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I have a desire for my thoughts and memories to always be readily available to my children.
Don’t you ever wonder what our legacies will be? If more than only our records will be kept? If our stories will be told? In an age of emails and texts that are quickly read and discarded, or blogs that are written and deleted and lost in server crashes, what are we keeping to remember our family members by? What are we holding on to? Passing on for our families to find a hundred years from now?
I am always the picture-taker in our family. I am the scrapbooker. I am the one who records moments, big or small, that make us a family. However, I don’t always know the stories to write them down.
I've been wondering about the lives of those ancestors who are a part of my story. I want to know more about my grandparents... not just my memories of them, not just the documents that show where they came from, but the stories that shaped them into who they became. I’m wondering about my grandparents with many “greats” before their titles. Where did they come from? What were their struggles, their joys, their interests? Did they love to sing and dance and read like me? Did I miss the gene that made them good at math and cooking? Did they have dreams that were too big for their lifetimes, or did they accomplish things in their lifetimes that were bigger than their dreams?
As much as I want to know the facts, I want to know the stories.
It makes me want to start digging, even though I have no idea where to start. What about you? Do you know your history? Your lineage? Your ancestors stories? And have you made sure that you’re telling your own?!?!?
I have been struggling with my THREE-YEAR olds addiction to Super Mario Brothers on the Wii for several weeks now. It's ALL he EVER wants to do. A small Wii-addicted monster has been created. I have always been against too many video games or too much television viewing or too much of any type of electronic engaging. Not because I am anti-technology. On the contrary, I love all of the conveniences technology offers, but whatever happened to children just running around outside from dawn to dusk?! Getting fresh air, playing pirates and whatever else strikes their imaginative fancy? So, I was greatly amused when I read this blog posting from Sushi & Pizza.
To Wii or Not To Wii
To Wii, or not to Wii: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler as a parent to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous pleading,
Or to take arms against a TV of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To spurn—to scorn,
No more; and by scorning to say we end
The twitches and the thousand natural tics
That kids are prone to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To spurn, to scorn;
To scorn, perchance to play — ay, there's the rub:
For in that rejection of video games what envy may come,
When we have played Guitar Hero with friends,
This must give us pause—there's the fun
That can bond a family while strumming "Livin' On a Prayer."
For who could blame the parents who would join
Their children in revelry and laughter
As the adoring crowds applaud the avatar to Star Power!
The mirth of play, and the merrymaking
That patient dexterity of hand and eye!
Oh, what then when Rock Band calls to you?
Not only guitars, but drums and microphone join
To make music and fun together as a group!
But that the dread of something after playing--
The tantrums, the craziness, the hyperactivity which,
When endured, can cause the parents' hair to grey.
The refusal to settle down and sleep in a room
From whose bourn no parent well escapes, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience (together with economic recession)
Does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great fun and merrymaking
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the act of purchase.
To Wii or Not To Wii?
Daylight Savings Time is just something I take for granted. I have never given it much thought -- except to praise the extra hour of sleep in the autumn and curse the lost hour of sleep each spring. However, I have recently become curious.
Fast forward to today. I am standing inside the bank at the teller counter with Gracie and her younger brother making a deposit. Gracie, who was previously playing shy with the chatty teller, suddenly yells out at the top of her healthy lungs . . .Don’t you hate it when you look back on an interaction with your child and find yourself wishing you’d handled it differently? Lately I’m finding myself in this situation a lot with my four year old, "Little G".
For example: a few days ago, Little G had a complete meltdown because when she asked for another child in the family, I said no.
“But it’s not fair!” G crossed her arms, wrinkled her nose and yelled out her protest at the top of her tiny, but healthy, lungs. Then the tears began to flow. “I want someone else to be the smallest,” she continued. She stomped her feet and kept her eyes on mine to see if she would get a reaction.
Truth be told, she does have a younger sibling... D is 14-months younger than she is, but because she is such a peanut, her bro is a couple of inches taller than she is and at least 3-5 pounds heavier.
Now on any given day, G tends to suffer through at least six or seven monstrous injustices. Each of these is met with the level of drama she believes to be appropriate, meaning as much as drama as she can possibly muster. So when I didn’t rise to her bait on the topic of bringing another child into the family, she took it to the next level: her mouth opened and her eyes screwed up tight, she dragged herself from the kitchen, into the living room and let loose full-throated wails of misery.
No, I didn’t give a millimeter on that new child thing.
Later, however, after G had gone to bed, I recalled her complaint and I empathized. Not about the request itself, which is obviously not her decision (!), but about the feelings that led to it. I can imagine that it must be tough to always be the smallest in the family, the least competent in many areas (when compared to her 3 older sisters), the one who gets scared more easily than anyone else, and so on. When I had the chance to think about it, I could see that being in that position day after day would be difficult and G might actually deserve some sympathy and TLC to make her feel better.
But G got neither sympathy nor TLC from me. Instead, she received a show of complete indifference, because her method of delivering her message was so obnoxious, so rude, and so oft-repeated that I couldn’t get past it to see the legitimate, hurt feelings behind her attitude.
What’s wrong with this picture? Aren’t I supposed to be the grown-up here?
As I’ve mentioned before, G is a bona-fide drama queen who can over-emote in any situation, turn ANY minor mishap into a volcanic, lava-strewn, the-world-is-ending, Armageddon situation. She’s got the whole adolescent thing down-pat already and she isn’t even five yet. (When I say that I’m terrified of her tween and teen years, I’m probably understating my feelings.) In short, she launches into her the-world-is-ending routine and I tune her out, over and over again.
I guess I need to reconsider how I am handling these situations. My daughter’s having the temper-tantrums, but I need to do a better job, too. I’m the grown-up; damn, now I need to act like one...
Funky pictures that my sister doctored up with her spectacular mobile phone. For the love all things holy... we were obviously extremely bored ON A FRIDAY NIGHT.
I guess some business owners think they have a sense of humor... The below messages were found on public business' signs.
In a podiatrist's office:
'Time wounds all heels.'
On a septic tank truck:
'Yesterday's Meals on Wheels'
On another septic tank truck:
'Caution - This Truck is full of Political Promises'
On a Plumber's truck:
'We repair what your husband fixed.'
On another Plumber's truck:
'Don't sleep with a drip. Call your plumber.'
At a tire store:
'Invite us to your next blowout.'
On an electrician's truck:
'Let us remove your shorts.'
In a non-smoking area:
'If we see smoke, we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action.'
On a maternity room door:
'Push. Push. Push.'
At an optometrist's office:
'If you don't see what you're looking for, you've come to the right place.'
On a private home's fence:
'Salesmen welcome! Dog food is expensive!'
At a car dealership:
'The best way to get back on your feet - miss a car payment.'
Outside a Car Exhaust Store:
'No appointment necessary. We hear you coming.'
In the front yard of a Funeral Home:
'Drive carefully. We'll wait.'
