As children and especially teenagers, how many times did you say "I will be nothing like my parents." Then, the unthinkable happens, and one day we turn to our own children, and hear the voice our parents' spew forth.
I hear myself say things I heard my mother say, feel my face conform into the same faces she would make, especially her "concentration" face. Unlike the rationale of my adolescence, as a parent today I'm happy I carry the lessons of my mother with me, and try to pass them on to my children, although the context has changed.
And of all the lessons my mother passed down to me, that has likely been the most important. The lesson of context. Knowing that context changes, and individual's reality is shifted and manipulated by the context in which they see others and the world.
As a young girl, grade school can be a scary place. A little chubby and a little too scholarly, I had a hard time carving my own path and even harder yet, owning that path. Whenever I would come home, full of tears and self-condemnation, my mother would always remind me that we never knew what that person's context was. Maybe her words for teaching the lesson were different at the time, but it was the same lesson nonetheless. She didn't believe that people wanted to be mean. There was meanness, to be sure, and evil too, but it was imperative that before I leap to make rash judgments of those around me, especially those I felt victimized by, I needed to reflect on their side. Try to stand for a moment in their shoes.
I look back today, and know that I carried that lesson with me all through childhood and into adulthood, and it has completely shaped the person I am today, in nearly every aspect of my life.
Read between the lines. You never know what happens behind closed doors. People that are mean to others most often really hate themselves the most.
All of these mantras I still echo in my mind today. When I remember children that taunted me through school, I wonder if their fathers were cruel. When I remember being called fat, I wonder now if that girl's toilet was her best friend. When I see a man on TV beating someone he sees as smaller or weaker than he, I wonder and think of the trauma that he must have endured to become this way. Though this isn't always the case, too often it is, and too often we forget, symptoms are the clue to deeper problems.
My religion has changed through context. I read between the lines. I know my own heart enough today to know what I believe in and what I don't. I know who wrote what and where it originated from and why. From there I can make my deductions more studiously.
My ethics have changed through context. I try to never forget what may have come to pass that has placed people in the positions they are in, be it positive or not. So, I am constantly trying to find the root issue at problems. Looking beyond the face of the matter at hand and past it, studying the philosophy and psychology of the situation. Sometimes this can lead to over-analyzation to be sure, and then I remember that there is always a happy medium to strive for. For example, I believe that "the unexamined life is not worth living," but I acknowledge also that if one spends all of their time in examination they will forget to live.
My politics have changed through context. I know that there are biases to be had and one of the most effective ways to overcome said bias is to educate myself through as many different sources as possible. Once I see several different sides, I can make more sound deductions. When I look at my prospective leaders, I do not just look at the words they say, but at the context in which they speak them. What are the biases they have behind their own perspectives? Where did they grow up? What kind of people do they surround themselves with today? When I look at legislation, I find out what the context was in which it was founded, and in what context does it apply today?
Context. Situation. Perspective. All of these things mold our own personal realities of the world. To approach life as an apperceptive being is against the very nature of our humanity, of what puts us at the top of the food chain.
I have to thank my mother for teaching me this lesson. It was not something I had to learn the hard way through hardships of my own. Sadly, for many people, they only discover empathy when they themselves have walked through fire.
"...but all experience must be related back to and derives its validity from the conditions and context of consciousness in which it arises, i.e., the totality of our nature." -Wilhelm Dilthey
In other words, all things are relative, especially context. Thank you Mom.
-EMarie83-
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Monday, March 7, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Will Work For Food
"But of course most of today's young are not relatively affluent. Even the college-educated minority face a punishing economic environment. If they don't expect to be "on track for a rewarding career until much later than their parents were," that diminished expectation should tell us less about them than it does about their country.
If anybody cared. Or more exactly, if anybody cared who wielded any political clout."
The above is a quote from a recent article from CNN written by David Frum. Though the beginning of his article has a vast number of points I could agree with, my consent falters when he begins speaking of this issue as though it were only a political one. The excerpts he pulls from the New York Times magazine are used as his sources for rebuttal. I myself am a 20-something, and sad to say, I have to agree with the author of said article, for though Mr. Frum has some excellent points, I feel he is wrong in assigning all the blame for today's economic woes on politics alone.
I fear we have fallen apathetic. Lazy. Gluttonous. And worst of all entitled.
There it is. I said it.
Not only has the subject become that of recent media scrutiny but has also arose in conversations amongst my own circle of friends. We spoke frankly about unemployment and welfare. Were they political issues? Cultural? Racial?
From state to state we recognized that the general populous who chooses to take advantage of the system's generosity does indeed change.
So, not a racial issue.
We all also agreed that there should be a safety net for those who find themselves suddenly unemployed. However, as much as I believe people should be able to put food on their tables, I believe it is up to the state to set limits. Perhaps, we thought, a time-table applied affording citizens the right to assistance based on their region's unemployment rate.
And though I do not feel the government has done all it can to drive new jobs, I feel both parties are to blame here. I will say, however, that it is very difficult to create new jobs out of thin air. When one side not only decides to cut off so much government spending that it sends thousands of federal and state workers into the private sector - when there are already not enough jobs - and then also denies us any means to investigate technologies that could lead to a new job sector, both seem to me to be ill-conceived notions. I also believe that it will take a new wave of education, leading to technology, building to manufacturing that will save our country. That takes investing in our people so our people can later invest in us. It doesn't mean cutting budgets. It doesn't mean taking away every single extra-curricular activity in school so you completely limit a child's means to nurture their skills and explore new things. Leaving them in their 20's with a very limited understanding of what the world has to offer and what they themselves have to offer the world. But on to other things.
So, then, it is not just a political issue either.
We are left with one. A cultural issue. And by that, we did not mean the small variations between white, black, Hispanic, Asian, native-American, Jewish, Muslim, or any other of the many I haven't the room to list. This is an American issue. A conundrum of our culture, that of perspective and an error in mentality.
Whether it be that one is too good for a certain job, or better yet that the job isn't good enough for them. Too often people complain that they do too much and get paid too little. Sure we all feel this way. But there are way too many people that say that who do not deserve more than they make, and probably don't deserve what they do make half the time. I'm not to say we should let others take advantage of us, but how many times have you heard "I'm sorry, that's not a part of my job description." Really? You can not expect to get anywhere with that attitude. It's like your son asking why he should have to clean up the mess he didn't make. What's your general attitude toward that question? Just do it!
Then I had a thought. Women. Ahem. Ahh, Ladies...May I have your attention? Because unlike the New York Times article which placed much of the lazy factor blame on men, I also must pass some of this torch off to the women. We fought and fought for equality and to be allowed into the work place to not only join our male counter-parts but to supersede them. Yet we still want to be treated like "ladies" and are, I must say, some of the worst at using the previous line, "Ummm, that's not part of my job description."
Again, not to say that there are not women out there taking the bull by the horns and doing what it takes to get by. However, I still fear for the women of my generation. Even on the home front we allow ourselves to fall victim to our own lady-like fragility. How many of you ladies will mow your lawn or fix the leaky faucet? If you haven't, go let your husband show you what a primer pump is and a wrench because you're going to need it. You want to take control of your lives and your homes, then by God take control!
I remember being a young girl and my dad stayed home with me while my mother worked. An only child, my father treated me like I was neither all girl nor all boy, but played and showed me how to work in a way that didn't differentiate any activity or job in nature or relation to sex.
I can still see him laughing at me the first time I was handed a machete and told to cut down nearly half an acre of brush practically by hand. Weed-eaters were for rich folk.
"Grab a hold of the thing! It's not gonna bite you!" He'd hollered from the porch as I tried to wrangle the blade.
Indeed, the small snake I later discovered made me rest assured something would. Still I worked then and continued to be hauled around to job sites like a boy.
Though today I don't do construction or manual labor for a living, I can start a lawn mower by myself, build home-made bookshelves with the best of them, and in general I like to say I ain't afraid of a little work.
The work ethic is there and has not just landed me good jobs, but jobs that were lasting and led to good referrals. I was able to maintain a very good job in a male industry and in fact got the job because I told them under no uncertain terms that I was not afraid of hard work, nor was I afraid to learn new things. I interviewed in a dress for a job that kept me smeared in grease for a good part of the time, but while there I was without argument one of the best employees, and in fact outworked most of my male counterparts.
Today, I do my work in a different way. Raising my children and tending my home and land for my husband, so he can be at his best to provide for us. I still work. Oh yeah, I work, and I put in way more than 40 hours.
On one such day however, I didn't work. I took my girlfriend and went out for a day of shopping and bad fast-food. Upon pulling out of the restaurant, I have my windows down and air-conditioner blowing, and my engine roaring over my radio in my big diesel truck. And just as I'm about to take my first bite out of my big fat American cheeseburger, I look over to see a homeless man with a sign that says, "Will Work For Food."
I slammed on my brakes and jumped out of the truck. I hadn't worked for my food that day. And although I didn't have any work for him, atleast he was willing.
"Will Work For Food."
So I gave him my food.
Unemployment can not be summed up neatly into any one issue, but I think it would be wrong of us to accept that it is our legislators alone who can fix the problem. It is not my job to judge how or why the homeless man came to be on the streets, but I did what I could at the time to help him. And it is not a problem of the government alone that keeps people unemployed. Change for the greater good happens one step at a time, just as individual progress often takes baby steps. It is the nature of man to fall, but it is how we rise that is the true testament of our strength.
Neither is it all about doing things that are not in your nature to do. Whether you're good with tools or better behind a computer does not define how well you will do in life. It is about not being afraid to try new things and putting yourself to the test. About drive and self-motivation. About doing something for no other reason than to prove to yourself you can. It's about having purpose in your life and in every step you take. About being willing to do the work to get there.
It would be tragic of us to waste the will we have been given to not just dream, but to act.
If anybody cared. Or more exactly, if anybody cared who wielded any political clout."
The above is a quote from a recent article from CNN written by David Frum. Though the beginning of his article has a vast number of points I could agree with, my consent falters when he begins speaking of this issue as though it were only a political one. The excerpts he pulls from the New York Times magazine are used as his sources for rebuttal. I myself am a 20-something, and sad to say, I have to agree with the author of said article, for though Mr. Frum has some excellent points, I feel he is wrong in assigning all the blame for today's economic woes on politics alone.
I fear we have fallen apathetic. Lazy. Gluttonous. And worst of all entitled.
There it is. I said it.
Not only has the subject become that of recent media scrutiny but has also arose in conversations amongst my own circle of friends. We spoke frankly about unemployment and welfare. Were they political issues? Cultural? Racial?
From state to state we recognized that the general populous who chooses to take advantage of the system's generosity does indeed change.
So, not a racial issue.
We all also agreed that there should be a safety net for those who find themselves suddenly unemployed. However, as much as I believe people should be able to put food on their tables, I believe it is up to the state to set limits. Perhaps, we thought, a time-table applied affording citizens the right to assistance based on their region's unemployment rate.
And though I do not feel the government has done all it can to drive new jobs, I feel both parties are to blame here. I will say, however, that it is very difficult to create new jobs out of thin air. When one side not only decides to cut off so much government spending that it sends thousands of federal and state workers into the private sector - when there are already not enough jobs - and then also denies us any means to investigate technologies that could lead to a new job sector, both seem to me to be ill-conceived notions. I also believe that it will take a new wave of education, leading to technology, building to manufacturing that will save our country. That takes investing in our people so our people can later invest in us. It doesn't mean cutting budgets. It doesn't mean taking away every single extra-curricular activity in school so you completely limit a child's means to nurture their skills and explore new things. Leaving them in their 20's with a very limited understanding of what the world has to offer and what they themselves have to offer the world. But on to other things.
So, then, it is not just a political issue either.
We are left with one. A cultural issue. And by that, we did not mean the small variations between white, black, Hispanic, Asian, native-American, Jewish, Muslim, or any other of the many I haven't the room to list. This is an American issue. A conundrum of our culture, that of perspective and an error in mentality.
Whether it be that one is too good for a certain job, or better yet that the job isn't good enough for them. Too often people complain that they do too much and get paid too little. Sure we all feel this way. But there are way too many people that say that who do not deserve more than they make, and probably don't deserve what they do make half the time. I'm not to say we should let others take advantage of us, but how many times have you heard "I'm sorry, that's not a part of my job description." Really? You can not expect to get anywhere with that attitude. It's like your son asking why he should have to clean up the mess he didn't make. What's your general attitude toward that question? Just do it!
Then I had a thought. Women. Ahem. Ahh, Ladies...May I have your attention? Because unlike the New York Times article which placed much of the lazy factor blame on men, I also must pass some of this torch off to the women. We fought and fought for equality and to be allowed into the work place to not only join our male counter-parts but to supersede them. Yet we still want to be treated like "ladies" and are, I must say, some of the worst at using the previous line, "Ummm, that's not part of my job description."
Again, not to say that there are not women out there taking the bull by the horns and doing what it takes to get by. However, I still fear for the women of my generation. Even on the home front we allow ourselves to fall victim to our own lady-like fragility. How many of you ladies will mow your lawn or fix the leaky faucet? If you haven't, go let your husband show you what a primer pump is and a wrench because you're going to need it. You want to take control of your lives and your homes, then by God take control!
I remember being a young girl and my dad stayed home with me while my mother worked. An only child, my father treated me like I was neither all girl nor all boy, but played and showed me how to work in a way that didn't differentiate any activity or job in nature or relation to sex.
I can still see him laughing at me the first time I was handed a machete and told to cut down nearly half an acre of brush practically by hand. Weed-eaters were for rich folk.
"Grab a hold of the thing! It's not gonna bite you!" He'd hollered from the porch as I tried to wrangle the blade.
Indeed, the small snake I later discovered made me rest assured something would. Still I worked then and continued to be hauled around to job sites like a boy.
Though today I don't do construction or manual labor for a living, I can start a lawn mower by myself, build home-made bookshelves with the best of them, and in general I like to say I ain't afraid of a little work.
The work ethic is there and has not just landed me good jobs, but jobs that were lasting and led to good referrals. I was able to maintain a very good job in a male industry and in fact got the job because I told them under no uncertain terms that I was not afraid of hard work, nor was I afraid to learn new things. I interviewed in a dress for a job that kept me smeared in grease for a good part of the time, but while there I was without argument one of the best employees, and in fact outworked most of my male counterparts.
Today, I do my work in a different way. Raising my children and tending my home and land for my husband, so he can be at his best to provide for us. I still work. Oh yeah, I work, and I put in way more than 40 hours.
On one such day however, I didn't work. I took my girlfriend and went out for a day of shopping and bad fast-food. Upon pulling out of the restaurant, I have my windows down and air-conditioner blowing, and my engine roaring over my radio in my big diesel truck. And just as I'm about to take my first bite out of my big fat American cheeseburger, I look over to see a homeless man with a sign that says, "Will Work For Food."
I slammed on my brakes and jumped out of the truck. I hadn't worked for my food that day. And although I didn't have any work for him, atleast he was willing.
"Will Work For Food."
So I gave him my food.
Unemployment can not be summed up neatly into any one issue, but I think it would be wrong of us to accept that it is our legislators alone who can fix the problem. It is not my job to judge how or why the homeless man came to be on the streets, but I did what I could at the time to help him. And it is not a problem of the government alone that keeps people unemployed. Change for the greater good happens one step at a time, just as individual progress often takes baby steps. It is the nature of man to fall, but it is how we rise that is the true testament of our strength.
Neither is it all about doing things that are not in your nature to do. Whether you're good with tools or better behind a computer does not define how well you will do in life. It is about not being afraid to try new things and putting yourself to the test. About drive and self-motivation. About doing something for no other reason than to prove to yourself you can. It's about having purpose in your life and in every step you take. About being willing to do the work to get there.
It would be tragic of us to waste the will we have been given to not just dream, but to act.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Stand up
will you stand up?
for what you believe
will you stand up?
for those found in need
or will you silent, the words in your heart
afraid of the trend, the ripple you start.
will you stand up?
when others may fall
hold out a hand
to those a little less tall
will you stand up?
and try to make them see
that together we are stronger
than alone we can ever be.
and if love and compassion
are what we all strive for
in the lessons we teach
in our tales and our lore
will you stand up?
for what is the best
if it means standing alone
outside of the rest
will you stand up?
for what is right?
even if what that means
is standing to fight
will you stand up?
and stand beside me?
-EMarie83-
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
My God
My God
My God is not a man.
But he is Heaven,
And she is Earth.
And yes I use the two,
To speak of my divine,
Because I believe all
Are both masculine,
And feminine.
I believe the touch
Of love's first kiss,
Is the real kind
Of divine bliss.
It's wrapped in gentleness,
Warmth and loyalty.
And in it truth
That can set us free.
My God is not
Just in all of us,
But lives in each thing,
Every rock and bee we cuss.
My God is not just good,
But knows evil too.
For without one,
We know not what we do.
I believe my God
Stands for us all.
And gives us a choice,
But will be there when we fall.
The guidance is there,
Steadfast in harmony.
If we hold onto,
What is our humanity.
I believe that my God
Is the energy to my soul.
The thing that connects us all,
Making us whole.
I know that my God,
Can see what I do.
Because in my own heart,
Let thy self be true.
And in the end when
I answer for what my life has found,
I know the circle
Will keep going 'round.
Be it another level, life or less,
I will know first,
If I passed the test.
And that is the final lesson learned.
My God won't let
Our souls be burned.
Vengeance is not
A part of morality.
Compassion is the gift
That sets us free.
My God knows this best,
And does not wish for blood
To be lost at his behest.
I believe in the power
Of what you call prayer.
Though I may not practice
It in the same name.
Positive and negative energy abound,
What you put out,
Is what will be found.
I know my God knows
And loves all man-kind.
Because my God flows
Through your blood
And mine.
My body is the temple,
Where my soul resides.
And my God is like an armor,
Keeping me strong inside.
My God is both faith
As well as physics too.
In all things we find compromise,
Where there's one, there's two.
Have you ever felt that hum,
Of the sand beneath your feet,
And the crashing waves at your toes?
That moment when you can say,
You truly are not alone.
Listen to the wind,
The rain above your ears.
Listen to the waves,
Or the music of your younger years.
Listen to it all.
Look for God if you must.
Be it Buddha, Jesus or Allah,
In my God,
I trust.
-EMarie83-
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
My God is not a man.
But he is Heaven,
And she is Earth.
And yes I use the two,
To speak of my divine,
Because I believe all
Are both masculine,
And feminine.
I believe the touch
Of love's first kiss,
Is the real kind
Of divine bliss.
It's wrapped in gentleness,
Warmth and loyalty.
And in it truth
That can set us free.
My God is not
Just in all of us,
But lives in each thing,
Every rock and bee we cuss.
My God is not just good,
But knows evil too.
For without one,
We know not what we do.
I believe my God
Stands for us all.
And gives us a choice,
But will be there when we fall.
The guidance is there,
Steadfast in harmony.
If we hold onto,
What is our humanity.
I believe that my God
Is the energy to my soul.
The thing that connects us all,
Making us whole.
I know that my God,
Can see what I do.
Because in my own heart,
Let thy self be true.
And in the end when
I answer for what my life has found,
I know the circle
Will keep going 'round.
Be it another level, life or less,
I will know first,
If I passed the test.
And that is the final lesson learned.
My God won't let
Our souls be burned.
Vengeance is not
A part of morality.
Compassion is the gift
That sets us free.
My God knows this best,
And does not wish for blood
To be lost at his behest.
I believe in the power
Of what you call prayer.
Though I may not practice
It in the same name.
Positive and negative energy abound,
What you put out,
Is what will be found.
I know my God knows
And loves all man-kind.
Because my God flows
Through your blood
And mine.
My body is the temple,
Where my soul resides.
And my God is like an armor,
Keeping me strong inside.
My God is both faith
As well as physics too.
In all things we find compromise,
Where there's one, there's two.
Have you ever felt that hum,
Of the sand beneath your feet,
And the crashing waves at your toes?
That moment when you can say,
You truly are not alone.
Listen to the wind,
The rain above your ears.
Listen to the waves,
Or the music of your younger years.
Listen to it all.
Look for God if you must.
Be it Buddha, Jesus or Allah,
In my God,
I trust.
-EMarie83-
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, December 5, 2010
What's in a name?
It's that time of year again. Time to bring out the stockings, and hang them with care, in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon will be here. With three kids, our mantle has finally found itself full. So my husband and I purchased the last two stockings we will be adding to it's white-wooden face.
Wanting to make it a fun family activity, I bought glue and glitter so we could all label our own stockings. Then we found ourselves confronted with a rather obvious question. For while our children's were each boldly decorated with their names, we wondered what our's should read. "Mom" and "Dad" seemed the obvious choice.
Laughing, my husband remarked, "Babe, we've got three kids. Never again will our names be necessary." We'll forever be "RayRay's Dad" or whichever child the person speaking is referring to. Once our babies grow up and begin leading little lives of their own, they create their own circle of friends and acquaintances, we as parents, are largely not a part of. And in this outer circle, we are simply 3rd party participants, and so, our names are hardly necessary.
It is both a blessing and a burden. Being a mom is the greatest gift life has given me. Their little smiles are priceless every time. Yes, it is hard. Hell, I would love to announce my presence every time I walk in a room with, "Yes, it is I. Mother and bearer of living things!" Then, everyone present, should do the wave. Because, lets face it, as moms we deserve it. Do we always get what we deserve? No. So we move on.
The trouble with those little blessings, is that they are all-consuming. It takes every ounce of strength, endurance, and brain power to raise those little heathens and with multiple kids, there is rarely an opportunity to have a moment to yourself. I told a friend not long ago, that I very often didn't get a moment to sit down until at least nine o'clock, once all the kids were asleep. Her reply was, "Hunny that's not relaxing at the end of the day, that's falling out." And there is a lot of truth to what she said.
It is very easy when you're a parent to completely lose oneself in their child. The never-ending stream of requests and demands and responsibilities can drown us, suffocating the spirit of who we once were. You know, pre-baby.
This is dangerous terrain to find oneself in. It is not only an everyday struggle to raise kids, be a spouse, and for most, an employee too, it is also a struggle to just be. To find balance and just be. Be the person you set out to be.
It is those that get lost in the struggle, and lose their sense of self, that have the hardest time finding that balance and very often lose control. We find ourselves sinking beneath the depths, kicking and screaming, trying to claw our way out, but no one hears us below the surface. And just like anyone who finds themselves drowning, if there is someone nearby, they will likely be drowned as well, or hurt in the process, as we try to break the surface.
How can we teach our children what kind of person to be, if we lose sight of who we set out to be ourselves? It is so important to maintain those friendships of old, while seeking friendships of new; to read new things and explore new places; to continue to grow so we can not just teach our children how to grow, but show them.
Passion in life is just as important as passion in relationships. I hope I can teach my children to be passionate. But I hope I can show them too. Because, while I happily labeled my stocking this year with "Mom", I know in the end, that the person who wrote it, was me.
Wanting to make it a fun family activity, I bought glue and glitter so we could all label our own stockings. Then we found ourselves confronted with a rather obvious question. For while our children's were each boldly decorated with their names, we wondered what our's should read. "Mom" and "Dad" seemed the obvious choice.
Laughing, my husband remarked, "Babe, we've got three kids. Never again will our names be necessary." We'll forever be "RayRay's Dad" or whichever child the person speaking is referring to. Once our babies grow up and begin leading little lives of their own, they create their own circle of friends and acquaintances, we as parents, are largely not a part of. And in this outer circle, we are simply 3rd party participants, and so, our names are hardly necessary.
It is both a blessing and a burden. Being a mom is the greatest gift life has given me. Their little smiles are priceless every time. Yes, it is hard. Hell, I would love to announce my presence every time I walk in a room with, "Yes, it is I. Mother and bearer of living things!" Then, everyone present, should do the wave. Because, lets face it, as moms we deserve it. Do we always get what we deserve? No. So we move on.
The trouble with those little blessings, is that they are all-consuming. It takes every ounce of strength, endurance, and brain power to raise those little heathens and with multiple kids, there is rarely an opportunity to have a moment to yourself. I told a friend not long ago, that I very often didn't get a moment to sit down until at least nine o'clock, once all the kids were asleep. Her reply was, "Hunny that's not relaxing at the end of the day, that's falling out." And there is a lot of truth to what she said.
It is very easy when you're a parent to completely lose oneself in their child. The never-ending stream of requests and demands and responsibilities can drown us, suffocating the spirit of who we once were. You know, pre-baby.
This is dangerous terrain to find oneself in. It is not only an everyday struggle to raise kids, be a spouse, and for most, an employee too, it is also a struggle to just be. To find balance and just be. Be the person you set out to be.
It is those that get lost in the struggle, and lose their sense of self, that have the hardest time finding that balance and very often lose control. We find ourselves sinking beneath the depths, kicking and screaming, trying to claw our way out, but no one hears us below the surface. And just like anyone who finds themselves drowning, if there is someone nearby, they will likely be drowned as well, or hurt in the process, as we try to break the surface.
How can we teach our children what kind of person to be, if we lose sight of who we set out to be ourselves? It is so important to maintain those friendships of old, while seeking friendships of new; to read new things and explore new places; to continue to grow so we can not just teach our children how to grow, but show them.
Passion in life is just as important as passion in relationships. I hope I can teach my children to be passionate. But I hope I can show them too. Because, while I happily labeled my stocking this year with "Mom", I know in the end, that the person who wrote it, was me.
Friday, November 19, 2010
A new kind of bully?
Bullying has always been around. Every kid of every generation remembers either being a bully, being bullied, or being a bystander. But bullying doesn't end in grade school. When we were children, the bully just wanted to hurt your feelings; make him/herself feel better. In high school, the bully wanted to ruin your reputation; make him/herself feel better. As adults, the bully wants to ruin your life. But has the adult really never grown beyond the need to put other's down in order to make him/herself feel better? Has it grown into something else altogether?
People in general are not comfortable with themselves, don't understand themselves, and don't like anything else that they don't understand. They especially don't like people that do understand themselves. But those who do accept that there are those who are different, find themselves to be happier. And those who don't, don't like that either.
Every generation seems to have it's target group. African Americans during the...well forever...but lets go with the 70's. Then it was the geeks of the 80's, the obese of the 90's, and today it's gays and lesbians.
The problem with the sudden outrage against the bullying that gays and lesbians are having to endure in school and beyond, is that while we say we are mad, we continue to accept laws and policies that foster the hateful feelings some people have towards homosexuals. We have laws, that if taken back 30 years ago and applied to a different race, would have been readily acknowledged as crimes against the Civil Rights Act. It would be prudent to remember there was a time, not so long ago, when black people were not allowed to marry white people.
Not allowing gays and lesbians to marry, not allowing true power of attorney over immediate family members, not allowing them to serve openly in the military...as long as we set this precedent, we are basically saying we are ok with what some children, and those adults who remain ignorant, are doing to other people.
As long as our country as a whole continues to promote such policies, how are we to expect our children to be accepting of those who are different from them? As parents, it is our duty to not only teach our children compassion, acceptance, and to not judge lest ye be judged, it is also our duty to act as role models and lead by example.
There are plenty of things about people I don't like or agree with. It is natural to disagree with one another, and to have differing ideologies on how we should lead our lives. But bullying to the point of suicide is worse than manslaughter. What could possibly fuel such a fire?
Hate.
There is no need for such hate. If you don't like something I do, then don't like it. As long as I'm not hurting myself, or anyone else in the process, then it is my business and mine alone. A person's sexuality should not be cause for such hatred. There are plenty of evils in the world without our energies being wasted in that.
The fact that gays and lesbians want to get married and want to have children should not lead those who are religious to believe that this will corrupt the institutions of marriage and family. In this world of corruption, where love is often the last reason people marry one another, we should be grateful that here is a group who at least really want to marry and have families out of love. Is it not love that is meant to be the foundation of religion? It certainly isn't supposed to be hate.
It is not succumbing to devilish ways to allow people to live their lives so they may be as happy as absolutely possible. This only makes for a better world. This is called progress. And over the centuries there have always been those who wish to thwart progress, but though it has taken time, as most things do, progress has always won.
We have relieved people from religious persecution, from racial persecution, and now we must free them from sexual persecution. Not only must we succeed in this, but we must also remember that the fight from religious and racial persecution is still a struggle we battle to this day, and none are won easily.
It is not only our jobs to teach our children things like compassion and understanding, but also to teach them to have the gumption and courage to stand up for one another. There are too many bystanders. We must be proud of those who choose to take a stand, even if they must suffer consequences in doing so. It is these people, not just the victims, that will make the biggest difference in changing the course of history, and cause change in the way we view the world.
It was not just the groups of African Americans marching the streets in the 60's that caught the attention of the American public, and of the world. It was also the white, Asian, Latino, and other general populous that stood beside them. We had to stand together, not because we all represented the same cause, but because we believed in it.
People in general are not comfortable with themselves, don't understand themselves, and don't like anything else that they don't understand. They especially don't like people that do understand themselves. But those who do accept that there are those who are different, find themselves to be happier. And those who don't, don't like that either.
Every generation seems to have it's target group. African Americans during the...well forever...but lets go with the 70's. Then it was the geeks of the 80's, the obese of the 90's, and today it's gays and lesbians.
The problem with the sudden outrage against the bullying that gays and lesbians are having to endure in school and beyond, is that while we say we are mad, we continue to accept laws and policies that foster the hateful feelings some people have towards homosexuals. We have laws, that if taken back 30 years ago and applied to a different race, would have been readily acknowledged as crimes against the Civil Rights Act. It would be prudent to remember there was a time, not so long ago, when black people were not allowed to marry white people.
Not allowing gays and lesbians to marry, not allowing true power of attorney over immediate family members, not allowing them to serve openly in the military...as long as we set this precedent, we are basically saying we are ok with what some children, and those adults who remain ignorant, are doing to other people.
As long as our country as a whole continues to promote such policies, how are we to expect our children to be accepting of those who are different from them? As parents, it is our duty to not only teach our children compassion, acceptance, and to not judge lest ye be judged, it is also our duty to act as role models and lead by example.
There are plenty of things about people I don't like or agree with. It is natural to disagree with one another, and to have differing ideologies on how we should lead our lives. But bullying to the point of suicide is worse than manslaughter. What could possibly fuel such a fire?
Hate.
There is no need for such hate. If you don't like something I do, then don't like it. As long as I'm not hurting myself, or anyone else in the process, then it is my business and mine alone. A person's sexuality should not be cause for such hatred. There are plenty of evils in the world without our energies being wasted in that.
The fact that gays and lesbians want to get married and want to have children should not lead those who are religious to believe that this will corrupt the institutions of marriage and family. In this world of corruption, where love is often the last reason people marry one another, we should be grateful that here is a group who at least really want to marry and have families out of love. Is it not love that is meant to be the foundation of religion? It certainly isn't supposed to be hate.
It is not succumbing to devilish ways to allow people to live their lives so they may be as happy as absolutely possible. This only makes for a better world. This is called progress. And over the centuries there have always been those who wish to thwart progress, but though it has taken time, as most things do, progress has always won.
We have relieved people from religious persecution, from racial persecution, and now we must free them from sexual persecution. Not only must we succeed in this, but we must also remember that the fight from religious and racial persecution is still a struggle we battle to this day, and none are won easily.
It is not only our jobs to teach our children things like compassion and understanding, but also to teach them to have the gumption and courage to stand up for one another. There are too many bystanders. We must be proud of those who choose to take a stand, even if they must suffer consequences in doing so. It is these people, not just the victims, that will make the biggest difference in changing the course of history, and cause change in the way we view the world.
It was not just the groups of African Americans marching the streets in the 60's that caught the attention of the American public, and of the world. It was also the white, Asian, Latino, and other general populous that stood beside them. We had to stand together, not because we all represented the same cause, but because we believed in it.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Oh it's my birthday?
Birthdays and babies. Does it mix well? Not really. But as we get older and our families grow, there comes a time when we realize our birthdays no longer hold the significance they once did. For me, 27 is apparently that glorious number.
For years I have looked forward to my birthday ready to party down and let loose for a night of fun. But this year, although I have been pondering RayRay's birthday for months already, my husband had to remind me twice last week that my birthday was coming up. Last year I had no hopes of grandeur, as I was pregnant with the twins. This year, with money being tight and babies being plentiful, there are still no plans.
I can't help but acknowledge also, that I am avoiding the fact that with every year, I get closer to 30. And with every year I creep closer to "middle-aged," I become more and more aware of the cold truth that life is scarily short.
My children remind me of that on a daily basis. I never knew how scary it would be to have children. We fear for their safety every moment of the day. We fear for our own, and that we may have the power to protect them. We fear that the day will come when we will no longer be with them.
There are other indications of my ever increasing age as well. I have, for instance, completely outgrown the Juniors department. Up until a few short years ago, I continued to shop there, finding the clothes' cut best suited my taste. Slowly, however, I have begun to venture forth into other parts of the store. As of today, I have completely matured beyond it's boundaries.
I have also become a bit of a hypochondriac. Although,I can typically get my rationale mind to overpower that which wishes to freak out at every sudden pain. I am pretty sure that every twitch or ache I feel is either a bone-eating parasite or some other kind of horribly rare and fatal disease. Every headache is definitely a tumor and every cramp is always cancer.
The only thing my maturing age has apparently done for my mind-set, is make me scarily aware of my own mortality. So my mental health is on the verge of shot, lets check my physical status. Considering I had the twins about 6 months ago, and was virtually immobile for 9 months before that...well...lets just say there is still much to be desired.
But as I sit here, unable to finish my first cup of coffee - for the twins are loudly demanding their breakfast - and unable to watch my television program - for RayRay needs help with his letter to Santa - I am reminded that they are such blessings and....oh to hell with it...the only present I have this morning is in my daughter's diaper. Have a good day ya'll!
For years I have looked forward to my birthday ready to party down and let loose for a night of fun. But this year, although I have been pondering RayRay's birthday for months already, my husband had to remind me twice last week that my birthday was coming up. Last year I had no hopes of grandeur, as I was pregnant with the twins. This year, with money being tight and babies being plentiful, there are still no plans.
I can't help but acknowledge also, that I am avoiding the fact that with every year, I get closer to 30. And with every year I creep closer to "middle-aged," I become more and more aware of the cold truth that life is scarily short.
My children remind me of that on a daily basis. I never knew how scary it would be to have children. We fear for their safety every moment of the day. We fear for our own, and that we may have the power to protect them. We fear that the day will come when we will no longer be with them.
There are other indications of my ever increasing age as well. I have, for instance, completely outgrown the Juniors department. Up until a few short years ago, I continued to shop there, finding the clothes' cut best suited my taste. Slowly, however, I have begun to venture forth into other parts of the store. As of today, I have completely matured beyond it's boundaries.
I have also become a bit of a hypochondriac. Although,I can typically get my rationale mind to overpower that which wishes to freak out at every sudden pain. I am pretty sure that every twitch or ache I feel is either a bone-eating parasite or some other kind of horribly rare and fatal disease. Every headache is definitely a tumor and every cramp is always cancer.
The only thing my maturing age has apparently done for my mind-set, is make me scarily aware of my own mortality. So my mental health is on the verge of shot, lets check my physical status. Considering I had the twins about 6 months ago, and was virtually immobile for 9 months before that...well...lets just say there is still much to be desired.
But as I sit here, unable to finish my first cup of coffee - for the twins are loudly demanding their breakfast - and unable to watch my television program - for RayRay needs help with his letter to Santa - I am reminded that they are such blessings and....oh to hell with it...the only present I have this morning is in my daughter's diaper. Have a good day ya'll!
When did this happen?
My husband and I find ourselves saying that to one another quite often. Juggling one baby and then the other, each trying to pry his or her way from our arms, we can't help but look and ask "When did this happen?"
Of course we know when it happened. And how. Where is also understood. The why. Well the why was evading us for some time I will admit. The why and the how are both difficult to understand at first, because, wow, how is one to handle such an obstacle? But, once those little babies were in my arms both were immediately apparent. Having twins is both a blessing and an obstacle. But the hurdles are well worth the prize.
I think any mother of twins will admit, whether they are fraternal or paternal, that once arrived, she cannot imagine having one without the other. They are a pair. They compliment one another quite well. While my son is laid back, my daughter is quite the diva. Apparently, when the nurses wheeled her into the nursery from the delivery room the song "Wild Thing" was playing on the radio. My doctor, a woman with a very stern demeanor, but gentle in her own way, had to laugh. For while he had been born with no difficulties what-so-ever, my daughter had to born by emergency c-section. She was hiding. Perhaps seeing her brother suddenly vanish into the light scared her, because she jumped up underneath my ribs and would not come down.
They are now 6 months old, and she is still my needy one. She is much like her daddy in the fact that she wants to be constantly entertained. Seeing this now, I am so glad she has a brother to play with in the future. Their bond is already very strong. Every night when I check on them before I go to bed, they have scooted their way toward each other, until they are either holding hands, or leaning their heads together. I don't care who you are, that is precious.
The twins are not, however, the only light in my life. I also have another son, who will be turning 5 in only a couple of months. It's funny watching boys grow up. They hit these crazy growth spurts and before you know it, shoot up inches at a time. After the babies were born we cut his hair, which had always been long, into a neat little crew cut. I cried. And over night he grew up. He no longer looked like my baby boy, but like a full grown kid. He is the best little man a mom could ask for. Always polite and considerate, he loves his brother and sister so much and is such a great big brother. The dynamic is so nice right now, I know I need to soak it up and appreciate every last drop because I can already see the scene in 5 years.
Enter Oldest son: "Mom! GT won't quit bugging me!"
Enter Youngest son: "Mom! AK won't quit stealing my toys and RayRay won't let me play with him!"
Enter diva: "Mom! They're being mean to me!"
For now, he loves them. He gives them kisses on the cheek and they both light up when he enters the room. AK (my daughter) giggles and squeals when he dances for her, and GT (my youngest son) belly laughs when they play peek-a-boo. These moments are my saving grace when it later seems like they are ganging up on me. RayRay (my oldest son) will be asking me a million questions, while AK yells in defiance, and GT screams as he tries out his voice.
When my husband walks in the door at the end of the day it is such a blessing. I now truly have the greatest respect for single moms, because I would lose my frigging mind if I did not have that help at the end of the day. Although there are places in our relationship where we don't completely agree or go about things the same way, in parenting we are almost always on the same page. We have a rhythm that is smooth like clockwork, and we have learned from past mistakes, that when we need help, we just say so. Communication is key.
At the end of the day, when the babies have been fed, bathed, and are down for the count, we still stare at them in the crib. To have two is still surreal. It's one more than we ever counted on having, but a true blessing in disguise. I see big Christmas' in our future, peewee football, and piano recitals. I also see the scrapes and bruises, broken hearts, and things to be mended, but I'm looking forward to it.
When you're young it feels like you're forever waiting for it. Waiting for your life to start. This is it. This is your life. This moment, this day. And this, well, I've finally realized, this is my life.
Of course we know when it happened. And how. Where is also understood. The why. Well the why was evading us for some time I will admit. The why and the how are both difficult to understand at first, because, wow, how is one to handle such an obstacle? But, once those little babies were in my arms both were immediately apparent. Having twins is both a blessing and an obstacle. But the hurdles are well worth the prize.
I think any mother of twins will admit, whether they are fraternal or paternal, that once arrived, she cannot imagine having one without the other. They are a pair. They compliment one another quite well. While my son is laid back, my daughter is quite the diva. Apparently, when the nurses wheeled her into the nursery from the delivery room the song "Wild Thing" was playing on the radio. My doctor, a woman with a very stern demeanor, but gentle in her own way, had to laugh. For while he had been born with no difficulties what-so-ever, my daughter had to born by emergency c-section. She was hiding. Perhaps seeing her brother suddenly vanish into the light scared her, because she jumped up underneath my ribs and would not come down.
They are now 6 months old, and she is still my needy one. She is much like her daddy in the fact that she wants to be constantly entertained. Seeing this now, I am so glad she has a brother to play with in the future. Their bond is already very strong. Every night when I check on them before I go to bed, they have scooted their way toward each other, until they are either holding hands, or leaning their heads together. I don't care who you are, that is precious.
The twins are not, however, the only light in my life. I also have another son, who will be turning 5 in only a couple of months. It's funny watching boys grow up. They hit these crazy growth spurts and before you know it, shoot up inches at a time. After the babies were born we cut his hair, which had always been long, into a neat little crew cut. I cried. And over night he grew up. He no longer looked like my baby boy, but like a full grown kid. He is the best little man a mom could ask for. Always polite and considerate, he loves his brother and sister so much and is such a great big brother. The dynamic is so nice right now, I know I need to soak it up and appreciate every last drop because I can already see the scene in 5 years.
Enter Oldest son: "Mom! GT won't quit bugging me!"
Enter Youngest son: "Mom! AK won't quit stealing my toys and RayRay won't let me play with him!"
Enter diva: "Mom! They're being mean to me!"
For now, he loves them. He gives them kisses on the cheek and they both light up when he enters the room. AK (my daughter) giggles and squeals when he dances for her, and GT (my youngest son) belly laughs when they play peek-a-boo. These moments are my saving grace when it later seems like they are ganging up on me. RayRay (my oldest son) will be asking me a million questions, while AK yells in defiance, and GT screams as he tries out his voice.
When my husband walks in the door at the end of the day it is such a blessing. I now truly have the greatest respect for single moms, because I would lose my frigging mind if I did not have that help at the end of the day. Although there are places in our relationship where we don't completely agree or go about things the same way, in parenting we are almost always on the same page. We have a rhythm that is smooth like clockwork, and we have learned from past mistakes, that when we need help, we just say so. Communication is key.
At the end of the day, when the babies have been fed, bathed, and are down for the count, we still stare at them in the crib. To have two is still surreal. It's one more than we ever counted on having, but a true blessing in disguise. I see big Christmas' in our future, peewee football, and piano recitals. I also see the scrapes and bruises, broken hearts, and things to be mended, but I'm looking forward to it.
When you're young it feels like you're forever waiting for it. Waiting for your life to start. This is it. This is your life. This moment, this day. And this, well, I've finally realized, this is my life.
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