...and i'm hoping it's only here for a visit and not to stay.
i rushed out the house today because a. i wasn't carpooling and therefore had to get on the road immediately or miss that tiny window of no-traffic opportunity on the 10 freeway and b. i wanted to avoid the MIL. in the process, i breezed past a whiny, needy aly and a solicitous, wistful dylan in my haste to GET THE HELL OUT.
if it's not yet apparent, reason b was the primary reason for my mad dash for freedom. we've been at odds for the past 2 days now and, being women, we have perfected the art of civil silent treatment. i know i can keep this up indefinitely - our house is big enough - but the kids get caught inadvertently in the crossfire and that's what's bringing on the guilt.
stupid prodigal emotion. thought i'd gotten rid of it several lents ago.
anyhow, my levels of guilt are legion, but for the sake of brevity and because i have to let the kids in in less than 15 minutes, let me just highlight the most heart-piercing (although, oddly, also the most seemingly petty) incident of guilt inducement...
dylan has this routine where he stands in front of the garage door - or the front door, depending on which point of egress i choose that day - and seeing me off for work. he's done this since he was little, ostensibly to "watch my wheels go", but nowadays i wonder what goes on in his little man brain. he always looks so wistful, like he wants to go wherever i'm going but knows it's not possible. most times, we've gotten ready at the same time so he's dressed and primped and opens the car door for me, suffering a quick kiss on the head if the boys have come to pick me up and tolerating a hug when i drive myself. sometimes, i leave early and he's still in his underwear so he stops short of the driveway and just watches me leave for the day. regardless, he always expects me to roll down the window, call out "have a good day; i love you!" then give him a honk of the horn before i zoom off. (i've even trained the boys to give him the honk when they pick me up for carpool).
today, it was the same routine, albeit rushed because of the aforementioned reasons. nothing new. same old, same old. right? but dylan actually picked up my rolling cart so it would clear the threshold on my way out. and he actually hugged me back when i asked for one instead of impatiently standing there as is his wont. and when i told him it was GNO (girls' night out), he looked so crestfallen that i almost half-decided to call and cancel.
so, yeah. that's it. i pull out of the driveway and head out - yes, i honked - and it seemed very normal. but something was plucking at my heartstrings and when i examined it during the long drive alone to work, it articulated itself thusly: dylan is a boy. and he will outgrow his "momma's boy" phase soon, never to return to that simpler, sweeter place. in fact, i realize now that he's already been pulling away from me. it's been a gradual process, as most things are, but it's happening nonetheless. i told myself i was relieved that now it's "greg's turn" when dyl chose to hang with his dad instead of going to the mall with me, or happy that i got to spend uninterrupted "girl time" with aly. but in truth, i wasn't really happy or relieved - i was in denial, trying to bury the ache of losing my son under these less painful emotions.
when this particular epiphany hit - somewhere between the milliken and haven exits - i was crushed with the guilt of rushing out of the house without spending a few, precious moments savoring that hug or complimenting dyl's chivalrous lifting of my rolly cart. how many more times will this happen before he becomes too cool for mom? before he decides sleeping in is infinitely more rewarding than standing in front of the garage door, shivering in his underwear, to see me off? when will he become sullen and closed off and refuse "sleepovers" in his bedroll at the foot of our bed because that's for babies?
these questions may seem petty and premature, but can you blame me for trying to guard my heart from shattering? because it's inevitable, you know. a mother's curse. i can only hope that when it happens - the vanishing of my baby boy - i will be able to replace him gladly with the man i hope he becomes.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Friday, September 16, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
i HAVE to blog about this!
OMFG! LMAO! yes, yes, i know. how dare i blaspheme the english language by invoking netspeak? but those are the knee-jerk reactions that express how i truly felt after reading this (i think she had me at "teacher/mother"):
26 of 30 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Will Meyer sue for copyright infringement?, November 13, 2010
By S. McKinney (Indiana)
This review is from: Evermore: The Immortals (Paperback)
Sometimes I wish I hadn't decided to become a teacher. I'm very glad to be the mother of two daughters, but the double-whammy of teacher/mother means that I feel like I need to read the books the kids are reading so that I'll be able to offer considered opinions.
With the Harry Potter series, it was all a delight. The Series of Unfortunate Events was clever satire and fun to read. Thankfully my students and my daughters were too old for Percy Jackson and the Olympians, but then I got stuck with the Twilight books and spent a lot of time wanting to eat my own head, they were so incredibly fundamentally awful.
And now I get to read them again! With different character names, to be sure. And in these Immortals books, we are now dealing with, well, immortal beings rather than vampires. But honestly? Everything else is exactly the same. Even the cover of the book is a blatant rip-off -- there's even a similar FONT STYLE.
In Evermore, we have a girl with an evocative name (I still haven't stopped rolling my eyes over "Bella Swan," and now I have to deal with "Ever" and I may never get my eyeballs back to where they should be and that was only, like, the FIRST PAGE.) The girl with the evocative name has to move across the country to live with an adult who is completely incompetent in the care of a teenager, but that's okay because the girl has no need of supervision. She is a woman of the world. Luckily for Ever, her weird lawyer auntie is rich, so Ever gets to drive a speedy little Miata instead of a rusty old truck AND she gets to live in a cool mansion in a gated Orange Beach community instead of in Charlie Swan's dumpy house in damp Forks, Washington. You should note that both vehicles are red, though.
Ever is also more fortunate in that she does have a couple of friends, but they're losers in the out crowd (we take a brief foray here into ripping off The Princess Diaries) and she feels as much veiled contempt for them as Bella feels for the young folk of Forks.
And then a NEW BOY shows up at school. Everyone is just flat-out crazy about him. He's obviously wealthy, has looks that could shame Adonis, is brilliant at all subjects without the apparent need to study, is mysterious, is hot and cool by turns (which drives Ever nuts - too bad she wasn't able to read the Twilight series in her world; she could have dealt with Damen's nonsense with a snap of her fingers.) And strangely enough, despite the fact that there is nothing special about Ever, he is immediately and irrevocably attracted to her.
We have to hear a lot about how awesomely awesome-tastic Damen looks. A LOT. Not quite as much as we had to hear about flipping Edward. Alyson Noel managed to restrain herself from telling us about the sweet fabulousness of Damen's breath, a small mercy for which I was very thankful.
A bunch of stuff happens, but if you've read Twilight, you already know the plot. There are parts that make sense and parts that make no sense at all and the message of the book really sucks -- lots of underage drinking and drunkenness, lots of lying to authority figures, lots of cutting school; like Twilight, it's a list of Things Teenagers Can Do to Eff Up Their Lives, only of course there are never, ever, ever any consequences. Noel threw in some reincarnation and some chakras and some transcendental meditation and....a psychic? Hmm. Okay, whatever. Anyway, she tried to throw us off the Twilight scent, but we all have that stench coating the inside of our noses and we can recognize it from miles away, as far from Washington state to southern California, I'd say. Wouldn't you?
26 of 30 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Will Meyer sue for copyright infringement?, November 13, 2010
By S. McKinney (Indiana)
This review is from: Evermore: The Immortals (Paperback)
Sometimes I wish I hadn't decided to become a teacher. I'm very glad to be the mother of two daughters, but the double-whammy of teacher/mother means that I feel like I need to read the books the kids are reading so that I'll be able to offer considered opinions.
With the Harry Potter series, it was all a delight. The Series of Unfortunate Events was clever satire and fun to read. Thankfully my students and my daughters were too old for Percy Jackson and the Olympians, but then I got stuck with the Twilight books and spent a lot of time wanting to eat my own head, they were so incredibly fundamentally awful.
And now I get to read them again! With different character names, to be sure. And in these Immortals books, we are now dealing with, well, immortal beings rather than vampires. But honestly? Everything else is exactly the same. Even the cover of the book is a blatant rip-off -- there's even a similar FONT STYLE.
In Evermore, we have a girl with an evocative name (I still haven't stopped rolling my eyes over "Bella Swan," and now I have to deal with "Ever" and I may never get my eyeballs back to where they should be and that was only, like, the FIRST PAGE.) The girl with the evocative name has to move across the country to live with an adult who is completely incompetent in the care of a teenager, but that's okay because the girl has no need of supervision. She is a woman of the world. Luckily for Ever, her weird lawyer auntie is rich, so Ever gets to drive a speedy little Miata instead of a rusty old truck AND she gets to live in a cool mansion in a gated Orange Beach community instead of in Charlie Swan's dumpy house in damp Forks, Washington. You should note that both vehicles are red, though.
Ever is also more fortunate in that she does have a couple of friends, but they're losers in the out crowd (we take a brief foray here into ripping off The Princess Diaries) and she feels as much veiled contempt for them as Bella feels for the young folk of Forks.
And then a NEW BOY shows up at school. Everyone is just flat-out crazy about him. He's obviously wealthy, has looks that could shame Adonis, is brilliant at all subjects without the apparent need to study, is mysterious, is hot and cool by turns (which drives Ever nuts - too bad she wasn't able to read the Twilight series in her world; she could have dealt with Damen's nonsense with a snap of her fingers.) And strangely enough, despite the fact that there is nothing special about Ever, he is immediately and irrevocably attracted to her.
We have to hear a lot about how awesomely awesome-tastic Damen looks. A LOT. Not quite as much as we had to hear about flipping Edward. Alyson Noel managed to restrain herself from telling us about the sweet fabulousness of Damen's breath, a small mercy for which I was very thankful.
A bunch of stuff happens, but if you've read Twilight, you already know the plot. There are parts that make sense and parts that make no sense at all and the message of the book really sucks -- lots of underage drinking and drunkenness, lots of lying to authority figures, lots of cutting school; like Twilight, it's a list of Things Teenagers Can Do to Eff Up Their Lives, only of course there are never, ever, ever any consequences. Noel threw in some reincarnation and some chakras and some transcendental meditation and....a psychic? Hmm. Okay, whatever. Anyway, she tried to throw us off the Twilight scent, but we all have that stench coating the inside of our noses and we can recognize it from miles away, as far from Washington state to southern California, I'd say. Wouldn't you?
Sunday, August 21, 2011
why i had children
ME: (standing in front of the mirror in my underclothes, jiggling my belly)
ALY: That's your muffin top.
ME: (sighing mournfully) I know, right?
ALY: Don't be sad, Mom. You got that from us, right? So that's just where you keep all your love.
kids say the darndest things. :)
ALY: That's your muffin top.
ME: (sighing mournfully) I know, right?
ALY: Don't be sad, Mom. You got that from us, right? So that's just where you keep all your love.
kids say the darndest things. :)
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
pinkberry is my new crack
as per usual, i get to jump on the bandwagon after everyone else has gotten off. but that's okay; more room for me.
ahhhh, pinkberry! where have you been all my life? i love the simplicity of your original flavor...
but the mango flavor is such a burst of yummy swartness/tweetness (sweet/tart) in my mouth.
and let's not forget that most delectable, indescribable unity of salt and sweet that is salted caramel.
i have yet to partake of the other seasonal flavors (watermelon, chocolate and pomegranate) but you can be sure that i shall frequent your establishment at least once a week from now on and not one flavor will go untasted.
as starbucks is to most, so shall pinkberry be to me. my pocketbook bemoans its fate but my taste buds will not be denied.
i wonder if i can strongly suggest pinkberry gift cards from my students for christmas and teacher appreciation day?
ahhhh, pinkberry! where have you been all my life? i love the simplicity of your original flavor...
but the mango flavor is such a burst of yummy swartness/tweetness (sweet/tart) in my mouth.
and let's not forget that most delectable, indescribable unity of salt and sweet that is salted caramel.
as starbucks is to most, so shall pinkberry be to me. my pocketbook bemoans its fate but my taste buds will not be denied.
i wonder if i can strongly suggest pinkberry gift cards from my students for christmas and teacher appreciation day?
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
heartache comes cheaply
dylan lost his wallet today. or perhaps it was yesterday. regardless, we found out that he'd lost it today, so we mark the date as such. he's currently sitting on the couch, drowning his sorrows in spongebob. he told me that he "doesn't feel like talking right now because i'm sad. maybe i'll feel better tomorrow and i'll talk then."
this broke my heart just a little and i wanted so much to tell him that it was gonna be okay and that i'd replace his wallet and the money in it, but the teacher/lesson giver/miser in me rebelled against being his enabler and i stood firm. i shook my head, said i was sorry, and left it at that. i wonder if i did the right thing.
i don't want to fall into the habit of bailing my kids out. i want them to learn - even if the hard way - that life isn't fair or easy, and that things won't be handed to them all the time. but it's still tough for me to watch his sad, little face out of the corner of my eye.
that's the mom in me, i guess.
sadly, i'm not just a mom. i'm also a soriente. and that means that i'm just as mad as i am sad. i'm mad at dylan for being careless and irresponsible. i'm furious at him for losing seven whole dollars. i know, right? seven bucks. give the kid a break. but seven dollars was half of the build-a-bear toy we were gonna buy tomorrow for our last "adventure thursday". or it could've been seven toys from the dollar bin at target that i didn't need to buy the next time we went. or it could've been candy or vending machine treats or slurpees or any of the other myriad things that tend to add up when i go out with the kids and which i've started making them pay me back for when i buy them. (that was a poorly-constructed sentence but i'm writing this on the sly - dylan keeps passing by now and looking over my shoulder - so forgive the lapse).
so, yeah. i'm conflicted as hell and i feel like a terrible person. but this, too, shall pass. i know this. and hopefully dylan'll learn to pay more attention and be more careful in the future. and hopefully i'll be able to reassure myself that seven dollars now is a helluva lot cheaper than hundreds in the future.
this broke my heart just a little and i wanted so much to tell him that it was gonna be okay and that i'd replace his wallet and the money in it, but the teacher/lesson giver/miser in me rebelled against being his enabler and i stood firm. i shook my head, said i was sorry, and left it at that. i wonder if i did the right thing.
i don't want to fall into the habit of bailing my kids out. i want them to learn - even if the hard way - that life isn't fair or easy, and that things won't be handed to them all the time. but it's still tough for me to watch his sad, little face out of the corner of my eye.
that's the mom in me, i guess.
sadly, i'm not just a mom. i'm also a soriente. and that means that i'm just as mad as i am sad. i'm mad at dylan for being careless and irresponsible. i'm furious at him for losing seven whole dollars. i know, right? seven bucks. give the kid a break. but seven dollars was half of the build-a-bear toy we were gonna buy tomorrow for our last "adventure thursday". or it could've been seven toys from the dollar bin at target that i didn't need to buy the next time we went. or it could've been candy or vending machine treats or slurpees or any of the other myriad things that tend to add up when i go out with the kids and which i've started making them pay me back for when i buy them. (that was a poorly-constructed sentence but i'm writing this on the sly - dylan keeps passing by now and looking over my shoulder - so forgive the lapse).
so, yeah. i'm conflicted as hell and i feel like a terrible person. but this, too, shall pass. i know this. and hopefully dylan'll learn to pay more attention and be more careful in the future. and hopefully i'll be able to reassure myself that seven dollars now is a helluva lot cheaper than hundreds in the future.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
holy seventh ring of hell, batman!
or why i'm up at 3 am right now. -_-
so i'm over at my mom's house because i promised my sister i would help her with her garage sale. several things are already inherently wrong with that statement: namely, "sister" and "help". basically, she didn't come home from work until 6:30 in the evening and then proceeded to empty out her closet of all her clothes. so yeah. she wasn't even *close* to being ready for this thing. and we'd planned it for three weeks. and if you think that's not such a big deal...
yep. that's the fallout from all the purging we did of her closet. and that's not even all the hangers. imagine the piles we had.
still, you might be thinking, gentle reader, that this shouldn't have taken so long, much less warrant a post subject title like the one above.
but wait! there's more.
so we cleaned out her closet. it's now 8-ish pm and the kids are ready for bed. it's their normal bed time. but uncle mark has decided that i needed to do an interview with this financial planner guy. basically, mark is apprenticing with this company and this was his "training". initially, when he pitched the idea to me, i thought he would be giving me this spiel, and informally at that. but, no! at 9pm, this man in a suit comes and proceeds to give me this soft sell about either a. investing in this company and/or b. working for this company in some pyramid-ish, ponzi-like scheme thing.
by the time he was done, it was 10. my kids are shattered. and my mom has no good cable channels or fast wi fi so they're tired and bored. to give them credit, they're not whiny or cranky, but i'm feeling guilty as hell. i dismiss the man as politely as i could and hurry the kids to bed.
then the fun begins.
i brought my normal sleeping clothes - flannel monkey pjs coz we all know my hubby keeps our house at freezing arctic temperatures - but i forgot that my mom loves to conserve energy and money so she has her temp set at 80. EIGHTY FRICKIN' DEGREES, PEOPLE! and i have flannel pajamas! and i'm sleeping in a bed next to dutch oven aly.
I CAN'T FRICKIN' SLEEP LIKE THIS!
aly also grinds her teeth. argh!!!!
but that's not the end of it. guess who's up with me? dylan. he's a bit homesick. and he's been getting up every 30 minutes or so - bathroom, water, etc. - so just when i think i can fall into a dozy, exhausted, sweaty sleep, dylan wakes me up and we start the process all over again.
finally, i just get up and decide that it's much cooler in the living room anyway and so, here i am. blogging at the butt crack of dawn, knowing i have to get up in less than 5 hours to set up for this blasted garage sale that's probably not even gonna pan out or earn us any money worth this hell because we're so disorganized.
i need coffee. and i would just get up and grab some starbucks or even 24-hour mcdonalds crap but i don't have the code to the alarm and am trapped here.
and dylan is eating pepperoni pizza, reading over my shoulder.
i am in the seventh ring of hell.
and this was supposed to be a fun, cheery post about our camping trip.
oh, well. better luck next time...
p.s. did i mention that earlier today - or yesterday now, i guess - i had already spent a long, hot, gross day knee deep in algae cleaning our inflatable pool? FML.
so i'm over at my mom's house because i promised my sister i would help her with her garage sale. several things are already inherently wrong with that statement: namely, "sister" and "help". basically, she didn't come home from work until 6:30 in the evening and then proceeded to empty out her closet of all her clothes. so yeah. she wasn't even *close* to being ready for this thing. and we'd planned it for three weeks. and if you think that's not such a big deal...
yep. that's the fallout from all the purging we did of her closet. and that's not even all the hangers. imagine the piles we had.
still, you might be thinking, gentle reader, that this shouldn't have taken so long, much less warrant a post subject title like the one above.
but wait! there's more.
so we cleaned out her closet. it's now 8-ish pm and the kids are ready for bed. it's their normal bed time. but uncle mark has decided that i needed to do an interview with this financial planner guy. basically, mark is apprenticing with this company and this was his "training". initially, when he pitched the idea to me, i thought he would be giving me this spiel, and informally at that. but, no! at 9pm, this man in a suit comes and proceeds to give me this soft sell about either a. investing in this company and/or b. working for this company in some pyramid-ish, ponzi-like scheme thing.
by the time he was done, it was 10. my kids are shattered. and my mom has no good cable channels or fast wi fi so they're tired and bored. to give them credit, they're not whiny or cranky, but i'm feeling guilty as hell. i dismiss the man as politely as i could and hurry the kids to bed.
then the fun begins.
i brought my normal sleeping clothes - flannel monkey pjs coz we all know my hubby keeps our house at freezing arctic temperatures - but i forgot that my mom loves to conserve energy and money so she has her temp set at 80. EIGHTY FRICKIN' DEGREES, PEOPLE! and i have flannel pajamas! and i'm sleeping in a bed next to dutch oven aly.
I CAN'T FRICKIN' SLEEP LIKE THIS!
aly also grinds her teeth. argh!!!!
but that's not the end of it. guess who's up with me? dylan. he's a bit homesick. and he's been getting up every 30 minutes or so - bathroom, water, etc. - so just when i think i can fall into a dozy, exhausted, sweaty sleep, dylan wakes me up and we start the process all over again.
finally, i just get up and decide that it's much cooler in the living room anyway and so, here i am. blogging at the butt crack of dawn, knowing i have to get up in less than 5 hours to set up for this blasted garage sale that's probably not even gonna pan out or earn us any money worth this hell because we're so disorganized.
i need coffee. and i would just get up and grab some starbucks or even 24-hour mcdonalds crap but i don't have the code to the alarm and am trapped here.
and dylan is eating pepperoni pizza, reading over my shoulder.
i am in the seventh ring of hell.
and this was supposed to be a fun, cheery post about our camping trip.
oh, well. better luck next time...
p.s. did i mention that earlier today - or yesterday now, i guess - i had already spent a long, hot, gross day knee deep in algae cleaning our inflatable pool? FML.
Monday, July 25, 2011
of puppies and precociousness
the other day, my MIL got a phone call from florida. a man asked to speak with dylan. my MIL answered cautiously that no, dylan wasn't available but this is his grandmother. what can i do for you? at this point, the man asked how old dylan was and when she answered "eight", he began laughing uproariously. then he proceeded to tell her that he was a pomeranian breeder and that dylan had placed an online order for a pup, filling out all the relevant contact info but just leaving blank the payment info. of course, he said, he couldn't hold dylan to the contract since he wasn't 18 or older but that my MIL should be porud of having an eight-year-old smart enough to do all that.
imagine if my son had a hold of my credit card numbers. 0_0
i dunno whether to be proud or terrified.
imagine if my son had a hold of my credit card numbers. 0_0
i dunno whether to be proud or terrified.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Texas Study Raises Questions About Impact of School Discipline
i know that most news is bad news because, really, how many people would tune on or stop to read happy things (unless it's a boom in the economy and a lowering of taxes)? but every time something about education comes up in the media, i become alternately outraged and/or ashamed and/or fearful and/or all of the above, both as an educator and as a parent. here's yet another in a string of news bits. thanks, lisa, for giving me more provocative summer reading.
Texas Study Raises Questions About Impact of School Discipline - NYTimes.com
Texas Study Raises Questions About Impact of School Discipline - NYTimes.com
Sunday, July 17, 2011
you grow wise, young padawan...
i was gonna wax contemplative regarding that last harry potter flick, it being a seminal part of our common culture and being the end of said seminal part and all. but the longer i wait, the more removed i feel and to poke at it now would be tempting fate. (for those of you in the know, you'll remember that i tend to obsess and obsess *hard* over things - can we say "pearl harbor" and 1940s vintage clothing? - and i fear prodding the beast that is/was my HP obsession would be dooming my family to non-mommyhood).
instead, i give you a response to this post of mine by one of my best and brightest. introducing ciku gachiri, former student and current friend:
I just read your post and not only was it a delight to read but absolutely, positively, 100% correct. That's what Tumblr is. A long-form social networking site and by long form I mean it's merely a longer form of people's status bars on Facebook. It's not better, just longer. Your whole thing about punctuation, grammar, etc was also spot on. I was *just* having this conversation at work, actually. It drives me up the wall whenever I read misspellings and oh gawd, bad grammar. I even die a little when I read a typo because it's usually something that if read through JUST ONCE could be fixed! But hey, nobody rereads their work, right? I can't say I'm a saint when it comes to spelling, grammar, punctuation, etc. but at least I try. *At least* I reread through my work whether it be a text, a blog, an email or whatever. Yes, it takes me 10x longer than the average person to send something that should be "instant" (i.e. this very email) but I like to think the quality is a little higher than the average person's too. Though I must add, I'm a little obsessive. Lord knows how many times I've combed through past posts on my Blogspot to correct spelling and typos or change around sentences to make them sound better. It's not like anyone is going to go back and read them but it feels better once I do it. Like now, all is right with the world. Sigh. I blame my parents.
I just wish people cared a little more about what they sent out for the world to read. Now again, I have been guilty on numerous occasions (especially this past quarter in my creative writing class. Oh goodness...) of turning in assignments without having even skimmed through them. The main reason is lack of time (I save things until the last minute) but another strong reason is lack of caring. I didn't care. And I feel like most of society is the same. They don't care how it sounds, if anything is spelled wrong or if they used "effect" instead of "affect" but rather that you got the message. All that matters is that you get the gist of what the person is saying. I blame this on our "I want it now!" culture. For the most part, I love it! Who doesn't like dinner in 3 minutes thanks to the microwave or communication with an entire office in 1 minute thanks to email or being able to chat with a friend in 1 second thanks to texts? But for every good there is a bad and I think you're right, everything is only as good as the next tidbit or soundbite.
As creepy as Mr. Ruiz was (and perhaps still is) I remember him mentioning how when we type, we type with so many typos that are automatically corrected or revealed to us by that red squiggly line that when we write by hand we have the same number of typos, misspellings, etc. but never go back to change them. This left Mr. Ruiz with paper after paper ridden with errors and our generation with atrocious spelling that we think is alright. He then said he wished we had to use typewriters (like he's even old enough to have used one...) because with that, no typos/misspellings were allowed. If you made just one mistake, Bam! You had to rip out the paper and start all over again. His theory was that spelling was a lot better back then than it is now because of the typewriter and although at the time I just quickly nodded my head so he could leave us alone and stop berating my generation, after some time I couldn't help but agree with what he was saying. Because of this, I unfortunately do not believe writing will go back to the way it was.
Unless writing is confined to only the elites who have nothing but an ink pad and paper or even worse, stone to chisel, and all other forms of "showing" are erased (i.e. television, movies, pictures) writing for the masses will never again be beautifully detailed, elegant, and sanstypos. Could you imagine Shakespeare coming out with *any* of his work today? It'd be thrown out! "What's all this about comparing Juliet's beauty to a rose? Just say she's beautiful!" Not to mention no one would understand it. I know you know even the peasants understood his plays. Now writing for the masses is geared towards an 8th grade reading level and even that is a joke. Pole a sample of 8th graders and I'm sure we'd be disappointed at best by the results.
Maybe I'm just being pessimistic but I think writing is only going to get worse. That means people like you just have to continue writing the way you do and pray that it catches on. If not beautiful prose, at least we'd live in a world where slang in an email to a teacher was considered vile, thinking "puppy" was a verb led to jail time and writing using cApiTaL aNd lOwErCaSe LeTtErS aLoNg w1tH nUmb3rS caused a person to be ostracized by society and forced to live in Siberia or the Sahara desert where no one knew of their crime.
That Edwards is a world I would love to live in.
instead, i give you a response to this post of mine by one of my best and brightest. introducing ciku gachiri, former student and current friend:
I just read your post and not only was it a delight to read but absolutely, positively, 100% correct. That's what Tumblr is. A long-form social networking site and by long form I mean it's merely a longer form of people's status bars on Facebook. It's not better, just longer. Your whole thing about punctuation, grammar, etc was also spot on. I was *just* having this conversation at work, actually. It drives me up the wall whenever I read misspellings and oh gawd, bad grammar. I even die a little when I read a typo because it's usually something that if read through JUST ONCE could be fixed! But hey, nobody rereads their work, right? I can't say I'm a saint when it comes to spelling, grammar, punctuation, etc. but at least I try. *At least* I reread through my work whether it be a text, a blog, an email or whatever. Yes, it takes me 10x longer than the average person to send something that should be "instant" (i.e. this very email) but I like to think the quality is a little higher than the average person's too. Though I must add, I'm a little obsessive. Lord knows how many times I've combed through past posts on my Blogspot to correct spelling and typos or change around sentences to make them sound better. It's not like anyone is going to go back and read them but it feels better once I do it. Like now, all is right with the world. Sigh. I blame my parents.
I just wish people cared a little more about what they sent out for the world to read. Now again, I have been guilty on numerous occasions (especially this past quarter in my creative writing class. Oh goodness...) of turning in assignments without having even skimmed through them. The main reason is lack of time (I save things until the last minute) but another strong reason is lack of caring. I didn't care. And I feel like most of society is the same. They don't care how it sounds, if anything is spelled wrong or if they used "effect" instead of "affect" but rather that you got the message. All that matters is that you get the gist of what the person is saying. I blame this on our "I want it now!" culture. For the most part, I love it! Who doesn't like dinner in 3 minutes thanks to the microwave or communication with an entire office in 1 minute thanks to email or being able to chat with a friend in 1 second thanks to texts? But for every good there is a bad and I think you're right, everything is only as good as the next tidbit or soundbite.
As creepy as Mr. Ruiz was (and perhaps still is) I remember him mentioning how when we type, we type with so many typos that are automatically corrected or revealed to us by that red squiggly line that when we write by hand we have the same number of typos, misspellings, etc. but never go back to change them. This left Mr. Ruiz with paper after paper ridden with errors and our generation with atrocious spelling that we think is alright. He then said he wished we had to use typewriters (like he's even old enough to have used one...) because with that, no typos/misspellings were allowed. If you made just one mistake, Bam! You had to rip out the paper and start all over again. His theory was that spelling was a lot better back then than it is now because of the typewriter and although at the time I just quickly nodded my head so he could leave us alone and stop berating my generation, after some time I couldn't help but agree with what he was saying. Because of this, I unfortunately do not believe writing will go back to the way it was.
Unless writing is confined to only the elites who have nothing but an ink pad and paper or even worse, stone to chisel, and all other forms of "showing" are erased (i.e. television, movies, pictures) writing for the masses will never again be beautifully detailed, elegant, and sanstypos. Could you imagine Shakespeare coming out with *any* of his work today? It'd be thrown out! "What's all this about comparing Juliet's beauty to a rose? Just say she's beautiful!" Not to mention no one would understand it. I know you know even the peasants understood his plays. Now writing for the masses is geared towards an 8th grade reading level and even that is a joke. Pole a sample of 8th graders and I'm sure we'd be disappointed at best by the results.
Maybe I'm just being pessimistic but I think writing is only going to get worse. That means people like you just have to continue writing the way you do and pray that it catches on. If not beautiful prose, at least we'd live in a world where slang in an email to a teacher was considered vile, thinking "puppy" was a verb led to jail time and writing using cApiTaL aNd lOwErCaSe LeTtErS aLoNg w1tH nUmb3rS caused a person to be ostracized by society and forced to live in Siberia or the Sahara desert where no one knew of their crime.
That Edwards is a world I would love to live in.
Friday, July 15, 2011
slacker mom confessionals
it's a balmy 77 degrees out. slight breeze. clear, blue skies. i have set my fold-out chair with attached fold-out canopy out in the driveway. my knitting basket is by me and i'm preparing to finish a few rounds while performing my dutiful mommy duty of watching my kids as they ride around on their bikes on the street.
about 40 stitches into my 4th row, i am regaled by stomping and pounding and a raising of voices that soon escalates into a full-blown screaming match. i'm counting stitches and i feel myself becoming irritated that i have to referee yet another fight between the kiddos, losing my count in the process.
then i remembered confessions of a slacker mom, a book i finished in the hour it took me to finally come down from my 2-shot frappucino high (3 o'clock in the morning, after having watched the midnight show of the last HP movie; more on that in a later post). and thus, thinking of the wise words of ms. mead-ferro, i simply sat in my fold-out chair, continued counting and knitting, and proceeded to let the little drama play itself out.
after not very long since the first angry remark, the two did indeed come running up to me, their little tattletale faces at the ready. i shook my head curtly and commanded them to "work things out" without looking up from my knitting. what followed next was a 20-minute exchange that i wish i could've captured with the school ipad. it was an oscar-worthy performance on both parts - every word fraught with righteous wrath, every inflection laced with outrage. as i listened, i was filled half with amusement and half with awe - sure, my children were screaming at the top of their lungs but it was what they were screaming at each other that was amazing. they sounded like two little adults, slinging well-articulated, SAT vocabulary-riddled sentences at each other like seasoned politicians. aly was using the power of pathos, invoking her hurt feelings; dylan was throwing around ethos, stating he needed to be listened to as the older brother. soon the two of them were at it with the logos of children, going back and forth with "well, you do this!" and "you do that too!" but they were still being very intelligent and logical about their arguments. it made my english major soul proud, i tell ya.
but it wasn't the precocious use of language that awed me. it was the end result. after 20 minutes of being banshees, my kids worked it out. all on their own. i'm not kidding. they hugged each other - gasp! - swore they'd never fight again, then came to me to announce their resolution with very sincere, determined expressions. sure, it took 20 minutes. sure, the whole neighborhood heard our business. sure, i probably looked like the most neglectful mother, just serenely sitting in a chair and knitting while world war three broke loose around me. but waiting paid off. i didn't have to raise my voice. i didn't have to worry about taking sides or hurting one or the other's feelings by doing so. i didn't have to stop what i was doing. the kids regulated themselves. i was practicing the art of slacker mom-hood, and whaddaya know? it worked.
i'm glad my MIL and my husband weren't around. it wouldn't have worked had they been because they wouldn't have let it go on for as long as i did; they would've interfered at the first sign of an altercation. at the risk of sounding judgy, i have to say that perhaps this iron-fisted, traditional, "grown ups know best" approach may not be the best solution all the time. it seems like it requires a lot of energy and effort on the grown ups' part, and it takes away the responsibility and problem solving ability away from the very people who should be owning up to both.
i dunno. to each his own. and i'm sure the mommies that read my blog will have loads to say about this. but damn if i don't feel energized and invigorated and proud of what i'd just witnessed. this slacker mom business may just revolutionize life for the edwards clan. at the very least, i'll be able to finish tons of knitting projects.
about 40 stitches into my 4th row, i am regaled by stomping and pounding and a raising of voices that soon escalates into a full-blown screaming match. i'm counting stitches and i feel myself becoming irritated that i have to referee yet another fight between the kiddos, losing my count in the process.
then i remembered confessions of a slacker mom, a book i finished in the hour it took me to finally come down from my 2-shot frappucino high (3 o'clock in the morning, after having watched the midnight show of the last HP movie; more on that in a later post). and thus, thinking of the wise words of ms. mead-ferro, i simply sat in my fold-out chair, continued counting and knitting, and proceeded to let the little drama play itself out.
after not very long since the first angry remark, the two did indeed come running up to me, their little tattletale faces at the ready. i shook my head curtly and commanded them to "work things out" without looking up from my knitting. what followed next was a 20-minute exchange that i wish i could've captured with the school ipad. it was an oscar-worthy performance on both parts - every word fraught with righteous wrath, every inflection laced with outrage. as i listened, i was filled half with amusement and half with awe - sure, my children were screaming at the top of their lungs but it was what they were screaming at each other that was amazing. they sounded like two little adults, slinging well-articulated, SAT vocabulary-riddled sentences at each other like seasoned politicians. aly was using the power of pathos, invoking her hurt feelings; dylan was throwing around ethos, stating he needed to be listened to as the older brother. soon the two of them were at it with the logos of children, going back and forth with "well, you do this!" and "you do that too!" but they were still being very intelligent and logical about their arguments. it made my english major soul proud, i tell ya.
but it wasn't the precocious use of language that awed me. it was the end result. after 20 minutes of being banshees, my kids worked it out. all on their own. i'm not kidding. they hugged each other - gasp! - swore they'd never fight again, then came to me to announce their resolution with very sincere, determined expressions. sure, it took 20 minutes. sure, the whole neighborhood heard our business. sure, i probably looked like the most neglectful mother, just serenely sitting in a chair and knitting while world war three broke loose around me. but waiting paid off. i didn't have to raise my voice. i didn't have to worry about taking sides or hurting one or the other's feelings by doing so. i didn't have to stop what i was doing. the kids regulated themselves. i was practicing the art of slacker mom-hood, and whaddaya know? it worked.
i'm glad my MIL and my husband weren't around. it wouldn't have worked had they been because they wouldn't have let it go on for as long as i did; they would've interfered at the first sign of an altercation. at the risk of sounding judgy, i have to say that perhaps this iron-fisted, traditional, "grown ups know best" approach may not be the best solution all the time. it seems like it requires a lot of energy and effort on the grown ups' part, and it takes away the responsibility and problem solving ability away from the very people who should be owning up to both.
i dunno. to each his own. and i'm sure the mommies that read my blog will have loads to say about this. but damn if i don't feel energized and invigorated and proud of what i'd just witnessed. this slacker mom business may just revolutionize life for the edwards clan. at the very least, i'll be able to finish tons of knitting projects.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
of air horns and animals
i went to bed hearing it. i woke up hearing it. sigh.
why do 8-year-olds like the strangest things? for the past two days now, dylan has repeatedly played a series of youtube videos of people messing with dogs and cats by scaring them with air horns. and he watches them at full blast. then he giggles. madly. and i haven't the heart to yell at him because when he giggles like that, i think that this isn't gonna last. this innocence, i mean. i'm not even gonna deign embedding a sample of the air horn madness because no one needs to endure what i'm enduring and really, unless he's your son, it's not at all wistful or endearing. suffice to say, that was how my day began today, which should've been an indication of things to come.
but it wasn't.
because, surprisingly, i actually got a lot done and feel uber productive. no, not knitting. but i did manage to plan several weeks' worth of lessons for r.a.w.r.r., with much thanks to my MIL who sat next to me and helped me cull through tons of books and who gave me focus and perspective. i feel a whole helluva lot more relieved now that i have established a game plan. i'm all about the game plans. i'm lost without them. on my tombstone, under my ISBN, i want it to say: "you gotta have a game plan."
oh, lord. he's giggling again. i almost wish he'd go back to watching "fred" and "annoying orange" videos.
anyhoo, now that i've got that sword of damocles stalled for a bit, i can focus once again on getting some knitting projects done. i know, i know. it seems i've done nothing but work on knitting projects. but it's my summer, dammit, and the powers that be should consider themselves lucky they even got a day's worth of work free from me, even if that day's worth of work is really gonna benefit me in the long run. will post my working syllabus once i get something typed up.
why do 8-year-olds like the strangest things? for the past two days now, dylan has repeatedly played a series of youtube videos of people messing with dogs and cats by scaring them with air horns. and he watches them at full blast. then he giggles. madly. and i haven't the heart to yell at him because when he giggles like that, i think that this isn't gonna last. this innocence, i mean. i'm not even gonna deign embedding a sample of the air horn madness because no one needs to endure what i'm enduring and really, unless he's your son, it's not at all wistful or endearing. suffice to say, that was how my day began today, which should've been an indication of things to come.
but it wasn't.
because, surprisingly, i actually got a lot done and feel uber productive. no, not knitting. but i did manage to plan several weeks' worth of lessons for r.a.w.r.r., with much thanks to my MIL who sat next to me and helped me cull through tons of books and who gave me focus and perspective. i feel a whole helluva lot more relieved now that i have established a game plan. i'm all about the game plans. i'm lost without them. on my tombstone, under my ISBN, i want it to say: "you gotta have a game plan."
oh, lord. he's giggling again. i almost wish he'd go back to watching "fred" and "annoying orange" videos.
anyhoo, now that i've got that sword of damocles stalled for a bit, i can focus once again on getting some knitting projects done. i know, i know. it seems i've done nothing but work on knitting projects. but it's my summer, dammit, and the powers that be should consider themselves lucky they even got a day's worth of work free from me, even if that day's worth of work is really gonna benefit me in the long run. will post my working syllabus once i get something typed up.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
BBC - Science & Nature - Sex ID
BBC - Science & Nature - Sex ID
so lorelei showed this to me a while back and i rediscovered it recently, thinking it might make a good blog assignment. now that i have my elective, however, i wonder if i should just save it for that.
p.s. it's 9:39 pm and my dog is snoring in counterpoint to my husband. mwahahahaha!
p.p.s. i was actually just test driving the "blog this" button on my nav bar. i see it works. and elegantly too. ah, this blogging business! how far it's come since livejournal! i foresee much blogging in my future!
so lorelei showed this to me a while back and i rediscovered it recently, thinking it might make a good blog assignment. now that i have my elective, however, i wonder if i should just save it for that.
p.s. it's 9:39 pm and my dog is snoring in counterpoint to my husband. mwahahahaha!
p.p.s. i was actually just test driving the "blog this" button on my nav bar. i see it works. and elegantly too. ah, this blogging business! how far it's come since livejournal! i foresee much blogging in my future!
to capitalize or not to capitalize
someone recently pointed out to me that, in my previous life and my previous blog, i was all about using nothing but lower case letters, eschewing proper capitalization rules for the ease and irony of being e.e. cummings-esque.
when i started designing this new blog, i didn't really give much thought to it one way or another. because a lot of my time has been spent on ravelry forums and since i belong to multiple groups there and it would've been a major hassle explaining my seemingly improper conventions usage to each and every single group, i just fell into the habit of being normal and traditional.
but then, thanks to good ol' steph, i was reminded that i would be untrue to my online persona if i fell in with the status quo. and it really *is* easier and faster for me to type sans caps.
and so, gentle reader, i hope i do not offend if i revert back to my old, tried-and-true ways. i shall try to keep everything else correct and proper (grammar, spelling, sentence construction, etc.) so you know that the lack of capitalization is an ironic choice and not an act of ignorance.
in honor of this post, how about one of my favorite e.e. cummings poems?
maggie and milly and molly and may
by E. E. Cummings
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
for whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea
when i started designing this new blog, i didn't really give much thought to it one way or another. because a lot of my time has been spent on ravelry forums and since i belong to multiple groups there and it would've been a major hassle explaining my seemingly improper conventions usage to each and every single group, i just fell into the habit of being normal and traditional.
but then, thanks to good ol' steph, i was reminded that i would be untrue to my online persona if i fell in with the status quo. and it really *is* easier and faster for me to type sans caps.
and so, gentle reader, i hope i do not offend if i revert back to my old, tried-and-true ways. i shall try to keep everything else correct and proper (grammar, spelling, sentence construction, etc.) so you know that the lack of capitalization is an ironic choice and not an act of ignorance.
in honor of this post, how about one of my favorite e.e. cummings poems?
maggie and milly and molly and may
by E. E. Cummings
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
for whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea
r.a.w.r.r.
so i got the green light for my new elective next year. in my infinite cleverness, i call it "r.a.w.r.r." or "re-evaluating the attitudes of women regarding respect". the official blurb about it is:
Are you familiar with the day-to-day necessities like finding a bra that fits, balancing a checkbook, making a decent cup of coffee or hemming a pair of pants? Do you know how to build a wardrobe on a budget, how to make introductions in social situations, or how to say “no” gracefully? Thanks to the feminist movement during the latter half of the 20th century, women today can transcend traditional gender roles and “be all that they can be”. But in ignoring a lot of these traditions, women may actually have sabotaged themselves, perhaps making them more helpless and clueless than when they first started. This elective will explore what it means to be a woman in the 21st century and how to earn and give respect to fellow females everywhere.
fun, yeah? although i think the powers that be are going to change the first line so the description isn't as alienating for boys. apparently, most males don't worry about bra fittings. heh.
anyhoo, i'm really excited about my new elective, but the more i research and plan, the less excited i am and the more anxious i've become. i don't want to presume to step on any parental toes by presuming to teach their children something they feel is within their purview and not mine. i'm using this book as my main reference text - the girl's guide to absolutely everything - and i suppose i could just go down the table of contents, but i'm having a difficult time narrowing down my focus.
some topics i'm thinking of are: body image, dressing appropriately to your body type and occasion, phone etiquette, writing professional inquiries/business letters, proper posture, and healthy eating habits. yeah, yeah, it sounds like a class straight out of mademoiselle magazine, and to some, it may sound shallow and superficial. but when you consider the number of teens whose main role models for behaviour and manners and dress come primarily from reality shows, you might be able to see past the "fashion/beauty" aspect of it all and agree that perhaps it may end up being a relevant and worthy class.
with this in mind, would anyone like to chime in and let me know what they think i should be covering? i'd be eternally grateful. there might even be a cookie in it for you if i end up using your idea. if it's not asking too much, could you give suggestions on activities as well as topics? i don't want the class to be straight lecture.
thanks in advance!
some topics i'm thinking of are: body image, dressing appropriately to your body type and occasion, phone etiquette, writing professional inquiries/business letters, proper posture, and healthy eating habits. yeah, yeah, it sounds like a class straight out of mademoiselle magazine, and to some, it may sound shallow and superficial. but when you consider the number of teens whose main role models for behaviour and manners and dress come primarily from reality shows, you might be able to see past the "fashion/beauty" aspect of it all and agree that perhaps it may end up being a relevant and worthy class.
with this in mind, would anyone like to chime in and let me know what they think i should be covering? i'd be eternally grateful. there might even be a cookie in it for you if i end up using your idea. if it's not asking too much, could you give suggestions on activities as well as topics? i don't want the class to be straight lecture.
thanks in advance!
Saturday, July 9, 2011
let the games begin
So this is...what? My nth attempt at another blog? Will this one stick, you think? Perhaps if I gave myself some reasonable goals. Yeah, goals. Goals are good. Kinda like the 365 challenge I've been doing over on Facebook. You know, how you take a photo a day for an entire year? How's that going, you ask? Quite well, my friend, thanks for the support. It *is* a bit depressing sometimes, though, when I browse my photo albums and realize I've become that entity I used to scorn: a mom with an inexhaustible propensity for taking pictures of her kids. Sigh. At least I've tried to be all artistic and use the rule of thirds with most of my photos and all.
Okay, before this devolves into a miasma of indulgent self-pity, how about a pictorial update of my current WIP? Because that's the goal I think I'm setting for myself: a consistently updated documentation of my current knitting projects with a dash of random commentary about life, the universe and everything. And I'm defining "consistent" as posting at least once a week. Does that seem like a reasonable goal? I think so too.
Et voila...
So I screwed the pooch on the pattern and didn't stagger the leaf repeat. But my buds on Ravelry say it won't be noticeable once it's all done and I really don't want to frog the thing because it's lace and I wouldn't even know how without messing up even more so I'm leaving it as is. Perhaps I should just work on the thing late at night when the kiddos aren't tugging at me and causing me to lose my mental mantra of ssk, k1, k1, yo, k1...
Okay, before this devolves into a miasma of indulgent self-pity, how about a pictorial update of my current WIP? Because that's the goal I think I'm setting for myself: a consistently updated documentation of my current knitting projects with a dash of random commentary about life, the universe and everything. And I'm defining "consistent" as posting at least once a week. Does that seem like a reasonable goal? I think so too.
Et voila...
So I screwed the pooch on the pattern and didn't stagger the leaf repeat. But my buds on Ravelry say it won't be noticeable once it's all done and I really don't want to frog the thing because it's lace and I wouldn't even know how without messing up even more so I'm leaving it as is. Perhaps I should just work on the thing late at night when the kiddos aren't tugging at me and causing me to lose my mental mantra of ssk, k1, k1, yo, k1...
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