Posts tagged ‘love’

May 16, 2011

Perspective on raising girls

I often talk to parents about how they raise their children, daughters mostly. Mine has been a little more difficult than my son. In terms of raising her I tend to think psychologically as I wanted her to be balanced, and well adjusted.

When my daughter was two I was very new to the study of children. I should have known when she cried the first three months of her life she would be a challenge. I should have known when she skipped over the crawling and went straight to running I was in for it, but I didn’t.

When she was two and getting in trouble one day I sat her in a chair and told her to stay, like a dog I suppose. I told her if she got out of the chair I would spank her. I don’t know why. Spanking serves no other purpose than to hurt my hand, but that’s what I said. This played itself out several times and the only thing it got me was a sore hand. She never cried because her butt was covered with a diaper, but she did have fun tormenting me.

As the years passed the same situation presented itself over and over again in different scenarios mostly in the form of us screaming at each other. I never quite understood why until now that she would do anything her father said but fight me tooth and nail over the smallest thing.

Never does she have conflict with her father. If he asked her to do anything she does without complaint, because she knows this will pit him against her mother. If she severs their bond then she can becomes the leader. This can be her tribe. Dad always sides with mom but as a young child she never stops trying.

It’s just recently I hear people referring to their families as a tribes. It is the most accurate statement that can be made about the family unit. We are tribes. Preindustrialization, and modern man both men and women had roles to play. Although in the fifties era,  the Beaver Cleavers showed great signs of the separation of men and women in the home. Men went to work, they were hunters of food, protectors of the home. They were builders. The foundation of the very tribe in which they belonged. Women were the gatherers, the ones that nurtured the children into their appropriate place within the tribe. Women supplied the essence of tribes very life. Everybody has a job and they were clearly defined.

In the case of a mother and daughter. A daughter is meant for these things. I believe genetically. She is born to nurture, to supply the very essence of leadership that will one day support and guide her own tribe. Without her no tribe can exist. Now that’s not to say that boys and men do not serve the same functions in their roles but it’s clearly another essay. Females no matter the age are meant to do great things and conflict arises when there are two making the same soup.

My daughter from birth genetically, I believe, is a leader. All girls are. She wants to lead to take control of the tribe. She fights for this. She wants to make the decisions, and tells me no when she doesn’t like mine. It creates conflict, fights, a struggle between her very nature to be a leader and her age. This explains a lot about why little girls like dolls. They are playing the role of leader. Preparing for the day when she posses her own tribe.

When my daughter was three or four she wanted to pick her own clothes to wear. She wanted to make decisions, chose what she wore, what she ate, what cup she drank out of. These were all critical decisions that prepare her for life ahead. I let her do all these things. It actually makes my life easier. Now her choice is clothing hasn’t always been the best but it covered the parts of her body that needed to be covered so it was fine with me Because it is her peers that will judge her new look with blatant truth, I do not have to be the bad guy. It is her peers that become my greatest ally. They judge harshly and allow me to play the role of nurturer instead of dictator. They hurt her feelings when they say her outfit is ugly, or she’s fat, stupid, etc. To resolve this I get to tell her she is an individual, beautiful, brilliant. I get to educate her on proper nutrition, fashion, the three R’s of education. She turns to me and I become the hero, the caretaker, the wise one. It works in my favor every time.

As my daughter got older she found new ways to assert her leadership. She got bossy with everybody. The kids on the playground, our son, nana, papa, but never dad. She would tell her brother he was sick and he needed to stay in bed and home from school. She would command him to eat his veggies. Don’t throw sand at the playground someone could get hurt. Don’t go up the slide that way it’s not safe. She was being a mother and rightfully so. She is born to do this genetically, nurture, care for, emotionally tend to. We praise our daughters for these traits. We encourage these traits. This is her way of learning how to prepare for the future. How to be a mother. She immolates us because genetically that is what she is supposed to be learning in these early years.

As my daughter moves into the teen years she is afford more freedom to make tougher choices, more responsibility. She recently had to research a new school and find out if its a fit for her. She made the final decision and it coincided with mine. It worked naturally the way it’s supposed to. We have fewer fights because we work together for the greater good. I encourage her to make mistakes, take risks. She need only hear about my experiences but learn her own lessons.

I know a women that has three girls the oldest the same age as mine. She tells them how to dress everyday How to wear their hair. In fact she does it for them. They make no choices. None. They are told what sports they can play. The mother rules every aspect of their life. They have no freedoms. They are servants to their mothers will. Now this is extreme, but look forward ten years and picture what I see….rebellion and lots of it. Their mother has told me great, fantastical stories of her own rebellion but had not learned a single lesson from it.

There is not need to cuddle your child. The dress them, feed them, or rule with a heavy hand. Children by design know their path and are willing to tell us if we would only listen.

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May 13, 2011

Genetics

Have you ever thought about who you are? The person you were born to be. There’s a code that makes you just like the code that makes the program I write on. That code is obvious when you have your fathers nose, or your mothers eyes. Your personality comes out in the code when your mom says, “Your just like your father.” It’s true you are. This is a story about one kids code.

A boy seven years old was not allowed to see his father anymore. The mom had grown to hate the dad for whatever reason. The court ordered visitation but she refused. She was mean and vicious. I know a lot of women like her. At this point she had moved out of state, remarried and wanted to leave the past in the past which meant not contact for the son with his dad. How does this benefit anyone?

As the years went by, and there has been ten, the boy grew out of control. He learned to speak his mind. He did crazy insane things unlike his stepdad who liked fishing, watching tv, being mellow. They couldn’t understand how the boy had gone down this road. They had tried to be good parents. What they didn’t get was that genetically the boy was extreme, crazy, was ready and willing to meet everyday at 110 mph. She couldn’t handle him anymore.

The phone call came. I’m sending the boy to visit. I can’t handle him. He’s out of control. I laughed when I heard this. The stories perfectly represented my husband and my son. Both extreme. Both crazy. That’s what I love about them. They are willing to take the world on at a 110 mph. It’s who they are genetically. It who the boy is.

My son with with same father. Before my son rode motocross he didn’t participate in school. In the first grade he was failing. I didn’t make the connection until after motorcycles came into his life. His teacher called and asked why he was participating. He grades were improving over night. He was 7 then. When he was 8 he told me, “it’s ok if I die out there mom.” He meant that every word. He’s 10 now and not only is he a great rider, but a great student. He takes responsibility for his actions and he has earned the respect of many. He’s a great kid.

Because me and his dad get along so well we have stayed together over the years. We have a great marriage. My son gets to do all these things because he is genetically just like the man that’s raising him. If my son had to hangout with a guy that liked fishing he would be a trouble maker. He would find some negative way to vent. He would have no choice.

I’m just a little curious what’s with moms. First, the only one it hurts is the kid 100% of the time. You slept with the guy, and got knocked up now be responsible. Boys need men. Men should raise boys. They need their genetic fathers regardless of your pissed off attitude. I know this doesn’t apply in every case, men who abuse. You get the point.

How do boys learn to be men? My son called his friend a pussy little cry baby the other day. I’m not sure I agree with his verbiage, but it was the truth. I let it go. One day my son was training for a race he crashed. We were all there, me, the EMT, other riders. He was screaming. i asked him several times if he was ok. He couldn’t hear me. I screamed at him, “Stop your damn crying, be a man and tell us where the he’ll it hurts.” he did, and he has ever since.

The 17 year old was out he for three weeks. I think he thought it was going to be all California sun and fun. Not at my house. If it ain’t motocross I ain’t going and that includes the beach. Thats what we did. We had our toy hauler then and lived in it on the weekends. My son doesn’t take weekends off. He serious about his business. He doesn’t screw around. I respect that and he has earned my respect and the right to dictate what we do on the weekends.

My son will be a great man someday. Not because he is my son but because he is with his genetic father. They have a lot in common. They are meant to be together for life. They are meant to learn from one another.

I’m not saying that step parents can’t get the job done. They can. What I’m saying is that holding you child to punish a parent on damages the child genetically. Man up. Be a responsible human. Quit being a cry baby.

May 13, 2011

God

I’m going to venture out on a limb today and talk about God. My mom told when I was little that you don’t talk about religion or politics. I don’t. I rarely ever bring it up. Not even with my husband. Politics sends him on a rampage. He’s that guy. He listens to talk radio all day, so he is pretty well informed and has a strong opinion. I respect that, though our opinions differ on a lot of topics. Like most of us he sees the world his way, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I see the world mine, and we both agree to disagree. It keeps the peace.

God is something we both agree very strongly about. Not in the general go to church every Sunday sort of way though, and I am going to apologize right now if I offend you. Stop reading at any time.

When I was little I went to church most Sunday’s. We got dressed up and after church my mom would cook a feast. We all sat down at the table and made a picture perfect family. Nothing bad happened to me at church so it’s not where my opinion comes from. My opinion is based solely on the crazies out there.

The other day when I was at jury duty a man approached my in the parking lot. There was about a hundred people waiting to get in the building so I wasn’t intimidated. He wanted to talk to me about God. He was in his mid 20’s and was wearing a nice suit, and got one sentence out, before I went off.

First, (and I pause because I want to make sure he is listening.) you are not old enough to preach to me about god. I seriously doubt you have any worldly knowledge on the topic. With that I walked away. I’m sure he is a fine young man, but that’s the point he’s a man.

The bible is a book and like any other book it is left to ones interpretation. That’s the problem. Interpretation has lead us to war, rape, pillage, destruction, brain washing, etc. Interpretation is opinion. You have one and so do I. There is no other topic where interpretation enrages me as much as it does here.

I believe in god. I pray. What’s not to like about it. I have done the just this time god. I promise I will never do it again, until I do. It makes me human. I don’t pretend to be better than other people, I’m not. I follow the ten commandments especially the not killing people part. I try to do nice things and see other peoples side of the story. I’m a decent person I think. I might be wrong.

God is not the problem. Man is, and he’s frickin crazy, nuts, insane. I know that this may not apply to you, but it does apply to those who are. Take this war in Afghanistan, Palestine, Egypt all in the name of god. What about those catholic priests raping boys. God there to. What about the Mormons. Multiple wives, compounds, throwing young men out on the streets. God. Now I know Catholics and Mormons who are great people. In fact they are awesome and I am proud to know them. Only the nut jobs apply here, but there are enough of them to make me stay out of the churches and away from the cloth.

Who am I to judge you on your life. You have to do whats right for you. Make opinion where you have none. Follow your heart where ever it leads, but if it leads you into a church I’m not coming. When my dad retired he ran right to the church and became a pastor. He took some classes and boom he’s a pastor. Nothing wrong with that. He always wanted to go to seminary school. My grandma is the same. She’s 94 and watches the God channel all day. That’s fine. I have a client who’s a youth pastor. He’s awesome. I dig that that guy. None of this offends me, but I am not now and will never be willing to have a conversation about your interpretation of the bible. Nope never. God makes people do and say crazy things. Im not getting sucked into that.

Now that I’m thinking about I dated a guy when I was about 20. Everything was fine till he found God. We broke up. He wanted me to go to church with him every night, nope not doing it. He wanted me to take of Sunday’s from my job, nope not doing it. He turned crazy preaching all the time. I left. It’s simple. There is no other thing on this planet besides mother nature that has wrecked more havoc than mans interpretation of god. I want no part of it.

If all this means I am going to hell well then I hear they serve beer, sign me up. I don’t mean to make light of the situation. I respect your beliefs. I took a couple of classes on world religions in college. They were fascinating, and people are crazy.

May 11, 2011

Write about a mistake you can learn from?

There are so many to chose from. When I read this I thought it would be easy. A huge mistake I learned a lesson from. I guess all the little mistakes add up after a while.

I watch parents. I listen to what they have to say. I respect the fact that most try to be the best parent they can. Kids don’t come with handbooks. We all heard this from our mothers. Now that we are parents we understand. There is one thing that I find I learn the most from my kids. I say I’m sorry when I’m wrong.

When my parents were wrong and they were a great deal of the time. They never apologized. There word was law regardless. We had no voice and even if we did it meant very little. I see kids that face this situation all the time.

Kids have opinions, ideas about the world. They see through fresh lenses. They learn from us and god willing they learn something decent. I have bad habits. I say stupid things and pretend to know things I don’t. I don’t pretend to be a good mom, but I try.

Over the years I have apologized with tears in my eyes for being wrong. I didn’t listen. I jumped to conclusions. I got mad. I punished when I should have been praised. I wanted it my way, and I didn’t want them to see my shame. I was and am superior to them. I’m not.

Being wrong is part of life. It’s who we are. I don’t mind being wrong these day. In fact I cherish the moments when I can show humility. I have learned that this is not a dictatorship. It is a relationship and like a marriage or a friendship, and it has to be treated as such. I have to let my children make the wrong choices so they can make the right decisions. I am only here to help guide them down a decent path. Open their eyes to my experiences and let them make their choice based on that.

Children have a voice that should be heard. They are individuals who are nothing like us. It doesn’t always have to be done my way. There way might be better. Apologize it will bring a world of gifts. Children forgive like dogs. Lol.

For the mistakes I’ve made I have learned to apologize. I have learned to let go and move on. My children are great teachers.

May 11, 2011

Walk a mile

Walk a mile in my shoes

I was listening to pandora last night, Everlast. There is nothing I don’t like about his music. It has a southern soulful sound to it. It has a sense of meaning to me. I can relate. A song from Eminem came on, beautiful. I’m not a huge fan of his music but this particular song influenced me. If you get a chance listen.

I don’t pretend to know anything, no nothing at all.
I don’t pretend to be smart
I don’t pretend to be tall

Life has afforded me great things
But great things need life
I have failed them all

I’ve tried so hard
The tears I have wept
The promises I’ve made
The lies I’ve kept

I suppose this sums up the life each one of us has had to lead at one time or another. Those are not the words from is song. I didn’t want to copy. From the very poor to the very rich life is complicated. Money doesn’t change that or make it better. Emotionally it is the about the same, extracting the from the equation those who are insane, mental, you get the point. No matter who you are or what you do you have to dealt with the human plight of emotions. Walk a mile in sorrow, happiness, fear. I know there are you’s out there that can’t relate, can’t feel another’s pain because you have never faced the tragedy. You will in one way or another. You have in your on way.

When I was little I lived on the outskirts of tornado alley. I grew up in segregation and I’m not that old. I have seen devastation. I have had a friend die at the hands of a bomb in Afghanistan, been addicted to drugs, lied for the benefit of me, and never made amends for the things I did to another. I have been made the fool, made a fool of you. I have cheated; I have deceived. I have done terrible things as part of my life.

I have help a friend, showed kindness where there was none. I have cared about issues, stood my ground in the defense of others. I have brought two beautiful children into this world. I have cried for your pain, and lent a hand to the fallen. I have apologized for the feelings I hurt, and felt compassion for the wrong doings of others. I have brought happiness, love and joy where there was sorrow. I have done good things.

That should be about a mile if indeed it can’t be measured. You know me better, but there isn’t much there that is different from you. Maybe you weren’t addicted to drugs or seen a disaster first hand. Both are unique, tragic. The disaster is an act of mother nature. Tornados are amazing, incredible things until they destroy your home. Drugs. I loved them, but they destroy your life. Most who used will agree in one aspect or another. Segregation afforded me perspective. A mile in the shoes.

Nothing I have done that follows me down the road I am on serves regret. I don’t hide from the past. It doesn’t torment me. I don’t let it. My miles have been long. It’s been a dusty road. One that feels no sorrow for my pains. I don’t want it to. I made all my choices. I stand by all my decisions, every one no matter how stupid they were.

Walk a mile in anyones shoes and you will see that they are much like you. Every emotion we have is called the same. Everyday begins and ends the same. Every mile is measured the same. It’s what we do with those emotions that make us different.

May 10, 2011

Kindness

I wrote a post yesterday. I decided that my thoughts were to confusing and I learned a lesson. This is how life puts you in a path to do something decent, kind. It’s about what life gives you.

My daughter is turning 12. She is a great kid: smart, determined, responsible. She is everything a mom could ask for. I wanted to get her something she wanted for her birthday. Something that would last; that would be great. She is deserving in every way. She has an old second generation touch. She had mentioned she wanted a new touch or an lg touch phone. I really didn’t want to replace her phone. The one she has is durable. But I could get her an itouch 4. Her phone was broken so I wanted to try and get it fixed. I went to the Verizon store and this is where the path starts.

It was early and the store was empty except me and two other customers. The lady next to me had a not so good brand of phone and it was glitching out. Her husband is in Afghanistan. There wasn’t much the guy could do for her. Verizon is a big corporation and they have policy. He offered to overnight her a new one. For most of us that would be great, but what if her husband called. She was worried and concerned. I wanted to do something but what.

As I went on with my day. She didn’t leave my mind. If I used my daughters phone upgrade to replace my Droidx with an iPhone. I could give my Droidx to my dad and give her, the lady in the store, my dads samsung fascinate. All are new phones. I could then give my daughter my touch 4. Everybody would get what they wanted, what the needed so to speak.

I went back on the way to pick up my kids from school and talked to the guy that was helping her. The first time I was there I got the impression he didn’t give a crap. He did, but he was also trying to do his job. I bought an iPhone and switched out my other phones. He called the lady, got no answer. I left the samsung phone there for her. She would at the very least have a spare. I told the guy I would go back Friday and see if she picked it up. I hope she does.

There was a pissed of part to this story. Another guy was involved. I am choosing to leave that out. It’s why I deleted the other post. Why be pissed when so much good is possible here.

Had I thought faster. I could have stopped her in the parking lot. I wanted to, but I wasn’t thinking fast enough. What’s important here for me is that I did or tried to do something. Because of my daughter I crossed her path. I am grateful for that.

It is a time of technology and unrest for those in the military. If the last time you are going to hear someone say I love it should be loud and clear. Your phone shouldn’t glitch out.

If the path of kindness crosses you, embrace it. It affects everyone. Hopefully the lady got the phone. My daughter got the touch 4 she wanted and Verizon replaced her phone for free. I still, with the iPhone, have a iPod. I loved my touch and used it all the time. My dad got my Droidx. He will figure it out. Life works out. It always does. They say that act of kindness make you feel better about yourself. They do, but in this case it doesn’t. I worry for her husband and I don’t want the words I love you to be the last.

May 7, 2011

Sweet sweet bitterness

     Like i have said before. I try to read my share of blogs. Your start to notice a thing or two about people. Some are happy we let those pass by without thought. They bring us happiness and we like that. There are times of sadness. We feel compelled to feel their sorrow. Bitterness, there is nothing sweet about it. it brings the need to judge, judge harshly. Why?

I am bitter because my life is not perfect. I do not have the things I want, my parents did me wrong in some way, my significant other cheated, lied, left. My kids, are always causing trouble. My job sucks. My friends are not true friends. Blah, Blah, Blah. I blame the world for my current condition.

I would like to say that I feel bad for you. That I feel your pain. Oh, I can relate, for some days just suck. I don’t feel bad for you though. I don’t feel your pain. In fact, I should not lower my expectations to yours. Honestly, I hope things get better for you, but I doubt they will with you lack of self worth or optimism, and in about five minutes I will either be gossiping about your plight or just moving on with my life. If at this point your angry then the shoe probably fit. My opinion. Im not trying to be hateful. I am trying to make a point

I would say that we do and we don’t have control of our destiny. I would say that you are the only person that can change your life. Bitterness like anger engulfs us. It take control easily. Its a whisper inside our very being that doesn’t stop talking. But what of the past: my parents beat me, my job was lousy, my husband is or was mean, controlling, cheating, my kids are on drugs, my dog bites people, I got a ticket for talking on my cell phone or speeding, All that is in the past is in the past. Leave it there. Own up to it and leave it there.

I have had a happy life. It’s still that way. There are things I do not like; things that make me angry, screaming mad. Those issues that made me feel this in the past will remain unchanged. I can not change them. I can’t go back. I have done and said things not to be proud of and memories haunt me from time to time. I feel my shame. Let it embrace and I am grateful. I am grateful I have learned a lesson. I have taken my punishment with grace and understanding. I sigh relief when the shame has passed. I know it will be back. It has a trigger that has not exceptions. It wants to judge me. I will not let it though I do not mind that it has come to visit. A reminder of all that I am today.

Life was not meant to sour, though I do believe there are tortured souls. Speaking in general we have to let go. We can prevent many things by letting go. My boyfriend cheated on me. He really hurt me. I don’t want to be hurt again. Soon as time goes you start dating again. You have nervous trust. One of many things are going to happen. One he’s a cheater to. In that case maybe you should evaluate the type of guys you like. Two, he’s not a cheater, and your wasting you time over the bitter past. The ice you lay before you is very thin. Your anxiety will drive him away. Three, and this is always possible, he may cheat on you 17 years down the road. In that case just walk away. Be happy for the great times and walk away. Why let the negative trump the positive. Why?

In any case you have control. With any past situation you have control. Your parents did you wrong in some way. It’s in the past and you have control. Your job fired you and you think it was done unfairly. Evaluate yourself be honest about your actions. You have control to change not only the situation, but yourself.

The truth hurts. It always has and always will when presented by the negative. If it is said your a loser, hateful, mean then maybe you are. Change, take control or accept who you are. It’s easy to be angry, difficult to be happy. I hear this. I don’t accept it. You shouldn’t either. Judge yourself harshly; find happiness in the day. Use the cliches; the silver lining, the kind jester. Don’t let what rightfully belongs to you be consumed by past demons.