I don't want to go back to school next week--not because I don't like my job. I really do. However, my job doesn't permit me to spend all day with Jude. Boo! We've had a great week this week while Jeffrey was at Band Camp. We spent the week with my parents who actually live a stone's throw away from us, but we decided to treat this week like a vacation of sorts. Hey, my parents' new digs come equipped with HBO, a bath tub worthy of an R&B music video setting, and Mama's cooking (even though my diet prohibits me from eating most food that tastes good).This place could so pass for a resort. Anyway, Jude and I have had a fantastic time, and I've enjoyed all the time I've gotten to spend with him this week. We've had a great time playing outside, putting together puzzles, pushing trucks, reading books, and reviewing our colors and shapes. Tomorrow, Jeffrey will finish up year ten of HCC band camp, and we'll reunite once again. Even though Jude and I have had a fun week, we have missed Jeffrey something awful.
Because I have lived under my parents' roof this week, I've watched a lot of Fox News. A little backstory--my mother is so conservative that she makes Rush Limbaugh look like a bleeding heart liberal, so Fox News is pretty much white noise in the Wahl household. I actually find the network interesting. Sometimes, I think they report too much on what "could happen," but I do usually find myself agreeing with the commentators. For example, I love how they're calling out Hollywood on the upcoming movie "The Butler." Oprah Winfrey's comment about Trayvon Martin being a "parallel to Emmit Till" just about sent me over the edge. Read a freaking history book, Oprah, or better yet, understand your Mississippi history better, or even better than that, realize you weren't there with Trayvon when he died and therefore don't know what really happened! It's also occurred to me that I may not have spelled this kid's name right. My apologies.
However, I will not apologize for my beliefs/values. Lately, I've seen a lot of people post on social media these memes that basically say, "You're perfect the way you are" or "Don't change." While these memes intend to uplift and inspire, they are absolutely and positively damaging. to humankind. None of us are perfect, and we could all stand to change something about ourselves. I never want anyone to tell me those things because, I know what I'm about, and it's not always pretty. I know my strengths and my weaknesses. I know that I'm smart in what I know, but I don't know a lot. I know I fall short of perfection 100% of the time, but I still want to strive for it because it delights me to try.
Today, I saw video footage of three black guys beating the hell out of a white kid on a school bus. Boy, did that send me on a ride down memory lane to the beginning of the eighth grade where the same thing happened to me, only throw in a pinch of sexual assault with that. This is a time in my life I have never allowed myself to think about, and certainly it doesn't define who I am now, but watching that video footage triggered so many emotions--anger because this crap still happens and people still ignore it, sadness because that kid didn't deserve it, but relief because I'm ok, and I know that given time and a few more awkward teenage years, so will that kid because, as I've stated before, this situation doesn't have to define him. I still believe the only reason I suffered little physical harm comes down to one of two things: 1. It was a short bus ride, and 2. My best friend who was sitting next to me tried her hardest to fight these creeps off of me. I feel terrible for that boy because I know how it feels to be singled out for no apparent reason and to have everyone else act like they never saw a thing, and it's not fun. I also thought about, "What if that was Jude? What if he had been that kid," and it gave me chills when my very next thought was "I would have killed those boys." That thought was only further validated when my mother just outwardly said, "You know, the day you were attacked, I went looking for that boy, and I meant I was going to kill him." I count myself blessed that I have a mother who loves me that much, and I guess I'm grateful that fool on the bus had the sense to run, or otherwise, Jude and I might have vacationed in Parchman this week instead of Gluckstadt. God obviously looks after fools and children.
Well, I want to post something light-hearted in this section, but Geez! That last paragraph is pretty loaded! Oh, here's something. A few weeks ago, a deer jumped out in front of my Jetta, and now Frau Jetta is back in the shop. This is the second time she has taken up residence at Barnett Body Shop, and I can't for the life of me understand why it couldn't be the van instead! The Jetta has been my most favorite car I've ever owned, yet she's the one I've torn up the most. My Honda never had one scratch, and that God forsaken Ranger I drove back in college could not and would not die, bad as I wanted it to. But that Jetta? I just keep putting her in harm's way for some reason. Ridiculous. Anyway, I hope to have her back soon, especially since my mom has loaned me her ride, a Nissan Versa which looks not unlike a clown car. (Every time I drive it, I feel like at least ten more people should pile up in there with me.) Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful to have the set of wheels. And for those wondering how my mother is getting around, Fret not. She's got her brand new Cadillac to get her from point A to point B. Evidently, she has really taken to Madison County living! I'm happy for her, but seriously, could she not offer up the Caddy, even for one day? How tacky!
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Accomplished
This summer, I somehow managed to accomplish little and much all at the same time. I wish I had even one week longer of summer vacation, but unfortunately, after next week, it's back to Holmes for Year Eight of my career. All and all, I think I can look back and feel proud of what I have done this summer, even if most of it is still in progress.
1. Weight--For years--YEARS--I've struggled with my weight. As it turns out, I realized that my weight gain from seven years ago was completely, totally, and utterly my fault. I ate the junk food, didn't drink the water, partook in carb-only meals, etc. No one made me do it. Sure, I worked out all the time and even took up running (which has become my all time favorite pastime), but no weight loss ever came. I prided myself in gaining only the recommended 25-35 pounds during pregnancy which quickly fell off in less than a year post partum. But truth still remained. Even without the pregnancy weight, I was still heavy, flabby, and downright dumpy.
This summer, I got plenty sick of myself that I made a change. I cut the carbs, the fats, the Cokes, the sugar, etc., and four weeks into the program, I have lost 13 pounds. Funny thing is...I don't even miss that junk! Now, I choose healthy vegetables, sensible proteins (even though this vegetarian finds this part quite challenging, though not impossible), and drink more water in a day than I probably ever have in my life. I feel great. Am I where I want to be on the scale? No. I still have a little over halfway to go before I reach my goal weight. However, I'm finally seeing the light. I no longer feel stuck in the overweight category. In fact, according to my BMI, I about .8 away from being in the "Normal" range of weight. I have complete faith that I will get there, and to think four weeks ago, I had just about lost hope.
2. Writing--I want to be a writer. Like, really bad. I don't want to be a blog writer, although I find this fun. I want to be a serious story-teller. I don't know how to break into the business, and I don't know whom all I need to know to get there. However, I do know this. I need to create a story. A story that I can proudly put my name on and send out to the masses. I need to accept rejection. I need to realize that sometimes it takes first being vulnerable before great things will come. Therefore, I'm taking the logical first step. I started a new story, and I made a friend, one who has published, who offered to critique my work. A small step, I know, but for me who is usually afraid of rejection, a big one. I discovered this summer that I have stories, ones I think others will enjoy. What with my job and child, the process is sure to be slow, but just as I can see myself finally reaching my goal weight, so too can I do this, or at least die trying.
3. Reading--At the beginning of the summer, I had the goal to read ten-twenty books. Yeah, that did not happen. As it turns out, teaching three summer classes really takes it out of a girl! I succeeded in reading 1/2 of a novel I started after Spring Break and about 1/6 of one I just started, totaling not even one whole book. Oops. As I reflect, though, I don't look at this as a failure. Actually, this summer was quite productive what with teaching, weekend getaways, playing with toddlers, talking with Jeffrey, and hanging out with my newly remarried, newly relocated parents. Something had to take a backseat, and I guess reading lost. Besides, the 67% of book that I did read, I really enjoyed and am still enjoying. I've also made a new goal to read just a little every day, either during lunch break, Jude's nap time, first thing in the morning (ok, maybe that's pushing it), but I can do this.
4. Saving--Yesterday, I put a big chunk of money in my savings account, and it felt great. Of course, I didn't save nearly as much as I had originally planned, but my savings account is now significantly fatter than it was. Also, I refinanced my house yesterday. Not only will my house be paid off sooner (two whole months sooner, to be exact), but my interest rate is now significantly lower, and somehow, so is my house payment. Sweet.
Even though nothing got completely done this summer, I don't feel bad for what I have started. Because of these accomplishments, I look forward to the upcoming school year. I can enter Holmes this year a little lighter, a little more creative, a little more relaxed and educated, and a little richer. As my father often says, "Well, that's better than getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick!"
1. Weight--For years--YEARS--I've struggled with my weight. As it turns out, I realized that my weight gain from seven years ago was completely, totally, and utterly my fault. I ate the junk food, didn't drink the water, partook in carb-only meals, etc. No one made me do it. Sure, I worked out all the time and even took up running (which has become my all time favorite pastime), but no weight loss ever came. I prided myself in gaining only the recommended 25-35 pounds during pregnancy which quickly fell off in less than a year post partum. But truth still remained. Even without the pregnancy weight, I was still heavy, flabby, and downright dumpy.
This summer, I got plenty sick of myself that I made a change. I cut the carbs, the fats, the Cokes, the sugar, etc., and four weeks into the program, I have lost 13 pounds. Funny thing is...I don't even miss that junk! Now, I choose healthy vegetables, sensible proteins (even though this vegetarian finds this part quite challenging, though not impossible), and drink more water in a day than I probably ever have in my life. I feel great. Am I where I want to be on the scale? No. I still have a little over halfway to go before I reach my goal weight. However, I'm finally seeing the light. I no longer feel stuck in the overweight category. In fact, according to my BMI, I about .8 away from being in the "Normal" range of weight. I have complete faith that I will get there, and to think four weeks ago, I had just about lost hope.
2. Writing--I want to be a writer. Like, really bad. I don't want to be a blog writer, although I find this fun. I want to be a serious story-teller. I don't know how to break into the business, and I don't know whom all I need to know to get there. However, I do know this. I need to create a story. A story that I can proudly put my name on and send out to the masses. I need to accept rejection. I need to realize that sometimes it takes first being vulnerable before great things will come. Therefore, I'm taking the logical first step. I started a new story, and I made a friend, one who has published, who offered to critique my work. A small step, I know, but for me who is usually afraid of rejection, a big one. I discovered this summer that I have stories, ones I think others will enjoy. What with my job and child, the process is sure to be slow, but just as I can see myself finally reaching my goal weight, so too can I do this, or at least die trying.
3. Reading--At the beginning of the summer, I had the goal to read ten-twenty books. Yeah, that did not happen. As it turns out, teaching three summer classes really takes it out of a girl! I succeeded in reading 1/2 of a novel I started after Spring Break and about 1/6 of one I just started, totaling not even one whole book. Oops. As I reflect, though, I don't look at this as a failure. Actually, this summer was quite productive what with teaching, weekend getaways, playing with toddlers, talking with Jeffrey, and hanging out with my newly remarried, newly relocated parents. Something had to take a backseat, and I guess reading lost. Besides, the 67% of book that I did read, I really enjoyed and am still enjoying. I've also made a new goal to read just a little every day, either during lunch break, Jude's nap time, first thing in the morning (ok, maybe that's pushing it), but I can do this.
4. Saving--Yesterday, I put a big chunk of money in my savings account, and it felt great. Of course, I didn't save nearly as much as I had originally planned, but my savings account is now significantly fatter than it was. Also, I refinanced my house yesterday. Not only will my house be paid off sooner (two whole months sooner, to be exact), but my interest rate is now significantly lower, and somehow, so is my house payment. Sweet.
Even though nothing got completely done this summer, I don't feel bad for what I have started. Because of these accomplishments, I look forward to the upcoming school year. I can enter Holmes this year a little lighter, a little more creative, a little more relaxed and educated, and a little richer. As my father often says, "Well, that's better than getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick!"
Friday, July 26, 2013
I, Jess Brown, Unapologetically Love...
It occurs to me on a semi-regular basis that I am not the coolest cat on the planet. I mean, hell, I just referenced a cat as a mark of awesomeness (which I do think cats are pretty awesome). Anyway, I lean toward the opinion that since I recognize that I'm somewhat of a less than ideal human being, doesn't that in and of itself earn me numerous cool points? In the last hour or so, I tallied up a few aspects of my life that people would make fun of me about; however, I can't help but love these quirky traits regardless. There are too many uncool aspects of my life to name, but here a few important ones that make me proud.
1. Hootie and the Blowfish: I can remember where I was the first time I heard "Hold My Hand" (Disc Jockey at Pemberton Square Mall in Vicksburg, circa 1994). My Daddy bought me the CD then and there. I didn't even have to do extra chores. Later that year, my grandparents entered my sister and me in a contest, and I won two tickets to see them in concert--the first rock concert I ever attended without a parent next to me. Honestly, I'm not sure what was better--the concert itself or the t-shirt I bought and wore on my first day of 8th grade.
2. Not having (or wanting) a smart phone: In fact, I rarely check text messages, answer phone calls, or anything of the sort. I'll even take this a step further and admit that I rarely carry the crappy cell phone I do have, and if I'm carrying it, seven times out of ten, the battery is dead. If I need to look something up, I can either wait until I get home or find one of the millions of people attached to his smart phone and charm him into looking up the information for me. Charming somebody works99.999 all of the time.
3. Knowing technology does not make one smarter: Dumber and lazier, maybe, but not smarter. Don't believe me? Sit in on one of my classes where students have cell phones, ipads, Kindles, laptops, and many other devices all at their disposal. My students know that the way to my heart is through the pages of an actual opened book.
4. Being frugal: Unlike most people I know, I pay cash for everything. In fact, the only debt my husband and I have is our mortgage, which will be paid off in ten years. We do not finance cars, clothes, home repairs, trips, or anything of the sort. If we can't cough up the cash, we can't afford it and therefore do not purchase it. Sure, I often wear last season's skinny jeans, and my car is one step above something the Flintstones would drive. As long as I have some money in the bank, I'll sport a Hypercolor t-shirt from Goodwill and ride a bicycle 30 miles to work if I have to.
5. My child's eating habits--I am OBSESSED with what my child eats. I comb through recipe books and the organic produce section trying to come up with creative and healthy dishes for Jude to try. Some of them he actually likes. It's actually become a favorite hobby of mine.
6. New Orleans--Sure it can smell bad and some have deemed it one of the most dangerous cities in the nation, but I love that place more than any other on Earth. Its culture, food, atmosphere, architecture, and shopping make New Orleans a place I want to aspire to one day live.
7. Accepting something for what it is--Not too long ago, I innocently made a remark about Chik-Fil-A kids' meals. I like them because they offer grilled chicken and fruit, which makes me feel less guilty about giving Jude fast food in those times where I'm in a pinch. One person actually retorted with "Ugh--Gay Chicken," then went on to admit how guilty it feels to think about how good the food is. Aside from my obvious thought of "Bitch, please," I couldn't help but feel sorry for this person. What's there to feel guilty about? If you're hungry, eat. If you want chicken, a hand spun milkshake, waffle fries, and good service, go there. That's about as difficult as it should get when it comes to choosing a fast food establishment. Chik-Fil-A is what it is--a local fast food joint. Why people feel they have to exercise their moral compasses over eating some damn chicken is beyond me.
So maybe I'll never win any popularity contests, but I can say this about myself. I have very little shame. I can also add much more to this list of what I love: creative messes, bathroom habits, dirty jokes, crazy folks, tattoos, singing in the grocery store etc. However, my last student just turned in his test, which means I can now pick up my baby and head home!
1. Hootie and the Blowfish: I can remember where I was the first time I heard "Hold My Hand" (Disc Jockey at Pemberton Square Mall in Vicksburg, circa 1994). My Daddy bought me the CD then and there. I didn't even have to do extra chores. Later that year, my grandparents entered my sister and me in a contest, and I won two tickets to see them in concert--the first rock concert I ever attended without a parent next to me. Honestly, I'm not sure what was better--the concert itself or the t-shirt I bought and wore on my first day of 8th grade.
2. Not having (or wanting) a smart phone: In fact, I rarely check text messages, answer phone calls, or anything of the sort. I'll even take this a step further and admit that I rarely carry the crappy cell phone I do have, and if I'm carrying it, seven times out of ten, the battery is dead. If I need to look something up, I can either wait until I get home or find one of the millions of people attached to his smart phone and charm him into looking up the information for me. Charming somebody works
3. Knowing technology does not make one smarter: Dumber and lazier, maybe, but not smarter. Don't believe me? Sit in on one of my classes where students have cell phones, ipads, Kindles, laptops, and many other devices all at their disposal. My students know that the way to my heart is through the pages of an actual opened book.
4. Being frugal: Unlike most people I know, I pay cash for everything. In fact, the only debt my husband and I have is our mortgage, which will be paid off in ten years. We do not finance cars, clothes, home repairs, trips, or anything of the sort. If we can't cough up the cash, we can't afford it and therefore do not purchase it. Sure, I often wear last season's skinny jeans, and my car is one step above something the Flintstones would drive. As long as I have some money in the bank, I'll sport a Hypercolor t-shirt from Goodwill and ride a bicycle 30 miles to work if I have to.
5. My child's eating habits--I am OBSESSED with what my child eats. I comb through recipe books and the organic produce section trying to come up with creative and healthy dishes for Jude to try. Some of them he actually likes. It's actually become a favorite hobby of mine.
6. New Orleans--Sure it can smell bad and some have deemed it one of the most dangerous cities in the nation, but I love that place more than any other on Earth. Its culture, food, atmosphere, architecture, and shopping make New Orleans a place I want to aspire to one day live.
7. Accepting something for what it is--Not too long ago, I innocently made a remark about Chik-Fil-A kids' meals. I like them because they offer grilled chicken and fruit, which makes me feel less guilty about giving Jude fast food in those times where I'm in a pinch. One person actually retorted with "Ugh--Gay Chicken," then went on to admit how guilty it feels to think about how good the food is. Aside from my obvious thought of "Bitch, please," I couldn't help but feel sorry for this person. What's there to feel guilty about? If you're hungry, eat. If you want chicken, a hand spun milkshake, waffle fries, and good service, go there. That's about as difficult as it should get when it comes to choosing a fast food establishment. Chik-Fil-A is what it is--a local fast food joint. Why people feel they have to exercise their moral compasses over eating some damn chicken is beyond me.
So maybe I'll never win any popularity contests, but I can say this about myself. I have very little shame. I can also add much more to this list of what I love: creative messes, bathroom habits, dirty jokes, crazy folks, tattoos, singing in the grocery store etc. However, my last student just turned in his test, which means I can now pick up my baby and head home!
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Dieting, Baby Feet, and Trayvon (guess I'll jump on the band wagon and weigh in)
To start off, I announced on Facebook that I started a diet a little over two weeks ago. I'm not sure why I felt the need to put it out there--maybe for accountability? Anyway, I had gotten to the point where I hated the following: shopping for clothes, going out to eat (because I felt I wouldn't be able to control myself), and looking at myself in the mirror. Anyone who knows me knows this: I'm a sensible shop-a-holic (meaning I pay in cash), eating in local restaurants makes me happy and lends interest to my social life, and I don't exactly call myself vain, but I like trying new make-up techniques, so I must look in a mirror often. When I got to the point where I felt too fat for any of my favorite pastimes, I felt as though I just plain hated myself. It's not that I had all of a sudden gained a ton of weight. Actually, over time, (since grad school if I had to pinpoint when this started), I gained the weight and have hovered over this large number on the scale for a number of years now. I finally just got sick of it, which meant time for a change.
On Facebook, my doctor's office had advertised a free interest meeting for a diet program called Ideal Protein. Of course, being a vegetarian, I thought, "There's no way I could stick to that--too much meat, I bet!" However, something (we'll call him God) urged me to go. A few days after seeing the ad, I dragged my mama with me down to Baptist hospital, and before I knew it, I had signed up for the program. (My mother, however, decided to sit it out and watch me do it first.) As it turns out, the diet is surprisingly vegetarian friendly. Sure, I have a bigger challenge than the other ladies who eat meat, but I'm finding it's not impossible to get in all the protein I need in a day. Also, I no longer crave the bad stuff--you know--the carbs and the fat. For example, I ventured out with my family this morning to the Jackson Zoo for the annual Ice Cream Safari, which is basically a big ol' frozen all-u-can-eat buffet, and I didn't have one bite. Did the ice cream look good? Oh, most definitely! Did I think about what it would taste like? You betcha! So what stopped me from eating? I simply was not hungry for any. Also, I knew I would get something more satisfying later. Anyway, two and a half weeks later, I'm down 10 pounds. I have 30 more pounds to go, so my journey to a better looking me is far from over. Regardless, I'm incredibly motivated to get there.
Moving along to the next topic...
If you've seen my son in the last six months, you know about this--his tip-toe walking. Jude will not put his heels on the ground to save his life. Seriously. He'd sooner die (at least that's the tone his wailing squalls have when we try to touch his heels to the ground). Of course, I've known this was a problem, especially since Jude was a late walker, but I have patiently waited to see if it would correct itself. I'm not the type of mother who flies off the handle over things. Actually, motherhood has had a calming effect on me. I think it's why I don't have a nervous baby. However, it seems half of my surrounding population tells me, "Oh, I had a child who did the same thing. He'll grow out of it" while the other half feels he should be rushed to the orthopedic doctor and ready to go under for surgery. To say the people in my life who have weighed in on this matter brought nothing but annoyance to me is the biggest understatement since nude colored lipstick. I'm ready to just pop off and say, "Are you paying these doctor bills? Are you buying his shoes? Oh, you're not? Have I asked you for your opinion? Then back off!" In all fairness, I've asked a few trusted souls for their opinions, so I'm not talking about them.
Anyway, Jeffrey and I have made a decision about what we will do concerning Jude's gait. Here it is: It's none of your business. Yes, we are taking care of the issue the way we see best. No, we are not "NOT" doing anything about it so no need to worry. We have been just as concerned this whole time about Jude's walking as everyone else has, but we also feel we shouldn't make a big deal about it in front of Jude so as not to give him a complex about himself. At his age, we want him to understand that he is perfectly Jude.
And finally...
I don't have much to say (but do I have some thoughts about it!) about the Trayvon Martin case, and you know why? Because I wasn't there when it all happened, much like everyone else I know. (Although, I'm willing to bet that Trayvon was not exactly showing that same precious smile from the picture of him the media put out when Zimmerman first encountered him. Oh, wait. I wasn't there. My bad.) I do know this, though, after being summoned to many many jury duties. The people selected for the jury do not take the process lightly. Also, the jury is shown every piece of evidence, and they listen intently before making a decision. And believe me, they make an informed decision. That's all I'm going to say about that.
On Facebook, my doctor's office had advertised a free interest meeting for a diet program called Ideal Protein. Of course, being a vegetarian, I thought, "There's no way I could stick to that--too much meat, I bet!" However, something (we'll call him God) urged me to go. A few days after seeing the ad, I dragged my mama with me down to Baptist hospital, and before I knew it, I had signed up for the program. (My mother, however, decided to sit it out and watch me do it first.) As it turns out, the diet is surprisingly vegetarian friendly. Sure, I have a bigger challenge than the other ladies who eat meat, but I'm finding it's not impossible to get in all the protein I need in a day. Also, I no longer crave the bad stuff--you know--the carbs and the fat. For example, I ventured out with my family this morning to the Jackson Zoo for the annual Ice Cream Safari, which is basically a big ol' frozen all-u-can-eat buffet, and I didn't have one bite. Did the ice cream look good? Oh, most definitely! Did I think about what it would taste like? You betcha! So what stopped me from eating? I simply was not hungry for any. Also, I knew I would get something more satisfying later. Anyway, two and a half weeks later, I'm down 10 pounds. I have 30 more pounds to go, so my journey to a better looking me is far from over. Regardless, I'm incredibly motivated to get there.
Moving along to the next topic...
If you've seen my son in the last six months, you know about this--his tip-toe walking. Jude will not put his heels on the ground to save his life. Seriously. He'd sooner die (at least that's the tone his wailing squalls have when we try to touch his heels to the ground). Of course, I've known this was a problem, especially since Jude was a late walker, but I have patiently waited to see if it would correct itself. I'm not the type of mother who flies off the handle over things. Actually, motherhood has had a calming effect on me. I think it's why I don't have a nervous baby. However, it seems half of my surrounding population tells me, "Oh, I had a child who did the same thing. He'll grow out of it" while the other half feels he should be rushed to the orthopedic doctor and ready to go under for surgery. To say the people in my life who have weighed in on this matter brought nothing but annoyance to me is the biggest understatement since nude colored lipstick. I'm ready to just pop off and say, "Are you paying these doctor bills? Are you buying his shoes? Oh, you're not? Have I asked you for your opinion? Then back off!" In all fairness, I've asked a few trusted souls for their opinions, so I'm not talking about them.
Anyway, Jeffrey and I have made a decision about what we will do concerning Jude's gait. Here it is: It's none of your business. Yes, we are taking care of the issue the way we see best. No, we are not "NOT" doing anything about it so no need to worry. We have been just as concerned this whole time about Jude's walking as everyone else has, but we also feel we shouldn't make a big deal about it in front of Jude so as not to give him a complex about himself. At his age, we want him to understand that he is perfectly Jude.
And finally...
I don't have much to say (but do I have some thoughts about it!) about the Trayvon Martin case, and you know why? Because I wasn't there when it all happened, much like everyone else I know. (Although, I'm willing to bet that Trayvon was not exactly showing that same precious smile from the picture of him the media put out when Zimmerman first encountered him. Oh, wait. I wasn't there. My bad.) I do know this, though, after being summoned to many many jury duties. The people selected for the jury do not take the process lightly. Also, the jury is shown every piece of evidence, and they listen intently before making a decision. And believe me, they make an informed decision. That's all I'm going to say about that.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
The Weigh In
No, this post isn't about weight, although you should know that I will be participating in a weight loss program at my doctor's office starting next Monday (when I get back from the beach--because foolish as I am to actually try to deprive myself of anything that tastes good, I at least have enough sense to start after I enjoy a shrimp po-boy or two.)
Actually, I'm writing as a follow up to the big shock I received New Year's Day--the one about my parents getting back together, later remarrying in early May, and finally relocating exactly 12.3 miles from my driveway a month ago.
I make it no secret that I wasn't exactly thrilled when I heard the big news. Shocked,worried, and weirded out actually better fit what I felt. While I don't recall either parent acting completely nasty to the other, (because I don't believe they would ever resort to that), I couldn't understand why they thought it was a good idea to get back together when so many years before, they had the bright idea to split up. (Ya'll can obviously tell that I'm not one of those glass-half-full people. I am, for better or worse, a realist.) I had gotten used to the eighteen-ish year reign of my parents' divorce, even though it's the only tragedy I'd ever experienced that even today, so many years later, I can't talk about all the way through without tearing up. However, the re-marriage and the move were happening whether I came on board or not.
Another thing I got nervous about was the move. My parents moved to Gluckstadt, which is the closest I've lived to either of them since I graduated from high school. I had gotten used to living somewhat on my own. (Here's a fun fact about me--I've never actually lived alone. Before college, I lived with one of my parents, during college, I always had roommates, and then I got married two weeks after finishing undergrad.) Throughout my adult life, I figured out how to take care of myself whenever I got sick, how to cook my own meals (after all, my mom was still just a phone call away), and how to raise my child without date nights and such. I took pride in those sort of things, so when my parents decided to move on in, I got a little scared of the change. My family's life was about to change. Now, I would just have to figure out some new routine even though I had what I thought was a quite perfect plan.
Now we're a month into this big change, and here's my assessment: It couldn't have gone better if we had tried. Now, I know why some kids move closer to their folks when they grow up. I enjoy getting to go to their house most days out of the week, mostly because Jude LOVES going to visit his Mimi and Grandpa Ron. A few weeks back, I got to actually go see my husband's rock band play, something I haven't gotten to do since I became a mother due to the fact that I don't have enough redneck in me to take a baby to a bar. My mother and I have had several impromptu outings since she's been here that usually involve a tasty lunch somewhere, and my dad and I have watched a lot of Milwaukee Brewers on T.V. They both have accompanied us to Jude's swim lessons, so now I have witnesses to my testimony that Jude will in fact be the next Michael Phelps. All in all, having the parents so close has ended up as a blessing for us.
I guess I just did what I do best--worried over nothing. However, I will weigh-in every so often about our arrangements, but for now, I see us only getting better.
Actually, I'm writing as a follow up to the big shock I received New Year's Day--the one about my parents getting back together, later remarrying in early May, and finally relocating exactly 12.3 miles from my driveway a month ago.
I make it no secret that I wasn't exactly thrilled when I heard the big news. Shocked,worried, and weirded out actually better fit what I felt. While I don't recall either parent acting completely nasty to the other, (because I don't believe they would ever resort to that), I couldn't understand why they thought it was a good idea to get back together when so many years before, they had the bright idea to split up. (Ya'll can obviously tell that I'm not one of those glass-half-full people. I am, for better or worse, a realist.) I had gotten used to the eighteen-ish year reign of my parents' divorce, even though it's the only tragedy I'd ever experienced that even today, so many years later, I can't talk about all the way through without tearing up. However, the re-marriage and the move were happening whether I came on board or not.
Another thing I got nervous about was the move. My parents moved to Gluckstadt, which is the closest I've lived to either of them since I graduated from high school. I had gotten used to living somewhat on my own. (Here's a fun fact about me--I've never actually lived alone. Before college, I lived with one of my parents, during college, I always had roommates, and then I got married two weeks after finishing undergrad.) Throughout my adult life, I figured out how to take care of myself whenever I got sick, how to cook my own meals (after all, my mom was still just a phone call away), and how to raise my child without date nights and such. I took pride in those sort of things, so when my parents decided to move on in, I got a little scared of the change. My family's life was about to change. Now, I would just have to figure out some new routine even though I had what I thought was a quite perfect plan.
Now we're a month into this big change, and here's my assessment: It couldn't have gone better if we had tried. Now, I know why some kids move closer to their folks when they grow up. I enjoy getting to go to their house most days out of the week, mostly because Jude LOVES going to visit his Mimi and Grandpa Ron. A few weeks back, I got to actually go see my husband's rock band play, something I haven't gotten to do since I became a mother due to the fact that I don't have enough redneck in me to take a baby to a bar. My mother and I have had several impromptu outings since she's been here that usually involve a tasty lunch somewhere, and my dad and I have watched a lot of Milwaukee Brewers on T.V. They both have accompanied us to Jude's swim lessons, so now I have witnesses to my testimony that Jude will in fact be the next Michael Phelps. All in all, having the parents so close has ended up as a blessing for us.
I guess I just did what I do best--worried over nothing. However, I will weigh-in every so often about our arrangements, but for now, I see us only getting better.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Hold Your Fire
I've had this on my mind a while, but never thought to post about it until now. It's quite the southern tradition for fathers with daughters to threaten any boy's life who shows even a remote interest in their little princesses.
Now that I'm a mother to a son, I have some thoughts about this.
To those who may threaten Jude's life simply because he wishes to court your daughter, listen up!
His father and I will continue to work tirelessly to raise Jude right. Even just one month shy of two years old, Jude already knows to say "Please" and "Thank you". In fact, this weekend, he even said, "Yes Ma'am!"
He will learn how to treat women respectfully because his father sets that example in the way he treats me on a daily basis. Jude will witness a lot of things growing up in our house, but yelling, belittling, and hitting will not be among those things. While his father will primarily serve as Jude's chief role model, I too have a few things I intend to instill in him. Just as Jeffrey can show him how to treat a woman well, I will teach him about choosing the right kind of girl--the kind of girl who won't cuckold her man or stray from him because something "better" came along. That's the example I set for my son every day.
As far as worrying about whether Jude will put his hands all over your daughters and cause them shame, rest assured that if or when I find out about this imbecile behavior, I will snatch him bald-headed before you can even pull a trigger. However, bear in mind that he won't be the only one to blame in this scenario. It does take two to tango. Take comfort in knowing that when the time comes for Jeffrey and me to allow Jude to date, it's because we wholeheartedly trust that he can take a girl out and treat her with the utmost respect (but let's not confuse his respect for females with being a pushover).
Hopefully, if Jeffrey and I have done our jobs correctly, Jude will know when he gets to where he's old enough to date, he has picked a girl who has had a good raising like himself that engages in good conversation and loves life. And yes, I do hope he finds her pretty--both inside and out.
Jude does not come from the wealthiest family on the planet, but I can assure you he comes from one that loves him unconditionally and will stop at nothing to ensure his happiness and well-being.
Since I first found out Jude was going to be a boy, I have prayed that he will one day be a good husband and find a wife who loves him with everything she has. After all, Jude will eventually leave my nest to build his own. My realizing this is why I have a hard time around his birthday. Please realize that it may take a few relationships before he learns to recognize this sort of love.
Maybe instead of threatening bodily harm, you should stop and say a prayer or two that your daughters find some boy whose parents took a lot of time to think, pray, and discuss with their son about his future courtships. Just as Jeffrey and I lead by example, so do you. So in thirteen years or so, if you see Jude Brown driving down your driveway to pick up your daughter, just calm down and hold your fire.
Now that I'm a mother to a son, I have some thoughts about this.
To those who may threaten Jude's life simply because he wishes to court your daughter, listen up!
His father and I will continue to work tirelessly to raise Jude right. Even just one month shy of two years old, Jude already knows to say "Please" and "Thank you". In fact, this weekend, he even said, "Yes Ma'am!"
He will learn how to treat women respectfully because his father sets that example in the way he treats me on a daily basis. Jude will witness a lot of things growing up in our house, but yelling, belittling, and hitting will not be among those things. While his father will primarily serve as Jude's chief role model, I too have a few things I intend to instill in him. Just as Jeffrey can show him how to treat a woman well, I will teach him about choosing the right kind of girl--the kind of girl who won't cuckold her man or stray from him because something "better" came along. That's the example I set for my son every day.
As far as worrying about whether Jude will put his hands all over your daughters and cause them shame, rest assured that if or when I find out about this imbecile behavior, I will snatch him bald-headed before you can even pull a trigger. However, bear in mind that he won't be the only one to blame in this scenario. It does take two to tango. Take comfort in knowing that when the time comes for Jeffrey and me to allow Jude to date, it's because we wholeheartedly trust that he can take a girl out and treat her with the utmost respect (but let's not confuse his respect for females with being a pushover).
Hopefully, if Jeffrey and I have done our jobs correctly, Jude will know when he gets to where he's old enough to date, he has picked a girl who has had a good raising like himself that engages in good conversation and loves life. And yes, I do hope he finds her pretty--both inside and out.
Jude does not come from the wealthiest family on the planet, but I can assure you he comes from one that loves him unconditionally and will stop at nothing to ensure his happiness and well-being.
Since I first found out Jude was going to be a boy, I have prayed that he will one day be a good husband and find a wife who loves him with everything she has. After all, Jude will eventually leave my nest to build his own. My realizing this is why I have a hard time around his birthday. Please realize that it may take a few relationships before he learns to recognize this sort of love.
Maybe instead of threatening bodily harm, you should stop and say a prayer or two that your daughters find some boy whose parents took a lot of time to think, pray, and discuss with their son about his future courtships. Just as Jeffrey and I lead by example, so do you. So in thirteen years or so, if you see Jude Brown driving down your driveway to pick up your daughter, just calm down and hold your fire.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Children's Literature As Told By a Cynic
Every night, I read Jude his bedtime story. Sometimes, I'll even read him two. This is one of my favorite parts of his routine as he loves a good story, and so do I. However, he does have his preferences, so like any good parent, I've taken to memorizing all of the favorites. Now, it's true that motherhood has changed me for the better, but there are those sarcastic parts of my psyche that still cling to me like barnacles to a ship. Even though, I love reading Jude his favorite books, sometimes I just can't help but to put that realist spin onto the story.
Take Pete the Cat, for example: A modern children's classic about a cat who, no matter what obstacle comes his way, chooses to always look on the bright side. One can find the lines "Does Pete cry? Goodness, no!" embedded in several parts of each book in the series.
Here's a brief excerpt from my version about the first book in the series where Pete continually steps in a pile of messes while wearing his brand new shoes:
...Oh no!
Pete stepped in a large pile of....dog poop.
Did Pete cry?
Hell yeah, he did!
Those two pairs of Air Jordans didn't just fall out of the sky!...
And who can forget the classic nursery rhyme "Three Little Kittens"? Like Pete, a cat who hasn't figured out that he can walk all over God's creation sans footwear, the three kittens in this tale just keep on messing up the mittens they wear, much to their mama's dismay.
Jeffrey and I have read this nursery rhyme to Jude since I was pregnant with him, so of course with that much practice in reading it, I've come up with my own version. Check out a snippet dealing with the aftermath of when the kittens ate pie while wearing their mittens:
..."Oh mother dear, see hear, see hear!
See, we have soiled our mittens!"
"Soiled your mittens?
You dumbass kittens!
What the hell's wrong with ya'll?"
Now, before anyone calls DHS on me for telling these stories to my child, bear in mind that I really do read the real versions of these to him and not the ones I make up. Jeffrey, however, gets an earful from me.
As bad as I want to be a published writer, I think it's safe to say that I can rule out a career in children's literature.
Take Pete the Cat, for example: A modern children's classic about a cat who, no matter what obstacle comes his way, chooses to always look on the bright side. One can find the lines "Does Pete cry? Goodness, no!" embedded in several parts of each book in the series.
Here's a brief excerpt from my version about the first book in the series where Pete continually steps in a pile of messes while wearing his brand new shoes:
...Oh no!
Pete stepped in a large pile of....dog poop.
Did Pete cry?
Hell yeah, he did!
Those two pairs of Air Jordans didn't just fall out of the sky!...
And who can forget the classic nursery rhyme "Three Little Kittens"? Like Pete, a cat who hasn't figured out that he can walk all over God's creation sans footwear, the three kittens in this tale just keep on messing up the mittens they wear, much to their mama's dismay.
Jeffrey and I have read this nursery rhyme to Jude since I was pregnant with him, so of course with that much practice in reading it, I've come up with my own version. Check out a snippet dealing with the aftermath of when the kittens ate pie while wearing their mittens:
..."Oh mother dear, see hear, see hear!
See, we have soiled our mittens!"
"Soiled your mittens?
You dumbass kittens!
What the hell's wrong with ya'll?"
Now, before anyone calls DHS on me for telling these stories to my child, bear in mind that I really do read the real versions of these to him and not the ones I make up. Jeffrey, however, gets an earful from me.
As bad as I want to be a published writer, I think it's safe to say that I can rule out a career in children's literature.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)