My escapades at the park lately have been fraught with encounters with some creepy kids.
My girls, ages 2 and 4, are the epitome of innocence and laughter. They whine, throw fits, and fight, like all siblings, but when they're at the park, you can't help but smile at them as they discover the freedom of swooshing down a slide or flying high in a swing. I try to soak up this youthful energy whenever I can because it is fleeting, and it will expire with age.
Sadly, I have witnessed some unusual children at the park who do not share this type of youthful innocence. One little girl I interacted with yesterday was a sad little thing. One look in her eyes told you she wasn't happy. In fact, even though she was only 4 or 5, her eyes oozed a child-like contempt for everything -- me, my daughters, my husband, the playground, the sky. She did not smile one time while she was there. And her attempts to befriend my 4-year-old failed because my daughter has keen instincts when it comes to other people, especially children.
I don't even want to begin to think how an innocent child can become so numb inside that a glorious playground does not make her smile.
That same day at the park, another girl about 6- or 7-years old followed my 2-year-old around. I know that sometimes older kids like to play with toddlers for a little bit. But she wasn't really playing with my daughter; it was more like blocking her path and taunting her.
Come to find out, the two strange girls were at the park together. And upon further investigating, we finally located the parents -- a couple of dads completely unengaged with their children, relaxing at a picnic table. And it's not just that the dads were taking a breather, they were each covered in tattoos. Their skin was rough, like a pale sandpaper, with a hint of grey to their skin. Not to stereotype, but they really looked like prison inmates, drug addicts or child abusers. We deduced that the dad's were doing their weekly visitation with their kids, being Wednesday night and looking at the circumstances. At least they took their kids to the park, I guess.
I feel terrible inside for these poor children who appeared to have been through some kind of trauma, be it mental, emotional or physical. You could just tell something wasn't all peaches and cream with these kids.
The scary part about this is that I seem to be seeing more and more children like this when I'm at the park, the zoo, the mall, the library, etc. What does that say for our future?
I guess all I can do is continue to give my girls the type of childhood we all should have -- fun, care-free and innocent.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
The roles are reversed
When do our kids become smarter than us?
A couple of months ago, I sneaked to my mother's house while she was at work and cleaned out her disorganized and botulism-ridden pantry. Okay, the expired cans probably weren't old enough to have botulism, but several of them were years past their expiration dates. Every time I came over and happened to open the pantry door, I would cringe at the sight. Boxes of popcorn and pasta, several varieties soup, Little Debbie snacks, Nutrigrain bars, Teddy Grahams, Blueberry Morning cereal, a peanut butter jar and syrup were all shoved haphazardly in this skinny little space about 18 inches across. Any items that implied cooking made me chuckle -- pasta sauces, lasagna noodles, condensed soups, packets of taco seasonings -- because since I moved out of the house 9 years ago, my mother only seems to make eggs, grilled-cheese sandwiches and toast.
I had mentioned on several occasions that the pantry needed to be cleaned out. Although the pantry is only a foot and a half wide, the items were stuffed so erratically that I could stand there for 5 minutes just gazing at the wonder of it. It was a flashback to my grandmother's pantry which we had to clean out after my grandfather died, and my grandmother decided to move from the lake house into town closer to family. My grandmother's pantry was 10 times bigger than my mother's, and she had canned goods so old that they were oozing thick, black goo -- that is NOT an exaggeration. I did not want my mother's pantry to get like that; in fact, I refused to have it get like that. And any comments I made relating my mother's pantry to my grandmother's pantry usually began a bickering session between my mother and me.
So I came over one day to clean the mess up and throw out the old, expired food. Out of this tiny pantry, I filled 3 large kitchen trash bags full of old food, all of it past the expiration date. I didn't even think that much food could fit into such a small space. Fermented vinegars, crusty sugar, stale marshmallows, expired soups, pasta sauce that was starting to turn grey... it was pretty gross.
The worst part was that I did not know if my mother would be angry at me for taking this bold step. In actuality, it wasn't really my place to come to her home and clean out her pantry... but I really had had enough of it. My daughters don't eat over there very much, but what if they were inadvertently served rotten food? I knew the risk wasn't high (surely any of us could smell or see the food was rotten before serving it), but I used this excuse to justify my actions.
All in all, my mother was okay with it, but mad I threw away her syrup. In my defense it was 2 years PAST the expiration date! She still wanted to use it!
She told her friend and neighbor about what I did with the pantry. Her friend asked, "Why do our kids feel like they need to begin parenting US?"
It made me wonder, when do the kids and parents reverse roles? I wasn't trying to parent my mother, but the food was OLD and UNSAFE. Come on! I couldn't understand why she didn't see that and then take 30 minutes out of her day to clean it up. Is that what it's like living with a teenager?
When will my girls try to parent me? Well, my 4-year-old already tries to do that.
No, Mommy, you do not throw things. (I tossed a toy into the bath tub toy bin.)
Maybe the question isn't WHEN will they start, but WHEN will they be right?
A couple of months ago, I sneaked to my mother's house while she was at work and cleaned out her disorganized and botulism-ridden pantry. Okay, the expired cans probably weren't old enough to have botulism, but several of them were years past their expiration dates. Every time I came over and happened to open the pantry door, I would cringe at the sight. Boxes of popcorn and pasta, several varieties soup, Little Debbie snacks, Nutrigrain bars, Teddy Grahams, Blueberry Morning cereal, a peanut butter jar and syrup were all shoved haphazardly in this skinny little space about 18 inches across. Any items that implied cooking made me chuckle -- pasta sauces, lasagna noodles, condensed soups, packets of taco seasonings -- because since I moved out of the house 9 years ago, my mother only seems to make eggs, grilled-cheese sandwiches and toast.
I had mentioned on several occasions that the pantry needed to be cleaned out. Although the pantry is only a foot and a half wide, the items were stuffed so erratically that I could stand there for 5 minutes just gazing at the wonder of it. It was a flashback to my grandmother's pantry which we had to clean out after my grandfather died, and my grandmother decided to move from the lake house into town closer to family. My grandmother's pantry was 10 times bigger than my mother's, and she had canned goods so old that they were oozing thick, black goo -- that is NOT an exaggeration. I did not want my mother's pantry to get like that; in fact, I refused to have it get like that. And any comments I made relating my mother's pantry to my grandmother's pantry usually began a bickering session between my mother and me.
So I came over one day to clean the mess up and throw out the old, expired food. Out of this tiny pantry, I filled 3 large kitchen trash bags full of old food, all of it past the expiration date. I didn't even think that much food could fit into such a small space. Fermented vinegars, crusty sugar, stale marshmallows, expired soups, pasta sauce that was starting to turn grey... it was pretty gross.
The worst part was that I did not know if my mother would be angry at me for taking this bold step. In actuality, it wasn't really my place to come to her home and clean out her pantry... but I really had had enough of it. My daughters don't eat over there very much, but what if they were inadvertently served rotten food? I knew the risk wasn't high (surely any of us could smell or see the food was rotten before serving it), but I used this excuse to justify my actions.
All in all, my mother was okay with it, but mad I threw away her syrup. In my defense it was 2 years PAST the expiration date! She still wanted to use it!
She told her friend and neighbor about what I did with the pantry. Her friend asked, "Why do our kids feel like they need to begin parenting US?"
It made me wonder, when do the kids and parents reverse roles? I wasn't trying to parent my mother, but the food was OLD and UNSAFE. Come on! I couldn't understand why she didn't see that and then take 30 minutes out of her day to clean it up. Is that what it's like living with a teenager?
When will my girls try to parent me? Well, my 4-year-old already tries to do that.
No, Mommy, you do not throw things. (I tossed a toy into the bath tub toy bin.)
Maybe the question isn't WHEN will they start, but WHEN will they be right?
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Phases of the Child
As I write this, my 2-year-old is throwing a crying fit in her crib. It is time for bed and we went through her nightly routine -- bath, teeth brushing, hair combing and stories. She had a big day at her grandma's outside so I know she's tired. But for the last week or so, she has insisted on complaining about bedtime.
My 4-year-old used to do this as well when she was a toddler. For 95% of the time, she would quietly lay down, maybe read a book in her crib, babble for a few minutes and drift off to sleep. Then for some reason, she'd cry at bedtime for a week or two, but when we didn't give in to any demands or provide unnecessary attention, she'd go back to her usual routine.
I've come to realize that children, like the moon, have phases. For the most part, they follow the routine we've established with some slight variations here and there. And then they attempt to defy the routine or test the waters. What will Mommy and Daddy do if I throw a fit at bedtime? Will they give me extra cuddles? Will they rock me? Will I get an extra cup of milk? When none of these extraneous demands are met, they return to the normal routine of going to sleep quietly and quickly and life goes on as usual... until the next time it happens... a full cycle, a complete circle.
For all I know, their behaviors and moods are directly tied to the actual phases of the moon. After working in a hospital, I can vouch that the strangest patients and most bizarre cases came in to be seen during a full moon. What's up with that anyway?
If I were more ambitious about this, I would chart my children's behavior and compare it to the moon. Sounds like something my husband would do. I'll leave it up to him.
My 4-year-old used to do this as well when she was a toddler. For 95% of the time, she would quietly lay down, maybe read a book in her crib, babble for a few minutes and drift off to sleep. Then for some reason, she'd cry at bedtime for a week or two, but when we didn't give in to any demands or provide unnecessary attention, she'd go back to her usual routine.
I've come to realize that children, like the moon, have phases. For the most part, they follow the routine we've established with some slight variations here and there. And then they attempt to defy the routine or test the waters. What will Mommy and Daddy do if I throw a fit at bedtime? Will they give me extra cuddles? Will they rock me? Will I get an extra cup of milk? When none of these extraneous demands are met, they return to the normal routine of going to sleep quietly and quickly and life goes on as usual... until the next time it happens... a full cycle, a complete circle.
For all I know, their behaviors and moods are directly tied to the actual phases of the moon. After working in a hospital, I can vouch that the strangest patients and most bizarre cases came in to be seen during a full moon. What's up with that anyway?
If I were more ambitious about this, I would chart my children's behavior and compare it to the moon. Sounds like something my husband would do. I'll leave it up to him.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
A New Beginning
My first post on this new blog. Daunting for several reasons, but mainly because I haven't written in WAY too long. And also because I'm not accustomed to typing my thoughts; I'm usually more old-fashioned with a pen and paper, you know... a fresh college-ruled notebook and a brand new pen. Who writes like that anymore?
So introductions are probably in order. Good day. I'm Amber. I'm currently 29 years old living in Indiana with my husband of 9 years and our two daughters, ages 2 and almost 4 1/2. We live in a 60-year-old ranch on an acre on the outskirts of a small city... kind of in the country but very close to city amenities which is just the way I like it. I could stand to live in a more secluded location, but that costs more money. And I'm a total tight-wad with money, so I'll stay on our acre.
I grow a vegetable garden that is going to be way too full of potatoes this year. And if the watermelon plant takes, I'm not sure where the bell peppers and aforementioned potatoes will do -- I'm envisioning some kind of vegetable war. And it could appear bloody if any watermelon burst. But I'm a peace-lover so hopefully it doesn't come to that... we'll attempt mediation at all costs.
So what else is there to know about me?
I was recently laid off from my job and I am using this time off of work to re-evaluate what I want to do with my life. Fortunately, I am in a position where I do not need to work (don't get me wrong, the extra money is wonderful, but it's not necessary for our survival), so I've been digging pretty deep into my recesses to see what all is down there. And do you know what I've found so far? A writing bug (and a whole lot of nothing else).
To whoever reads this: thanks for stopping by and come back often... I hope to make this blog a regular part of my life. I hope to bring some light-hearted humor, maybe an insight or two, and a lot of other pretty senseless (yet entertaining) nonsense.
So introductions are probably in order. Good day. I'm Amber. I'm currently 29 years old living in Indiana with my husband of 9 years and our two daughters, ages 2 and almost 4 1/2. We live in a 60-year-old ranch on an acre on the outskirts of a small city... kind of in the country but very close to city amenities which is just the way I like it. I could stand to live in a more secluded location, but that costs more money. And I'm a total tight-wad with money, so I'll stay on our acre.
I grow a vegetable garden that is going to be way too full of potatoes this year. And if the watermelon plant takes, I'm not sure where the bell peppers and aforementioned potatoes will do -- I'm envisioning some kind of vegetable war. And it could appear bloody if any watermelon burst. But I'm a peace-lover so hopefully it doesn't come to that... we'll attempt mediation at all costs.
So what else is there to know about me?
I was recently laid off from my job and I am using this time off of work to re-evaluate what I want to do with my life. Fortunately, I am in a position where I do not need to work (don't get me wrong, the extra money is wonderful, but it's not necessary for our survival), so I've been digging pretty deep into my recesses to see what all is down there. And do you know what I've found so far? A writing bug (and a whole lot of nothing else).
To whoever reads this: thanks for stopping by and come back often... I hope to make this blog a regular part of my life. I hope to bring some light-hearted humor, maybe an insight or two, and a lot of other pretty senseless (yet entertaining) nonsense.
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