5 years ago, I started blogging. I had another blog before this one, with three years worth of entries and contacts with fellow bloggers.
2 years ago I stopped blogging. Our lives were to painfully effected by the economic down turn, and so many things were turned upside down and all around. I wasn't about to share the details with the world, much less bring myself to divulge the details to personal friends. Reading about every one else's happy times and "oh my gosh I had the worst day, the dog escaped and we spent an hour chasing him..." I am the proud owner of a new dog, and yes that would throw a monkey wrench in the day, but that is not the worst day, not by a long shot. I couldn't read their joys and their stress. Not when it all seemed so far away from my reality, not when it seemed so unfair.
But I didn't stop writing. I filled a book with prayers and verses, pleadings and hopes and heart ache. And some funny things too. I wish I would have kept on writing the quirkiness of our family so that I had the record. But life gets tangled. And some parts are so hard, you cannot write the joys without writing the pain. And I suppose tucking the joys away into my own heart were the closest I could get to untangling the painful jumble all around.
Last week I started blogging. Who knows why. Maybe it is sence or just the hope that the hardest part is over, or at least the most painful days have passed. Regardless, it is nice to have a thread of the joys and struggles that unfold each day as my children spring up.
Last night I decided to check on some of my old blogging friends. What I found shocked me. "This blog is private"; "this link is inactive" or there simply were no posts for the last year or two. Of ten different blogs that I used to read every day, only one was active. And most of the recent posts were reposts from a year or two or three ago.
And I began to wonder why? Was life just to busy, or did funny things about toddlers turn into not so funny things when the second grade teacher read about the way you heard her yelling at the kids from the hallway. (that never happened to me, just incase my boy's teachers every find and read my blog, I have NEVER heard them yell. They are all sweet and wonderful and brillant and patient. Seriously. They are!) Did the aninomity just get to tangled with the not-so- anonomous, or was it the struggle of loosing jobs and dwellings that begin to bite to closely to others as well?
I spoke with a friend last week, who knows some of the struggle we've walked. And I was shocked that she knew a little of that same struggle first hand. And I was ashamed that in protecting my pain, I checked out so far from not only blogging, but also real life friends. I withdrew and I forgot that I wasn't the only one with had things going on.
Maybe an open blog isn't the right venue for sharing heart ache and loss; who knows, maybe it's just the thing. But I do know real life friends are definantly the right venue for sharing your sarrow; they are nessasary.
I hope each of those virtual friends who've stepped behind pass-word protected walls, or who have simply turned off their blogs and walked away, I hope each one of them has done it for happy reasons. But for those who find themselves behind one sort of a wall or another because of difficulty and pain, please oh please do not let the walls in your "real" life get to high. You are hardly alone, and I do not know a time in my own life that finds us needing humanity and good friends to lean on, more than these times. There is nothing like a friend who will cry and laugh with you and share your pains and joys. Don't keep those pains to hidden in your own heart, because they are easier to bear with another, and they are so much less sufficating once you let them out. For me the hardest thing about sharing difficulty is the fear that no one else has ever faced it. But I have faced it. I am surviving it. And if you should be finding yourself there as well, you are certainly not alone.
It is imposible to know strength without having struggled. And it is imposible to know joy without first knowing pain.
May a brighter day find us all, strong and joyfull, the bitter night having passed for a glorious dawn.
Hannah
Monday, June 27, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Raising Social Retards
One of our favorite places to go in the summer time is the YMCA. I can work out, the kids can go to their classes, and then we can all go swimming. We all go home happy and tired and tan.
It's a genius idea; Mom can run off her stress, or sit quietly in the lounge and read a book (I wont lie, I've done it before!), and she gets the much needed stress relief and quiet that can make all the difference in a day.
Enough background. Here's the main part of my story:
Last week we went the the Y. I took my kids to their classes, full of fun activities and active things for them to do. (FYI, I did the elliptical the whole time we were there. I did not sit in the lobby and read that particular day...) I passed two boys, obviously brothers, sitting in the lounge, playing their DS's.
Here's what struck me:
1. They were completely unengaged with anyone or anything around them; they looked like zombies.
2. They were fat.
My rational thought, "well, it's normal for electronic games to engross kids, and I can see that these two kids must play a lot of games, because active 9 and 10 year-olds are not usually fat..."
BUT WE WERE AT THE GYM... where OBVIOUSLY one of their parents cared about their own fitness and health, otherwise why were they there? (Insert expletive of choice here.) What the heck?!?!?! I realize we all have different body types, I realize kids all have different interests. But REALLY? Shouldn't that count as borderline abuse, and at the very least, serious neglect?
Fit mom + fat kids is just sick and wrong.
45 minutes later, I picked up my boys from there class, where they were chasing each other on those cool floor scooter things; and the other two brothers were still there, dead to the world around them.
What kind of a generation are we raising? It's going to be one hell of a wake up call when so many kids in this generation graduate high school and mom and dad say, "OK, go get a job!" and they walk into the work world without any communication skills and any since of real responsibility.
So many parents in my generation are raising children who I fear will become socially retarded. Not because they are not bright children, but because their world has shrunk into an isolated virtual reality. These children are not prepared to lead business meetings, they are not prepared to navigate a complex work place with an intricate social structure that is entirely dependant upon the ability to communicate well. Much less trying to maintain any sort of meaningful personal relationships.
And so I drive from errand to errand, from school and to work, from baseball to Judo, not unaware of the fact that if my 4 children each had their own personal gaming system, there would be fewer disputes. They would each be quietly zoned out in their own alternate reality, and they would be quiet. But they wouldn't be telling stories. And they wouldn't be asking questions. And they wouldn't be playing games and taking in the world outside their windows. They wouldn't find a good book to read. They wouldn't be fighting and arguing. They wouldn't be working out the complexities of communication, of listening, of obeying, of consequences.
I would be trading their growth into meaningful humanity for a couple minutes of quiet.
Soon enough they will be grown and busy with their own lives, and then my home and my car will be quiet indeed. And I will be proud of the men and woman they will have become.
It's a genius idea; Mom can run off her stress, or sit quietly in the lounge and read a book (I wont lie, I've done it before!), and she gets the much needed stress relief and quiet that can make all the difference in a day.
Enough background. Here's the main part of my story:
Last week we went the the Y. I took my kids to their classes, full of fun activities and active things for them to do. (FYI, I did the elliptical the whole time we were there. I did not sit in the lobby and read that particular day...) I passed two boys, obviously brothers, sitting in the lounge, playing their DS's.
Here's what struck me:
1. They were completely unengaged with anyone or anything around them; they looked like zombies.
2. They were fat.
My rational thought, "well, it's normal for electronic games to engross kids, and I can see that these two kids must play a lot of games, because active 9 and 10 year-olds are not usually fat..."
BUT WE WERE AT THE GYM... where OBVIOUSLY one of their parents cared about their own fitness and health, otherwise why were they there? (Insert expletive of choice here.) What the heck?!?!?! I realize we all have different body types, I realize kids all have different interests. But REALLY? Shouldn't that count as borderline abuse, and at the very least, serious neglect?
Fit mom + fat kids is just sick and wrong.
45 minutes later, I picked up my boys from there class, where they were chasing each other on those cool floor scooter things; and the other two brothers were still there, dead to the world around them.
What kind of a generation are we raising? It's going to be one hell of a wake up call when so many kids in this generation graduate high school and mom and dad say, "OK, go get a job!" and they walk into the work world without any communication skills and any since of real responsibility.
So many parents in my generation are raising children who I fear will become socially retarded. Not because they are not bright children, but because their world has shrunk into an isolated virtual reality. These children are not prepared to lead business meetings, they are not prepared to navigate a complex work place with an intricate social structure that is entirely dependant upon the ability to communicate well. Much less trying to maintain any sort of meaningful personal relationships.
And so I drive from errand to errand, from school and to work, from baseball to Judo, not unaware of the fact that if my 4 children each had their own personal gaming system, there would be fewer disputes. They would each be quietly zoned out in their own alternate reality, and they would be quiet. But they wouldn't be telling stories. And they wouldn't be asking questions. And they wouldn't be playing games and taking in the world outside their windows. They wouldn't find a good book to read. They wouldn't be fighting and arguing. They wouldn't be working out the complexities of communication, of listening, of obeying, of consequences.
I would be trading their growth into meaningful humanity for a couple minutes of quiet.
Soon enough they will be grown and busy with their own lives, and then my home and my car will be quiet indeed. And I will be proud of the men and woman they will have become.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
The Princess and The Puppy
Princess Lilly is almost three. And she has had a bit of a hard time getting used to not being the only girl, since Cheyanne joined our family... that is until the day they had a talk.
Cheyanne was out playing in the yard, so Princess Lilly put on one of her new princess dresses (there are about 10 of them, she cycles through them all every day), and went to the back porch.
She addressed Cheyanne through the safety of the screaned porch window.
"Cheyanne, there is a princess in our family. Her name is Lilly. And it's ME!"
Cheyanne smiled and nodded, fist pumped Princess Lilly, and then bowed to her royal majesty.
Not really, she just jumped up and licked the screan. Wich was apparantly good enough for Princess Lilly, because they've been good sisters since that day.
Cheyanne was out playing in the yard, so Princess Lilly put on one of her new princess dresses (there are about 10 of them, she cycles through them all every day), and went to the back porch.
She addressed Cheyanne through the safety of the screaned porch window.
"Cheyanne, there is a princess in our family. Her name is Lilly. And it's ME!"
Cheyanne smiled and nodded, fist pumped Princess Lilly, and then bowed to her royal majesty.
Not really, she just jumped up and licked the screan. Wich was apparantly good enough for Princess Lilly, because they've been good sisters since that day.
New Family!
Last week the Captain turned 9 and a new member joined our family. Her name is Cheyenne, she is 5 months old. She is part husky, part something that is really really big.
The Captain has wanted a dog since he found out what dogs were. So for his ninth birthday, I went to the animal rescue with the Entertainer and Princess Lilly, and picked out the only dog that 1. wasn't a pit bull (which I've heard actually make great pets, but Brandon and I hadn't discussed the bread...) 2. wasn't a "senior" (here buddy, this is Fido, the greatest dog ever! He is going to die before you turn 10...) or 3. wasn't barking like a maniac.
So we got Cheyenne, the sweet little "husky" sad and scared and not barking, who turned into wonder dog the big jumper when they brought her out and scooted her home with us.
I waited by the fence until the Captain and the Adventurer and Brandon came home, with another dad and his two daughters. My son, who has begged me for a dog every day for the last 7.5 years, saw me holding her, and he froze. The girls ran up and petted her. The Adventurer petted her, and the Captain just stood there.
"Happy Birthday! This is Cheyenne! She's your birthday present! You can pick a new name if you want... do you want to pet her?"
"Ya, sure mom. Let me just go put my stuff down." And he saunters away. And I am baffled.
He tells me later, "mom, when I saw her, I was so excited! If those girls hadn't been there, I would have screamed like a little girl and ran up and hugged her. I just didn't want to embarrass myself."
And I breath a sigh of relief.
The Captain has wanted a dog since he found out what dogs were. So for his ninth birthday, I went to the animal rescue with the Entertainer and Princess Lilly, and picked out the only dog that 1. wasn't a pit bull (which I've heard actually make great pets, but Brandon and I hadn't discussed the bread...) 2. wasn't a "senior" (here buddy, this is Fido, the greatest dog ever! He is going to die before you turn 10...) or 3. wasn't barking like a maniac.
So we got Cheyenne, the sweet little "husky" sad and scared and not barking, who turned into wonder dog the big jumper when they brought her out and scooted her home with us.
I waited by the fence until the Captain and the Adventurer and Brandon came home, with another dad and his two daughters. My son, who has begged me for a dog every day for the last 7.5 years, saw me holding her, and he froze. The girls ran up and petted her. The Adventurer petted her, and the Captain just stood there.
"Happy Birthday! This is Cheyenne! She's your birthday present! You can pick a new name if you want... do you want to pet her?"
"Ya, sure mom. Let me just go put my stuff down." And he saunters away. And I am baffled.
He tells me later, "mom, when I saw her, I was so excited! If those girls hadn't been there, I would have screamed like a little girl and ran up and hugged her. I just didn't want to embarrass myself."
And I breath a sigh of relief.
Wake Up!
"Mommy, time to wake up!" The Princess says as she climbs into bed with me. "I am awake." I say, eyes still closed. "No mommy, walk and smile! Wake up!"
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