Floormodel’s Weblog

January 18, 2009

lessons learned

I don’t usually talk about news stories. But there’s one I’ve followed and it’s on my mind. Caylee Anthony was a little girl who one day went missing. I know that happens way to often in our world but she went missing and for thirty one days no one reported her gone. I’ll give a tiny bit of credit to her grandparents and uncle and say they may not have known she was truely gone but her mother knew and in the time this tiny life was missing, her mother went out, slept over at her boyfriend’s, got a tattoo, and broke a few laws along the way.  Why this one little girl caught my attention is simple, when she went missing and was finally reported missing, I was starting to count down to the birth of my granddaughter. So my heart broke for the grandparents. Them losing something that I didn’t even understand having yet.

But as I’ve followed this case it’s confused me. Made me ask some questions of myself.

Do I love my children enough to lie for them or do I love them so much that I wouldn’t?

I think it’s harder to love them so much you won’t cover for them or lie for them. 

It’s easy for me to sit here smug, looking into someone esle’s disfunction. I can pick apart the pieces of their lives and then tell them I would never or could never…

I don’t think the Anthonys set out to create a monster, I don’t think they understand now how it happened. But what they did do is forget the boundries between child and parent. They forgot that sometimes we have to let our children face what they’ve done and we have to do it from the begining. When you never hold your children responsible for their words and their actions and when you cover for them or clean up their messes time after time, you don’t teach them you love them or how to be adults.

When you do those things, you let them grow up thinking they can do whatever they want and they don’t understand how to think of  others, not even when “others” are a tiny two year old child.

I don’t think the Anthonys saw anything wrong with covering Casey’s early messes. I know there were a couple times I fought with myself over excusing away my son’s behaviors. And I lost a couple of those fights too. I said “he would never” or “the teacher must just not like him” but I knew that wasn’t it and I stopped myself fast. My boys may have been my little angels but they weren’t that angelic and I knew it. It’s so easy to make excuses, to blame something for your child’s faults. The other kids were bad influences, he forgot he had that gum in his hand. She wasn’t trying to be mean, they must’ve misunderstood.  Excuses are a dime a dozen and I had plenty of change to buy some but I had to make myself put that change away and let my children take the fall for what they’d done (or not done).

I wanted my sons to grow up and be men I’d want to know. To have them become people I’d want as neighbors.  That’s my advice to young parents like my son. Raise your children to be people you’d want as neighbors.  Tell them “no” and teach them early on to respect you and others. Punish them when they need it, hug them when they don’t know they need it. Don’t worry about being their best friend, that’s what their peers are for. Be a parent. Don’t be their overlord or their owner.

I’m not saying  the Anthonys could have altered what their daughter has done. Not my place to say that but they raised a child who never grew up. She never learned “no” and she never learned bounderies. She took what she wanted be it money from her best friend, her own grandparents, or her baby daughter’s piggy bank… she lied about who she was, what she did, and who she did it with. She hurt people on “whim” she made herself more important than anyone else and they let her. Time after time her behavior screamed out for help and they made excuses and covered for her. And now, they still lie for her. They lie to the police, to the FBI, to the media, to us, and to themselves. They give their child their version of love and in return she gives them disrepect and thinly veiled hatred. The child they thought they loved so much that they fixed all her mistakes, took away something else they loved.

 

Look how their story is ending, a dead grandchild, an incarcerated daughter, a lifetime of hell for them.  They may face charges themselves. They’ve lost their friends and their family. They’ve lost their self respect and the respect of everyone. They made this mess and they nuured what they thought was a flower but their flower turned out to be poison ivy and everything their daughter touched is now destroyed. They will never face another day without pain and tears and they will never know exactly why but I bet they l0ok back and realize the whole path could’ve veered differently had they only said “no” and meant it.

I have a granddaughter now. They do not. My son and I have discussed this case often and I must’ve done something right because he wants to be the kind of parent who raises his daughter right by saying no and not making excuses and I have no doubt that the child he and Katie raise will be the kind of person I’d like as a neighbor.

 

We can’t change what we see in the news. We can talk about it, like I do on IS. We can watch Nancy Grace or Geraldo although I can’t for the life of me understand why anyone watches Geraldo and  I’m not allowed to watch Nancy Grace because it makes me yell at the tv. We can gossip over these people at work or at play but unless we take their lessons to heart someday we’ll be reading about another case, another family, another trgedy. 

I’m a grandparent now, a role I take seriously. But I was a mother first and the hardest part of parenting is the part I’m glad I did.

If you haven’t read about Casey Anthony, please do. And if you’re the praying sort please offer up a prayer for her parents. They still don’t understand and when they do it will destroy them. They thought they loved their daughter so much that they covered for her, but they needed to love her enough to let her fall.

May 25, 2008

heads or tails

Filed under: idle thoughts — floormodel @ 10:35pm05
Tags: , , , ,

heads = McCain   tails = Obama

I hope it doesn’t come down to that but it just might. I’ve been following the political stuff even though it angers me up quite a bit. I suggest we put into the Oath of Office “I hereby swear to use to follow the ‘less words and more action’ policy.”

All of the sudden my elected state officials are getting friendly and notifying me of their progress in an attempt to buy my vote. It backfires, the one who wastes the most money sending me crap in my mail is the least likely to get my vote.

My real problem lies in the highest office. I just have no preference. Please don’t reply to tell me all about Ron Paul. My neighbor beat you to it and she even offered me a sign for my yard.  I told her that seeing her’s every day is enough for me. 

I’d lean to either side if one of them could show me a sense of humor. I think a position of power like that requires a healthy sense of humor. There are too many times where you have to laugh or you’ll get nutty. Kind of like parenting. There were times when the only thing I could do was crack bad jokes and laugh at life. The President should have the ability to laugh at fate. If you get too uptight and stressed it isn’t good for your innards.  I don’t care who the President’s wife is. I don’t care if he’s a dog person, a cat person, or a giraffe person.

I’d prefer he be a Trekkie and a reader.  I hope he did screw up as a kid. If he didn’t, I’d be worried. I don’t care who his folks are, unless his name cannot be seperated from them on the big stuff. WE don’t need a puppet. Puppets are scary.

His choice of music doesn’t matter, what college he attended doesn’t matter, I would like him to believe in God though. But not in a holier than thou way. I’ll admit that having served in any of our forces would be good in my view, it isn’t necessary to get my vote. You’d be less likely to send our soldiers into battle if you know how horrible war really is.  I don’t care about the President’s personal views, as long as he can seperate Presidential decisions from them. If he can’t do that then I don’t want him. When someone is elected to speak for all of us then they have to put their personal opinions aside. As far as I’m considered when they run for office they make that choice.

I’m smart enough to know that no one speaks for the candidate but the candidate. Not his pastor, not his neighbor, not his kin.  I know it’s all one big production number with tour buses and staff numbering the hundreds.  The amount of money spent is disgusting. What a waste.

Imagine the schools we could repair and build. We could make sure every child is given supplies, not just a few. Every child. We could bring back school nurses and art class. We could put that money into our future. And we could give some to our present by making health care easier to get. We could supply our elderly with medical programs and housing to make sure they end their days with some amount of dignity. We could take care of our Veterans and honor them properly.  No matter how we feel about war, those who serve this country should be treated with respect.

 

I think it’s great that Obama has 266 million raised and McCain has 93 million raised but imagine what we could do with 359 million.

That’s why I don’t know who I’ll vote for. They seem too alike for me. Neither one is showing me that he takes us regular folk seriously. I will keep reading and watching and hoping one will stand out to me. We’re supposed to make educated votes, my Father taught us that. I watch/read politcal news daily. I break it up with regular doses of the Daily Show. Colbert gets on my nerves so I bail after The Word. I think that I’m getting my politics in a well rounded way. I just wish I had some idea who I want to vote for.  If neither starts shining,  I’ll bring a quarter and call head = McCain  tails = Obama …I just won’t tell my Father.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 20, 2008

free to a good home

Filed under: idle thoughts — floormodel @ 10:35pm05
Tags: , , ,
y’know…. pretty soon I’m putting up a ‘free to a good home’ sign and giving my two away. Can I give away a twenty four year old? 
We have a few family jokes. Most every family has them. Things none of us will ever live down and the kinfolk enjoy bringing up?  Mine happened last night.  I made a ham. Pretty exciting huh?
The thing is, every time I make a ham one of my two smart asses asks me “did you take the paper off” and we all (them) have a good laugh at Mom’s expense. The hilarity ensues.
I do something one time and they never let me live it down but if I mention one of their past “oops” they get all pissy in an embarassed but pleased kind of way.
A few years back (we think fifteen) I bought a huge ham and made an entire meal around it. I scalloped potatoes, butter sauced the beans, and I  made a homemade cherry bourbon glaze and slow cooked the ham while basting it every twenty minutes. It was beautiful. The glaze was thick and evenly applied, it was tv worthy. 
And then I pulled out the electric knife and dug in. It was like taking a chainsaw to concrete. I got a carving knife and sharpened it. Cut into it and gave it a yank and all that glaze I lovingly applied came off in one fell swoop. I never took the paper off.  Poor nekkid ham :(   My kids thought it was the funniest thing ever, Mom screwed up. Kids love to see us screw up, makes them feel better about their own mess ups.
I talk a lot about my sons. That’s because being a Mom is the best thing I’ve ever done. I loved it. They say you shouldn’t make your kids your world but I disagree. I think there’s a balance but that your kids should be the center of your life. You just need to find the balance that works.  Being a solo parent I did double duty at times but it also is why we’re so close. We’re in between Mother’s Day and Father’s day and I think it’s where I belong. 
And that’s also why my family has these little jokes and pokes. It was my turn to be the pinata yesterday. 
The Boy was the one to say it. Strange because he hates ham and it’s usually his brother who brings up the year of the nekkid ham.  I laughed and told him his brother’d be proud. It made me feel all warm and Mommishy, he doesn’t need to know that though. He’ll call me emotional and offer me a midol. He’s a funny kid.
Then a few minutes ago the big one is foraging for food and says “hey Mom is it safe to eat this ham or do I have to worry about paper cuts?”
He’s funny too and I’m still laughing.
I love that we were close enough to have these little things that let the others know they’re loved. I think it’s important to notice the little things like this and to savor them. Whether it’s remembering Mom’s ham mistake or the time the Boy had his shirt on inside out in his school picture or Burg’s great hair color experiment that brought to mind Ronald MacDonald… we’ll always tease each other over things like that but it’s because we love each other. 
 

May 4, 2008

Garth Brooks could write a song about it

Filed under: idle thoughts — floormodel @ 10:35pm05

Sometimes I like to get up a little early on a Sunday. It’s the best morning to be out on the deck. This morning I dodged the rain and took my coffee out. My batteries needed a recharge. A cool morning, a cup of hot coffee, and a little quiet time jump starts my perspective.

On Sunday mornings it’s quiet. No one’s rushing off to work or school. My neighborhood has a pattern. Like a disfunctional orchestra. The music starts with the guy in the dead guy house. That’s what my children called it. It’s across the street and a little to the right. When we moved in here the family living there moved out. It turns out that the family moving out was my older son’s HS girlfriend’s but that’s just useless trivia. The man who moved in commited suicide his first Christmas there and that’s how it got it’s name. 

His cousin moved in that next Spring but sold it last year to the new people. The size of their dog’s mouths kept me from heading over, with a bundt cake, to introduce myself so they’ve remained ”the new people” to me. He starts his truck (or motorcycle depending on the weather) at exactly 6:10 am every morning Monday through Saturday.

The bodybuilder puts his dogs out at 6:15am, they bark along.  Then he heads out, his wife right behind him, their son is out calling for the dogs by 7. That’s when the school buses start rumbling along squealing their brakes as they stop along my road. The whining begins next door to me around 8am and it echos as the other kids head out to wait for their buses. Gargy is the worst one, that child’s always unhappy about something.

Sundays are different. No everyday noises. It wasn’t in my plans to be out on the deck this morning but I woke up early and it just felt like the thing to do.  It’s pretty out on my deck in the early morning. Because we’ve had rain the air was fresh and the cool nights we’ve been getting made it easier to breathe.  It smells like Spring and the different shades of green are so vivid. I love this time of year.

I do my best talking to God out on the deck. Usually on Sunday mornings. It’s like my private worship service. My choir the birds, my altar the sky.  My faith is always in me but sometimes an hour on the deck keeps it healthy.

I’ve been talking a lot, with the person I talk to when I talk about things, about our changing lives. My life echos his right now but in a different way. The first time my older son left home it wasn’t happy. It was angry and hurt filled and broke my heart a little. Sometimes we have to hold our ground with our children even though inside we’re falling apart over it. I’m lucky, circumstance brought him back home to live for these past few months and we’re getting a mulligan. He’s moving out, again, in August and I know he won’t be back. I’m glad and grateful to God for giving us another chance to mend our fences. We’re better than we were and while his life now includes future marriage and child, our mother son bond is as close as it needs to be. This time will be different.

I thought about that this morning.

And I thought about Mrs. Robin. She was on the fence chirping hello. I don’t know how long Robins live and I’m too lazy to look it up, I do know Mrs Robin’s been around my yard for years.  I know it’s her by a scar on her breast. She’s raised at least  twenty babies since we met. One year she shared it with us by building her nest right outside my kitchen window.  That year she raised four babies and the boys and I watched them go from eggs to nestlings to the sky.

I guess that’s what I’m doing with my sons, I’m watching them go from my nest to the sky.  I’m not ready for them to go but I want them to. Mrs Robin has it right. She knows when it’s time for her to let her babies test their wings and if they aren’t ready she brings them back into the nest until they are. I don’t know how she knows, instinct I guess. 

I feel good about my Burg leaving. I’m not sure I’m ready but I know he is. This time when he tries his wings I think he’ll find them to be strong and ready to let him soar. And like Mrs Robin I guess I just have to sit and watch him go.  I think God wanted me to remember that.  I hope I can keep it in mind when he goes because that will be a rough day for me and even if he’s ready…I’m not.    

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