Christmas is one of my favorite holidays. Not only do I enjoy celebrating the meaning of the season, spending time with friends and relatives, and giving heartfelt gifts to others, I LOVE to decorate for Christmas.
I remember my excitement after we built our house several years ago. Decorating the outside of the house with lights, hanging up lighted shapes of trees and snowmen in the windows, and wrapping greenery and lights around the doorways. Inside, I wrapped the banister with greenery and lights, hung little decorations in it, hung up pictures and decorations on the walls, and set out candles and snow globes. I made sure that we always went on a family outing to cut down a big tree, which I would then decorate with matching ornaments and white lights and bows I tied myself. During the last couple of years since I've divorced and lived in an apartment, the entire process has not been as fun and I really haven't been able to motivate myself into going all out, or even part way out, like I used to.
This year, I decided things would be different! I got out my ornaments and scoped out the situation. They were pretty pitiful honestly. My ex husband had been the one to split them up and I'm not certain what his decorating ideas were at the time. Several were broken or falling apart, there were various colors from different tree schemes I'd used in the past, etc. After I really looked at my options, I discussed the situation with my friend Leslie.
As I have mentioned in past blogs, Leslie is everything I want to be when I grow up. One of the things I admire about her is her fabulous decorating sense. Throughout the year, Leslie's house always looks very, very nice. Classy but not intimidating. But at Christmas time? Leslie's house is beyond marvelous. For example, this year Leslie went with a tuxedo type theme. She used black and silver and white. Her tree really could have been picked up and dropped into the White House and there would be no problem.
Upon discussing my Christmas decorating issues and ideas with Leslie, she informed me that not only did she have an extra tree she would let me use, she was also going through her Christmas decorations, of which she had many, and getting rid of some. She told me that she thought there was probably some things that I would like and could use. When I arrived at Leslie's house to go through them, in the shadow of her gorgeous tree, there was all kinds of beautiful things. I took as many as I could without seeming greedy (all right, I took all of it) and went home to try to make my tree into everything I knew it could be!
First, I set up the tree. This fake tree was not like the fake tree I had used in the past. It was bigger and the lights came on the tree. However, it had a stand that had to be put together first, with each hole lining up carefully and eye bolts that screwed into the holes, which would not work if everything wasn't exactly in place. I started out sitting on the floor, trying to get everything in line. Pretty soon I was laying on the floor, attempting to eyeball the stand and see if it was sitting flat and even (NOT). When I thought everything looked sufficient, I slid the bottom third of the tree into the stand. It was fairly heavy actually, and would not stand up straight. Evidence that my stand was not put together right. I yanked out the tree part and took the stand apart again. And again. And again. Switching the pieces around to see if one way worked better than another. Upon hearing my grunts and muffled curses, Katelyn came to investigate. She found me laying on my stomach on the floor with a level and a hammer, banging on the tree stand in various places, and calling it names. All of a sudden, I heard her ask, "Um, mom? Why are you bleeding all over the floor?" I jumped up and looked down at myself. Somehow in the process of tree stand building, I had cut my forearm open. Not just a little scratch, but a bright red, 7" cut that was bleeding all over the carpet and my shirt.
After cleaning myself up and scrubbing the stains out of the carpet, I re-evaluated the situation. How important was a completely upright tree anyway? I mean, after I put the wondrous decorations on the tree, who would notice if it was standing perfectly straight? Nobody! They would be much too busy basking in the glory of my fabulous tree! After two and a half hours, I finally finished putting the tree together and making sure that all of the lights worked. Then, I turned to the boxes and the bags that I had gotten from Leslie. I carefully went through each one, in awe at the beautiful decorations. I began slowly putting things onto the tree: small groupings of greenery with gold pine cones and leaves, glittery golden fruit, gold ting ting. Before long, the tree was becoming full. I decided it was time to step back and marvel at my work. Bask in the masterpiece I surely had created. When all of a sudden from behind me I heard the dulcet tones of my daughter ........."What the hell is that?!"
Turning, I scolded my teenager for her language. "But mom, have you looked at it?" I shook my head and turned, prepared to be stunned by the beauty of my tree. It was hideous! The glitter and sparkle resembled a costume Elvis would have worn in his later years. My tree would have looked at home in the front room at Liberace's house. Had a flaming gay man taken over my body and done this in my stead? Perhaps one with severe mental health disorders that desperately needed medication! I backed up further. Maybe in the right light? Or from the correct angle? And further still I stepped. If I added a bow? What if I turned the tree slightly to the left? No. No. And no.
Slowly I began to pull the beautiful gold decorations off the tree one at a time. How could this have happened? These visions of loveliness belonged to Leslie. I did not understand how they could fail! My tree should have been perfection! But instead it was a sparkly ball of frou frou that belonged at Graceland. I packed most of the decorations I had gotten from Leslie away, and got out the silver and white ones I'd used the year before. My excitement over going "all out" in my Christmas decorating swiftly fading.
Eventually, the tree was decorated. My friend Janice came over and artistically threaded white poinsettia blooms throughout the tree and at the top. I shopped for a few more interesting decorations to give it some life. I added some large clear globes to it to fill in a couple of spaces between the branches. I even added some ting ting in silver to give it "added fullness" upon Janice's advice. The finished product was actually very beautiful. While nowhere close to the magnificence of Leslie's tree, I don't look at it and wonder which personality might have risen above the others and commandeered decorating duties.
Late that night, I sat on the couch in the light of my tree. The children were in bed asleep. We'd hung their stockings up, and put some greenery on top of the piano and armoire, threaded with little white lights. I carefully sat washing the crusted blood from my arm, rubbing some neosporin into my decorating battle wounds, my tree no longer resembling one that Siegfried and Roy might have in their home. Was my tree perfection? No. Would my children look back in later years, marveling over the tree that their mother decorated for Christmas 2008? Probably not. However, as I sat watching my cat systematically begin to destroy the bottom 2' of my tree, I realized that while I might have enjoyed having a wondrous tree that would be looked at by others as if it were a piece of art, that wasn't what was truly the most important thing. My tree, though not a masterpiece, was up. It was pointed in a generally upward direction. There were many white lights upon it. It was covered in ornaments and other items that were similar in color and meshed well together from an artistic standpoint. Barring serious infection, I still had my arm, and hopefully the scar will fade at some point. And next year, I will know to plan far enough in advance to invite Leslie over to decorate my tree for me.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
My Value Is Not Based On the Number of Hours I Work Each Week
I sometimes wonder when I came to believe that my value as a person rose and fell with the number of hours I worked each week. As I sit here tonight, at 12:24 a.m., writing this blog, I have just finished working for the day. Today's work schedule consisted of approximately 16 hours, minus commuting time. This is the third night I have worked at home this week, although this one is the latest by a couple of hours, making the grand total number of hours that I have put in this week in four days at 58.
Some might say that the financial compensation is what does it for me. Well, no. That's not it exactly as I'm not an hourly employee. Others might wonder if it's the glory in the accomplishment that drives me to do it. Yeah, that's not it either. As a paralegal, I'm very much behind the scenes in my job. No glory here, sorry. Fame? Nope. Not a center stage kind of girl and definitely not the area to seek fame regardless.
On one hand, I do feel better and more in control of life when I have my desk and my work responsibilities firmly in hand. It's calming to me to know exactly what I have to do and when I have to do it by. No surprises. No wild excitement. No last minute hoopla. However, anyone that has dabbled in law, family law in particular, knows that despite what may appear to be a fact based, clear, formula driven kind of field, it's extremely emotional. The range from anger, bitterness, fear, resentment, and sadness that accompany these types of issues, combined with the greed and tight fistedness, can really make for a day full of highs and lows. Having made my way in the minefield that is family law over the course of the past eight years, I have become numb to emotions my clients exhibit. As an emotion-based individual myself, the numbness is the protective layer that gets me through the day. The numbness, though, does not stop me from seeing or being privy to the aforementioned emotions of my clients.
On the other hand, it does make me feel better and more accomplished to have succeeded in meeting my deadlines and goals, whether self imposed or set by statute or boss. I enjoy the 'pats on the back' that I occasionally get for a job well done. The occasional bonuses to thank me for my hard work. The comments containing praise for foregoing sleep to keep a client happy or to get a seemingly impossible deadline met.
So tonight, in order to keep everything right in part of my little world, I arrived home, briefly greeted my children, ordered pizza to be delivered, and parked them in front of the television with a movie and threats of early bedtimes with any instances of bad behavior or arguing. I believe that there may have even been a threat or two regarding bodily harm or limb removal if hands weren't kept to themselves. I completely avoided mothering for the most part, until the movie was done, when I paused from my work, looked up from my computer, and tossed my children into their respective beds with a quick kiss, hug and 'I love you', placing more value on the work to be completed than the young lives I'm raising. I wonder though if this is the example I want to set for my children.
I think back to when I was little, probably around 5 or 6. My father was the Bishop of our church, and was also in business for himself, running a Sears catalog store. He was gone in the morning long before I woke up for the day, and often came home after we were in bed. A lot of the memories that I have of spending time with my father were those of sneaking downstairs when I heard him come in, and sitting on his lap for a few minutes while he ate warmed up dinner. While trying to provide for his family in the way that he deemed suitable, he removed himself from participating in his family in any way except peripherally. I don't want this for my children.
I think that, as a single parent, it's very difficult to reach the point where you're able to keep all of the balls in the air. I probably manage to keep at least three out of four in the air for the most part, only occasionally dropping those that I can afford to drop. If the balls were apples though, they'd probably be pretty severely bruised. It's hard for me to be the kind of person that leans on others, although I have no problem allowing others to lean on me, thus adding balls to the mix that I can ill afford. In the couple of years since my divorce, I have tried hard to become independent. Perhaps in a misguided belief that dependence on someone only leads to hurt and disappointment down the road. But tonight, independence is exhausting.
And so the struggle for balance continues. One day I hope it is something I manage to find. But tonight, at 1:09 a.m., as I get up to do just one more load of laundry before laying down to read until my eyes burn with fatigue, I wonder; have I earned my keep today?
Some might say that the financial compensation is what does it for me. Well, no. That's not it exactly as I'm not an hourly employee. Others might wonder if it's the glory in the accomplishment that drives me to do it. Yeah, that's not it either. As a paralegal, I'm very much behind the scenes in my job. No glory here, sorry. Fame? Nope. Not a center stage kind of girl and definitely not the area to seek fame regardless.
On one hand, I do feel better and more in control of life when I have my desk and my work responsibilities firmly in hand. It's calming to me to know exactly what I have to do and when I have to do it by. No surprises. No wild excitement. No last minute hoopla. However, anyone that has dabbled in law, family law in particular, knows that despite what may appear to be a fact based, clear, formula driven kind of field, it's extremely emotional. The range from anger, bitterness, fear, resentment, and sadness that accompany these types of issues, combined with the greed and tight fistedness, can really make for a day full of highs and lows. Having made my way in the minefield that is family law over the course of the past eight years, I have become numb to emotions my clients exhibit. As an emotion-based individual myself, the numbness is the protective layer that gets me through the day. The numbness, though, does not stop me from seeing or being privy to the aforementioned emotions of my clients.
On the other hand, it does make me feel better and more accomplished to have succeeded in meeting my deadlines and goals, whether self imposed or set by statute or boss. I enjoy the 'pats on the back' that I occasionally get for a job well done. The occasional bonuses to thank me for my hard work. The comments containing praise for foregoing sleep to keep a client happy or to get a seemingly impossible deadline met.
So tonight, in order to keep everything right in part of my little world, I arrived home, briefly greeted my children, ordered pizza to be delivered, and parked them in front of the television with a movie and threats of early bedtimes with any instances of bad behavior or arguing. I believe that there may have even been a threat or two regarding bodily harm or limb removal if hands weren't kept to themselves. I completely avoided mothering for the most part, until the movie was done, when I paused from my work, looked up from my computer, and tossed my children into their respective beds with a quick kiss, hug and 'I love you', placing more value on the work to be completed than the young lives I'm raising. I wonder though if this is the example I want to set for my children.
I think back to when I was little, probably around 5 or 6. My father was the Bishop of our church, and was also in business for himself, running a Sears catalog store. He was gone in the morning long before I woke up for the day, and often came home after we were in bed. A lot of the memories that I have of spending time with my father were those of sneaking downstairs when I heard him come in, and sitting on his lap for a few minutes while he ate warmed up dinner. While trying to provide for his family in the way that he deemed suitable, he removed himself from participating in his family in any way except peripherally. I don't want this for my children.
I think that, as a single parent, it's very difficult to reach the point where you're able to keep all of the balls in the air. I probably manage to keep at least three out of four in the air for the most part, only occasionally dropping those that I can afford to drop. If the balls were apples though, they'd probably be pretty severely bruised. It's hard for me to be the kind of person that leans on others, although I have no problem allowing others to lean on me, thus adding balls to the mix that I can ill afford. In the couple of years since my divorce, I have tried hard to become independent. Perhaps in a misguided belief that dependence on someone only leads to hurt and disappointment down the road. But tonight, independence is exhausting.
And so the struggle for balance continues. One day I hope it is something I manage to find. But tonight, at 1:09 a.m., as I get up to do just one more load of laundry before laying down to read until my eyes burn with fatigue, I wonder; have I earned my keep today?
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Is There an Appropriate Answer When Your Child Asks to Dye Her Hair Green and Black?
I am the mother of two children: Colton, who is 7, and Katelyn, who is 14. My children have very different personalities, likes and dislikes. In fact, at this point, pretty much the only thing that they have in common is their distinct dislike of each other. Katelyn firmly believes that Colton was put here on this earth solely to cause her pain, misery and discontent. Colton does everything in his power to further this belief. This results only in pain, misery and discontent for me.
Katelyn has begun her freshman year of highschool this year. Over the course of the past year, as she matured a bit, her tastes in music and clothing have changed. No longer can I go shopping for her and pick out cute little skirts or tops in pink or purple with bows and lace. I am now forced to look in popular clothing stores for items that are black and contain depictions of skulls and crossbones, earrings and jewelry that has little skulls, and ugly black pants covered with useless zippers that zip nothing or large safety pins that do not hold anything together. (Am I raising a pirate??) Musically, she has drifted into listening to bands like Disturbed, Seether, and Linkin Park. I am uncertain where the cute little girl I once took to see Britney Spears (when she performed fully dressed) went.
However, the most frequently requested change has had to do with her hair. The summer prior to beginning 8th grade, Katelyn's second cousin Chelsea was set to start beauty school. Katelyn spent some time with Chelsea and I received a call late one night asking me if she could put a teeny tiny bit of pink in her hair. I was assured that her father had been consulted and had granted his permission contingent on mine, and that this was not going to be permanent color, but more of a wash that would fade out fairly quickly. As it was during the summer and I had no real objection to this, I consented. When I next saw my daughter, this tiny bit of pink had turned in to half of her head. The top layers of her hair had actually been pulled up, the bottom layers bleached out to blond, and a bright pink dye applied to the bottom. While you might not think this would be overly concerning given that it was applied to the underside of her hair, the problem became when the wash began to fade out, leaving behind bright blond hair underneath.
Several weeks later, Katelyn showed up at my home with a new color: purple. Apparently, there was an assumption that if I had said yes once, I would say it again, so why bother to ask the question at all?? At first, this was not so bad. It was not as bright a color as the pink had been, and I had adjusted to the fact that my daughter had unnaturally colored hair on her head. Plus, it was still summer time. However, when this color began to fade, it faded into a lighter, blueberry color, and then to gray, and finally then to the ugly blond, which at this point was completely fried hair. It took three hair dying sessions with medium brown hair dye to get all of the hair on her head close to the same color, and several hair cuts to get rid of the five inches of dead ends on her hair.
For several months after this, Katelyn was content with her medium brown hair. And then the questions and requests started again. Could she please just dye it a little bit darker? Because Katelyn has the same boring and mousey brown color of hair that I have, I relented to a warmer shade. And then a shade a bit darker, and a bit darker, and a bit darker. I now am able to look back and see that she was really shooting for black, and just sucking me in closer and closer because she knew that I wouldn't agree.
However, now that she is in highschool, she is back to adding unnatural color requests to the mix, the most recent being green and black. Could she please have black hair and green highlights? Or black hair with green tips? Or black hair with green underneath? Of course, being the strict and horribly mean mother that I am, I said, "Yeah, um, no." This really means that I am out of touch with today's teenager, that I have no concern for her deepest desires, that I don't care if she fits in with her friends, and that I just don't understand her at all. Oh, the horror.
I just cannot see anything close to beauty when I think about green hair. The green hair that I have seen in the past was usually related to people that were bleached blond and spent too much time in chlorinated water. Do people actually purposefully want to look like this? Does anyone other than people that poke all sorts of extra holes in their bodies find this attractive? Would I want my daughter dating someone that did find this attractive? And how does one say to their child, who is asking to do this because she sincerely believes this to be a good look, "No. You may not dye your hair green and black. Green and black hair would be hideous. You would look like an ugly freak. I do not want to parent an ugly freak." Something tells me that this would violate several parenting rules, as well as established guidelines dealing with teenage self esteem. However, did this stop me from saying that to my daughter? Nope. Not in the slightest. Bring it Dr. Spock!
Katelyn has begun her freshman year of highschool this year. Over the course of the past year, as she matured a bit, her tastes in music and clothing have changed. No longer can I go shopping for her and pick out cute little skirts or tops in pink or purple with bows and lace. I am now forced to look in popular clothing stores for items that are black and contain depictions of skulls and crossbones, earrings and jewelry that has little skulls, and ugly black pants covered with useless zippers that zip nothing or large safety pins that do not hold anything together. (Am I raising a pirate??) Musically, she has drifted into listening to bands like Disturbed, Seether, and Linkin Park. I am uncertain where the cute little girl I once took to see Britney Spears (when she performed fully dressed) went.
However, the most frequently requested change has had to do with her hair. The summer prior to beginning 8th grade, Katelyn's second cousin Chelsea was set to start beauty school. Katelyn spent some time with Chelsea and I received a call late one night asking me if she could put a teeny tiny bit of pink in her hair. I was assured that her father had been consulted and had granted his permission contingent on mine, and that this was not going to be permanent color, but more of a wash that would fade out fairly quickly. As it was during the summer and I had no real objection to this, I consented. When I next saw my daughter, this tiny bit of pink had turned in to half of her head. The top layers of her hair had actually been pulled up, the bottom layers bleached out to blond, and a bright pink dye applied to the bottom. While you might not think this would be overly concerning given that it was applied to the underside of her hair, the problem became when the wash began to fade out, leaving behind bright blond hair underneath.
Several weeks later, Katelyn showed up at my home with a new color: purple. Apparently, there was an assumption that if I had said yes once, I would say it again, so why bother to ask the question at all?? At first, this was not so bad. It was not as bright a color as the pink had been, and I had adjusted to the fact that my daughter had unnaturally colored hair on her head. Plus, it was still summer time. However, when this color began to fade, it faded into a lighter, blueberry color, and then to gray, and finally then to the ugly blond, which at this point was completely fried hair. It took three hair dying sessions with medium brown hair dye to get all of the hair on her head close to the same color, and several hair cuts to get rid of the five inches of dead ends on her hair.
For several months after this, Katelyn was content with her medium brown hair. And then the questions and requests started again. Could she please just dye it a little bit darker? Because Katelyn has the same boring and mousey brown color of hair that I have, I relented to a warmer shade. And then a shade a bit darker, and a bit darker, and a bit darker. I now am able to look back and see that she was really shooting for black, and just sucking me in closer and closer because she knew that I wouldn't agree.
However, now that she is in highschool, she is back to adding unnatural color requests to the mix, the most recent being green and black. Could she please have black hair and green highlights? Or black hair with green tips? Or black hair with green underneath? Of course, being the strict and horribly mean mother that I am, I said, "Yeah, um, no." This really means that I am out of touch with today's teenager, that I have no concern for her deepest desires, that I don't care if she fits in with her friends, and that I just don't understand her at all. Oh, the horror.
I just cannot see anything close to beauty when I think about green hair. The green hair that I have seen in the past was usually related to people that were bleached blond and spent too much time in chlorinated water. Do people actually purposefully want to look like this? Does anyone other than people that poke all sorts of extra holes in their bodies find this attractive? Would I want my daughter dating someone that did find this attractive? And how does one say to their child, who is asking to do this because she sincerely believes this to be a good look, "No. You may not dye your hair green and black. Green and black hair would be hideous. You would look like an ugly freak. I do not want to parent an ugly freak." Something tells me that this would violate several parenting rules, as well as established guidelines dealing with teenage self esteem. However, did this stop me from saying that to my daughter? Nope. Not in the slightest. Bring it Dr. Spock!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
My Talent or Lack Thereof
I've always wanted to be really good at something. To have a talent or skill that is valid and perhaps enviable. When I was growing up, my parents were always very encouraging as far as learning various skills. I was always signed up for at least two different kinds of lessons. I think part of this was to get me out of the house and give my mother a break from the chaos of five children. But the other part was an attempt to round out my education and provide me with an outlet to investigate extracurricular activities I might become enthusiastic about. Thus, as part of my pursuit to find something I not only enjoyed doing but also excelled at, I tried NUMEROUS different things.
The following is a list of those I remember: ballet, tap, jazz, gymnastics, western riding, english riding, english jumping, swimming, diving, synchronized swimming, piano, flute, baton twirling, skiing, crocheting, knitting, sewing, cooking, computer programming, singing, and tennis. Furthermore, I was in band. I was on the drill team. I tried track. I tried drama. I played softball. I played soccer. I tried choir. I was in the Spanish club. I was on the school paper. I tried a lot of things. I was just never fabulous at any one of them.
Now, I have to admit, I perhaps did not try HARD at a lot of these aforementioned activities. I was one of those rebellous children that when encouraged to do something by my parents, tended to move away from whatever that thing was. It was also a bit frustrating to want to do well at something, and really not succeed, but have siblings that did excel in various areas. My older brother Matthew was and is very successful with computers. When we got our first computer, he very quickly learned everything about it, took it apart, put it back together, and hacked into places he shouldn't have. My oldest younger brother, Taylor, was very tall and coordinated. He did well at sports, particularly soccer and basketball. The younger brother under him, Carson, did well in soccer and also became a fabulous drummer. And my youngest brother, Jordan, is a black belt in Taekwando and can draw extremely well. And then there was me......Too short for basketball; in possession of bad electrical equipment karma; unable to play soccer after a horrible soccer experience when on the Mother Goose team; no discernable artistic skills; and only mediocre musical ability.
I remember in college, having to take a speech class. Our very first speech assignment was to give a speech about one of our hobbies and to also utilize a visual aid in our speech. Boy, did I have to sit and think about that one. It took me quite a while to figure out exactly what to speak on. Finally, I loaded up a big wicker laundry basket. In it I put ski gloves and goggles, a swim cap, a picture of me riding a horse, some knitting needles stuck through a ball of yarn, a half finished cross stitch, a tennis racket, my flute, and some piano music. I then proceeded to give a three minute speech on how my hobby was finding different hobbies to try.
As an adult, I have continued in my quest to master or at least be moderately adequate at something. First of all, I re-started piano lessons. This time around, being the one that is paying for them, I practice harder than I did before. However, given that my fingers are very short and my hands small, I have no future plans to become a concert pianist. Plus, I refuse to do any work in my theory book, much to my piano teacher's dismay.
I've also tried SCUBA diving. After a bad start to the class due to illness, I completed the written test and mastered the necessary skills in the pool. I was spot on! It was fun. Yeah, well, attempting to demonstrate the skills in the ocean was another matter. I had no idea I was claustrophobic until about 15 minutes after I was strapped into the suit and 20' down. Thank you Janice for mastering your rescue diver skills.
While not a hobby, I sometimes feel that I'm fairly decent at my job. But then I wonder, is it a good thing to excel at helping people get divorced? I really have no answer for that. I actually think that being good at my job has much more to do with the fact that I do have good listening skills and I enjoy helping people and solving problems. But I honestly have no desire to make divorce a hobby or talent.
And so I'll continue on in my quest to find a skill. I'm fairly certain that I can rule out mountain climbing and long distance cross country running. Probably building model airplanes or racing dirt bikes can be crossed off the list as well. I really don't see myself taking up oil painting or any other crafty and artistic sorts of activities, although I do occasionally get talked in to trying those things the results are often disasterous. There's a big world out there to discover though. Full of all sorts of exciting hobbies. Maybe I'd be good at tattooing? Poetry? Bull fighting? Underwater basket weaving? There's always herb gardening, french pastry baking, or ceramics. Macrame, kayaking, deep sea fishing, metel detecting, bungee jumping...........
The following is a list of those I remember: ballet, tap, jazz, gymnastics, western riding, english riding, english jumping, swimming, diving, synchronized swimming, piano, flute, baton twirling, skiing, crocheting, knitting, sewing, cooking, computer programming, singing, and tennis. Furthermore, I was in band. I was on the drill team. I tried track. I tried drama. I played softball. I played soccer. I tried choir. I was in the Spanish club. I was on the school paper. I tried a lot of things. I was just never fabulous at any one of them.
Now, I have to admit, I perhaps did not try HARD at a lot of these aforementioned activities. I was one of those rebellous children that when encouraged to do something by my parents, tended to move away from whatever that thing was. It was also a bit frustrating to want to do well at something, and really not succeed, but have siblings that did excel in various areas. My older brother Matthew was and is very successful with computers. When we got our first computer, he very quickly learned everything about it, took it apart, put it back together, and hacked into places he shouldn't have. My oldest younger brother, Taylor, was very tall and coordinated. He did well at sports, particularly soccer and basketball. The younger brother under him, Carson, did well in soccer and also became a fabulous drummer. And my youngest brother, Jordan, is a black belt in Taekwando and can draw extremely well. And then there was me......Too short for basketball; in possession of bad electrical equipment karma; unable to play soccer after a horrible soccer experience when on the Mother Goose team; no discernable artistic skills; and only mediocre musical ability.
I remember in college, having to take a speech class. Our very first speech assignment was to give a speech about one of our hobbies and to also utilize a visual aid in our speech. Boy, did I have to sit and think about that one. It took me quite a while to figure out exactly what to speak on. Finally, I loaded up a big wicker laundry basket. In it I put ski gloves and goggles, a swim cap, a picture of me riding a horse, some knitting needles stuck through a ball of yarn, a half finished cross stitch, a tennis racket, my flute, and some piano music. I then proceeded to give a three minute speech on how my hobby was finding different hobbies to try.
As an adult, I have continued in my quest to master or at least be moderately adequate at something. First of all, I re-started piano lessons. This time around, being the one that is paying for them, I practice harder than I did before. However, given that my fingers are very short and my hands small, I have no future plans to become a concert pianist. Plus, I refuse to do any work in my theory book, much to my piano teacher's dismay.
I've also tried SCUBA diving. After a bad start to the class due to illness, I completed the written test and mastered the necessary skills in the pool. I was spot on! It was fun. Yeah, well, attempting to demonstrate the skills in the ocean was another matter. I had no idea I was claustrophobic until about 15 minutes after I was strapped into the suit and 20' down. Thank you Janice for mastering your rescue diver skills.
While not a hobby, I sometimes feel that I'm fairly decent at my job. But then I wonder, is it a good thing to excel at helping people get divorced? I really have no answer for that. I actually think that being good at my job has much more to do with the fact that I do have good listening skills and I enjoy helping people and solving problems. But I honestly have no desire to make divorce a hobby or talent.
And so I'll continue on in my quest to find a skill. I'm fairly certain that I can rule out mountain climbing and long distance cross country running. Probably building model airplanes or racing dirt bikes can be crossed off the list as well. I really don't see myself taking up oil painting or any other crafty and artistic sorts of activities, although I do occasionally get talked in to trying those things the results are often disasterous. There's a big world out there to discover though. Full of all sorts of exciting hobbies. Maybe I'd be good at tattooing? Poetry? Bull fighting? Underwater basket weaving? There's always herb gardening, french pastry baking, or ceramics. Macrame, kayaking, deep sea fishing, metel detecting, bungee jumping...........
I Am the Self Proclaimed Queen of Procrastination
It is my firm belief that when you do something well, you should really step up and claim the title. I have several titles in my life at this point. For example, I am:
I have come to realize that part of my problem is that I have a very difficult time saying no to people. I worry way too much about what others think of me and therefore this makes me out to be the world's biggest people pleaser (yet another title). Do you need a babysitter? Just call me. Someone to throw a babyshower/wedding shower/housesit/walk your dog/type your will? Sure. Any time. Let me just drop everything and schedule it in. However, because of this, I often find myself stuck being obligated to do things that I really have no desire to do. Then, instead of just biting the bullet and getting it done, I make excuses and put it off until the absolute last minute, when I am then stuck rushing around trying to make sure it gets done. I did this as a child, as a teenager, and now as an adult.
Unfortunately, I also have a tendency to carry this over to work projects. You would be positively amazed at the number of small tasks I can come up with around the office to put off writing a letter or making a phone call. All of a sudden, the plants desperately need to be watered, or the coffee pot rinsed out and a new pot made. Silly little chores that I will come up with, all to put off taking care of something that will only take a couple of minutes and will allow me to feel better once it's done. Occasionally, I will allow one of my other personalities to take over and firmly instruct myself to just do it, whatever it may be. However, this requires much concentration and the cooperation of said alter personality.
Last night, as I sat at home working on a project until 2:00 a.m., I found myself delaying starting the project because I firmly believed in that minute that I needed to start a load of laundry. Did I? Was I out of clothing to wear today to work? Was the world going to end if I didn't get up and dump towels in the washer? Was there even a full load of towels to wash? NO! NO! NO! NO! Even as I sit here and type this, I am putting off about four different things that I should be doing and that I'll end up rushing around trying to complete before the day is over, making me feel much more stressed than I probably need to.
Why do I do this? I have absolutely no clue. Procrastination is far more harmful that it is helpful. The momentary distraction that I get from doing it, does not outweigh the benefits of just getting off my lazy butt and finishing what needs to be finished. And so, keeping this in mind, I am going to now quit using this blog as procrastination and write that pissy letter to opposing counsel threatening dire legal consequences. After all, what could be more rewarding than that??
- The Most Wonderful Mother in the World (totally self proclaimed and unsupported by any outside sources);
- The Bomb (Thanks to my 2 year old nephew Jeremiah);
- The Best Aunt Ever;
- The Empress of Laundry;
- Head Coffee Whore (My hands shake from over indulgence even as I type this);
- The Office Goddess;
- The Princess of Beat it to Death; and last but not least
- The Queen of Procrastination.
I have come to realize that part of my problem is that I have a very difficult time saying no to people. I worry way too much about what others think of me and therefore this makes me out to be the world's biggest people pleaser (yet another title). Do you need a babysitter? Just call me. Someone to throw a babyshower/wedding shower/housesit/walk your dog/type your will? Sure. Any time. Let me just drop everything and schedule it in. However, because of this, I often find myself stuck being obligated to do things that I really have no desire to do. Then, instead of just biting the bullet and getting it done, I make excuses and put it off until the absolute last minute, when I am then stuck rushing around trying to make sure it gets done. I did this as a child, as a teenager, and now as an adult.
Unfortunately, I also have a tendency to carry this over to work projects. You would be positively amazed at the number of small tasks I can come up with around the office to put off writing a letter or making a phone call. All of a sudden, the plants desperately need to be watered, or the coffee pot rinsed out and a new pot made. Silly little chores that I will come up with, all to put off taking care of something that will only take a couple of minutes and will allow me to feel better once it's done. Occasionally, I will allow one of my other personalities to take over and firmly instruct myself to just do it, whatever it may be. However, this requires much concentration and the cooperation of said alter personality.
Last night, as I sat at home working on a project until 2:00 a.m., I found myself delaying starting the project because I firmly believed in that minute that I needed to start a load of laundry. Did I? Was I out of clothing to wear today to work? Was the world going to end if I didn't get up and dump towels in the washer? Was there even a full load of towels to wash? NO! NO! NO! NO! Even as I sit here and type this, I am putting off about four different things that I should be doing and that I'll end up rushing around trying to complete before the day is over, making me feel much more stressed than I probably need to.
Why do I do this? I have absolutely no clue. Procrastination is far more harmful that it is helpful. The momentary distraction that I get from doing it, does not outweigh the benefits of just getting off my lazy butt and finishing what needs to be finished. And so, keeping this in mind, I am going to now quit using this blog as procrastination and write that pissy letter to opposing counsel threatening dire legal consequences. After all, what could be more rewarding than that??
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Bribery: An Effective Parenting Skill?
I was raised by parents who utilized a carefully balanced system of bribery and bargains versus guilt. As I got to be a teenager and stretched the boundaries of my independence, the guilt was much less effective and the bribery more so. I vaguely recall potty training sessions involving little colored marshmallows prior to age three. I remember my mother desperately bargaining with me the summer after kindergarten when 5:00 a.m. seemed like the best time to get out of bed and wake her up, putting into place the bargain that said that the later that I either stayed in bed sleeping or quietly entertaining myself in my room, the later I could stay up at night. There was also the lightening fast rate that I learned my multiplication tables when there were roller skates like the other girls in the neighborhood had hanging in the balance, or the dollars for grades program I implemented in high school. Thus, I have always believed that bribery far outweighed guilt in effectiveness as a parenting tool.
I have raised my children only utilizing the bribery method. Mostly because my kids have never fallen for the guilt tactic. For example, remember the old wives tale about stepping on a crack and breaking your mother's back? When I teasingly taught this to my son did he stop and carefully avoid every mark in the sidewalk that closely resembled a crack? Of course not. He stepped on every single one, glancing over at me each time to see if I was falling to the ground in broken pain. My ex-husband was also raised on bribery and completely supported the notion that it was a normal child rearing skill.
Recently, however, I have begun to see the error of my ways, and wonder if bribery and bargains are perhaps not the best parenting tools to utilize. Because Chip and his family are active proponents of the bribery and bargaining methods, the children are constantly showing up at my house talking about the various 'deals' that have been made with Grandpa, Grandma, Dad or Uncle Chris. Recently, there was the pop deal. Uncle Chris made a deal with the kids that if they refrained from drinking pop, he would pay them $35 each every month. Of course, I'm not certain that this really counts as a deal as there is a daily allowance of one Sprite. Last I checked, Sprite was pop, and it is my firm belief that neither of my children have a need for all of the sugar and other miscellaneous crap included in one Sprite a day. However, Colton will often ask for a Sprite, citing the aforementioned deal, and informing me that he has not yet had his one Sprite of the day.
However, the main reason that I am questioning bribery and bargains is because the method is being turned around on me by the kids. Just last week, I was curling my hair with a new curling iron. For some reason, I have had great difficulty holding on to this curling iron and have sent it flying out of my hands, cord yanking out of the wall, into either the toilet or the bathroom garbage can. I have also scored quite a large burn on my forearm when it grazed me on it's way into the toilet. During one of these instances, when I believed myself to be alone, several expletives also went flying. Colton's head popped around the corner into the bathroom and he gave me a look which was designed to make me feel badly about swearing with a small child in hearing distance. "Mom", he said, "let's make a deal." My 7 year old son then proceeded to attempt to make a deal with me, said deal being that for every month that I went without swearing, he would pay me $1. Because I was still attempting to scrape off burned bathroom garbage can plastic bag from my new curling iron, and muttering additional swear words under my breath, I promptly said no. Now, as everyone knows, part of making a deal also involves bargaining and my children are champion bargainers that could hold their own in any outdoor market in Mexico. The monthly no swearing rate got bumped to $2, and then $4, finally topping of at the enormous sum of $6! Unfortunately, as cursing is a fundamental part of my personality and a requirement for anyone working in family law, I had to turn it down.
However, the situation made me question myself on a number of levels. First of all, do I really swear that much?!? I mean, you can take me out into polite company and not be embarrassed. I don't include f-bombs in every sentence, or even every third sentence. You could totally introduce me to your parents, even if they're staunch Methodists, with the total assurance that I would be welcome at any family dinner in the future. But ever since the $6 deal proposal, I find myself stopping to listen a little more closely about what comes out of my mouth.
I also find myself wondering what I'm really teaching my kids when I bargain or bribe for better behavior or for them to learn a skill that they're going to have to master regardless. Does it take away from the sense of accomplishment that you might feel when you get an 'A' on a test, if waiting for you at home is the new video game you propositioned your dad for? It almost feels like my kids receive rewards and money for things that are expected from other kids. When I got to the point in school where I received letter grades, I remember occasionally my dad would slip me a few bucks for a good report card. There was not this systematic chart that some families have that states that for every 'A' received, you receive $20. I also distinctly know that, had I brought home a report card full of grades that fell below my parents expectations, I would have a bigger issue than simply facing the disappointment of not receiving cash. I recall frequently when my children were little and had to go some place where there was a fear that they may not cooperate or behave exactly as desired to make the outing go smoothly, Grandma always stepped up and magically a 'prize' would appear. Does Katelyn have a dentist appointment? Well, if she behaves, Grandma will get her a Beanie Baby. Does Colton have to go to the doctor? Good cooperation rates Pokemon cards! What does it say when providing essential medical or dental treatment to my children also means providing them with a bonus? Are my kids going to grow up believing that if they do well in college that they'll deserve more than the rewarding career this will bring? What kind of prize do you even get for doing well in college?! Isn't having your parents help you pay for college a prize in itself? Most well adjusted adults realize that completing a project at work usually rates a pat on the back or a "job well done". Am I raising kids that are going to be constantly left feeling unsatisfied or unaccomplished because when they do a good job at work, their boss isn't buying them candy or Spiderman action figures?
Thus the question then becomes, once kids have been brought up utilizing the bribery and bargaining parenting tools, how do you ease away from this? How does one teach a child that has been raised to expect not only praise, but loot as well, to be happy with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment? Is there a book for this? Some sort of manual? Or when my children get to be adults, am I going to be required to go out and find them a prize or some sort of treat, each and every time they succeed at something others find to be a requirement of life? Do your laundry this week? Well, let me buy you a new bottle of perfume! Wash your car? That certainly rates $25! Does it matter that it's their own laundry or their own car that they're providing maintenance for? Nope! Not when you parent using the bribery and bargaining methods!
I have raised my children only utilizing the bribery method. Mostly because my kids have never fallen for the guilt tactic. For example, remember the old wives tale about stepping on a crack and breaking your mother's back? When I teasingly taught this to my son did he stop and carefully avoid every mark in the sidewalk that closely resembled a crack? Of course not. He stepped on every single one, glancing over at me each time to see if I was falling to the ground in broken pain. My ex-husband was also raised on bribery and completely supported the notion that it was a normal child rearing skill.
Recently, however, I have begun to see the error of my ways, and wonder if bribery and bargains are perhaps not the best parenting tools to utilize. Because Chip and his family are active proponents of the bribery and bargaining methods, the children are constantly showing up at my house talking about the various 'deals' that have been made with Grandpa, Grandma, Dad or Uncle Chris. Recently, there was the pop deal. Uncle Chris made a deal with the kids that if they refrained from drinking pop, he would pay them $35 each every month. Of course, I'm not certain that this really counts as a deal as there is a daily allowance of one Sprite. Last I checked, Sprite was pop, and it is my firm belief that neither of my children have a need for all of the sugar and other miscellaneous crap included in one Sprite a day. However, Colton will often ask for a Sprite, citing the aforementioned deal, and informing me that he has not yet had his one Sprite of the day.
However, the main reason that I am questioning bribery and bargains is because the method is being turned around on me by the kids. Just last week, I was curling my hair with a new curling iron. For some reason, I have had great difficulty holding on to this curling iron and have sent it flying out of my hands, cord yanking out of the wall, into either the toilet or the bathroom garbage can. I have also scored quite a large burn on my forearm when it grazed me on it's way into the toilet. During one of these instances, when I believed myself to be alone, several expletives also went flying. Colton's head popped around the corner into the bathroom and he gave me a look which was designed to make me feel badly about swearing with a small child in hearing distance. "Mom", he said, "let's make a deal." My 7 year old son then proceeded to attempt to make a deal with me, said deal being that for every month that I went without swearing, he would pay me $1. Because I was still attempting to scrape off burned bathroom garbage can plastic bag from my new curling iron, and muttering additional swear words under my breath, I promptly said no. Now, as everyone knows, part of making a deal also involves bargaining and my children are champion bargainers that could hold their own in any outdoor market in Mexico. The monthly no swearing rate got bumped to $2, and then $4, finally topping of at the enormous sum of $6! Unfortunately, as cursing is a fundamental part of my personality and a requirement for anyone working in family law, I had to turn it down.
However, the situation made me question myself on a number of levels. First of all, do I really swear that much?!? I mean, you can take me out into polite company and not be embarrassed. I don't include f-bombs in every sentence, or even every third sentence. You could totally introduce me to your parents, even if they're staunch Methodists, with the total assurance that I would be welcome at any family dinner in the future. But ever since the $6 deal proposal, I find myself stopping to listen a little more closely about what comes out of my mouth.
I also find myself wondering what I'm really teaching my kids when I bargain or bribe for better behavior or for them to learn a skill that they're going to have to master regardless. Does it take away from the sense of accomplishment that you might feel when you get an 'A' on a test, if waiting for you at home is the new video game you propositioned your dad for? It almost feels like my kids receive rewards and money for things that are expected from other kids. When I got to the point in school where I received letter grades, I remember occasionally my dad would slip me a few bucks for a good report card. There was not this systematic chart that some families have that states that for every 'A' received, you receive $20. I also distinctly know that, had I brought home a report card full of grades that fell below my parents expectations, I would have a bigger issue than simply facing the disappointment of not receiving cash. I recall frequently when my children were little and had to go some place where there was a fear that they may not cooperate or behave exactly as desired to make the outing go smoothly, Grandma always stepped up and magically a 'prize' would appear. Does Katelyn have a dentist appointment? Well, if she behaves, Grandma will get her a Beanie Baby. Does Colton have to go to the doctor? Good cooperation rates Pokemon cards! What does it say when providing essential medical or dental treatment to my children also means providing them with a bonus? Are my kids going to grow up believing that if they do well in college that they'll deserve more than the rewarding career this will bring? What kind of prize do you even get for doing well in college?! Isn't having your parents help you pay for college a prize in itself? Most well adjusted adults realize that completing a project at work usually rates a pat on the back or a "job well done". Am I raising kids that are going to be constantly left feeling unsatisfied or unaccomplished because when they do a good job at work, their boss isn't buying them candy or Spiderman action figures?
Thus the question then becomes, once kids have been brought up utilizing the bribery and bargaining parenting tools, how do you ease away from this? How does one teach a child that has been raised to expect not only praise, but loot as well, to be happy with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment? Is there a book for this? Some sort of manual? Or when my children get to be adults, am I going to be required to go out and find them a prize or some sort of treat, each and every time they succeed at something others find to be a requirement of life? Do your laundry this week? Well, let me buy you a new bottle of perfume! Wash your car? That certainly rates $25! Does it matter that it's their own laundry or their own car that they're providing maintenance for? Nope! Not when you parent using the bribery and bargaining methods!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Boring But Neccessary Introduction
Well, this is a complete first for me. I've never posted nor read a blog before in my life. I'm honestly not even sure that anything that I might have to comment on or write about will be of any interest to anyone. HOWEVER, more than likely this will not stop me, and you can choose to read it or not.
Because I'm assuming that most who will read this are people who are familiar with me to some extent, I'll keep any sort of introduction brief. I'm Robyn. I'm the mother to two children: Katelyn, who is 14, and Colton, who is 7. I'm currently single, having been divorced from my ex husband, Chip, for almost two years. Chip and I were married for 14, and dated for three prior to that. I work as a paralegal, specializing mainly in family law, and also am the figurative office manager for the office I work in.
I work with my best friend, Christy, with whom I've been friends with since age 5. She is the mother to my niece Victoria, age 9, and nephews Jonathan, age 6, and Jeremiah, age 2. They live just a few blocks from me. Christy and I have developed the bad habit of taking all of our children on outings. Now, these outings may sound like fun outings prior to leaving the house. However, upon leaving the house, the outings often become mentally and emotionally painful. You see, our children have what could be termed as a love/hate relationship. For the first little while of these adventuresome outings, things go well. It is long, though, before personality conflicts arise. Both Christy and I have children that have strong personalities. Usually, by the end of whatever the outing is, the end normally coming much sooner than it should, Christy and I have completely lost sanity and thereafter proceed to blank out the memory of the outing. Blanking out the memory of the outing can also be problematic as this results in repeated outings and thus repeated mental and emotional pain.
I also have other fabulous friends that I've known since I was 3, Janice and Sheri. Age-wise, I fall right in between Sheri and Janice, but have always been friends with both of them. Sheri is married to Joel, and has a handsome son Seth, with another child on the way. Sheri has also become a step-mom to Joel's kids Andrew and Sheridan. Janice is married to Matt. Janice and Matt live in Everett with their dog, Missy. Janice and Matt are SCUBA divers in the spare time....all of their spare time. Janice just got accepted as a volunteer diver at the Seattle Aquarium.
One of my other good friends is Leslie. Leslie and I met several years ago while working in the same law firm in Everett, and became friends right away. Leslie is engaged to Jack and they both work at Boeing. To summarize Leslie very quickly, keeping in mind this is not by any means a full description, she is everything I want to be when I grow up.
All right, I think this is enough rambling for tonight. I'm completely unsure if this is what is necessary and/or appropriate for a blog, but figured an introduction would be a good start.
Because I'm assuming that most who will read this are people who are familiar with me to some extent, I'll keep any sort of introduction brief. I'm Robyn. I'm the mother to two children: Katelyn, who is 14, and Colton, who is 7. I'm currently single, having been divorced from my ex husband, Chip, for almost two years. Chip and I were married for 14, and dated for three prior to that. I work as a paralegal, specializing mainly in family law, and also am the figurative office manager for the office I work in.
I work with my best friend, Christy, with whom I've been friends with since age 5. She is the mother to my niece Victoria, age 9, and nephews Jonathan, age 6, and Jeremiah, age 2. They live just a few blocks from me. Christy and I have developed the bad habit of taking all of our children on outings. Now, these outings may sound like fun outings prior to leaving the house. However, upon leaving the house, the outings often become mentally and emotionally painful. You see, our children have what could be termed as a love/hate relationship. For the first little while of these adventuresome outings, things go well. It is long, though, before personality conflicts arise. Both Christy and I have children that have strong personalities. Usually, by the end of whatever the outing is, the end normally coming much sooner than it should, Christy and I have completely lost sanity and thereafter proceed to blank out the memory of the outing. Blanking out the memory of the outing can also be problematic as this results in repeated outings and thus repeated mental and emotional pain.
I also have other fabulous friends that I've known since I was 3, Janice and Sheri. Age-wise, I fall right in between Sheri and Janice, but have always been friends with both of them. Sheri is married to Joel, and has a handsome son Seth, with another child on the way. Sheri has also become a step-mom to Joel's kids Andrew and Sheridan. Janice is married to Matt. Janice and Matt live in Everett with their dog, Missy. Janice and Matt are SCUBA divers in the spare time....all of their spare time. Janice just got accepted as a volunteer diver at the Seattle Aquarium.
One of my other good friends is Leslie. Leslie and I met several years ago while working in the same law firm in Everett, and became friends right away. Leslie is engaged to Jack and they both work at Boeing. To summarize Leslie very quickly, keeping in mind this is not by any means a full description, she is everything I want to be when I grow up.
All right, I think this is enough rambling for tonight. I'm completely unsure if this is what is necessary and/or appropriate for a blog, but figured an introduction would be a good start.
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