Aerosmith videos (because some of them have never seen a music video-- ever), and perhaps more alarming many of them don't know who Winona Ryder or Shannen Doherty is. It's inconceivable to me, but why would they when they have grown up with t- shirts depicting Team Edward and fan bracelets for Owl City. It's funny how fast pop culture-- and really all culture-- changes. Celebs go in and out, as do trends and music. And we, too, forget things quickly, even though as adults we can look back and recall.
Observing this weird divide between my generation and my students' has gotten me wondering about what the hell will be cool or popular when Mabel's age group is in high school. I worry that they will all be such tech junkies that they won't know how to socialize. That they will all just be driving Smart Cars around and will have cell phones the size of pencil erasers but that are full- blown personal computers (okay, so it's not going to be like The Jetsons, I know, I know...). But it's funny to think that their generation will be so separated from the one that is currently in high school. I guess it's funny because I can't imagine things becoming any more futuristic than they are now, but of course they will be. Mabel's age group will think Justin Bieber to be a lame has- been (which I pray happens soon :)), and they will think The Hunger Games to be an outdated fantasy series. They will probably even scoff at Facebook and AIM (or will they?).
Things tend to come full circle, though, because for a while, I did think the Rolling Stones was a stupid band-- even if only because my dad was pushing it on us and how could ANYTHING my parents liked be even remotely cool?! And then somewhere around 19, I ditched Nine Inch Nails and the like for the Stones. I said, hmm, these guys can sing, and every song is different. No wonder they are the most famous rock n' roll band of all time. And my kids are starting to see the huge cultural shift that the grunge music of the 90s created in our world. They're like, "Wow, Eddie Vedder is awesome and I really wish that Kurt Cobain dude didn't kill himself back in the Stone Age. And that Biggie guy, and also Tupac. None of those Stone Age guys should have died because they made totally dope music." (Yes, old people-- "dope" as an adjective is all the rage now... again. See? Cycle.)
So maybe one day the kids of Mabel's generation will be saying how much they hate Taylor Swift or Justin Bieber because they're just sooo lame, but then later they will be, like, hmmmm, no, the music is so inspiring. Oh, gosh, scary!! The precursor artists for Mabel's generation are not leaving us anything time- capsule- ish. So, maybe, justtttt maybe, this whole cyclical thing will skip a gen. I'd love it if Mabel started to listen to 90s rock, but I fear for her musical enlightenment if all we can give them is T- Swift and One Direction. But my parents were probably saying the same about Nine Inch Nails, and that kid from Clueless had a point.
But Clueless is also a good sort of time- capsule- ish movie. I think it came out when I was a junior in high school or so, making me the same age, more or less, as the high schoolers it depicts. I remember Contempo (or 'Contrampo') Casuals at the mall, and the short plaid skirt with the thigh- highs trend. And then came the Birkenstocks with socks and fringey- bottomed jeans. We listened to Radiohead and Coolio. We said things like, 'As if!' I think Clueless is funny because of the satire, but I also like watching it because it gives me a fun, secure sense of "back then."
A lot of the kids I teach have seen Clueless and have even referred to it in front of me, which cracks me up because they probably think it to be some really radical, almost Indie look at the nineties. It's like how I felt cool for having seen Dazed and Confused. But anyhoo, the kids seem fascinated with nineties culture because they were only toddlers (frightening). They don't know that Alicia Silverstone was also in those Aerosmith videos (because some of them have never seen a music video-- ever), and perhaps more alarming many of them don't know who Winona Ryder or Shannen Doherty is. It's inconceivable to me, but why would they when they have grown up with t- shirts depicting Team Edward and fan bracelets for Owl City. It's funny how fast pop culture-- and really all culture-- changes. Celebs go in and out, as do trends and music. And we, too, forget things quickly, even though as adults we can look back and recall.
Observing this weird divide between my generation and my students' has gotten me wondering about what the hell will be cool or popular when Mabel's age group is in high school. I worry that they will all be such tech junkies that they won't know how to socialize. That they will all just be driving Smart Cars around and will have cell phones the size of pencil erasers but that are full- blown personal computers (okay, so it's not going to be like The Jetsons, I know, I know...). But it's funny to think that their generation will be so separated from the one that is currently in high school. I guess it's funny because I can't imagine things becoming any more futuristic than they are now, but of course they will be. Mabel's age group will think Justin Bieber to be a lame has- been (which I pray happens soon :)), and they will think The Hunger Games to be an outdated fantasy series. They will probably even scoff at Facebook and AIM (or will they?).
Things tend to come full circle, though, because for a while, I did think the Rolling Stones was a stupid band-- even if only because my dad was pushing it on us and how could ANYTHING my parents liked be even remotely cool?! And then somewhere around 19, I ditched Nine Inch Nails and the like for the Stones. I said, hmm, these guys can sing, and every song is different. No wonder they are the most famous rock n' roll band of all time. And my kids are starting to see the huge cultural shift that the grunge music of the 90s created in our world. They're like, "Wow, Eddie Vedder is awesome and I really wish that Kurt Cobain dude didn't kill himself back in the Stone Age. And that Biggie guy, and also Tupac. None of those Stone Age guys should have died because they made totally dope music." (Yes, old people-- "dope" as an adjective is all the rage now... again. See? Cycle.)
So maybe one day the kids of Mabel's generation will be saying how much they hate Taylor Swift or Justin Bieber because they're just sooo lame, but then later they will be, like, hmmmm, no, the music is so inspiring. Oh, gosh, scary!! The precursor artists for Mabel's generation are not leaving us anything time- capsule- ish. So, maybe, justtttt maybe, this whole cyclical thing will skip a gen. I'd love it if Mabel started to listen to 90s rock, but I fear for her musical enlightenment if all we can give them is T- Swift and One Direction. But my parents were probably saying the same about Nine Inch Nails, and that kid from Clueless had a point.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Lighten up!
At the end of my sixth grade year, we received our yearbooks and the cool thing to do was to get friends-- and even a few likable teachers-- to sign it. I loved my history teacher that year and asked her if she would write me a message. She agreed, and when she handed the book back to me, I was puzzled by the message: "To J, my most serious student in 6th grade. You'll do fine in 7th grade. Relax and stop worrying!" Wow, I thought, that's how she knows me? As the worrier girl? And then THAT idea made me worry more.
Yes, I remember that message word for word, despite that I haven't looked back at the scrawling in probably ten years or so (hmm, where ARE my middle school yearbooks, anyway?). I don't think I will ever forget those words because they made me see a piece of who I was, and am today. Over the years, I have debated whether being a "serious" person is good or bad. Mostly I've thought it bad, and that I should try to get over it and just, you know, be different. But at other moments in time, I've accepted my worrying nature and have even somewhat resigned myself to it. Is that good to do though? I still can't decide.
Besides the yearbook message, I used to hear lots of messages from people about my worrying, My mom would throw cliches on me, such as "Roll with the punches!" and "Lighten up!" Hmm. How do I DO that, I would wonder? How do I stop caring? How do I stop my mind from working like crazy? (Side note: I still don't know. If anyone has the answer, please write me.)
Starting around age 23, I have here and there sought therapy for my anxiety. I don't go anymore, but it did help me in bits and pieces. Some professionals like to suggest medication for worry, and while I'm certainly not above it, I like to think I can work on myself without it. Plus, I don't think I'm reliable enough to be expected to take something every day. I manage to get that done with my birth control pill and that's a miracle in itself (overshare, I know). But one therapist said to me, "Why wouldn't you take medicine? If you had Diabetes, you'd take insulin." I think shrinks love that Diabetes analogy. And there's probably something to it. But for some reason (probably because I am, yes, a huge worrier), I've been sort of afraid of "altering" myself with meds. And so I've looked to other things, and, sadly, the girl who always obsessed over her academics has failed in this pursuit... miserably.
I don't sleep well... like, at all. Every night, I'm plagued with multiple wake- ups and vivid dreams that range from nightmares to just entirely weird (but often scary) scenarios. I'm tired a lot because of it, and that doesn't do a lot for the anxiety. I ruminate a lot. I chew on things like a cow would, mashing worries around and around my brain. I will take a thought and dissect every centimeter of its body, like we used to do to those frogs in science class. Days will go by and I'll still be on the same worry. "How will I ever get that project done?" "Who will be first in my family to get a life- ending illness?" "What if Mabel gets XYZ disease?"
And that's where "lighten up" has never been needed more: in my parenting department. I've blogged before about the worry of motherhood, and about how it's a whole new level of anxiety. I always make this assumption that every other parent out there handles things better than I do, that I suck at being able to weed out actual threats from abstract concerns. "Reasons" to worry are everywhere I turn: when I log onto the "What to Expect" website and the top button bar bears " Autism in Toddlers" and "Dangerous Household Chemicals" as its suggestions for what people at my stage of parenting might like; when I see an autistic kid at school struggle; when I hear people talk about speech and language delays at work; when I go on Facebook and see one of those posts to please donate to a charity for this 18- month old with Neuroblastoma. I always assume everyone else has the ability to look past this frightening stuff.
But it turns out I've been wrong. While I know I could win a blue ribbon in the art of worrying, I found out this week that lots of parents obsess over things. My 60- year- old coworker told me she prays every night that her two grandsons won't be autistic. My friend mentioned to me casually that she won't let anyone else drive her kid around in a car. And another friend expressed that she fears Sudden Infant Death Syndrome even though her child is 2. And I could go on with a few more.
I know I'd be a fool to think this parenting worry ever ends; I know the variety of worries just changes. So how do we get relief? How do we lighten up? How do we be more present? How do we not sweat the small stuff, as pop culture would exhort us to do through those cheesy books? How do we find peace without having to take meds or slug back a bottle of wine a night? Some days, I feel like I can't take any more obsessing-- that my mind is going to explode. Researching the heck out of crap (like I did when breastfeeding wasn't working out for me) sometimes gives me solace. (If you research enough, you can always find something online that will tell you that you are doing things right, even if you feel deep- down like you are not). But researching can make things worse, too, and is THAT the only way to lighten up-- to read the shiz out of something to the point you've tired yourself of the topic? That doesn't sound very light and airy to me.
My coworker recently posted on Facebook an article about being more mindful with your kids-- not being more careful or overbearing, but being present in every moment. Watching how they maneuver a toy. Observing how great it is to be outside with them in the backyard. Not checking text or email, and just sitting with your child. I know I need to be better with that practice, but I wonder if that's how we lighten up-- by pulling back and seeing how something goofy makes Mabel laugh, and how truly awesome it is that she's laughing. That J and I created a human, and she has a personality, and it sparkles. In my last entry, I talked about finding fun, and experiencing the same fun that Mabel does. maybe I need to do that, but even more mindfully. Ignore everything else and just be.
I don't know what the key is to following Ms. Chambers' advice-- to relax and stop worrying. I am who I am, yes, and a lot of my worry- capacity is genetic and hard- wired, but I don't want to start making excuses for myself. It can't possibly be fulfilling enough to say, "I'm just a classic worrier!" and give up on finding peace. I know there's beauty all around, even if I don't have the time to do a 30- minute meditation every day. Maybe some deep breaths and a few good laughs with the little girl will do a body good. Maybe then I will have "lightened."
Yes, I remember that message word for word, despite that I haven't looked back at the scrawling in probably ten years or so (hmm, where ARE my middle school yearbooks, anyway?). I don't think I will ever forget those words because they made me see a piece of who I was, and am today. Over the years, I have debated whether being a "serious" person is good or bad. Mostly I've thought it bad, and that I should try to get over it and just, you know, be different. But at other moments in time, I've accepted my worrying nature and have even somewhat resigned myself to it. Is that good to do though? I still can't decide.
Besides the yearbook message, I used to hear lots of messages from people about my worrying, My mom would throw cliches on me, such as "Roll with the punches!" and "Lighten up!" Hmm. How do I DO that, I would wonder? How do I stop caring? How do I stop my mind from working like crazy? (Side note: I still don't know. If anyone has the answer, please write me.)
Starting around age 23, I have here and there sought therapy for my anxiety. I don't go anymore, but it did help me in bits and pieces. Some professionals like to suggest medication for worry, and while I'm certainly not above it, I like to think I can work on myself without it. Plus, I don't think I'm reliable enough to be expected to take something every day. I manage to get that done with my birth control pill and that's a miracle in itself (overshare, I know). But one therapist said to me, "Why wouldn't you take medicine? If you had Diabetes, you'd take insulin." I think shrinks love that Diabetes analogy. And there's probably something to it. But for some reason (probably because I am, yes, a huge worrier), I've been sort of afraid of "altering" myself with meds. And so I've looked to other things, and, sadly, the girl who always obsessed over her academics has failed in this pursuit... miserably.
I don't sleep well... like, at all. Every night, I'm plagued with multiple wake- ups and vivid dreams that range from nightmares to just entirely weird (but often scary) scenarios. I'm tired a lot because of it, and that doesn't do a lot for the anxiety. I ruminate a lot. I chew on things like a cow would, mashing worries around and around my brain. I will take a thought and dissect every centimeter of its body, like we used to do to those frogs in science class. Days will go by and I'll still be on the same worry. "How will I ever get that project done?" "Who will be first in my family to get a life- ending illness?" "What if Mabel gets XYZ disease?"
And that's where "lighten up" has never been needed more: in my parenting department. I've blogged before about the worry of motherhood, and about how it's a whole new level of anxiety. I always make this assumption that every other parent out there handles things better than I do, that I suck at being able to weed out actual threats from abstract concerns. "Reasons" to worry are everywhere I turn: when I log onto the "What to Expect" website and the top button bar bears " Autism in Toddlers" and "Dangerous Household Chemicals" as its suggestions for what people at my stage of parenting might like; when I see an autistic kid at school struggle; when I hear people talk about speech and language delays at work; when I go on Facebook and see one of those posts to please donate to a charity for this 18- month old with Neuroblastoma. I always assume everyone else has the ability to look past this frightening stuff.
But it turns out I've been wrong. While I know I could win a blue ribbon in the art of worrying, I found out this week that lots of parents obsess over things. My 60- year- old coworker told me she prays every night that her two grandsons won't be autistic. My friend mentioned to me casually that she won't let anyone else drive her kid around in a car. And another friend expressed that she fears Sudden Infant Death Syndrome even though her child is 2. And I could go on with a few more.
I know I'd be a fool to think this parenting worry ever ends; I know the variety of worries just changes. So how do we get relief? How do we lighten up? How do we be more present? How do we not sweat the small stuff, as pop culture would exhort us to do through those cheesy books? How do we find peace without having to take meds or slug back a bottle of wine a night? Some days, I feel like I can't take any more obsessing-- that my mind is going to explode. Researching the heck out of crap (like I did when breastfeeding wasn't working out for me) sometimes gives me solace. (If you research enough, you can always find something online that will tell you that you are doing things right, even if you feel deep- down like you are not). But researching can make things worse, too, and is THAT the only way to lighten up-- to read the shiz out of something to the point you've tired yourself of the topic? That doesn't sound very light and airy to me.
My coworker recently posted on Facebook an article about being more mindful with your kids-- not being more careful or overbearing, but being present in every moment. Watching how they maneuver a toy. Observing how great it is to be outside with them in the backyard. Not checking text or email, and just sitting with your child. I know I need to be better with that practice, but I wonder if that's how we lighten up-- by pulling back and seeing how something goofy makes Mabel laugh, and how truly awesome it is that she's laughing. That J and I created a human, and she has a personality, and it sparkles. In my last entry, I talked about finding fun, and experiencing the same fun that Mabel does. maybe I need to do that, but even more mindfully. Ignore everything else and just be.
I don't know what the key is to following Ms. Chambers' advice-- to relax and stop worrying. I am who I am, yes, and a lot of my worry- capacity is genetic and hard- wired, but I don't want to start making excuses for myself. It can't possibly be fulfilling enough to say, "I'm just a classic worrier!" and give up on finding peace. I know there's beauty all around, even if I don't have the time to do a 30- minute meditation every day. Maybe some deep breaths and a few good laughs with the little girl will do a body good. Maybe then I will have "lightened."
Monday, March 11, 2013
Finding Fun
This is a blog entry that I will have to title when I am done, because I haven't even decided yet where it is going to go. I have some ideas I want to write about, but I have no plan. This sort of fly- by- the- seat- of- my- pants writing is counter to everything I teach my students about the writing process, but the beauty of a blog is I get to defy all those rules. So we will see.
But what's been on my mind is how much Mabel is changing-- and fast. She's been taking unassisted steps for a while, but last Friday, on our snow day, she became an official walker, unsteadily traveling around the house on only two limbs for pretty much the entire day. It was crazy-- it happened overnight. People told me her walking might go that way, but since she had been taking steps-- and more and more each time she would try-- I figured her walking would be a more progressive thing. Nope- she decided Friday she wanted to do it, and she did.
J and I were lucky because we were stuck home in the blizzard (which at first was unpleasant), so we got to see Mabel make this change. The best part about her walking has been how happy she is doing it. Yesterday, she and I spent a good solid 20 minutes doing possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen her engage in. She would start at the corner wall between the little hallway and living room, and would walk fast to me, full steam ahead, with an ear- to- ear grin, sometimes laughing a little too. Then, when she was almost to me, she would leap into my arms, and I'd grab her and she'd laugh hysterically. She'd then get right up, look back at me for an OK, and walk back to the wall, and then repeat the whole thing-- over and over and over. Despite its repetitive nature, I didn't mind the activity at all; in fact, I sort of adored it. Mabel was so proud of herself, and she was having FUN. To see your child have fun may be the coolest and most relaxing thing in the world. With all the bull- shiz of our world, and all the craptastic stuff we have to go through, to get to see a few minutes of unadulterated, over- the- moon joy is a relief. I want Mabel to experience joy like that all the time. I don't want her to be sad, and I want her to giggle all the time about stuff that might otherwise seem mundane. I know that's a pipe dream, because Mabel is going to face all sorts of challenges and sadnesses, and I hope I can handle it, because sometimes I doubt that I can. I literally shake when I think about her being in pain. It is a very visceral, very basic, instinctual reaction that I'm sure all parents have, but it scares the pants off me.
Mabel is, in fact, finding humor and enjoyment in lots of things as of late, and seeing her make these discoveries has made the fussiness and overtiredness and anything else annoying much less so. She knows that when you pick up a hairbrush, you put it to your head and brush your locks. Mabel tries, and she cracks up while doing it. I love it! She has a new table and chair set, and gets very excited to get into the chair, pounding on it until I help her up. She loves her push toys, smiling away when she comes into a room where J is or I am, seeming to express, "Hey- look what I'm doing!" And she has started referring to anything appealing as "ba ba"-- which started as her word for her literal bottle-- but now lots of things are ba ba-- any Sippy, any food she wants, any toy she wants to play with. Ba ba seems to be "cool thing I must have." I love that Mabel is discovering lots of things that make her light up-- that she is finding joy in tons of simple stuff, because that simple stuff is actually awesome to her.
It's probably because I teach high school, but I am utterly sensitive to the difficulties, tough emotions, bullying, stress, and fear that teenagers feel; no longer are they marveling at a hairbrush or a chair. They are faced with more rough stuff than we ever faced in high school, and I hate thinking about my friends' kids and my own daughter having to be in that place someday. I see things go on at work that terrify me when I think of Mabel and whether J and I will do a good job in giving her a skill set to deal with difficult things. For now, I am going to try to sit back and enjoy the giggles and grins and little steps and toy- playing. She is growing WAY more quickly than I really want her to, and I don't want to miss anything.
But what's been on my mind is how much Mabel is changing-- and fast. She's been taking unassisted steps for a while, but last Friday, on our snow day, she became an official walker, unsteadily traveling around the house on only two limbs for pretty much the entire day. It was crazy-- it happened overnight. People told me her walking might go that way, but since she had been taking steps-- and more and more each time she would try-- I figured her walking would be a more progressive thing. Nope- she decided Friday she wanted to do it, and she did.
J and I were lucky because we were stuck home in the blizzard (which at first was unpleasant), so we got to see Mabel make this change. The best part about her walking has been how happy she is doing it. Yesterday, she and I spent a good solid 20 minutes doing possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen her engage in. She would start at the corner wall between the little hallway and living room, and would walk fast to me, full steam ahead, with an ear- to- ear grin, sometimes laughing a little too. Then, when she was almost to me, she would leap into my arms, and I'd grab her and she'd laugh hysterically. She'd then get right up, look back at me for an OK, and walk back to the wall, and then repeat the whole thing-- over and over and over. Despite its repetitive nature, I didn't mind the activity at all; in fact, I sort of adored it. Mabel was so proud of herself, and she was having FUN. To see your child have fun may be the coolest and most relaxing thing in the world. With all the bull- shiz of our world, and all the craptastic stuff we have to go through, to get to see a few minutes of unadulterated, over- the- moon joy is a relief. I want Mabel to experience joy like that all the time. I don't want her to be sad, and I want her to giggle all the time about stuff that might otherwise seem mundane. I know that's a pipe dream, because Mabel is going to face all sorts of challenges and sadnesses, and I hope I can handle it, because sometimes I doubt that I can. I literally shake when I think about her being in pain. It is a very visceral, very basic, instinctual reaction that I'm sure all parents have, but it scares the pants off me.
Mabel is, in fact, finding humor and enjoyment in lots of things as of late, and seeing her make these discoveries has made the fussiness and overtiredness and anything else annoying much less so. She knows that when you pick up a hairbrush, you put it to your head and brush your locks. Mabel tries, and she cracks up while doing it. I love it! She has a new table and chair set, and gets very excited to get into the chair, pounding on it until I help her up. She loves her push toys, smiling away when she comes into a room where J is or I am, seeming to express, "Hey- look what I'm doing!" And she has started referring to anything appealing as "ba ba"-- which started as her word for her literal bottle-- but now lots of things are ba ba-- any Sippy, any food she wants, any toy she wants to play with. Ba ba seems to be "cool thing I must have." I love that Mabel is discovering lots of things that make her light up-- that she is finding joy in tons of simple stuff, because that simple stuff is actually awesome to her.
It's probably because I teach high school, but I am utterly sensitive to the difficulties, tough emotions, bullying, stress, and fear that teenagers feel; no longer are they marveling at a hairbrush or a chair. They are faced with more rough stuff than we ever faced in high school, and I hate thinking about my friends' kids and my own daughter having to be in that place someday. I see things go on at work that terrify me when I think of Mabel and whether J and I will do a good job in giving her a skill set to deal with difficult things. For now, I am going to try to sit back and enjoy the giggles and grins and little steps and toy- playing. She is growing WAY more quickly than I really want her to, and I don't want to miss anything.
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