As I sit typing away, trying to find time for my polish to dry I realize I have decided to take a stroll down memory lane…”Strawberry Margarita” by OPI is drying on my toes. Instantly I am back to the day I met my son.
We all have our ‘things’; the things we secertly spend money on and the things the memories are built around. For me it’s just one thing, toenail polish. I have always had problems with body image but my feet, well they are beautiful. Once I have them all trimmed, sanded, and polished I feel like the world is mine for the taking…feet flirting is on the menu. Due to my obsession I searched for a polish that lasted a long time and would give me a lot of bang for my buck. It wasn’t long after high school when I found O.P.I. Not only did I fall for the fantastically quirky names but the color would last two weeks before the 1st chip would appear. Each bottle may have cost more than 4 beers at the Sportspage but the smile it brought was worth it.
I went off to college sporting “San Jaun Salsa” but worked summer camp in “Yucatan if U Want”. My 1st summer fling called for something ‘tongue-in-cheek’ so I went for “Virgin Island Velvet”, while my sophomore trips to Ole Miss were outrageous and only “Flagstaff Fries to Go” could stand up to those wild nights. I met my life mate wearing “Rodeo Rose” but I married him while wearing “Elle’s Pearls”. During our lean honeymoon years, two bottles of “Cajun Shrimp” helped me survive my long stint from my family and Cajun country. I bought “Windy City Pretty” as a reminder of our memorable trip to Chicago and soon after I gave birth to our son while donning, “Strawberry Margarita”. In preparation of a new job in a new city I purchased “LA Paz-itively Hot” and got rave reviews all around. The polish was not only there to help me with the confidence needed to go out and find my way in the world but it was there to help me through the rough spots in life, the dark places where you let very few people in. The last few months of my grandmother’s life I snuggled in bed with her as she lamented over my “Melon of Troy” flirtabulous toes, but I chose “Lincoln Park at Midnight” for the day she was laid to rest. Several months later I braved the mall with its crowds and noise to pick up “Nice Color, Eh?”, it was just the ‘kick in the pants’ red I needed. To help kick start a new era I searched for the right color for my 10 year college reunion and found “Jade is the new Black” to be perfect for a weekend of festivities and jaunts through memory land. In awe of being married to my best friend for 7 years I went after the perfect shade of ‘love’. I came home and painted on “Princesses Rule”, he always said I would forever be his Princess. After a lot of begging and eye-rolling by dad, I agreed to “Funky Dunky” as the perfect shade of ‘not girly’ to paint my sweet boy’s piggies.
I will forever be known in my circle of family and friends for my funtabulous fascination with my fancy feet. The giggle I get at repeating the name of my newest OPI addition has often been just what the doctor ordered as well as the compliments on my perfectly pedicured toes the boost that every woman needs. So before I head out to my son’s fist time to meet his Aunt Emu AND his first trip on a plane, I think I’ll let him pick the color of my newest memory.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
How would you define 'friend'?
I have always loved being the only child, my Mom and I have this unbelievable relationship and I have always felt fulfilled by it. Being an only child has many perks; you don’t have to share your toys, you never try to measure up to someone else, and you have all of your parent’s attention and resources (just to name a few). There are also some drawbacks to being an only child; you have no one to share your toys with, there is no one to reminisce with about the good ole days, you are the only one to help aging parents, and (for me) you thirst for that closeness that siblings have. I believe it’s the ladder that has lead me to my current predicament. I have been disappointed in my some of my relationships lately and thanks to Tarzan, and many late night talks during our ‘kid-free’ time, I’ve realized that it may be due to my expectations.
Before now I never really noticed that I am an oddity. Out of all my close friends I am the only ‘only’. When I look at my friends with their families I know I don’t fit. I am their friend but I’ll never be in that inner circle with them. They HAVE a sister (or brother); they don’t need a sister/friend. I know I am no longer a minority lots of families (23 - 25% actually per Susan Newman, Ph.D.’s blog) are choosing to have only one child and many like my parents were given no choice. I have had this need for closeness in my life, to put it in Tarzan’s words, “People mean more to you than you do to them”. Though his words may have stung, knocked the wind out of me actually, they were true. It certainly helped to explain my dating life not to mention a lot of my friendships. I crave a sibling relationship. I want people in my life that don’t miss the milestones, not because it means something to me but because they are on this ‘journey’ with me. I do have people like this in my life but I also have some that I am trying to force along the way. Instead of unjustly harboring resentment toward these people I should assign them a ‘proper’ role in my life.
I have struggled with the decision Tarzan and I are making to have just one child, mostly I am sure we are doing the right thing but it’s moments like these where I desire more research. To help stop any future disappointments and to aid me in making an ‘informed decision’, I am on a quest to define ‘a friend’. What does it mean to people with siblings and those without? What are the differences in expectations for men and women? And how is that relationship different from a sibling (beyond the whole blood/relation thing)? Can a solid friendship fill the spot of a sibling?
Before now I never really noticed that I am an oddity. Out of all my close friends I am the only ‘only’. When I look at my friends with their families I know I don’t fit. I am their friend but I’ll never be in that inner circle with them. They HAVE a sister (or brother); they don’t need a sister/friend. I know I am no longer a minority lots of families (23 - 25% actually per Susan Newman, Ph.D.’s blog) are choosing to have only one child and many like my parents were given no choice. I have had this need for closeness in my life, to put it in Tarzan’s words, “People mean more to you than you do to them”. Though his words may have stung, knocked the wind out of me actually, they were true. It certainly helped to explain my dating life not to mention a lot of my friendships. I crave a sibling relationship. I want people in my life that don’t miss the milestones, not because it means something to me but because they are on this ‘journey’ with me. I do have people like this in my life but I also have some that I am trying to force along the way. Instead of unjustly harboring resentment toward these people I should assign them a ‘proper’ role in my life.
I have struggled with the decision Tarzan and I are making to have just one child, mostly I am sure we are doing the right thing but it’s moments like these where I desire more research. To help stop any future disappointments and to aid me in making an ‘informed decision’, I am on a quest to define ‘a friend’. What does it mean to people with siblings and those without? What are the differences in expectations for men and women? And how is that relationship different from a sibling (beyond the whole blood/relation thing)? Can a solid friendship fill the spot of a sibling?
Friday, August 6, 2010
What I have learned after 25 years of marriage:
Recently my parents celebrated 26 years of marrige. In honor of a love that stands the test of time I wanted to share the story I wrote for them....
The story begins on an ordinary day in April, the year was 1984 and the world was smiling. Below is the story of 25 years of marriage between two people, in my own words. I am not a member of the couple but merely a passenger on their journey through life.
Bob Porter and Anne Wilson met at work and their short courtship (I think 6 weeks actually) began with a “dare”. There lives had a similar start but God had sent them on two very different journeys in preparation for their lives together. Both had been epically wounded in the past and had made it through the clean up and were well on their way to a better place in life. Both had children: him 2 boys and her 1 daughter. This is where my details start to become fuzzy. I was merely 6 years old at the time, so I am not sure what “drew them” to each other but they decided that their lives (as well as their children’s) would benefit greatly with the addition of the other. He proposed with a diamond ring and she said yes. They set a date of June 12th of that same year and decided to have the nuptials at a local state park.
The weeks leading up to the wedding were crazy, he was admitted to the hospital with a blood clot and she broke her arm. Outfits were adjusted and sleeves were let out. His two son's were the two “Best Men”, and her one daughter was the “Maid of Honor” . It was such a gorgeous day, it wasn’t too hot and everyone was elated. Bob wore a white short sleeve button down (as did both Best Men) with Chocolate colored, Western dress pants along with cowboy boots and a shiny belt buckle. Anne wore an Ecru colored dress (as did the Maid of Honor) delicately made by her mother, along with her Ecru colored cast and off white sling back pumps. They were married at the top of a bridge with family and friends silently blessing their union.
The air was full of excitement and I could barely contain myself. God had given me a Daddy. No I couldn’t name him Mike and he couldn’t sing like Kenny Rogers but he loved me and my Mama, and that took the cake.
They followed each other around as their careers took them all over, by the time I graduated from high school I had been to 12 different schools (in 1st grade alone I went to 3 different schools). It always seemed like they were constantly struggling, almost as if it was all a test. The road was lined with roadblock after roadblock, they couldn’t catch a break…but you would have never known it. Sure they may have argued, fought even, but the love was always there. There were trials with family illnesses, family issues, family deaths, and poverty but they always pushed through, together. They both have been very ill in the past and have had several surgeries and have both been there to care of each other; a real test of “For Better or for Worse”. There were times that were spent waiting for the proverbial “other shoe” to drop, it felt like there was no other way out but separately, but it never happened. Lesser couples would have gone their separate ways, eons ago, willingly.
There lives may not have been what fairytales are made of, but it will be the story that I will tell my children and grandchildren. The story of a real marriage: a marriage that defines love, adoration, and companionship. For some it may seem that 25 years is just the beginning, Golden and Diamond Anniversaries are the ones that show longevity but I feel in this world a marriage that stands the test of time needs to be celebrated.
On the eve of my own wedding day my grandmother sat me down and talked with me about marriage and gave me these wise words of advice. “It’s not easy. A marriage needs work; it’s like a garden, you have to tend to it.” And when asked about marriage my Mama can be quoted as saying, ”You have to be willing to love each other for who you were, who you are, and who you will be.” It is obvious when I look back over the past 25 years that my parents lived these words, they are not who they were 25 years ago and aren’t who they will be 25 years from now and they simply couldn’t be happier.
So here’s to you, Bob and Anne Porter. Congratulations on 25 years of marriage. Thank you for showing me that a marriage isn’t just about the love that you have for another person but the commitment and respect that you have for one another and the lives that you have built together.
The story begins on an ordinary day in April, the year was 1984 and the world was smiling. Below is the story of 25 years of marriage between two people, in my own words. I am not a member of the couple but merely a passenger on their journey through life.
Bob Porter and Anne Wilson met at work and their short courtship (I think 6 weeks actually) began with a “dare”. There lives had a similar start but God had sent them on two very different journeys in preparation for their lives together. Both had been epically wounded in the past and had made it through the clean up and were well on their way to a better place in life. Both had children: him 2 boys and her 1 daughter. This is where my details start to become fuzzy. I was merely 6 years old at the time, so I am not sure what “drew them” to each other but they decided that their lives (as well as their children’s) would benefit greatly with the addition of the other. He proposed with a diamond ring and she said yes. They set a date of June 12th of that same year and decided to have the nuptials at a local state park.
The weeks leading up to the wedding were crazy, he was admitted to the hospital with a blood clot and she broke her arm. Outfits were adjusted and sleeves were let out. His two son's were the two “Best Men”, and her one daughter was the “Maid of Honor” . It was such a gorgeous day, it wasn’t too hot and everyone was elated. Bob wore a white short sleeve button down (as did both Best Men) with Chocolate colored, Western dress pants along with cowboy boots and a shiny belt buckle. Anne wore an Ecru colored dress (as did the Maid of Honor) delicately made by her mother, along with her Ecru colored cast and off white sling back pumps. They were married at the top of a bridge with family and friends silently blessing their union.
The air was full of excitement and I could barely contain myself. God had given me a Daddy. No I couldn’t name him Mike and he couldn’t sing like Kenny Rogers but he loved me and my Mama, and that took the cake.
They followed each other around as their careers took them all over, by the time I graduated from high school I had been to 12 different schools (in 1st grade alone I went to 3 different schools). It always seemed like they were constantly struggling, almost as if it was all a test. The road was lined with roadblock after roadblock, they couldn’t catch a break…but you would have never known it. Sure they may have argued, fought even, but the love was always there. There were trials with family illnesses, family issues, family deaths, and poverty but they always pushed through, together. They both have been very ill in the past and have had several surgeries and have both been there to care of each other; a real test of “For Better or for Worse”. There were times that were spent waiting for the proverbial “other shoe” to drop, it felt like there was no other way out but separately, but it never happened. Lesser couples would have gone their separate ways, eons ago, willingly.
There lives may not have been what fairytales are made of, but it will be the story that I will tell my children and grandchildren. The story of a real marriage: a marriage that defines love, adoration, and companionship. For some it may seem that 25 years is just the beginning, Golden and Diamond Anniversaries are the ones that show longevity but I feel in this world a marriage that stands the test of time needs to be celebrated.
On the eve of my own wedding day my grandmother sat me down and talked with me about marriage and gave me these wise words of advice. “It’s not easy. A marriage needs work; it’s like a garden, you have to tend to it.” And when asked about marriage my Mama can be quoted as saying, ”You have to be willing to love each other for who you were, who you are, and who you will be.” It is obvious when I look back over the past 25 years that my parents lived these words, they are not who they were 25 years ago and aren’t who they will be 25 years from now and they simply couldn’t be happier.
So here’s to you, Bob and Anne Porter. Congratulations on 25 years of marriage. Thank you for showing me that a marriage isn’t just about the love that you have for another person but the commitment and respect that you have for one another and the lives that you have built together.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
My most important relationship.
The kid-free time that our families have allowed us to have has been a real gift, Tarzan and I have had the chance to reconnect. All the ‘down time’ really has spoiled me; I’m a little worried that I’ll be a fish out of water when Cheetah comes home. Out of all the perks, I think I’ve have enjoyed all the opportunities for introspection the most. When I was younger I was adamant that I would not change for a man and once I had children I would fight tooth and nail to never lose myself in my daily roles, as I did an ‘self-inventory’ this week I was pleasantly surprised. There have been quite a few changes in the day to day life of Jane Smith but she’s still alive and kicking.
Finding the changes was a bit difficult; I really had to take a closer look at the big picture to unearth the ‘improved’ Jane Smith. Adding Cheetah to the mix means my daily routine has to be kick started pretty early in the morning now, so the night owl in me only comes out on the weekends; bed time is 10:30pm now. There are very few ‘fend for yourselves’ nights at the Smith abode nowadays, we’ve replaced it with balanced home-cooked meals followed by a fresh fruit dessert. Instead of saving all the chores for the weekend we do a load of laundry and a chore a day. I still relish in the joy of introspection, but now it’s focused on me being the example of a well-rounded person for Cheetah to emulate. And lastly, my obsession with shoes and purses has been quelled and replaced with the need for saving and spending responsibly; I am actually enjoying my 1st new purse in over a year.
How I know the ‘good ole’ Jane is still present is a lot easier to identify; maybe because I am far more familiar with her. Even though I am a few decades older, I still enjoy my top 3 things in the world: jaunts to the grocery store (going down every isle), adding cheese to all my meals and snacks, listening to music that sooths the soul and wakes the conscious. I am a Taurus through and through so creature comforts and the finer things in life are all included in my daily existence: A good meal accompanied by great conversation makes even the worse days more manageable; no foot is complete without a weekly pedicure and filing; and quality time with my bed snuggled in my cool buttery sheets, devouring a library book, praying for a thunderstorm are just a few examples. On the days where even Prozac won’t help, there is nothing like spending the evening distressing in the kitchen, even though occasionally I fail at that too. I still long to go on adventures all around the world, I am thrilled to be taking Cheetah on his 1st plane ride this September; I hope to pass on my travel-bug to him.
My grandmother always told me,” if you didn’t like spending time with yourself how can you expect anyone else to?” and she was right. The most important relationship any of us will ever have is the one with ourselves. After 32 years it’s nice to know that I still enjoy my own company. And while I may be very funny, I am making peace with the fact that Cheetah may be funnier. I guess every super-hero has to have a sidekick, I wonder if he’d take my application.
Finding the changes was a bit difficult; I really had to take a closer look at the big picture to unearth the ‘improved’ Jane Smith. Adding Cheetah to the mix means my daily routine has to be kick started pretty early in the morning now, so the night owl in me only comes out on the weekends; bed time is 10:30pm now. There are very few ‘fend for yourselves’ nights at the Smith abode nowadays, we’ve replaced it with balanced home-cooked meals followed by a fresh fruit dessert. Instead of saving all the chores for the weekend we do a load of laundry and a chore a day. I still relish in the joy of introspection, but now it’s focused on me being the example of a well-rounded person for Cheetah to emulate. And lastly, my obsession with shoes and purses has been quelled and replaced with the need for saving and spending responsibly; I am actually enjoying my 1st new purse in over a year.
How I know the ‘good ole’ Jane is still present is a lot easier to identify; maybe because I am far more familiar with her. Even though I am a few decades older, I still enjoy my top 3 things in the world: jaunts to the grocery store (going down every isle), adding cheese to all my meals and snacks, listening to music that sooths the soul and wakes the conscious. I am a Taurus through and through so creature comforts and the finer things in life are all included in my daily existence: A good meal accompanied by great conversation makes even the worse days more manageable; no foot is complete without a weekly pedicure and filing; and quality time with my bed snuggled in my cool buttery sheets, devouring a library book, praying for a thunderstorm are just a few examples. On the days where even Prozac won’t help, there is nothing like spending the evening distressing in the kitchen, even though occasionally I fail at that too. I still long to go on adventures all around the world, I am thrilled to be taking Cheetah on his 1st plane ride this September; I hope to pass on my travel-bug to him.
My grandmother always told me,” if you didn’t like spending time with yourself how can you expect anyone else to?” and she was right. The most important relationship any of us will ever have is the one with ourselves. After 32 years it’s nice to know that I still enjoy my own company. And while I may be very funny, I am making peace with the fact that Cheetah may be funnier. I guess every super-hero has to have a sidekick, I wonder if he’d take my application.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Trying not to be trite.
For the past week and a half Tarzan and I have been living kid-free, and I must admit it has been nice. I have had the chance to be reminded of why we ended up together in the first place. With two such strong personalities at times we are at each other’s throats but thankfully we are both too bull-headed to just walk away from a struggle. I remember when we met 11 years ago, we were both so young and had our eyes focused on 2 very different futures.
My entire life had been spent trying to find, make, or mold each man I dated into ‘the one’. I had been heart-broken and I was ready to turn over a new leaf. I was young for heaven sake so now it was time to be both young AND dumb. I had decided that I was done with long-term relationships and it was time to be foot loose and fancy free. Tarzan has always been a hit with the ladies, and I don’t mean a ‘ladies man’, he always knows just what to say to a woman to get in her good graces. He was (and for the record still is) suave, funny, handsome, smart and had an infectious laugh. I dreamed of being married and he had decided that marriage was not for him. We were both in college and we had friends in common but we had never spent a great deal of time together. I had done poorly in school and had to enroll in summer school to try and catch up and improve my GPA. I was pissed, I didn’t want to go to summer school, and no one I knew was going and I would have no vehicle (thanks to that .75 GPA). My mom drove me to school, got me settled in and I headed to the cafeteria for supper. As I scanned my card and turned to walk inside, there he was. I couldn’t believe it; maybe this summer wasn’t going to be all bad. My life quickly turned into a John Hughes movie and I could hear the lovesick soundtrack playing over my rapid heartbeat. That was it, in one summer I found my best friend and my partner for life.
To use the phrase ‘love of my life’ would be trite. He’s the sunshine in my day, the skip in my step, the song in my heart, and the daydream in my head. I always imagined love to be this overwhelming emotion that would block out so much of the world, essentially making me blind to things. Not ours. When things are bad; dry sobbing, gut wrenching, life changing hard…he’s the relief. When I’ve made and ass out of myself, hurt people’s feelings, or not been the person I want to be he’s there. When life is sunshine, roses, and laughs he’s there too. We may no longer be in the stage where you struggle with chapped lips, friends are forming search parties, and coming up for air can be painful, but that’s how it’s supposed to be. At some point real life has to be happen, you have to get jobs and be grown-ups. Things are no longer about always being together, now it’s about always being there FOR each other. As I’ve watched my grandparents and parents growing older together, I’ve have realized that while things will never be easy and each ‘season’ of our relationship will have its struggle, it’s nothing we can’t handle.
So every morning when I wake up I will touch his arm and silently whisper, “I choose you” and I will use my second breath to thank God for allowing Tarzan to swing into my life.
My entire life had been spent trying to find, make, or mold each man I dated into ‘the one’. I had been heart-broken and I was ready to turn over a new leaf. I was young for heaven sake so now it was time to be both young AND dumb. I had decided that I was done with long-term relationships and it was time to be foot loose and fancy free. Tarzan has always been a hit with the ladies, and I don’t mean a ‘ladies man’, he always knows just what to say to a woman to get in her good graces. He was (and for the record still is) suave, funny, handsome, smart and had an infectious laugh. I dreamed of being married and he had decided that marriage was not for him. We were both in college and we had friends in common but we had never spent a great deal of time together. I had done poorly in school and had to enroll in summer school to try and catch up and improve my GPA. I was pissed, I didn’t want to go to summer school, and no one I knew was going and I would have no vehicle (thanks to that .75 GPA). My mom drove me to school, got me settled in and I headed to the cafeteria for supper. As I scanned my card and turned to walk inside, there he was. I couldn’t believe it; maybe this summer wasn’t going to be all bad. My life quickly turned into a John Hughes movie and I could hear the lovesick soundtrack playing over my rapid heartbeat. That was it, in one summer I found my best friend and my partner for life.
To use the phrase ‘love of my life’ would be trite. He’s the sunshine in my day, the skip in my step, the song in my heart, and the daydream in my head. I always imagined love to be this overwhelming emotion that would block out so much of the world, essentially making me blind to things. Not ours. When things are bad; dry sobbing, gut wrenching, life changing hard…he’s the relief. When I’ve made and ass out of myself, hurt people’s feelings, or not been the person I want to be he’s there. When life is sunshine, roses, and laughs he’s there too. We may no longer be in the stage where you struggle with chapped lips, friends are forming search parties, and coming up for air can be painful, but that’s how it’s supposed to be. At some point real life has to be happen, you have to get jobs and be grown-ups. Things are no longer about always being together, now it’s about always being there FOR each other. As I’ve watched my grandparents and parents growing older together, I’ve have realized that while things will never be easy and each ‘season’ of our relationship will have its struggle, it’s nothing we can’t handle.
So every morning when I wake up I will touch his arm and silently whisper, “I choose you” and I will use my second breath to thank God for allowing Tarzan to swing into my life.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Who's this "Brady" anyway?
Tarzan and I have known for a while now that we were getting a rare treat, couple time. We knew we would get a weekend but now it has turned into 17 days of kid-free adult time. We’ve been so excited; we’ve been making arrangements and lining up activities that we don’t normally get the chance to enjoy. Now I’m getting nervous, scared really. As the days go by I am actually having problems sleeping, it’s so ridiculous. I lie awake in bed imagine all the worse case scenarios that can happen and I am beginning to drive myself even crazier. I have always been proud that my child can enjoy time with other people and doesn’t always require his parents there to love, comfort, and entertain but now I’m not so sure. What if there’s an accident? What if he gets hurt? What if he wants/misses me and I’m not there? As I type the words I am realizing that it’s very egocentric of me to think that he wants me around that much. For all I know he could need the break away as much as Tarzan and I do. He may be making plans and counting down the days too. I spent the greater part of all my summers away from home, I always had a great time, and NEVER got homesick granted I was older than Cheetah is now but it has to start sometime. I was so lucky to have had such a great relationship with my grandparents and aunts and I am glad that Cheetah is getting that chance as well. It really does take a village to raise a child and the more roots he can lay down the better ‘tree’ he’ll be in the long run.
I want to make sure that Tarzan and I keep Cheetah as grounded as possible. For me there was one phrase that my mom always said that has really ‘stuck’ with me, “if your family can’t tell you like it is, who will”. Of course she was right, as usual, and I want Cheetah to see his family as his greatest resource. Being an only child can be difficult, you are left with adults as your only resource for advice and at times going to an adult can seem very intimidating…I want him to have many people that he can access. It seems like we are always surrounded by people and things that want to take away a child’s innocence and zest for life and I want to fight like the dickens to keep his intact. The one area it seems he may have problems with is peer pressure.
With Tarzan and I both being leaders (as well as strong willed) people weren’t really able to make us do things we weren’t ok with…how do you make someone be a leader? For example, Cheetah has this one friend at school that he always wants to show stuff to, tell him things, or give him a snack…this ‘friend’ is a JERK. He never likes Cheetahs’ stories, show and tells, new clothes, or games and it gets Cheetah a little down. Last night he said, “Brady didn’t like my movie I brought.” I said, “This Brady kid seems like a jerk. Just because he doesn’t like something it doesn’t mean it’s not cool. You know that right?” He thought about it for a moment and replied, “No, I really want him to like my stuff.” It made me sad, I just wanted him to be a baby again, it was easier then. I want my child to be self-sufficient, to not rely on others to fulfill him or make him happy. I remember the feeling of wanting to be cool and liked by everyone but as a parent I worry about him loosing himself one day. So maybe calling his friend a 'jerk' wasn’t the right path to take. I decide to ask questions about what his favorite movies, colors, and clothes are and he gets a kick out of all the interviewing. Later that night he picks out a shirt and says, "I really think Brady is going to like this shirt”. Baffled I mumbled, “Who cares about what Brady thinks”. He retorted loudly, “Who cares what you think?” Well played.
I want to make sure that Tarzan and I keep Cheetah as grounded as possible. For me there was one phrase that my mom always said that has really ‘stuck’ with me, “if your family can’t tell you like it is, who will”. Of course she was right, as usual, and I want Cheetah to see his family as his greatest resource. Being an only child can be difficult, you are left with adults as your only resource for advice and at times going to an adult can seem very intimidating…I want him to have many people that he can access. It seems like we are always surrounded by people and things that want to take away a child’s innocence and zest for life and I want to fight like the dickens to keep his intact. The one area it seems he may have problems with is peer pressure.
With Tarzan and I both being leaders (as well as strong willed) people weren’t really able to make us do things we weren’t ok with…how do you make someone be a leader? For example, Cheetah has this one friend at school that he always wants to show stuff to, tell him things, or give him a snack…this ‘friend’ is a JERK. He never likes Cheetahs’ stories, show and tells, new clothes, or games and it gets Cheetah a little down. Last night he said, “Brady didn’t like my movie I brought.” I said, “This Brady kid seems like a jerk. Just because he doesn’t like something it doesn’t mean it’s not cool. You know that right?” He thought about it for a moment and replied, “No, I really want him to like my stuff.” It made me sad, I just wanted him to be a baby again, it was easier then. I want my child to be self-sufficient, to not rely on others to fulfill him or make him happy. I remember the feeling of wanting to be cool and liked by everyone but as a parent I worry about him loosing himself one day. So maybe calling his friend a 'jerk' wasn’t the right path to take. I decide to ask questions about what his favorite movies, colors, and clothes are and he gets a kick out of all the interviewing. Later that night he picks out a shirt and says, "I really think Brady is going to like this shirt”. Baffled I mumbled, “Who cares about what Brady thinks”. He retorted loudly, “Who cares what you think?” Well played.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Are you gonna eat that???
With another long weekend under our belt we all started the week well rested and feeling very accomplished. We are now on week 3 of keeping the house in a ‘company ready’ state and I must admit that it is really not taking that much effort. Tarzan and I had a ‘melt down’ free weekend and actually enjoyed A LOT of quality family time at home. By Sunday at 5pm all the hampers in the house were empty, clothes were put away, 2 meals were cooked, and we had enjoyed 2 movie nights.
This past month we also instituted meals all together at the big table, I think this is my favorite thing that we have changed. I think it helps him to see the both of as an example of what we expect from him, and I love watching Cheetah develop his own eating habits. He will eat any sandwich as long as it has no ‘salad’ on it and plenty of honey mustard, he likes to dip his apples in honey mustard and ketchup, and no tortilla chip is complete without a dip into the sour cream; just to point out a few. There is just one little habit that worries me. While we are eating he likes to discuss what we are eating, exactly. For instance if we are eating chicken and sausage over rice we have to discuss what a chicken looks like, what exact piece of it we are eating, and what makes up sausage. I love this, I think it is very important to be aware of what you are putting in your body but when we are at restaurants we are being scoffed at. As I have mentioned before my child is very ‘exuberant’ and he speaks very loudly; I am beginning to think that some people are being made uncomfortable listening to my child’s questions while they bite into ole Bessie the cow. I don’t think it help’s much that he likes to name the meat and go over what noises they make. Every place we leave I am pretty sure we leave a few new vegetarians in our wake.
Animal eating habits have also become a serious topic of discussion, and now zoos are a place we may be kicked out of in the not so distant future. I think him being an only child leaves him loads of extra time to think of things. He wants to know what everything eats; bugs, cats, dogs, wolves, bears, sharks, lions…you get the picture. At each animal we come to he runs his finger over the brail name while I read the marker followed by him asking, “and what does Mufasa (he names the animals too) eat for suppers?” I inform him of some of the animals that they dine on and he retorts with some wildly imaginative story of how he catches and eats the animal. It’s like listening to Elmo on a Discovery Channel show. Mostly parents laugh but some are appalled by his knowledge of the circle of life and that sometimes animals eat people. Am I giving him too much information at his age? I will say that the look on the faces of the staff as my child says, “I bet that pig would make a yummy hot dog” is worth every question he has ever asked me about food and where it comes from.
This past month we also instituted meals all together at the big table, I think this is my favorite thing that we have changed. I think it helps him to see the both of as an example of what we expect from him, and I love watching Cheetah develop his own eating habits. He will eat any sandwich as long as it has no ‘salad’ on it and plenty of honey mustard, he likes to dip his apples in honey mustard and ketchup, and no tortilla chip is complete without a dip into the sour cream; just to point out a few. There is just one little habit that worries me. While we are eating he likes to discuss what we are eating, exactly. For instance if we are eating chicken and sausage over rice we have to discuss what a chicken looks like, what exact piece of it we are eating, and what makes up sausage. I love this, I think it is very important to be aware of what you are putting in your body but when we are at restaurants we are being scoffed at. As I have mentioned before my child is very ‘exuberant’ and he speaks very loudly; I am beginning to think that some people are being made uncomfortable listening to my child’s questions while they bite into ole Bessie the cow. I don’t think it help’s much that he likes to name the meat and go over what noises they make. Every place we leave I am pretty sure we leave a few new vegetarians in our wake.
Animal eating habits have also become a serious topic of discussion, and now zoos are a place we may be kicked out of in the not so distant future. I think him being an only child leaves him loads of extra time to think of things. He wants to know what everything eats; bugs, cats, dogs, wolves, bears, sharks, lions…you get the picture. At each animal we come to he runs his finger over the brail name while I read the marker followed by him asking, “and what does Mufasa (he names the animals too) eat for suppers?” I inform him of some of the animals that they dine on and he retorts with some wildly imaginative story of how he catches and eats the animal. It’s like listening to Elmo on a Discovery Channel show. Mostly parents laugh but some are appalled by his knowledge of the circle of life and that sometimes animals eat people. Am I giving him too much information at his age? I will say that the look on the faces of the staff as my child says, “I bet that pig would make a yummy hot dog” is worth every question he has ever asked me about food and where it comes from.
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