Reproductive Confusion

Wow…my last blog was oh-so-cheery. Man, I am super fun.

I am so, so glad there is no school tomorrow. We’re barely back from Christmas break and I already need a break. How pathetic!

Ok right now I’m having a ridiculous struggle. My oldest will be 14 in just a couple of months. My youngest is 8. There is no way I want to have children that far apart, and yet…. Aaaahhh! What’s wrong with me? I have firmly dismissed the idea, had no desire to have any more children for several years. And suddenly, I have 4 pregnant friends. Now I’m feeling that familiar ache, that sad desire to be pregnant again. What the heck is wrong with me? T and I have never had a time in our marriage without children. We treasure time alone with one another. We look forward to the days when we will be free to do as we please. And here I am with this strange desire to be pregnant again. Ugh!

Now, luckily (I think) there is no way on earth (or anywhere else) that Tobey could possibly be convinced that we need another child. And as that makes me happy on one level, I am crushed on another. What the heck? I don’t get it. Being female is the most confusing thing. I'm really sorry fellas. If we can't figure ourselves out, I have no idea how you are supposed to.

Aspirations and Reality

My son is a very bright kid. Learning just about anything has always been very easy for him. He has always made straight As. He attends a “school of choice” or magnet program in our city. He always scores in the top 3-5% nationally on standardized testing. Although he does well in everything and loves to read, he especially excels in math and science.

Because of all of these factors, T aspires for him to go to MIT. (I think he dreams about it at night.) He has mentioned it on several occasions…. almost daily. My son’s room however, is decked out in orange and black. He has posters of football and basketball players from the school on his walls and orange and black blankets and pillows on his bed. A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with G in the car on the way to watch a game. After that conversation with my son, I told my husband that he might as well give up. (I guess the orange and black room didn’t tip him off.)

We had to drive to a friend’s house to watch the football game. My son was beside himself because we were most likely going to miss kick off.

I said, “G settle down. If we miss it, we just miss it. It’s just kick off. We’ll be there right after for the entire rest of the game.” This, however, merely agitated him more.

“Mom, are you really a true fan, because I don’t think you are!” he said.

“Yes, G. I am a true fan, but I don’t think missing kick off is the end of the world.”

G said (yelling this time, although I don’t think he realized he was yelling-he was just extremely agitated.)“No Mom! I don’t think you really are a true fan! I mean, do you bleed orange and black, because I bleed orange and black!!!!”

Smart Potato

Conversation with my daughter 10 minutes ago:

C: Mom, this potato soup is very potato-y!

Short pause as I stare at her in disbelief.

Me: Well that's good because I sure hate it when it's too sqaush-y.

Field Trip

Boy am I behind on my blogging!

Last week the J and the rest of the second grade went on a field trip to the Will Rogers museum and his birthplace. I have been on the field trip twice with G and C, and it is one of my favorites. As I walk through I realize what an incredible man Will Rogers was. The museum is full of really interesting things pictures, articles, etc. It also has an entire section downstairs just for kids. It has dress-up clothes in a "backstage" area which has a door leading to a stage and mini auditorium complete with seats for the audience. It has several other rooms including: a room with podium and seats for political speeches, an "outdoor" room with a giant wagon painted on the wall but real wagon wheels attached to it, a one room school house, and a few others. So, here are some fun pics:



This is a statue of Will on his horse outside the museum. The picture can't quite capture its beauty.




This is a part of a mural painted on a wall in the museum.





This is the room with the wagon and wheels. It is not a great picture because it is so dark. I hope you can see how neat it is.




This is my group with the man who gave us a presentation about Will when we got there. He was very knowledgable, but the kids loved him because he could rope. :)


After we finished at the museum, we went to his birthplace and childhood home. We had a picnic lunch and the toured the house, barns, and the grounds in general. Animals are kept on the grounds including donkeys, chickens, horses, cows and goats. I love this part!



J eating her lunch.




This is my niece T eating her lunch with us. She is in a different class, so she wasn't in my group. This is the only time we were together all day.




Here is his childhood home. There are trees lining a path leading up to the front, so I couldn't get a clean shot of the entire front of the house (I had to cut of the edges of it because it would not have been visible through the trees).



Ok this was my favorite part of the inside of the house! I love black iron stoves!




The donkeys!




J with a baby goat! There were so many baby pygmy goats and very, very pregnant mamas. All and all a great day!

Some Things Just Go Together

J and I have a "tuck in" routine we go through every night. First, we sing the goonight song together. Next, I kiss her. Then I "snug as a bug in a rug" her. And then I kiss her again. Sometimes she asks me to sing another song to her, and I do.

Tonight was one of those nights. She asked me to sing another song to her. And I agreed. Only, what I neglected to tell you before is that when she asks me to sing, she also expects me to tickle her tummy. So, after I agreed, and as she was pulling her nightshirt up so I could tickle her tummy, she said, "Make sure you tickle my tummy, Mommy, because singing and tickling tummies just go together. You know, like cookies and milk." I'm still smiling.

Poke Poke Poke

Earlier, I was standing in the kitchen cooking dinner. I'm rather exhausted today. In about 3 days time, I have picked bags and bags of apples and pears (before that I picked blackberries--talk about thorns! Ugh! My arms were torn to shreds!), peeled, cored and sliced them, covered them in water, strained them through jelly bags, measured the juice, mixed it with pectin and sugar, boiled it, filled jars, cooked it in my canner, until "ta-da!" I have beautiful jars and jars of jelly. I have made 25 jars so far, and I'm just getting warmed up. (More about that later.) On top of that, I have had a house full of kids since my nieces are here for the summer and have spent almost every day with me while their mother worked. Today was especially tiring because, on top of making jelly, I had to go to Whole Foods to pick up a few things, stop at Sam's for sugar, take G to a dental appointment, and on and on.... But I digress.

As I was stirring the Alfredo sauce, G my son walked by and patted my back and then poked me in the ribs. He walked away then but kept walking by poking me in the ribs. I was patient with his 13-year-old game of "pick at/play with Mom," until my ribs started to feel sore. I finally told him to stop. After a few playful "please stops" I finally said, "I don't like this game. It hurts. Stop." But he didn't. Over and over he poked me until I was angry. I finally growled, "Stop!!" Giggling, he went into the living room. Not to long after he left, Tobey walked in and did THE SAME THING! I said, "Why are you poking me? Your son just did the same thing! I hate it when you do that! Why do you guys think its okay to do that?" Tobey grinned (the same grin I might add), and said, "Maybe its because of what's on your back." I reached up to the middle of my back and pulled off a Post-it Note that read:


Poke my sides


Boys!

A Bit of Bullying

Last night and today I have been struggling with whether to post this or not. I decided to post it and at least get a little feedback. Maybe.

I'll preface this by saying that I know I have a tendency to be very introspective (a gift from the Puritans--despite their problems) and over-analytical. I overanalyze some things. Ok most things. Perhaps that is just what I'm doing now, or perhaps I didn't react properly to the situation. Here is what happened:

My 13 yo niece J is visiting for the summer. [She is one the most shy children I've ever known. She generally looks at the floor while she is speaking, and I often have to ask her to repeat herself because I can't hear what she says.] I put her on our neighborhood pool pass, so she could swim with my 12 and 13 yo children. We literally live across the street from the park/pool (I can stand on my front porch and see the kids playing), so the kids go to the pool almost every day.

Late last week I was at the park with my cousin and her daughter. J got out of the pool and walked toward my house by herself. I called her to me and asked her what was wrong, but I got the typical "nothing" that a 13 yo gives. I thought maybe she was just tired and shrugged it off. But it happened again. And again. Finally, Tuesday, I asked my 12 yo daughter C what was wrong with J. She told me that some girls at the pool began picking on her and threatened to beat her up. C said that it had escalated to the point that J did not want to swim at all, and C was now being threatened. I asked C if they had brought it to the attention of the lifeguards, and C told me that the lifeguards knew it was happening. Several of the lifeguards are friends with the girls and they laugh when the girls threaten my children. I was very, Very angry. Later that day, all the kids went to the park to play. After a short time, they all came back in the house because the girls and a few of their friends had gotten out of the pool, gone to the park, and threatened them. That was it for me. I was hopping mad. You just don't mess with Mama Bear's cubs!

Anyone who knows me knows that there are two things I can't stand--pedophiles and bullies. People who hurt those who cannot protect themselves do not give me warm fuzzies. I thought and thought about what to do. What I really wanted to do was go out there and give those girls a good spanking, but I restrained myself, as it was probably not the wisest thing to do.

Wednesday, I decided to go to the pool with the kids. The younger ones wanted to go anyway, and I knew this situation had to be dealt with. Obviously the girls steered clear of my children while I was there. When it was time to go, I sent the kids on while I stopped in the clubhouse and asked to speak to the manager. The manager (as is usually the case) was not there, so I decided to speak to lifeguard. I waited until other people had dispersed and told her:

"I don't want to embarrass anyone, but this situation needs to be dealt with. My niece is visiting for the summer, and I put her on our pool pass. I paid for my pass just as everyone else has, and now my children, especially my niece, feel like they can't even come to the pool. I did not pay for my children to be harassed and threatened when they come to swim. If the behavior continues, I will have no choice but to press charges against anyone involved."

The lifeguard said, "I understand" about 500 times. When I was finished, she said that she would make the other lifeguards aware of it, and it would not happen again. It hasn't. The kids have been swimming every day since, and they have had not 1 ounce of trouble.

But I feel a bit bad. I didn't want to threaten anyone. That actually was not my intent. I really wanted them to know that I felt pressing charges or getting a restraining order was the only option they would be leaving me, if the threats and harassment did not stop. The behavior has stopped, but punching someone in the face might stop behavior too--that doesn't make it the right thing to do. Did I do the right thing? Or should I have done something else?

So They Will Know

her·it·age: [her-i-tij] –noun
something that comes or belongs to one by reason of birth; an inherited lot or portion: a heritage of poverty and suffering; a national heritage of honor, pride, and courage.


Today I went to an assembly at my children’s school. It was in honor of Veteran’s Day and in celebration of Oklahoma’s 100th birthday. Children, parents, teachers, and other school staff packed into the dark auditorium. The stage, lit only with a small circle of light, was decorated with the Stars and Stripes and flags of Oklahoma. Projected on each wall perpendicular to the stage was a large American Flag of light.

The assembly began with the presentation of the flag. The JROTC Color Guard marched up on the stage and we pledged allegiance to our flag. Children presented responses to questions they had asked current and former service men and women. The orchestra played “America the Beautiful,” followed by the band who played “Anchors Away” in honor of the guest speaker: a plucky 82 year old WWII veteran and 40 year Oklahoma educator. He spoke of the importance of education and military service. We saw a slide show of past and present wars, watched a touching video of Native America, and sang “Oklahoma” with the choir.

My eyes got misty off and on as I saw pictures of veterans and heard their words. Of course that is not uncommon for me--my eyes usually get watery during the pledge. I felt grateful to be there, grateful that my children were able to take part in the celebration and remembrance of our country’s hard working protectors. But of all that was said and done, I was the most moved when people all around the auditorium stood in acknowledgement of their service or a family member’s service. Looking around me, I could see a beautiful heritage passed through families within my United States, within my Oklahoma.

I wondered if my children know and can truly appreciate their heritage. They never met one of my grandfathers, as he died when I was only 10. I have a handful of memories of him. I can still hear his voice and his laugh. I can see him tower above me. He left a beautiful heritage for my family, but they will never know him. All they have from him is the legacy he passed to me. And so I question: What is my heritage? With what legacy will I leave my children? Before I can know that, I have to identify what legacy I want to leave. I have never served my country in the military, but I hope my children will understand honor, sacrifice, and service. I want them to see courage and determination, hard work and perseverance. I want them to honor the sacrifice of others and be full of patriotism. Beyond that, I also want to leave a legacy of love and compassion. I want give them a legacy of Christ and godliness.

Every day I wonder what I am teaching them. I wonder what they see in me. I hope they see not perfection, but one who admits her faults and strives to turn her weaknesses into strengths.

As we drove home from school, I told them about all of our family members who have served our country. We spoke of what a proud and beautiful heritage they have been given through military persons and non-military alike. I will continue to remind them so that they can pass the same beautiful stories, the same rich heritage to their children.


Our military heritage (in part):

Papa Joe
Army
WWI

Grandpa (Ralph Wright)
Navy
WWII

Grandaddy Downey
Army
WWII

Grandaddy Crow
Army
WWII

Joe Matt Macon
Coast Guard

Tiffany Amey
Army

Stephanie Soule
Army

Randall Wright
Air Force
Army
Iraq


Thank you.