Just sometimes I need to post a blog entry to let people know I am still here and have a thought or two.
Just sometimes I need to step outside my comfort zone to test how I function and prove I can accept new challenges.
Just sometimes I have to do what I would least like to. I have a list of such things but if I really love someone else I have to compromise and be more mature... and it hurts.
Just sometimes I have to love as if I had just invented it. Throw caution to the wind, be in the moment, and let nothing distract me from physical and emotional pleasure.
Just sometimes I need to think and be alone.
Just sometimes I have to pretend I am not just a stay at home Mum. I am a writer, musician and teacher but this side can be denied or just ignored.
Just sometimes I need to dance around the living room with my daughters and embrace the simplicity and purity of this act as I watch the enjoyment spread across their faces.
Just sometimes I need to accept that there is only so much I can do.
Just sometimes I need to bake and eat a large chocolate cake.
Just sometimes I need to lose myself in a book to the exclusion of the outside world.
Just sometimes I need to get more involved with external events and try to make the world a better place.
Just sometimes I need to relax.
Just sometimes ........
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Thursday, December 18, 2008
School Shooting of a sort
This week we have had an introduction to school shootings.
My daughter's elementary school is near a halfway house for mentally ill adults. When she started school we had no idea that the facility was there. In my mind this is testament to how well the house was being run. Residents were accepted into society and were integrated.
The organization has been in operation for almost 40 years and until now there had been no serious incidents.
On Tuesday one of the residents was out and, I am summarizing so bear with me, was stopped by the police. He brandished a knife and threatened the police, who used a tazer; this had minimal effect. Said resident refused to back down and police opened fire, fatally wounding the man.
The school was on temporary lock down and it is doubtful that the children had any idea of what happened. The counselor was available to talk. I know my daughter does not have the slightest inkling. Had the incident taken place 30-45 minutes later in the day when the children were on lunch break I shudder to think......
This is such a sad incident on so many levels and I really don't know what to think or how to feel.
I do know that knife-wielding adults and children don't mix but maybe the reaction was too dramatic.
We want to protect our children at all costs and this is base instinct. Where do we draw the line on mental illness and its acceptable faces?
I was saddened by a recent email to the Principal suggesting closure of the facility and a practical exclusion zone. Yet again we are thinking of removing the so-called cause not symptoms. We live in times when spin and hype lead to a climate of fear. We fear what we do not understand. We live in the shadow of Dunblane and Columbine, amongst others. There is constant uncertainty about who is near our children and what security measures are in place should a situation arise.
Mental illness has many sides, including depression, and is often misunderstood. Would we be so quick to protest if this were a facility for adults with Down’s syndrome? I have heard this described as a mental illness too. This population is often forgotten by the system and neglected or ridiculed by the masses. Gone are the days when people were just seen as simple. Many resort to crime as they have no other choice.
In a previous life I was a case officer for Sexually Violent Predators and Paedophiles- not the nicest group of people- but still ones who needed help and very delicate and orchestrated integration back into society. They were aware of their limitations and the restrictions enforced by parole. It was an emotional tightrope. As I am a parent now I am not sure if I could do the job but at the time I believed I was helping people re-integrate into society. I believe that this organization believed they were helping people too.
Integration into society with mental illness in its various forms is a very difficult subject to broach. On the one hand we see ourselves as a compassionate society which can forgive and ensure that everyone gets a chance. On the other we are primal and will stop at nothing to protect our children, as we should, and all other values are forgotten; it is mob rule when it suits us.
This is an emotive issue with far-reaching ramifications.
I am not advocating that all manner of facilities be near schools but just because our children are safe does not mean that others are not at risk but would like some compassion. Yes we need to protect our children but do we not owe a little to those we could help? These facilities still need to go somewhere but putting them in peripheral locations only seeks to alienate the residents. I am over-simplifying this whole issue.
It is the diversity in society that makes us better understand ourselves and others but to what extent do we feel threatened by this self same diversity?
I am sure I am not addressing all the issues or phrasing this as wonderfully as I could but I wonder if it were my child who needed a facility ……
I am so confused. I just know that this all about balance.
As a note: the facility closed and the remaining residents are currently with their families.
My daughter's elementary school is near a halfway house for mentally ill adults. When she started school we had no idea that the facility was there. In my mind this is testament to how well the house was being run. Residents were accepted into society and were integrated.
The organization has been in operation for almost 40 years and until now there had been no serious incidents.
On Tuesday one of the residents was out and, I am summarizing so bear with me, was stopped by the police. He brandished a knife and threatened the police, who used a tazer; this had minimal effect. Said resident refused to back down and police opened fire, fatally wounding the man.
The school was on temporary lock down and it is doubtful that the children had any idea of what happened. The counselor was available to talk. I know my daughter does not have the slightest inkling. Had the incident taken place 30-45 minutes later in the day when the children were on lunch break I shudder to think......
This is such a sad incident on so many levels and I really don't know what to think or how to feel.
I do know that knife-wielding adults and children don't mix but maybe the reaction was too dramatic.
We want to protect our children at all costs and this is base instinct. Where do we draw the line on mental illness and its acceptable faces?
I was saddened by a recent email to the Principal suggesting closure of the facility and a practical exclusion zone. Yet again we are thinking of removing the so-called cause not symptoms. We live in times when spin and hype lead to a climate of fear. We fear what we do not understand. We live in the shadow of Dunblane and Columbine, amongst others. There is constant uncertainty about who is near our children and what security measures are in place should a situation arise.
Mental illness has many sides, including depression, and is often misunderstood. Would we be so quick to protest if this were a facility for adults with Down’s syndrome? I have heard this described as a mental illness too. This population is often forgotten by the system and neglected or ridiculed by the masses. Gone are the days when people were just seen as simple. Many resort to crime as they have no other choice.
In a previous life I was a case officer for Sexually Violent Predators and Paedophiles- not the nicest group of people- but still ones who needed help and very delicate and orchestrated integration back into society. They were aware of their limitations and the restrictions enforced by parole. It was an emotional tightrope. As I am a parent now I am not sure if I could do the job but at the time I believed I was helping people re-integrate into society. I believe that this organization believed they were helping people too.
Integration into society with mental illness in its various forms is a very difficult subject to broach. On the one hand we see ourselves as a compassionate society which can forgive and ensure that everyone gets a chance. On the other we are primal and will stop at nothing to protect our children, as we should, and all other values are forgotten; it is mob rule when it suits us.
This is an emotive issue with far-reaching ramifications.
I am not advocating that all manner of facilities be near schools but just because our children are safe does not mean that others are not at risk but would like some compassion. Yes we need to protect our children but do we not owe a little to those we could help? These facilities still need to go somewhere but putting them in peripheral locations only seeks to alienate the residents. I am over-simplifying this whole issue.
It is the diversity in society that makes us better understand ourselves and others but to what extent do we feel threatened by this self same diversity?
I am sure I am not addressing all the issues or phrasing this as wonderfully as I could but I wonder if it were my child who needed a facility ……
I am so confused. I just know that this all about balance.
As a note: the facility closed and the remaining residents are currently with their families.
Addendum to Hermit
... I realised that I don't wish to escape from the world, just my children.
Sometimes I don't wish to have another demand made of me; so I hide.
Sometimes I don't wish to have another demand made of me; so I hide.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Having children has brought out the worst in me
.. or 5 personality traits I would prefer to hide. These sides of my nature need to be buried once more and only exhumed when I need to laugh and not exert my will.
1. My Inner Screaming Banshee
.......or not so inner anymore. I have become a fishwife and shout when it really doesn't make any difference but psychologically it helps, or so I believe. I have tried the breathe and count to 10 thing but it doesn't help. There are times when shouting seems like the only option but maybe I need to think more carefully first.
2. My Inner Drama Queen
I have always had a penchant for the dramatic but having children has really shown my acting abilities are still amateurish. I utter such statements/ questions, as:
"I do not understand why people think reproduction is a good idea."
"I have had enough of children."
"I want to be an adult"
This last one is particularly worrying as it so blatantly childish. It is a cry for help. Staying at home with the girls is the most challenging job I have ever had and probably ever likely to hold. I will never get an Oscar for my performances so I best leave acting to talents that warrant the accolade.
3. My Inner Control Freak
"There are 2 ways of doing things", as my paternal Grandmother said, "mine and the wrong." It has happened it my household that I make most of the rules and am a firm believer of limits for children but sometimes I can be draconian in my measures.
"Because I said so" is without doubt the most useless of reasons but still gets used with alarming regularity. I know that with young children you are the voice of authority and lengthy explanations are not necessary as abstract thoughts are still anomalous but I may need to fine-tune my reasons pretty soon.
4. My Inner Fashionista
I have a limited sense of style and this is freely admitted. Black and denim seem to the extent of my knowledge but when my daughter mixes colours, shades and fabrics that make psychedelia look muted why do I not thank her for getting dressed and expressing her own style rather than reacting less positively ? Next time I will embrace her choices and be glad of one less battle.
5.My Inner Hermit
Some would say this was not a bad trait to wish to hide from the world but it runs contrary to being a musician and performing. I think raising children brings these contradictions to the fore.
I know that we change once we have them but can never really quantify how. We just know we are tired and never really get to spend time in ways that was common place before the advent of the little people.
What to do? Laugh, I suppose and ridicule myself. I am human and therefore fallible. I am also in need of coffee.
1. My Inner Screaming Banshee
.......or not so inner anymore. I have become a fishwife and shout when it really doesn't make any difference but psychologically it helps, or so I believe. I have tried the breathe and count to 10 thing but it doesn't help. There are times when shouting seems like the only option but maybe I need to think more carefully first.
2. My Inner Drama Queen
I have always had a penchant for the dramatic but having children has really shown my acting abilities are still amateurish. I utter such statements/ questions, as:
"I do not understand why people think reproduction is a good idea."
"I have had enough of children."
"I want to be an adult"
This last one is particularly worrying as it so blatantly childish. It is a cry for help. Staying at home with the girls is the most challenging job I have ever had and probably ever likely to hold. I will never get an Oscar for my performances so I best leave acting to talents that warrant the accolade.
3. My Inner Control Freak
"There are 2 ways of doing things", as my paternal Grandmother said, "mine and the wrong." It has happened it my household that I make most of the rules and am a firm believer of limits for children but sometimes I can be draconian in my measures.
"Because I said so" is without doubt the most useless of reasons but still gets used with alarming regularity. I know that with young children you are the voice of authority and lengthy explanations are not necessary as abstract thoughts are still anomalous but I may need to fine-tune my reasons pretty soon.
4. My Inner Fashionista
I have a limited sense of style and this is freely admitted. Black and denim seem to the extent of my knowledge but when my daughter mixes colours, shades and fabrics that make psychedelia look muted why do I not thank her for getting dressed and expressing her own style rather than reacting less positively ? Next time I will embrace her choices and be glad of one less battle.
5.My Inner Hermit
Some would say this was not a bad trait to wish to hide from the world but it runs contrary to being a musician and performing. I think raising children brings these contradictions to the fore.
I know that we change once we have them but can never really quantify how. We just know we are tired and never really get to spend time in ways that was common place before the advent of the little people.
What to do? Laugh, I suppose and ridicule myself. I am human and therefore fallible. I am also in need of coffee.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
My Fellow Americans
I never thought I would utter those words but I became an American citizen on Monday having been here for 10 years.
I must admit that I was not happy here for the first 5 years. When we, my husband and I, initially arrived I had no work permit (at that time H4 visa holders were not able to work), no job prospects, no friends, and a bureaucracy that seemed unfathomable. I had never encountered a Health Insurance card before and had no idea what the numbers meant. My husband's family are here but it is not the same.
The bank would not allow me a debit card at first and I had to ask my husband for money. A visa symbol was a big no-no even though I had a decent credit history in England. Alas no history here. In fact one of the client adviser's ignored me and physically turned his chair to face my husband on discovering that I was without a Social Security number.There was great excitement to be able to offer "direct deposit" something we had had in England for over a decade at that point. So this progress was something we already had it? The banking system felt archaic to me.
If this was how I was treated as an English-native speaker and someone who could voice an opinion then I really pitied anyone who did not even possess the language. I was determined to fight for the under-dog.
I did acquire a Social Security number(a non-working one I hasten to add) because I was "obnoxious" at the Social Security office- who isn't? That was the employee's adjective and not mine. I only wanted the number for identification purposes as I was having to carry my passport with me and even that was not being accepted. It seemed ironic that the superlative form of identification from a government was being refused.
As an independent woman I felt confined, disappointed and angry. I was completely and utterly beholden to my husband. He was and is my tower of strength, logic, rationality and common sense. He can calm the waves before they hit the shore. I felt stripped of my identity and freedom and if anyone had had the gall to tell me how free the country was I would have risked deportation by resorting to violence.
My impressions were not favourable and I had a negative slant on life here for quite some time. Never before had I been treated this way and I had just returned from a year in the Czech Republic, not Prague but harsh North-Western Bohemia - an incredible place, with warm people who were erudite, educated and politically aware.
The years past and I made friends and still have them and had children. My American friends, though they may not share my heritage, are incredible people and I love them each and every one. Through them I have a greater understanding of who I am and what I and what my country represents. I have learnt to publicly express emotions and we did not do that back home. I know that nationality is not everything and that we are, ideally, one. As the dollar bill states, "e pluribus unum".
I learnt how to use the Health Insurance Card. Found amazing doctors who listened and tested everything. You don't get this in England- you wait and get an appointment if you are lucky. There is a zip code lottery so be careful where you live.
I joined a band and am recording a CD- The Mad Maggies rule! Discovered that anything was possible, got a MA in Adult Education and worked with my beloved underdog, teaching disadvantaged adults. One day I will return to teaching.
Now I am trying to establish the US side of operations for an English jewelry company. I would never have been able to do this is England. If you do not follow your allotted profession (I was a teacher) it is frowned upon. You don't have a dream and follow it is the English mentality.
The English are a pessimistic bunch and like nothing better than to be able to gloat when things fail. I am sure this is the primary reason for not joining the Euro- just to say it didn't work.
What made me become a citizen? That is what this is about unless,dear reader, you tuned out. I had to grow up and face the reality that my husband's job, career and prospects are here and my children are American. This is the country that has been very good to us. I am not really part of life back home and had been peripheral here but now I could be a full member of society and would be able to vote. I also hanker a desire to be Secretary for Education and could not do that as a non-citizen.
Application completed and all formalities over. I headed to the ceremony. What concerned me most was not how it felt to technically relinquish allegiance to the country of my birth but what music I should play on the journey there. Was it too obvious to have the pairing of Elgar, Vaughan Williams and Delius on the way there and Sousa on the return? Sousa to me is American patriotism in its best form- triumphant with The Stars and Stripes Forever. I opted for Kula Shaker (second album )and The Kaiser Chiefs.
The ceremony was warm and fuzzy. The gentleman representing the USCIS (formerly INS) greeted attendees in 6 languages and told some decent jokes. There was a feeling of celebration and solidarity. As if what we had to share and contribute was something special. We were here to be united as one but still aware of our 95 countries.
Colours were presented to highlight the formal and official side of proceedings and the national anthem sung.It was the first time I had heard this not sung by a bunch of drunks so hearing and seeing the words made a huge difference.
Oaths sworn and pledges pledged. The lady who led the new citizens was a stunner- easily 5'9", blonde, tight short suit, heels and a lovely pair of lungs. In fact the gentleman representing USCIS found that his attention was drawn to these young lady's assets. Something tells me she picked for a reason.
Had there been equality the pledge would have been led by someone who had really had to fight to be here, or had left behind dire circumstances and would have really relished being able to lead such a symbol. Who said I was a cynic?
I was supposed to renounce my allegiance to my old country but I lost my voice at that part. I cannot forget how I was raised and my heritage and that makes me a better person.
The downside of the proceedings was a smooth jazz version of "God Bless The USA". Smooth jazz to me is a form of torture and best kept away from the young and impressionable. See previous reference to Sousa- if you had wanted me and others to feel as if we were part of the country and patriotic play Sousa and I can guarantee not a dry eye in the house.
I don't like the afore-mentioned song as it suggests favouritism. Should there be a God then He/She should bless all countries and like a good parent not have favourites.
There were even some video presentations- fillers when the assembled sit still and watch TV- including an address from Dubya. Enough said. I get the message. This is a great country and we are lucky to be here and now even luckier because we have been embraced into the fold.
I do not think that the enormity of what I have done has hit me yet. I can vote, have a passport, not get deported and be a full citizen though my accent will always betray me.
My husband had hung a huge US flag outside the house on my return from the ceremony and I had to explain to the girls why I found it amusing. It was a great gesture.
Now it is off to realise my American dream and thank you for having me!
I must admit that I was not happy here for the first 5 years. When we, my husband and I, initially arrived I had no work permit (at that time H4 visa holders were not able to work), no job prospects, no friends, and a bureaucracy that seemed unfathomable. I had never encountered a Health Insurance card before and had no idea what the numbers meant. My husband's family are here but it is not the same.
The bank would not allow me a debit card at first and I had to ask my husband for money. A visa symbol was a big no-no even though I had a decent credit history in England. Alas no history here. In fact one of the client adviser's ignored me and physically turned his chair to face my husband on discovering that I was without a Social Security number.There was great excitement to be able to offer "direct deposit" something we had had in England for over a decade at that point. So this progress was something we already had it? The banking system felt archaic to me.
If this was how I was treated as an English-native speaker and someone who could voice an opinion then I really pitied anyone who did not even possess the language. I was determined to fight for the under-dog.
I did acquire a Social Security number(a non-working one I hasten to add) because I was "obnoxious" at the Social Security office- who isn't? That was the employee's adjective and not mine. I only wanted the number for identification purposes as I was having to carry my passport with me and even that was not being accepted. It seemed ironic that the superlative form of identification from a government was being refused.
As an independent woman I felt confined, disappointed and angry. I was completely and utterly beholden to my husband. He was and is my tower of strength, logic, rationality and common sense. He can calm the waves before they hit the shore. I felt stripped of my identity and freedom and if anyone had had the gall to tell me how free the country was I would have risked deportation by resorting to violence.
My impressions were not favourable and I had a negative slant on life here for quite some time. Never before had I been treated this way and I had just returned from a year in the Czech Republic, not Prague but harsh North-Western Bohemia - an incredible place, with warm people who were erudite, educated and politically aware.
The years past and I made friends and still have them and had children. My American friends, though they may not share my heritage, are incredible people and I love them each and every one. Through them I have a greater understanding of who I am and what I and what my country represents. I have learnt to publicly express emotions and we did not do that back home. I know that nationality is not everything and that we are, ideally, one. As the dollar bill states, "e pluribus unum".
I learnt how to use the Health Insurance Card. Found amazing doctors who listened and tested everything. You don't get this in England- you wait and get an appointment if you are lucky. There is a zip code lottery so be careful where you live.
I joined a band and am recording a CD- The Mad Maggies rule! Discovered that anything was possible, got a MA in Adult Education and worked with my beloved underdog, teaching disadvantaged adults. One day I will return to teaching.
Now I am trying to establish the US side of operations for an English jewelry company. I would never have been able to do this is England. If you do not follow your allotted profession (I was a teacher) it is frowned upon. You don't have a dream and follow it is the English mentality.
The English are a pessimistic bunch and like nothing better than to be able to gloat when things fail. I am sure this is the primary reason for not joining the Euro- just to say it didn't work.
What made me become a citizen? That is what this is about unless,dear reader, you tuned out. I had to grow up and face the reality that my husband's job, career and prospects are here and my children are American. This is the country that has been very good to us. I am not really part of life back home and had been peripheral here but now I could be a full member of society and would be able to vote. I also hanker a desire to be Secretary for Education and could not do that as a non-citizen.
Application completed and all formalities over. I headed to the ceremony. What concerned me most was not how it felt to technically relinquish allegiance to the country of my birth but what music I should play on the journey there. Was it too obvious to have the pairing of Elgar, Vaughan Williams and Delius on the way there and Sousa on the return? Sousa to me is American patriotism in its best form- triumphant with The Stars and Stripes Forever. I opted for Kula Shaker (second album )and The Kaiser Chiefs.
The ceremony was warm and fuzzy. The gentleman representing the USCIS (formerly INS) greeted attendees in 6 languages and told some decent jokes. There was a feeling of celebration and solidarity. As if what we had to share and contribute was something special. We were here to be united as one but still aware of our 95 countries.
Colours were presented to highlight the formal and official side of proceedings and the national anthem sung.It was the first time I had heard this not sung by a bunch of drunks so hearing and seeing the words made a huge difference.
Oaths sworn and pledges pledged. The lady who led the new citizens was a stunner- easily 5'9", blonde, tight short suit, heels and a lovely pair of lungs. In fact the gentleman representing USCIS found that his attention was drawn to these young lady's assets. Something tells me she picked for a reason.
Had there been equality the pledge would have been led by someone who had really had to fight to be here, or had left behind dire circumstances and would have really relished being able to lead such a symbol. Who said I was a cynic?
I was supposed to renounce my allegiance to my old country but I lost my voice at that part. I cannot forget how I was raised and my heritage and that makes me a better person.
The downside of the proceedings was a smooth jazz version of "God Bless The USA". Smooth jazz to me is a form of torture and best kept away from the young and impressionable. See previous reference to Sousa- if you had wanted me and others to feel as if we were part of the country and patriotic play Sousa and I can guarantee not a dry eye in the house.
I don't like the afore-mentioned song as it suggests favouritism. Should there be a God then He/She should bless all countries and like a good parent not have favourites.
There were even some video presentations- fillers when the assembled sit still and watch TV- including an address from Dubya. Enough said. I get the message. This is a great country and we are lucky to be here and now even luckier because we have been embraced into the fold.
I do not think that the enormity of what I have done has hit me yet. I can vote, have a passport, not get deported and be a full citizen though my accent will always betray me.
My husband had hung a huge US flag outside the house on my return from the ceremony and I had to explain to the girls why I found it amusing. It was a great gesture.
Now it is off to realise my American dream and thank you for having me!
Monday, September 15, 2008
What was I worried about?
Gentle reader, I apologise for my last self-pitying entry- we all have our moments. I have pulled myself together and realised that no one is perfect. I must stop being hard on myself, eat more chocolate and drink more tea.
Back to a previous topic of my eldest starting school- I was worried, she wasn't.
The first few weeks of school are now behind me and what was the fuss all about? My daughter is in a nurturing environment which she loves and is steadily making new friends. She is having a blast and is so excited to be there that each morning is greeted by her pleas to go to school. You cannot ask for more.
Her first day of school was not as emotional as I had imagined. My daughter saw one of her little friends from camp and off she trotted unaware that this was the first day of her school life. This was the right start- no crying parents and tortured good byes just a child who was ready to learn and start a new adventure. I am not entirely sure what they are learning just yet so the jury is out. So far so good.
One of the perks of this school is the principal; I have yet another crush. I was met with this glorious vision of a sculptured back with a perfect triangular shape pointing down to a pert bum- I almost drooled! I will add him to the list which includes James McAvoy, Russell Crowe and Brad Pitt to name a few. I have a feeling that several ladies have the latter if not all of these fine specimens on their to-do list.
I am happily married and will remain that way but I still have a pulse if you get my drift. Who am I not to admire the scenery ?
I have always had a thing for older men- so my husband fits the bill. My first serious crush was when I was 17 and an au-pair in Switzerland. He was 40, Italian and quite simply gorgeous. Nothing happened as he was the father of the children under my care but my nights were spent in serious fantasy.
To return to the topic. I am guilty of imagining the worst and ending up with an anti-climax. So I should just chill.
Talking of worrying the world is on the verge of financial collapse but something tells me that as long as Victoria Beckham has a new haircut and tight outfit we shall all be happy and forget these woes.
Back to a previous topic of my eldest starting school- I was worried, she wasn't.
The first few weeks of school are now behind me and what was the fuss all about? My daughter is in a nurturing environment which she loves and is steadily making new friends. She is having a blast and is so excited to be there that each morning is greeted by her pleas to go to school. You cannot ask for more.
Her first day of school was not as emotional as I had imagined. My daughter saw one of her little friends from camp and off she trotted unaware that this was the first day of her school life. This was the right start- no crying parents and tortured good byes just a child who was ready to learn and start a new adventure. I am not entirely sure what they are learning just yet so the jury is out. So far so good.
One of the perks of this school is the principal; I have yet another crush. I was met with this glorious vision of a sculptured back with a perfect triangular shape pointing down to a pert bum- I almost drooled! I will add him to the list which includes James McAvoy, Russell Crowe and Brad Pitt to name a few. I have a feeling that several ladies have the latter if not all of these fine specimens on their to-do list.
I am happily married and will remain that way but I still have a pulse if you get my drift. Who am I not to admire the scenery ?
I have always had a thing for older men- so my husband fits the bill. My first serious crush was when I was 17 and an au-pair in Switzerland. He was 40, Italian and quite simply gorgeous. Nothing happened as he was the father of the children under my care but my nights were spent in serious fantasy.
To return to the topic. I am guilty of imagining the worst and ending up with an anti-climax. So I should just chill.
Talking of worrying the world is on the verge of financial collapse but something tells me that as long as Victoria Beckham has a new haircut and tight outfit we shall all be happy and forget these woes.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I am not the parent I thought I would be
I was never one to coo over babies I preferred puppies with their soft fur. Babies seemed loud, stinky, tiresome and tiring. I was not wrong.
Having children was something I had not really considered until I was 30. There was a slight concern that having a baby might not happen so having a child was my priority and I was determined to be a wonderful mother.
Raising a child would always be amazing and delightful- wrong!To say that child-rearing has been challenging would be saying that the Atlantic Ocean is quite big. I was utterly unprepared for the physical and emotional demands. I was, and am, at times a wreck. Should I admit this? Yes.
I had hoped to be able to reason with my offspring and do all those fabulous Mary Poppins inspired activities with a smile on my face. Wrong again- there seems to be a pattern. I have become a fish-wife at times bellowing commands and watching my own temper fizzle before my eyes.
I have become the nightmare neighbour who seems incapable of calm interactions between herself and her children- I shout. Is this the best approach? Probably not. Do I feel guilty when I shout? Yes. I never wanted to shout figuring that gentle directing, choice and positive responses would make loud voices unnecessary. Wrong again. I am getting good at being wrong.
I thought I would always be punctual but alas. My children do not see time the way I do- they dawdle when speed is needed and drive me nuts by needing to search for a blankie just as we are leaving even though I could have sworn it was in their hand. We, adults, see time as a constraint with a mental list of things to do in an alloted space- they see time like a flowing river; it gets where it is going no need to worry about the whys and wherefores. I should really see things their way more often. Maybe therein lies the crux of the matter- I expect them to be what they are not.
Child-rearing has not been the fluffy ride I thought it would be. It has been hard work and the hardest job I have ever done and will ever do. Every day should bring joy and there are moments but today is a day when I curse my generation for making women so competitive in all spheres. I give myself a C as a parent and know there is much to be learned.
I am learning way too much about myself and I am not sure I like what I find. I have less patience and tolerance than I had thought and there are days when I wonder if all the mothers around me who seem to be happy all the time are lying, Stepfordian in some way or they just have better drugs than us mere mortals.
I love my girls don't get me wrong but I find at times that I am unable to step back and watch them grow and enjoy these precious years. I feel trapped like serving time for being a mother- no chance of parole.
This is tonight and tomorrow morning when my littlest climbs into bed with me for a cuddle I will thank everything that I am who she wants and her warm little body against mine will remind me that these snuggles are just for a short time.
Each day brings new starts and tomorrow I will start not to shout as much and remember they are children after all and it is their job to bug me but mine to love them.
Having children was something I had not really considered until I was 30. There was a slight concern that having a baby might not happen so having a child was my priority and I was determined to be a wonderful mother.
Raising a child would always be amazing and delightful- wrong!To say that child-rearing has been challenging would be saying that the Atlantic Ocean is quite big. I was utterly unprepared for the physical and emotional demands. I was, and am, at times a wreck. Should I admit this? Yes.
I had hoped to be able to reason with my offspring and do all those fabulous Mary Poppins inspired activities with a smile on my face. Wrong again- there seems to be a pattern. I have become a fish-wife at times bellowing commands and watching my own temper fizzle before my eyes.
I have become the nightmare neighbour who seems incapable of calm interactions between herself and her children- I shout. Is this the best approach? Probably not. Do I feel guilty when I shout? Yes. I never wanted to shout figuring that gentle directing, choice and positive responses would make loud voices unnecessary. Wrong again. I am getting good at being wrong.
I thought I would always be punctual but alas. My children do not see time the way I do- they dawdle when speed is needed and drive me nuts by needing to search for a blankie just as we are leaving even though I could have sworn it was in their hand. We, adults, see time as a constraint with a mental list of things to do in an alloted space- they see time like a flowing river; it gets where it is going no need to worry about the whys and wherefores. I should really see things their way more often. Maybe therein lies the crux of the matter- I expect them to be what they are not.
Child-rearing has not been the fluffy ride I thought it would be. It has been hard work and the hardest job I have ever done and will ever do. Every day should bring joy and there are moments but today is a day when I curse my generation for making women so competitive in all spheres. I give myself a C as a parent and know there is much to be learned.
I am learning way too much about myself and I am not sure I like what I find. I have less patience and tolerance than I had thought and there are days when I wonder if all the mothers around me who seem to be happy all the time are lying, Stepfordian in some way or they just have better drugs than us mere mortals.
I love my girls don't get me wrong but I find at times that I am unable to step back and watch them grow and enjoy these precious years. I feel trapped like serving time for being a mother- no chance of parole.
This is tonight and tomorrow morning when my littlest climbs into bed with me for a cuddle I will thank everything that I am who she wants and her warm little body against mine will remind me that these snuggles are just for a short time.
Each day brings new starts and tomorrow I will start not to shout as much and remember they are children after all and it is their job to bug me but mine to love them.
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