Once upon a time Trent asked if he could try celery.
His mom and dad were surprised because, well….celery is green.
His dad put peanut butter on the celery.
Trent bit the celery.
He chewed the celery.
He SWALLOWED the celery.
The celery stayed swallowed.
Trent’s mom passed out from the shock.
They lived happily ever after.
THE END.
Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. Unbelievable.
I spent very little time in the blogosphere in the last week. But I spent enough time to read the requisite thankful posts of many bloggers and I, too, am thankful for the usual things that most commented on, such as families and friends and yes, even the readers and commenters of this very blog. But I must say that this year, more than ever, I am most thankful for my marriage.
I gushed about Brett a few months ago and I meant every word. I have always been lucky to have him, but I am also thankful that this year I learned some very important lessons, the hard way, about marriage and being a couple that I hope will make us an even better team.
That being said, somewhere between the Macy’s parade and the leftover turkey and stuffing, Brett and I attended a wedding this weekend. This is the first wedding we have been to in quite awhile since we are in the stage of life where some of the people in our age group change “life partners” more often than they change their underwear.
The wedding was on Black Friday and it was a fairy tale beach wedding where there were no expenses spared. The kind of wedding every girl dreams about, but very few actually get, though they do their best to create it to the best of their creative and financial abilities. It also, like most weddings, had taken an awful lot of work to make as beautiful as it was and I had heard how the bride had worked tirelessly on it for months.
I don’t know about most people, but I am a sucker for life moments like weddings. I loved my wedding and I am a sap for the emotional pull on my heartstrings that I get out of witnessing one. But I sat there and watched the beautiful bride and groom on the most beautiful day of their lives so far and for the first time ever…all I felt was sad.
I kept thinking about a few years back when we vacationed in Newport and I found a little boutique with the cutest little wooden signs with the cleverest little sayings on them. The one that really struck a chord with me was one that read “And they lived happily ever after.” So I bought it and hung it.
Not too long ago Trent asks, “What does that say, Mom?” And I tell him it says “And they lived happily ever after.” And he says, “Just like in stories, right Mom? What does that mean?” I realize he’s talking about the books we read at bedtime sometimes.
The fairy tales.
Just like the wedding. A fairy tale.
I thought about that moment as I watched this wedding, feeling sad. Just what does this “happily ever after” stuff mean? When I explained it to Trent, who is five, I said it meant that someone was happy together for the rest of their lives. But I mean, really, who lives their lives that way?
Do I know anyone who lived happily ever after?
No. I do not.
In fact, I know many who lived very unhappily.
So I have to wonder, why do so many children’s stories end with those six words? Is it because we are such a supremely optimistic society that we would choose to believe that this is how it all will work out for everyone? Let’s all just pretend things are perfect and, voila, they will be!
This might have something to do with why little girls have such an obsession with the Disney princesses. Besides the fact that they are beautiful, of course. Things always end great for them. Who wouldn’t want that life? I mean, who wants to hear that Cinderella lived happily until the prince started staying out for happy hour after work a little too long and never saw the kids? Or that Snow White and her prince lived happily until she had to go to rehab for her dependency on painkillers? Um, no one?
I listened to my friend the bride, who also looked like a princess by the way, say her vows to her groom and I wanted to say Are you absolutely certain you want to do this? Do you have any idea how HARD this will be? Do you know that life will NOT be a fairy tale, no matter how much money you make, how many children you have or how much you love each other? Will you be able to keep your vows? For better or for worse? Because many, many people can’t. It’s not all moonlight and calla lilies and champagne. Do you get that?
Why do we spend so much time and effort planning for the wedding and almost no time planning for the marriage? There needs to be something there after the cake is cut and the honeymoon is over.
And it made me sad that I felt that way, kind of cynical and jaded about a bright and hopeful time in a couple’s lives.
So I wonder, why do we put this “happily ever after” pressure on ourselves? Why do we build up the wedding day for little girls, and little boys too sometimes, with fairy tales and princesses when it is clearly unrealistic to do this? They count on “happily ever after” and sometimes end up with broken hearts. If you need proof, all you have to do is visit True Wife Confessions.
The only reason I can come up with is that we are an optimistic society who hopes for the best because it’s all we can do in an uncertain life. All we can do is realize that we are human and we will not be perfect, and neither will life. If we don’t believe that, then why bother getting married at all anyway? And little girls need to have something to look forward to because there are magical and wonderful moments in marriage. And some of the most magical are when you are going through the “worse” parts. You just don’t always know it at the time.
That is what “happily ever after” is, really. It’s loving the good and dealing with all the other crap along the journey. That’s as ”happily” as it gets. (Although I could never explain THAT to Trent so that he would understand.)
So, I will wish my bride friend a life that makes her happy. I, for one, am glad that I took the chance.
And, by the way, would somebody please write some new fairy tales?
When you are a mom, all kinds of things happen in the lives of your children that can be classified as milestones. There’s the big ones, the ones you expect, like walking and talking, and then sometimes something happens that you didn’t see coming. Something that truly makes a difference in your child’s life and just appears. Or sometimes it might be something that you knew would come eventually, but maybe not so soon.
Either way they are the “feel good” moments that parenthood, and childhood for that matter, are all about. And they ususally bring a smile.
We had two of these this weekend.
Last month, I wrote a post about Allison and the girls in her class. Um, can you say frustrated? I think that’s what you could have called us.
Well, Friday night we had a sleepover and it was a blessed event. Allison had two girls come from school and we made pizza and cookies and they made a beauty mask out of honey and bananas and watched Hannah Montana in their pj’s and made up a newscast that they acted out for us the next morning and they were NICE. They were average ordinary eleven year old girls doing what average ordinary eleven year old girls do and loving it.
There were no worries about cell phones, instant messaging accounts, or what other people thought. There was genuine laughter, smiles and fun, just the way it should be when you are eleven with your girlfriends on a Friday night. There WAS some giggling about some boys here and there, but again, totally normal. And it was precious.
And when they left, Allison said, “I had such a good time!” And so did I, watching her enjoy herself. It was because she invited the nice girls, and that’s her speed, and she was comfortable. It’s who she is and she discovered it. For both of us, that was a milestone, to be sure.
And the second thing?
Trent is learning to spell!
Now, he only just turned five, and the connections start to come around now, but this was the first time he tried to put sounds together by himself to spell a word. Usually he is incessantly asking, “How do you spell this?” and we are forever calling out letters to him to spell some ridiculously long sentence that takes two years to spell.
Yesterday? He colored a picture and wrote the name of what he colored on it. All. By. Himself. And what did he spell?
Are you ready for this?
SUBRMN.
Do you get it?
It was Superman. And I about fell out of my chair in disbelief. I mean, is that genius, or what? He tried to spell Superman. Not dog, or cat, or mom or dad. No, not any little measly four letter word. Not MY kid. He spells Superman.
Amazing.
God, I love my kids.
Tickets to Florida State Seminole football game: $158.00
Gas to and from Tallahassee: $80.00
Two Nights in Hotel room from hell in Tallahassee: $300.00
Hot Dogs, Cokes and Popcorn at the Game: $31.00
Foam #1 Finger from Souvenir Store: $4.00
Hearing your five year old ask “Is it almost over?”seventeen times Doing the Wave and the Tomahawk Chop With Your Kids at Your Alma Mater While Watching Them Actually WIN a Game for a Change: PRICELESS
GO NOLES!
This may not be long, because I am so pissed off I can hardly type straight. Of course this is better than I was a few hours ago, which was in a total state of blubbering idiocy. So at least we are moving forward.
And I won’t even begin to describe the level of anger that Brett is at right now.
This has to do with my body size. And I am on the thin side, I will admit it. I have not always been this way, although I have never been really heavy either. There have been times when I have not liked the way that my clothes fit. I mean, the jeans have been a little too tight at times, so to speak. Not that that is a bad thing. But as most girls can tell you, it never feels particularly good to put on something that you were looking forward to wearing only to discover that it will end up in a heap on the floor with the other twenty things you have to try on till you find The Outfit that won’t show your “muffin tops”.
And I am not a big dieter. Really. Because, and listen closely here…….I LOVE FOOD. I love to eat. All. Kinds. Of food. And I like it to go down and stay there, people. And if it has to come out, I want it to be from the back end, please.
But today, someone had the audacity to ACCUSE me, yes, I said ACCUSE (hence the pissed offedness), me of being anorexic. This person actuallly went out there and said that I look sick. She asked very personal accusing questions about my health and why I look this way out loud, in front of my family, and other people, and within earshot of my children that were incredibly embarrassing and hurtful. And she continued to HAMMER me with these accusations repeatedly saying it was because she loves me. Yeah. Okay. I normally do that sort of thing to people I love. You know how that works, embarrassing your loved ones? That really shows them that you love them. Whatever.
Granted, this isn’t someone I have seen in a very, very long time. I am considerably thinner than the last time she saw me. And since I became a total wreck as she was doing this to me and I couldn’t explain the “horrible condition” that my body is in to her, and since no one else there could bring themselves to do it for me either since I think they might have been as shocked as I was or didn’t want to become involved, this is why:
1) I am no longer working. I eat a lot less not working. When I worked we had two snacks each day and a school lunch to eat, and many times birthday treats, and chocolate cravings from the stress, and salt cravings from the stress, and stress and stress and more stress. I eat when I am stressed at school. Get it? I am not as stressed at home. Yay for me! Hence I have lost weight.
2) I am no longer working. I have learned how to eat better. I have learned to eat when I am hungry and stop eating when I am full and I listen to my body better. I never did that before and I still slip if something is really yummy. But I just don’t need as much food since I am listening to my body tell me when I am full. Didn’t you see Oprah last week? It’s leptin, people. Sounds like leprechaun? I’m not on a diet. I LISTEN. Hence I have lost weight.
and 3) I am no longer working. Did I mention that yet? I have time to EXERCISE. Which I never had before. I am in better shape strength-wise than I have ever been in my WHOLE frickin’ life. I go to the gym like four times a week. Because it feels good. Not because I am trying to lose weight.
So. To recap: I am not forever dieting. I am not trying to lose weight. I am feeling good. Got it?
Now here’s where I tell you why I am so fucking pissed, besides the fact that she made an embarrsing scene. Not once, during the entire time this person was grilling me about my weight, did she, nor anyone else for that matter, bother to ask me how I felt about my weight. That should matter, right? I mean, it is my body, right? Had I been asked, I would have said that I do, in fact, like the shape I am in. Do I have things about my body that I wish I could change? Sure. I don’t know many people who don’t. But my weight is not one of them right now. I like being thinner. And quite frankly, what I think is what is most important. I was disrespected.
So why does someone feel the need to attack me and try to make me feel bad about the way I look and then try to label it as LOVE? Don’t have the answer to that one. Seems a little twisted to me. But I won’t be able to ask her because I won’t be seeing her again if I can help it. I didn’t deserve to be treated that way and I won’t allow myself to be again.
That’s just me taking care of me. And that’s what I have to do.
*sigh* So much for a short post…….
The other day, Kim from After the Ball, wrote a list of characteristics of people that she might not be compatible with as friends. The number one item on this list was mean girls and I found this to be interesting, since um……me too. Alot. Especially lately.
It seems that recently I have been chosen to participate in a test of patience called See How Long You Can Tolerate the Bad Behavior of the Snotty Girls in Your Daughter’s Class, also known as Reliving Your Junior High Years.
It sucked the first time through. I really didn’t need a refresher course. And I saw the movie. You know the one? It’s called Mean Girls? And they were. Mean, that is. But to live it out, through your daughter’s eyes? It’s just downright painful.
The difference is, though, that she is not in Junior High. She is in fifth grade. These girls are 10 or 11? And yet, they are just as bad as their 12, 13 and 14 year old counterparts. They say and do all the things that mean girls say and do, and it hurts me just as much as it hurts her.
This Mean Girl business started up around the end of last year, in fact, and it has escalated to a point where I don’t know what to do, or if there is anything that I CAN do about it. It seems that there is one Queen Bee in particular that is running the show in Fifth Grade. And she has her little Wannabes in a group that follow her every move. This girl will TELL you that she IS the MOST POPULAR girl in fifth grade. That might be because her sidekicks are telling HER that all the time. She walks like she’s “it”, she talks like she is “it”, so I guess that makes her “it’? I don’t know.
She and her posse are cooler than cool, and feel that it is their job to imform everyone else that they are not, if they are not part of the clique. You should see these girls trying to fit into this group! They BEG their moms to invite Queen Bee to sleepover, etc. And the moms cave to the pressure. It is sick.
One thing I do know is that I am so glad that Allison talks to me frequently about this. I see it at school when I am subbing, but I get the inside scoop from her. She is not part of the posse. And I am glad. (Because if MY daughter ever…….well, you get the idea…)
Now you might say “Sounds like sour grapes to me.” And I can see why you might feel that way at first blush. But really, here’s the deal. Allison really has no desire to be friends with these girls. And I love that. I see these other girls who are willing to do anything to be part of the group and it scares me. And Allison, she is not interested. She never has been a follower. I am so thankful that she knows who she is well enough to know that she does not want to be around girls like that. But….and there is a big “but” here…..she does not want to be embarrassed by them anymore. And it’s not just her, lots of other girls, too. And they should not have to be.
I have spoken to the teachers and have gotten no results. The general feeling is that this is how it is at this age. Not reassuring at all, I might add, and very frustrating. So we have resorted to encouraging Allison to resort to making remarks back when they belittle her about being “so flat” as she dresses out in the girls’ room for P.E. class. (um, hello…..you are supposed to be flat when you are all of eleven years old) And it pisses me off that any girl should have to endure that kind of pressure about her body. I know. I have felt it myself. It. Sucks.
So I am not sure that I am doing the right thing, but for now spending lots of time talking to her about it helps, I guess. And I guess that it will get worse before it gets better.
I just love her so much. I want to protect her. And I can’t. So I guess I have to empower her.
I saw this over at Moogie’s today and had to steal it.
Go to Google. Type in your name and the word “needs”. Like this: “Kim needs”.
Here’s what I found out:
Kim needs to talk. Um, yeah. Why the heck do you think I HAVE this blog? I have things to get off my chest!
Kim needs to shut up. Okay. This may be true, but it’s a little contradictory to the first one, don’t you think? And you could ask politely. Talk. Shut up. Talk. Shut up. Make up your frickin’ mind!
Kim needs to take off the gloves. Actually my nail tech seems to think I need to wear them more often.
Kim needs some guinea pigs. I do? Where the hell am I going to put THOSE?
Kim needs a plumber. Damn! What the hell is broken around here now?? It had better not be the john.
Find out what you need and let me know what it is. Because I need to know. Unless your name is Kim though. Cuz already know what you need!
Last night I am cooking dinner and Trent comes and says this to me.
“Mom, when I was in Spanish class something funny happened”
Me: ”What was that?”
Trent: “Senora Toledo just DID NOT know what Tomas was doing!”
Me: “What do you mean? What was he doing?”
Trent: “He was humping.” (laughs)
Me: “WHAT? He was doing WHAT?” (concerned because how the hell does he know what humping is?)
Trent: “Humping, Mom. Like this!” (hums loudly)
Me: “OH! Humming! You mean humming!” (relieved)
Trent: ” Yeah! Humming!”
Thank GOD!
I say it’s the beans, but actually it is vegetables all together. The beans took center stage tonight however. Trent hates them. All vegetables. Hates. Did I mention that he hates them?
To work around this little dining issue we have had to sort of compromise. Instead of forcing the vegetable issue every night, I substitute the vegetables that the rest of us are eating with one of the three fruits that Trent will in fact eat. That would be apples, strawberries or bananas. Or applesauce. Usually this works out just fine, but every once in awhile I get a wild hair and decide to stage a vegetable challenge.
I don’t know why I do this. I really should have learned my lesson by now. I know that I never, ever win at this game, and yet I persist. This kid is stubborn with a capital S an no matter what I cannot ever pull one over on him.
I have tried hiding the vegetables. I have tried disguising them. We’ve tried bribery. We’ve tried enticing him with a dancing party if he eats them. We’ve said that we will sing. Brett makes funny faces. We tout how big and strong he will get. We beg. We plead. We beg some more. We threaten to take away dessert. *ouch*
And he pouts. Clamps his damn mouth shout even. And it always ends up miserably.
Almost every time, without fail, there is gagging. And at least one time the whole dinner actually came up, making me reluctant to pursue the issue further, because well….who wants to a) be responsible for making your kid throw up and b) be responsible for cleaning up the aftermath, especially during dinner? But it’s the guilt that I can’t stand. I did this. I MADE him do this. BAD mommy!
Tonight I warned him ahead of time that I would be placing one green bean on his plate and that I expected him to eat it, or at the very least try it or there would be no dessert, and he pitched a fit right away, announcing loudly in a rather defiant tone that he WOULD NOT be eating it, that beans are yucky, and he HATES them. Did I mention yet that he hates them?
WIth one look I recruited Brett and Allison into helping the cause and they launched into all the ways you could make them taste better, and that they really were good because mommy cooked them with bacon and you love bacon. And besides you’ve never really tried them. How do you know if you like something or not if you haven’t even tried them?
There was not one iota of interest.
I could see this was going to be a battle, so we doused them in butter, a favorite of Trent’s. He would eat the whole stick if you let him. And nope. Nothing.
Stinker!
And then I had a brainstorm. Ding, ding, ding! Money. I know, I know. You’re thinking, you didn’t! Next to using candy,it has got to be the most shameful way of coercing a kid to do something that I can think of, but I was DESPERATE to win this time. I kept thinking if I can just get the damn bean in his mouth he’ll like it and then I’ll never have to do this again and he’ll be begging for beans all the time!
I whip out my wallet and wave a dollar in front of his eyes.
“I’ll give you one dollar if you eat that bean.” Bingo! I had his attention!
“Really?” he said with reluctance, but a twinkle in his eyes that said I had his interest piqued.
”Let’s make it two dollars.” I said. Eyes open wider!
“Hmmmm……” he says.
“Three.” I add.
“Three dollars AND dessert!” he countered. What the hell is this? Let’s Make a Deal?
So I agree to this little arrangement.
He picks up the bean, still loaded in butter, and holds it in front of his mouth with apprehension, and yet he wants the money. So he pops it in his mouth.
I’m thinking YES! This is it! This is the moment! I am SO smart!
Yeah. WhatEVER.
The bean is not even in his mouth all the way and the gag starts coming. And out pops the bean into his napkin and the tears start.
“SEE!” he shouts at me, “I HATE beans!”
And I lose again. And there is the guilt, because he really didn’t get dessert. And I feel mean. But I can’t break the number one rule of parenting: Never, ever go back on a threat. I threatened the dessert. I had to follow through and I hated it.
But do you know what he said to me?
“I don’t want dessert anyway. I’m not hungry anymore.”
Bad mommy…..*sigh*
Over the last couple of months I have shamelessly bragged commented several times about how much I am enjoying being a stay at home mom while my kids are at school. I have been seriously taking advantage of the freedom I have acquired doing all of the things that I used to make fun of stay at home moms for being able to do. Must be NICE to be able to go get a pedicure and do your grocery shopping all. by. yourself. It is.
All of that came screeching to a halt this week when, in addition to the two days of tutoring I do during the week, I accepted six days in a row of substitute teaching. What the hell was I thinking? No gym? No errands all. by. myself? Damn! I have been spoiled. I actually got depressed the day before I was supposed to sub, knowing that I would not have a day to myself for about ten days!
I thought, when I decided to make myself available for subbing, that this would be so easy. I have been a teacher for sixteen years. I have always loved teaching. Outside of all the bullshit of dealing with the parents, report cards, conferences, administration, paperwork, etc. being with the kids was so much fun. I loved coming up with fun ways for them to learn something and seeing the lightbulb go on! And this is the same school that my kids attend, and also the school that I taught at for the last thirteen years. I mean, how hard can it be? I know subbing can be a challenge, but many, many of these kids know who I am and what kind of teacher I am. They know what I expect. They know my own kids.
Here’s what I have discovered: the truth is….none of those things matter very much. To kids. The truth is, very simply, you are NOT the regular teacher and so they absolutely MUST test you. It’s in their blood. They can’t help it. They simply cannot resist. And when you are not the regular teacher it is not all that much fun. There is not that much opportunity to come up with fun ways to learn.
One thing is for sure, I have a whole new respect for specialty teachers. A month ago I subbed for the art teacher for a week. For two days this week, I subbed for the librarian. She is AMAZING. She does all the librarian stuff AND teaches a full load of classes. Having always taught at grade level, I forgot how much energy it takes to switch from kindergarten to sixth grade in a matter of minutes. It’s been a good challenge for me, even if it is not that much fun. Even though I am not teaching a class full time, I can still push myself to grow as a teacher. I’d just rather not do it six days in a row.
I have loved getting hugs from my former students. I have loved seeing my own kids at school. I have loved seeing my teacher friends. All good things.
And these past two days, I subbed for the Spanish teacher. All of the spanish videos and music left me with a serious hankering for mexican food. I joked to Brett that I may have to stop at Taco Bell on my way home and was treated to a dinner of homemade fajitas and margaritas! Bonus!
Monday and Tuesday I am in fourth grade and we are taking a field trip.
After that I am free. It’ll just be me. All. by. Myself.
Ah, yes! I think remember what that is like…. ;>)
