Current mood: distractable
So, Bob died. Mom came here and we drove to Albuquerque together with the kids for the services and to be with Treva. It sounds odd to say this about a funeral week, but we really had a good time. Emotional, yes, but it was nice to go there and be with Treva and hope that in some way we were in some way helpful to her and to Cody (her son, the crazy triathlete) and Bob's boys, Eric and Kurt, as well as Bob's brothers, Jim and John (interestingly enough, there is a six degrees deal here. My dear friend Tiana's mother, Cindy, knows John and Jim and Sylvia [John's wife]).
Anyway, Mom left yesterday to go back to Glendale and tonight I have my CT scan on my sinuses, which the doctors swear are still not infected. OK, whatever. Something is going on up there and at least now we'll have some idea of what that may be.
Football practices are back in full-swing. Four nights a week, seven total hours a week. I don't mind. I get to talk the whole time to Kelly, the mother of the former boyfriend, the Tomster.
I got up relatively early this morning and ran a few errands and paid a couple of bills, hit my favorite store for produce and got a ton for $5.98 and came home.
So I've been finishing up the tile-and it is now officially finished (collective cheer for me), and the baseboards only need a bit to be finished. I was going to paint the walls in the laundry room, but I re-thought that idea. I am going to clean them up a bit and call it done.
I just made dinner and it is awesome: red chile stew (also called Chile Colorado) and my special refried beans. I can't wait to eat when we get home tonight.
So, after tiling, baseboarding and cooking, I sat down to read a couple of the blogs I follow. One of them is my nephew Cody (yes, crazy tri guy). His blog today talked about how much he misses Bob and how he is hurting for his mother because of her loss. Remember, Treva's older sister died two years ago from pancreatic cancer, and Jackie was Treva's best friend. She cared for her almost exclusively in the months before her death, and then focused on caring for Bob. About a year ago, her other sister, Leah, was diagnosed with mulitple myeloma, and her mother, my Aunt Mona, is in poor health as well. Basically, its been a rough few years for Treva, who also had some cancer cells removed last year. Then two nights ago she had what the doctors believe to be a minor heart attack. And another yesterday morning.
Really? I mean seriously, what else is she supposed to endure?
I called Mom, we worked out a plan, then we called Cody's wife, Cindy to find out just exactly what the heck was going on. Treva was with Cindy. I talked to her. She sounded fine, just like she always does when things are not so wonderful, but I think I am seeing through her act (even though I hope it isn't an act). She sees the heart docs tomorrow and we'll know more then. She said it could have been an anxiety attack. It absolutely could have been, but it might have been a heart attack too.
So now Mom and I are ready to go back up to Albuquerque if we need to.
But, enough already.
Treva needs a break.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
Greatness
Current mood: blessed
Most of us are lucky enough at one point or another to be in the presence of greatness. Some of us are even more lucky that greatness is a part of our regular lives. One of the hardest things to do is say goodbye to greatness. And when you love the one to whom you must say goodbye, the difficulty is compounded.
Bob Foster died Friday, July 4, 2008, shortly after 10:00 pm. Outside his hospital room, which was filled with the people he loved the most and the people who equally loved him, fireworks were jetting through the sky celebrating independence. Was it his going away party or the happiness in his release from the physical ailments which had plagued him for years, or does it even matter?
Bob is my brother-in-law. He is the husband of my sister, Treva. And, Bob is just one of those people who always seemed to be at ease just being Bob, regardless of who someone around him was trying to be or what mayhem might be about to unfurl.
The first time I met him was about six or seven years ago. He'd been married to my sister for a bit longer than that same span of time. Although I knew of Treva when I was growing up, she was my cousin then. Not until I was an adult did I know that biologically she was my half sister. It was wonderful to learn that half-genetics couldn't compete with the fact that I completely loved her. The bonus in the deal was Bob.
He was sitting at the counter between the kitchen and the family room watching his enormous TV when we arrived. Travis was off being Travis in a uniform somewhere and the kids and I came to invade on a Thursday night for three glorious days. Immediately I knew he was someone who made the world better simply because he was in it. He could talk about anything and was happy to share with you one of his many stories, but was equally content to listen to you sounding like an idiot telling yours, never once making you feel as stupid as you surely must have sounded. That never changed.
He didn't seem at all phased by my insane kids. Amanda was at a point where she was able to handle a weekend getaway chock-full of new people reasonably well, but Mr. Nolan was taxed to the limit on the emotion-ometer. For some reason when he was around his newly discovered uncle he toned it way down and seemed to find his center. That was just the Bob influence.
Nolan is now and has always been a relatively early riser. Treva and I had stayed up the first night we were there talking and laughing for hours and hours into the early morning so I was not exactly up and at 'em like Poppin' Fresh that morning. Nolan woke up and went to the family room where he found Bob. He clumsily climbed up in the chair at the counter next to Bob with his new toy, which was a gift from Aunt Treva. She told me she wasn't sure what he would like, but figured something from Spiderman would be a likely hit. Being the mother of a son herself, she sought out the, "ugliest thing they had on the shelf." It was perfect and Nolan loved it. So, in the early morning hours, Bob on one stool and Nolan on the other, over a Spiderman action figure and the morning news, they got to know one another.
Bob had been asking Nolan questions and spurring the conversation a bit. Nolan was happy to answer him and talk about this and that, all the while calling him "Uncle Tom." Immediately after one of several references to Uncle Tom, Bob gently mentioned to Nolan, "Its Bob." Nolan looked up at him from behind his long eyelashes and squooshed his forehead a bit, softly nodded at Bob and said, "Its OK, you can call me Bob." That was the last of that name business and their comfortable conversation continued until Aunt Treva came to the kitchen to make breakfast.
That was Bob. Gentle, sincere, accepting and comfortable Bob.
Last year was the first time my Travis met Bob. I had told him at least a million times that he would love Bob from the moment they met. I was right. En route to a triathlon in some po'dunk town in northern New Mexico we stopped at Treva and Bob's house to drop our mother for a visit and have dinner. While Treva wrangled the kids, Mom and I and Cindy (her daughter-in-law and my neice-in-law) into the kitchen Travis and Bob were kickin' it in the family room. We all had knives chopping and slicing, spoons mixing and glasses being filled with ice but from the few glances we had of the guys, we all knew it was kismet. Bob and Travis were a hit! Travis being of relatively mild manner (much like Bob), simply said after we left, "That's one cool guy." I later learned that Bob held Travis in the same regard.
All who knew him could easily see that he was a compassionate, engaging, interesting and generous man who loved my sister and their three boys. He was confident without being boastful and sure without being cocky. Without even trying, he was a gentle calming spirit.
And quietly, surrounded by love, Bob slipped away.
What is not quiet in our hearts is the love of and memory of a truly great man.
Currently listening : Gentle on My Mind By Glen Campbell Release date: 2001-10-09
Most of us are lucky enough at one point or another to be in the presence of greatness. Some of us are even more lucky that greatness is a part of our regular lives. One of the hardest things to do is say goodbye to greatness. And when you love the one to whom you must say goodbye, the difficulty is compounded.
Bob Foster died Friday, July 4, 2008, shortly after 10:00 pm. Outside his hospital room, which was filled with the people he loved the most and the people who equally loved him, fireworks were jetting through the sky celebrating independence. Was it his going away party or the happiness in his release from the physical ailments which had plagued him for years, or does it even matter?
Bob is my brother-in-law. He is the husband of my sister, Treva. And, Bob is just one of those people who always seemed to be at ease just being Bob, regardless of who someone around him was trying to be or what mayhem might be about to unfurl.
The first time I met him was about six or seven years ago. He'd been married to my sister for a bit longer than that same span of time. Although I knew of Treva when I was growing up, she was my cousin then. Not until I was an adult did I know that biologically she was my half sister. It was wonderful to learn that half-genetics couldn't compete with the fact that I completely loved her. The bonus in the deal was Bob.
He was sitting at the counter between the kitchen and the family room watching his enormous TV when we arrived. Travis was off being Travis in a uniform somewhere and the kids and I came to invade on a Thursday night for three glorious days. Immediately I knew he was someone who made the world better simply because he was in it. He could talk about anything and was happy to share with you one of his many stories, but was equally content to listen to you sounding like an idiot telling yours, never once making you feel as stupid as you surely must have sounded. That never changed.
He didn't seem at all phased by my insane kids. Amanda was at a point where she was able to handle a weekend getaway chock-full of new people reasonably well, but Mr. Nolan was taxed to the limit on the emotion-ometer. For some reason when he was around his newly discovered uncle he toned it way down and seemed to find his center. That was just the Bob influence.
Nolan is now and has always been a relatively early riser. Treva and I had stayed up the first night we were there talking and laughing for hours and hours into the early morning so I was not exactly up and at 'em like Poppin' Fresh that morning. Nolan woke up and went to the family room where he found Bob. He clumsily climbed up in the chair at the counter next to Bob with his new toy, which was a gift from Aunt Treva. She told me she wasn't sure what he would like, but figured something from Spiderman would be a likely hit. Being the mother of a son herself, she sought out the, "ugliest thing they had on the shelf." It was perfect and Nolan loved it. So, in the early morning hours, Bob on one stool and Nolan on the other, over a Spiderman action figure and the morning news, they got to know one another.
Bob had been asking Nolan questions and spurring the conversation a bit. Nolan was happy to answer him and talk about this and that, all the while calling him "Uncle Tom." Immediately after one of several references to Uncle Tom, Bob gently mentioned to Nolan, "Its Bob." Nolan looked up at him from behind his long eyelashes and squooshed his forehead a bit, softly nodded at Bob and said, "Its OK, you can call me Bob." That was the last of that name business and their comfortable conversation continued until Aunt Treva came to the kitchen to make breakfast.
That was Bob. Gentle, sincere, accepting and comfortable Bob.
Last year was the first time my Travis met Bob. I had told him at least a million times that he would love Bob from the moment they met. I was right. En route to a triathlon in some po'dunk town in northern New Mexico we stopped at Treva and Bob's house to drop our mother for a visit and have dinner. While Treva wrangled the kids, Mom and I and Cindy (her daughter-in-law and my neice-in-law) into the kitchen Travis and Bob were kickin' it in the family room. We all had knives chopping and slicing, spoons mixing and glasses being filled with ice but from the few glances we had of the guys, we all knew it was kismet. Bob and Travis were a hit! Travis being of relatively mild manner (much like Bob), simply said after we left, "That's one cool guy." I later learned that Bob held Travis in the same regard.
All who knew him could easily see that he was a compassionate, engaging, interesting and generous man who loved my sister and their three boys. He was confident without being boastful and sure without being cocky. Without even trying, he was a gentle calming spirit.
And quietly, surrounded by love, Bob slipped away.
What is not quiet in our hearts is the love of and memory of a truly great man.
Currently listening : Gentle on My Mind By Glen Campbell Release date: 2001-10-09
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Congratulations, You've Really Accomplished Something Now
Current mood: distraught
Seems my blogs are all centering around one thing at this point. Lo siento. I think it might have something to do with bearing the brunt of the majority of familial parenting these days, but here I go again. Throw proper grammar techniques out the window for now, too late, too pissy and to insomnious (is that even a word?).
Peeing on a stick. Many of us have done this. Some in a shameful embarassed manner in a gas station bathroom with a nervous boy outside. Some secretly in our own homes prior to bursting through the bathroom door to announce the glee to the donor (or whatever you want to call him). Some after careful planning. Some on secret-purpose. Regardless of our circumstance, peeing on a stick does not predicate parenting.
We've all heard before about fathers and real men and daddies, so I'll not quote that here. But, it is so true. Merely planting the seed doesn't really mean much, much the same as incubating doesn't catapult you into the upper eschelons of mommyhood. The only mothers who should get mothers' day cards are those who have earned them. Just like the only kids who should get a gold star from the teacher for the day are the kids who have earned them. Just like the only kids who get a big trophy when the baseball season is over should be the kids on the team who won the most games. Give the rest a certificate and a coupon for a free ice cream cone from the dairy queen and move along. If you want a trophy, work harder next year.
I guess our world is too ensconced in making everyone feel special to realize special is a feeling one should earn.
I earn my special. I earn it when I make a dinner one of my kids or my husband particularly enjoys. I earn it when I got more mileage out of a tank of gas than I have in ages. I earn it when my house looks how I like it or when I do something nice for someone else.. I get my special in a lot of ways. I don't want you to tell me you think the jello I made tastes good if you think it more closely resembles the dried up mayonnaise at the curve in the top of the jar than it does a globular green mass of sweet goodness. If you don't like it just shut up and quietly throw out your plate. Done deal. But if you think my jello rocks the free world like a Neil Young song, say so and I'll have earned another ray of special in my day. How did you earn yours today?
Parenting is a job which never ends. Right now it is almost 2am and I am doing laundry. I am doing laundry because I cannot sleep for many reasons. I am doing laundry also because I need to get it out of my way. I need to get it out of my way so I can move other things around so I can lay the rest of the regular tiles the way I must to make way for the tiles I must cut to fill in the gaps left by the regular tiles so I can get the baseboards I need so I can cut them and put them in place and then paint both them and the walls so the laundry room will be done so I can start working on the baseboards in the hallway so they can in turn be painted so then I can also paint the rest of the trim and the doors and then the walls so I can then finish painting outside and fixing the siding and then I can move the furniture around to the other rooms to make rooms look huge for when the realtor comes so we can get the house on the market to sell the thing so I can HAVE MY FAMILY ALL TOGETHER IN ONE PLACE AGAIN! Because that will be good for me and my kids. both of them
when one of them stubs their toe, I will help them while the other watches, helps as well or has no frigging clue what is going on. When the other one is puking in the bathroom I will help them while the other one plays Wii like a fiend. Point being here is that if you have more than one kid, you help the one that needs it at the moment, if one needs it. While you help that one, you also have to keep in mind the best interest of the other(s). You cannot pick and choose which of your kids you will serve today. Sorry, don't work that way. If you spend you life turning your back on one or more in favor of something or someone else, you suck.
If you have five kids and you choose two of them to parent reasonably well, you still are failing as a parent. You still are only doing 40 % of your job as a parent, on a good day, when you parent your chosen ones perfectly. are you seeing my point here? I swear to you my fingers are yelling right now as I type.
if and when your kids become adults and begin to make decisions for themselves, you don't get to not like what they do if you never taught them what it is that you expect from them. If you have made them emotionally fragile in whatever way you don't get to keep trying to call the shots for them when they want to take their existence in another direction. in fact some of us wont even care if you are sad about the decisions your adult kids make. Maybe they want more for themselves than you wanted for yourself. Is that a problem?
When you crap on them, expect that they will at some point crap back. Don't play the stupid card when it happens. No one will care. When they crap back don't be surprised. Understand that they are reacting in the exact way you taught them to throughout their childhoods. And you suck. don't complain.
value who your kids are. just for the fact that they exist, not for their idolatry of you. Sadly enough, they are still likely, after all the crapping, to in one way or another, to idolize you. so sad.
choosing some children over other children is also wretched. I am not talking about letting one sit in the front seat and then switching out on the next trip. I am talking about all the freaking time.
don't complain about their presence and then whine when they aren't there.
Treating some like useless trash while not the others really shows your soul to the world.
and I hope the Phoenix will rise of the ashes into the greatness he deserves
Currently listening : Phoenix By Dan Fogelberg Release date: 2008-03-01
Seems my blogs are all centering around one thing at this point. Lo siento. I think it might have something to do with bearing the brunt of the majority of familial parenting these days, but here I go again. Throw proper grammar techniques out the window for now, too late, too pissy and to insomnious (is that even a word?).
Peeing on a stick. Many of us have done this. Some in a shameful embarassed manner in a gas station bathroom with a nervous boy outside. Some secretly in our own homes prior to bursting through the bathroom door to announce the glee to the donor (or whatever you want to call him). Some after careful planning. Some on secret-purpose. Regardless of our circumstance, peeing on a stick does not predicate parenting.
We've all heard before about fathers and real men and daddies, so I'll not quote that here. But, it is so true. Merely planting the seed doesn't really mean much, much the same as incubating doesn't catapult you into the upper eschelons of mommyhood. The only mothers who should get mothers' day cards are those who have earned them. Just like the only kids who should get a gold star from the teacher for the day are the kids who have earned them. Just like the only kids who get a big trophy when the baseball season is over should be the kids on the team who won the most games. Give the rest a certificate and a coupon for a free ice cream cone from the dairy queen and move along. If you want a trophy, work harder next year.
I guess our world is too ensconced in making everyone feel special to realize special is a feeling one should earn.
I earn my special. I earn it when I make a dinner one of my kids or my husband particularly enjoys. I earn it when I got more mileage out of a tank of gas than I have in ages. I earn it when my house looks how I like it or when I do something nice for someone else.. I get my special in a lot of ways. I don't want you to tell me you think the jello I made tastes good if you think it more closely resembles the dried up mayonnaise at the curve in the top of the jar than it does a globular green mass of sweet goodness. If you don't like it just shut up and quietly throw out your plate. Done deal. But if you think my jello rocks the free world like a Neil Young song, say so and I'll have earned another ray of special in my day. How did you earn yours today?
Parenting is a job which never ends. Right now it is almost 2am and I am doing laundry. I am doing laundry because I cannot sleep for many reasons. I am doing laundry also because I need to get it out of my way. I need to get it out of my way so I can move other things around so I can lay the rest of the regular tiles the way I must to make way for the tiles I must cut to fill in the gaps left by the regular tiles so I can get the baseboards I need so I can cut them and put them in place and then paint both them and the walls so the laundry room will be done so I can start working on the baseboards in the hallway so they can in turn be painted so then I can also paint the rest of the trim and the doors and then the walls so I can then finish painting outside and fixing the siding and then I can move the furniture around to the other rooms to make rooms look huge for when the realtor comes so we can get the house on the market to sell the thing so I can HAVE MY FAMILY ALL TOGETHER IN ONE PLACE AGAIN! Because that will be good for me and my kids. both of them
when one of them stubs their toe, I will help them while the other watches, helps as well or has no frigging clue what is going on. When the other one is puking in the bathroom I will help them while the other one plays Wii like a fiend. Point being here is that if you have more than one kid, you help the one that needs it at the moment, if one needs it. While you help that one, you also have to keep in mind the best interest of the other(s). You cannot pick and choose which of your kids you will serve today. Sorry, don't work that way. If you spend you life turning your back on one or more in favor of something or someone else, you suck.
If you have five kids and you choose two of them to parent reasonably well, you still are failing as a parent. You still are only doing 40 % of your job as a parent, on a good day, when you parent your chosen ones perfectly. are you seeing my point here? I swear to you my fingers are yelling right now as I type.
if and when your kids become adults and begin to make decisions for themselves, you don't get to not like what they do if you never taught them what it is that you expect from them. If you have made them emotionally fragile in whatever way you don't get to keep trying to call the shots for them when they want to take their existence in another direction. in fact some of us wont even care if you are sad about the decisions your adult kids make. Maybe they want more for themselves than you wanted for yourself. Is that a problem?
When you crap on them, expect that they will at some point crap back. Don't play the stupid card when it happens. No one will care. When they crap back don't be surprised. Understand that they are reacting in the exact way you taught them to throughout their childhoods. And you suck. don't complain.
value who your kids are. just for the fact that they exist, not for their idolatry of you. Sadly enough, they are still likely, after all the crapping, to in one way or another, to idolize you. so sad.
choosing some children over other children is also wretched. I am not talking about letting one sit in the front seat and then switching out on the next trip. I am talking about all the freaking time.
don't complain about their presence and then whine when they aren't there.
Treating some like useless trash while not the others really shows your soul to the world.
and I hope the Phoenix will rise of the ashes into the greatness he deserves
Currently listening : Phoenix By Dan Fogelberg Release date: 2008-03-01
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Maybe Just a Little Ironic
Current mood: sad
My kid doesn't know her MySpace password. She has no way of knowing it because her default email on MySpace is the email address I use when I am working on contracts. I like it that way and she knows that if she is going to have any time at all on the computer, she's going to let me have things my way. She also knows that I lurk on her page. I sign in and I look at all her "friends" and I read her messages (I don't even really delete stuff I don't like unless I tell her I did, which I rarely delete anything). She's known since she got the stupid MySpace page that I did, so no one has any right to say a word. You may call it intrusive or whatever you like. I call it smart parenting.
I don't hang there all the time. I don't hang there as often as I feel I should. But I do hang there. And many of her friends know it too.
Today I was lurking/hanging/invading her privacy when I saw a new friend request. I wasn't sure who it was at first but as soon as I got on that page, I knew, even though the profile picture was unidentifiable. I don't know the girl well, but I have often been confused by her.
She and Amanda had a group in common a while back. Her family has a few things in common with ours so we see them reasonably often but I don't know her parents and I have never felt as if I would like them if I did. For the sake of this blog and my own convenience, we'll call this child Sara. Within the last several months Sara's family moved into our neighborhood so I've seen Sara more frequently as has Amanda. No big deal.
My kid and Sara have very little in common other than the group to which La Princessa once belonged. Even now that they will be at the same high school together, there wont be much they'll share, other than the fact that my daughter just loves this girl. That's OK. I don't love the idea, but it is ok. (Sidebar-keep in mind a recent blog of mine)
Sara thinks I hate her. That is not true. If she ever asked me I would tell her it isn't true. BUT, I would also tell her that I don't understand her. And, if she chose to explain things to me, I would listen. I can't promise I would understand her or the things she does any better were she to explain, but I would listen.
What confuses me most is that Sara is really quite pretty, but for the last two or three years she has been on this "quest" to make herself different. Very different. Startlingly different. It started with just a little bit of marking on her clothes and dyeing her hair and has escalated to extreme perrot/harlequin style makeup, dreds, odd corsetts, pants with legs large enough to comfortably house a three-ring circus, chains, holes and all kinds of things. Sure, this can be attributed to self-expression. Or it could be something else.
I vote for something else.
I think it might be that she is seeking attention, good or bad doesn't matter, as long as someone at least looks. I've been looking for a while now, but maybe it isn't me Sara wants to see her.
I noticed on her page that her status was "in a relationship," which doesn't mean much for the average high-schooler but then I saw that it said "Children: expecting." I initially blew it off until I looked at her pictures and saw her ultrasound pictures.
Wow.
So she is pregnant. She's less than two years older than my kid. She might be old enough to drive but I don't think she does. But, I guess she's old enough to be a parent. I can't quite wrap my head around that, but then, biology doesn't always coincide with logic.
Now I wonder about this baby. I don't know if she'll keep the baby or adopt the baby out and it isn't my concern, really. But I am concerned. If she decides to raise it- What kind of life will a baby have if it is sharing it's room with it's mommy for it's first two or three (or more) years? It wont be in a smoke-free home (many aren't, and that is not my business either, but these grandparents both smell like something that would put the Marlboro man to shame), it wont have any personal space, it will have a mother who is desperately trying to be seen and will go to school with its aunts and uncles, it may not have strong parental guidance, and I could go on for days. I just hurt.
Amanda was a little shocked too.
And then, tonight was the season premiere for a new show on ABC Family called "The Secret Life of the American Teenager." Basically the show is built around two families. The first is the family of two teen girls who are completely different from one another. One is the good girl and one teeters on the edge of acceptance with her parents. The other family is a family of devout Christians who also have two children. Their oldest is a boy named Tom who has Downs Syndrome, and their daughter is an "everything girl." You know the type- cheerleader, beautiful, nice (holy crap). There are other characters and they all have their own challenges as well. It is a little campy and pushes the Christian viewpoint maybe a little much for some, but this really seems like it is going to be a great show. And the main storyline revolves around teen pregnancy.
The three of us talked about it all for a while tonight. I guess that's the point of it all.
I just hope that next time I see a kid who really wants someone to look at them that I can.
Currently listening : All at Once By Young People Release date: 2006-03-21
My kid doesn't know her MySpace password. She has no way of knowing it because her default email on MySpace is the email address I use when I am working on contracts. I like it that way and she knows that if she is going to have any time at all on the computer, she's going to let me have things my way. She also knows that I lurk on her page. I sign in and I look at all her "friends" and I read her messages (I don't even really delete stuff I don't like unless I tell her I did, which I rarely delete anything). She's known since she got the stupid MySpace page that I did, so no one has any right to say a word. You may call it intrusive or whatever you like. I call it smart parenting.
I don't hang there all the time. I don't hang there as often as I feel I should. But I do hang there. And many of her friends know it too.
Today I was lurking/hanging/invading her privacy when I saw a new friend request. I wasn't sure who it was at first but as soon as I got on that page, I knew, even though the profile picture was unidentifiable. I don't know the girl well, but I have often been confused by her.
She and Amanda had a group in common a while back. Her family has a few things in common with ours so we see them reasonably often but I don't know her parents and I have never felt as if I would like them if I did. For the sake of this blog and my own convenience, we'll call this child Sara. Within the last several months Sara's family moved into our neighborhood so I've seen Sara more frequently as has Amanda. No big deal.
My kid and Sara have very little in common other than the group to which La Princessa once belonged. Even now that they will be at the same high school together, there wont be much they'll share, other than the fact that my daughter just loves this girl. That's OK. I don't love the idea, but it is ok. (Sidebar-keep in mind a recent blog of mine)
Sara thinks I hate her. That is not true. If she ever asked me I would tell her it isn't true. BUT, I would also tell her that I don't understand her. And, if she chose to explain things to me, I would listen. I can't promise I would understand her or the things she does any better were she to explain, but I would listen.
What confuses me most is that Sara is really quite pretty, but for the last two or three years she has been on this "quest" to make herself different. Very different. Startlingly different. It started with just a little bit of marking on her clothes and dyeing her hair and has escalated to extreme perrot/harlequin style makeup, dreds, odd corsetts, pants with legs large enough to comfortably house a three-ring circus, chains, holes and all kinds of things. Sure, this can be attributed to self-expression. Or it could be something else.
I vote for something else.
I think it might be that she is seeking attention, good or bad doesn't matter, as long as someone at least looks. I've been looking for a while now, but maybe it isn't me Sara wants to see her.
I noticed on her page that her status was "in a relationship," which doesn't mean much for the average high-schooler but then I saw that it said "Children: expecting." I initially blew it off until I looked at her pictures and saw her ultrasound pictures.
Wow.
So she is pregnant. She's less than two years older than my kid. She might be old enough to drive but I don't think she does. But, I guess she's old enough to be a parent. I can't quite wrap my head around that, but then, biology doesn't always coincide with logic.
Now I wonder about this baby. I don't know if she'll keep the baby or adopt the baby out and it isn't my concern, really. But I am concerned. If she decides to raise it- What kind of life will a baby have if it is sharing it's room with it's mommy for it's first two or three (or more) years? It wont be in a smoke-free home (many aren't, and that is not my business either, but these grandparents both smell like something that would put the Marlboro man to shame), it wont have any personal space, it will have a mother who is desperately trying to be seen and will go to school with its aunts and uncles, it may not have strong parental guidance, and I could go on for days. I just hurt.
Amanda was a little shocked too.
And then, tonight was the season premiere for a new show on ABC Family called "The Secret Life of the American Teenager." Basically the show is built around two families. The first is the family of two teen girls who are completely different from one another. One is the good girl and one teeters on the edge of acceptance with her parents. The other family is a family of devout Christians who also have two children. Their oldest is a boy named Tom who has Downs Syndrome, and their daughter is an "everything girl." You know the type- cheerleader, beautiful, nice (holy crap). There are other characters and they all have their own challenges as well. It is a little campy and pushes the Christian viewpoint maybe a little much for some, but this really seems like it is going to be a great show. And the main storyline revolves around teen pregnancy.
The three of us talked about it all for a while tonight. I guess that's the point of it all.
I just hope that next time I see a kid who really wants someone to look at them that I can.
Currently listening : All at Once By Young People Release date: 2006-03-21
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
