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Mar
28
Here ya go:
- Replace windshield in husband’s truck
- Transmission repair, also husband’s truck
- Brake job on my car
- Boy scout camp deposit and dues
That was last week. Which is why, at this very moment, I am mixing up a batch of refrigerated sugar cookie dough and a package of toffee pieces. I find that combination to be particularly soothing after a week like this one. Try it sometime, it really does help 
Now for next week:
- Braces for the 14 year old
Yeah, not sure that is any improvement. Better buy more sugar cookie dough, asap!
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Mar
23
Whew. I had some down time from my homework, or rather, I forced myself to take a break from my homework, and catch up on some much missed blog reading.
I love to follow links in other blog’s sidebars. My list of favorites blogs keeps growing that way. But sometimes it leads down a path of D.R.A.M.A., which always surprises me.
I’m a peace loving girl, in real life and online. To a fault, some of my friends would say. And that is why drama almost always shocks me. I understand and relate to drama at home; it is hard to avoid when you share a house with people. But with friends? Acquaintances? People you only know online? I don’t get it.
I don’t even want to get into details, because that goes against my “avoid drama at all costs” motto. But in case you don’t keep up on these things, there is some drama associated with the Compassion bloggers who went on the recent trip to Kenya.
I can’t claim to know everything about whatever is going on. I haven’t read these particular blogs regularly. Very basically, what I understand is that some people were not happy that certain bloggers went on the Compassion trip. Oh there is much, much more to it than that, going back for a long time. I don’t have time to read that far back, so I don’t feel qualified to give details. Its enough to say that people are mad, furious even, that these bloggers went on the trip.
Of course, the people that are mad about this did not like the other bloggers even before the Kenya trip. So much so that there is a website, maybe more than one, devoted to picking apart every single post made on the blogs they don’t like.
Like I said, I don’t know the whole backstory. I’m not going to try to say that these people don’t have a reason to dislike the other blogger. They may, I don’t know.
There are people that I don’t like. People that I strongly dislike and distrust. So I follow their every move, keep notes on their actions and whereabouts and then discuss and disect it with my friends daily. Because thats what mature, rational adults do, right?
No. They don’t, not “in real life”. In real life, it might be called obsessive, stalker-ish, or worse. But for some reason, we think its okay to do that online.
I get that there are bloggers who make us roll our eyes in disbelief. Or turn green with envy at their huge financial successes. Oh how I get that. The easiest way to avoid those feelings is to not read those blogs. Very easy.
I don’t get the need to create an online environment strictly for the purpose of picking apart the words of someone else. I don’t get how that is helpful or constructive at all. I’ve read some posts of this particular site dedicated to proving that the blogger they hate is a liar. I do understand that people feel duped or lied to, and of course that makes people angry. But as one commenter asked, at this point, what could the blogger you all hate so much do to redeem herself? And the answer is nothing. There is no way that someone you dislike so much could ever change your mind or make you believe and trust them. So what is the purpose of picking apart her posts every.single.day?
Even if your intentions are decent, if you just want to vent and discuss, setting up that kind of environment where its okay to pick another person apart, line by line, is bound to lead to some hateful, nasty words. Some people don’t know how to rein in their anger, or their words, and it gets really ugly really fast.
What I see in all of this is a nasty side of the blogging community that I would have liked to pretend didn’t exist. That people spend this much time being angry and vindictive towards people they don’t even know baffles me. Maybe I have too much drama in my own life to seek it out online. I don’t know, but it is really disturbing to see adults act this way.
Are bloggers giving bloggers a bad name, or is the bashing just something that goes with the territory?
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Mar
18
Bear with me; this post is really not about hairstyles.
When my oldest son was in 7th grade last year, he started growing his hair out. Last summer, he dyed his almost shoulder length hair black. I didn’t have a problem with the longer hair. The black hair took some getting used to, but he’s had it that way for so long now, we’re all used to it.
He’s taken a lot of flack about his hair, from family, teachers and strangers. We’ve had lots of talks about the choices we make, all through life, and how others react to those choices. Its actually been a good learning experience for all of us.
A few weeks ago, he started talking about getting his hair cut short. I didn’t take him too seriously, because he changes his mind all the time. But he kept bringing it up, so we talked about it. I said he could do whatever he wanted, but that I would go shorter gradually, so it wasn’t a huge change all at once. We tried to make the appointment for this week, since it is spring break, but the girl that cuts his hair and the girl that cuts mine were both out of town. He didn’t want to wait, so he got the name of someone else from a friend.
As a woman with decades of experience with bad haircuts, I didn’t want him to get a major haircut from someone new, but he really wanted it done this week. Against my better judgment, I made the appointment.
He got it cut today. He had a picture of what he wanted, and he told me he didn’t want me coming back to talk to the stylist like I normally do; he wanted to show her the picture and talk to her himself. Again against my better judgment, I agreed and stayed in my chair when she came to get him.
I was only a few feet away from them, so I watched him get his hair cut. I saw him show her the picture and heard what he said about keeping it slightly longer than the picture.
Imagine how you might feel if you went to get a manicure and instead of trimming your nails, the manicurist just clipped off your finger. Okay, that might be a bit dramatic. But when I saw the stylist chop off his bangs much shorter than the picture and shorter than anyone would probably ever want, my stomach lurched. I almost started hyperventilating. This was going to end badly.
I was frantically texting my husband that I was about to be ill but didn’t know what to do. He calmly responded that I needed to stay positive. I knew that, and I don’t think my son ever saw my distress. I watched carefully for his reaction. He was turned away from the mirror for most of the cut, and when he finally saw it, he didn’t really react at all.
I wanted to step in many times, but once part of it was cut, there wasn’t much I could do. It had to be evened out.
If I had eaten, I probably would have thrown up, which is how I feel when I get horrible haircuts that bear no resemblance to any picture or description I gave. But I have never made such a drastic change as he made today. I’ve worn my hair pretty much the same for years, and the worst haircuts usually involve too many or too short layers, or too short bangs. For me, it comes down customer service; I hate paying for something that is pretty much the opposite of what I asked for. But for my son, it became a huge emotional issue to me. He was making a drastic change, and it would been nice to have it turn out at least close to how he wanted it.
When we left, I was almost afraid to say anything. I did tell him I liked it, which was not a lie because I was thrilled to see his handsome face after having it covered with long hair for so long. He said he liked it too, but that it was a big change.
And that was it. He was fine. I heard him tell my husband that it was shorter than he wanted, but that it would grow. (That was after I privately told my husband that I was a horrible mom for letting him go to that new stylist and for not talking to her beforehand and clarifying what he wanted.)
A little later, he came to me and said that it really doesn’t look anything like the picture. I agreed with him, and said that we would not have that girl cut his hair again. He actually defended her then, saying it still looks ok. I agreed with that too. There was no drama, no hyperventilating on his part, nothing. Just acceptance that things don’t always turn out exactly like you want.
Clearly, my almost 15 year old son is much more mature than I am. Why is this such a big deal, you might be asking Because if this had happened a year ago, we both would have been hyperventilating over a haircut gone wrong. For days.
He has grown up a lot in the past year. Last year was consumed with worrying about what other kids thought and said. Last year he was desperate to fit in, even if that meant wearing his hair like pretty much every other kid in school. This year, he is able to do what he wants and not worry about looking – or being – different. That is a huge step.
I’m still fighting the urge to keep kicking myself for making the appointment in the first place and for not stepping in at the salon to make sure he got what he wanted. But what he really wanted was to manage this situation himself. He was ok with going to a new stylist, even though I expressed my doubts about it; he was ok with talking to her himself, and he is ok with the results not being absolutely perfect.
I am learning to follow his lead, which means letting go a little at a time. Not sure if I’m ready for that, but for some reason, no one has asked me if I’m ready for my boy to grow up. He just is.
Now if I can just learn to react as calmly when my own hair gets butchered, I’ll be in good shape.
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Mar
15
Spring break is here, and at least today, it actually looks like spring outside. I’ll take that.
I’m not sure, but the fact that I’ve already threatened suggested sending my sons to their grandparents for the week does not sound like a great start. I don’t think of a visit to grandparents as punishment, but just as a reminder that the plans they’ve made with their friends can be cancelled if the constant bickering does not stop – SOON!
I know they have spring fever; its been a rough couple of months for all of us. But really, who knew teenage boys could be so stinkin loud!
On another note, last week I started another phase of research for my big project this semester – visiting and interviewing librarians in local middle schools. On one hand, I was excited for this, because I want to work in a middle school, so here is my chance to see first hand what its like.
On the other hand, it meant stepping out of my comfort zone, which makes me anxious. I’ve really worked at home for so long that instead of welcoming the chance to get out of the house, I almost dread it. I also wanted to make a good impression, in case someday I applied for a job at one of these schools. Which made me even more nervous.
The day of the first two interviews, I got up early so I could have time to get ready and go over my interview questions without rushing. Good planning right? If it only worked out that way.
Everything was fine until I tried to put my contact lenses in. I swear I wasn’t hurrying, but somehow it got twisted around and way up under my eyelid. I could not get that contact to come down. I could feel it in my eye, in the wrong place, and it hurt. I tried rubbing my eye, tried eye drops, tried cussing, tried blaming it on my kids, tried crying. Nothing worked.
Thirty minutes later, I realized that if I was going to make it to my interview on time, which seemed important, I needed to go right then. I threw on some clothes, ran a brush through my hair, and off I went. Red, watery eye and swollen eyelid included. As I was leaving, I told my husband this is exactly why I should always work from home. Leaving the house is a disaster.
Sigh. I survived that day, but I can’t wait to find out what will go wrong the next time I have an important interview!
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Mar
2
My baby eighth grader went to his first semi-formal dance recently. I wasn’t thrilled with the whole “semi-formal” thing at first, because it meant we had to buy some dress up clothes for him. The school counselor made it clear that semi-formal just meant no jeans/t-shirts/tennis shoes, not a tuxedo. Whew!
My son did not have a date for this dance, much to my relief. I really have nothing against dances or dates, but some of my best memories from high school are going to dances with a group of friends. We had a blast, and there were none of the expectations that might be there with a date. I want him to have fun, not drama. So he met several friends there, and afterwards spent the night with his buddies.
I worry about my boy, because like me, he can have unreasonable expectations of things. A dance could be the the “best night of his life”, if he only had a date. So for him, no date means he can relax and be himself, without aiming for that unattainable “perfect night”. We did have to have a discussion about the clothes though. He actually asked for a suit. I would love nothing more than to see my boy decked out in a suit, but that is a more money than I can spend on something he won’t wear again. We finally agreed on black dress pants, red shirt, tie and shoes. He looked great!
It was so cute to see him getting ready that night, with his dad helping him with his tie. He was excited and nervous, calling his friends constantly to make sure that no one arrived at the dance before the others. They all came back to our house after the dance, just long enough for Tanner to change clothes and grab some overnight stuff. One of the guys did have a date, and they were giving her a ride home so she came over too. The girls apparently took the semi-formal part very seriously! She looked lovely, but my first dress like that was for prom my junior year. I saw many pictures from that night and all the girls were wearing formals. Even though I wasn’t excited about the semi-formal part at first, I do think it changed the whole atmostphere of the dance for these kids. I’ve never seen my son or the other kids so excited about a school dance, and the only difference was that they were dressed up. They loved dressing up and loved seeing each other dress up, and I’m sure it made a difference in how they behaved at the dance.
Now here’s my rant – you knew it was coming, right? My husband dropped him off at the dance, and when he came home he told me there were two limos dropping off groups of kids, one a Hummer limo. Remember, this is an EIGHTH GRADE dance. Not senior prom. What do these kids have to look forward to for prom, or any other dance, if we are bringing out the big guns for EIGHTH GRADE?
I get that parents want to make these things perfect for their kids. I want my son to have a good time, I don’t care so much about perfection. I also get that if you can afford to do things like that, go right ahead. But next year, how do you top the fancy dress, corsage, dinner before the dance, bowling afterwards, and the limo? What is left to make the next four years worth of dances great and wonderful and perfect?
I grew up in a small town, so there were no limos, no restaurants, no hotels. There was only so much we could do for prom, and it was still absolutely perfect. So I don’t know what I’m getting into here. If this is what its like in eighth grade, are we talking five star restaurants, private parties and (gasp) hotels for prom? Really, I have no idea, but I’m not looking forward to the conversation where we tell our son No to the hotel idea.
Anyone have a teenager and been through the whole dance/prom thing and can tell me what I’m in for? Are limos at eighth grade dances typical? What happens in high school then, do we fly the kids in (sarcasm)? But really, what are your thoughts on this? Feel free to call me old fashioned, the label fits.
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My boys
Where did those little guys go?Cuteness overload
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