Sitting in the airport's overcrowded International Arrivals lounge with seven children will never be my definition of a good idea. This past Saturday, I did it anyway. The Computer Guy was returning from two weeks in Turkey and the children refused to be left at home to await his return.
It was 102* outside and the kids and I were melting long before we finished the hike to the terminal. When we got to the International area, it became apparent that it was National Deodorant is Optional Day. (Little hint: that day is totally bogus. Put on the deodorant in 102* heat. Trust me on this.) While the big kids and I simply gave each other meaningful looks, the littles were quite vociferous in their displeasure at smelling the scent of all humanity.
We moved a bit further away from the gate.
My sweet husband texted to say that although his plane had landed 15 minutes early, customs officials were inspecting every bag. It would be an hour or more until we could see him. I knew there was no way that seven children would stand quietly and wait for an hour.
We went in search of seven empty seats all in the same area.
The peace of children in chairs lasted for all of 3 minutes. #3 seemed determined to find a way to turn his seat into a bed. He determinedly slid, twisted, and pretzeled himself into fantastic contortions in an effort to be comfortable. #'s 5 and 6 screamed with delight over every plane's landing or taking off. At one of the world's busiest airports, that was approximately every 2 seconds. The people around us were not amused at their boyish enthusiasm and began shooting me dirty looks. #4 swung her legs with ever increasing force against her seat, which would have been no biggie except that all the seats in a row were connected, so the people 10 seats over could feel her fidgeting. They weren't real happy about that. #2 wanted to discuss every news story CNN was showing that afternoon as he watched the TV mounted on the post in front of him. #7 wanted only to crawl on that dirty, nasty airport floor and shrieked her displeasure at being denied doing so. #1 looked at all of us with impatience and tried to actually disappear into her iPhone.
Half an hour into our wait, #1 was sharing headphones with the 2 year old. The other little kids had talked me into letting them play Fruit Ninja on my phone, and #3 was still turning around like a cat in his seat. There was still chaos reigning, but it was a subdued form of chaos.
It was quiet enough for me to hear the folks seated behind me discussing my unruly crew. "What kind of person brings a day care to the airport?" "You don't think that's all one family, do you?" "Surely not. Who has a family that big nowadays?"
They were never rude or snarky, we were simply their people watching entertainment for the moment, so I returned the favor and eavesdropped.
Before much longer, the Computer Guy stepped out of the gate and was spotted by #3. He jumped up and shrieked "Dad's here!" The joyful chorus was quickly taken up by the whole group. Even the baby squealed in excitement, although I don't think she knew quite why.
As they raced across the room and threw themselves at their father, I stopped to gather up toys and bags. I lingered just long enough to hear our audience sigh, "Oh my. They are one family. I think that's the best thing I've ever heard."
"Wow." Her companion said. "Could you imagine being welcomed home that way? That's one lucky guy."
I just smiled to myself, because I completely agree.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Why?
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| #3, #6, and #5 |
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I Blame The Math Teachers
It's that time of year again, the time when the new homeschooling parents, and those who are still thinking about it, begin to wring their hands and ask the eternal question:
It never fails. It is the one concern voiced over and over by almost every novice.
They will furrow their brows with concern over socialization, and not wanting their kid to be "that homeschooled kid." (You know the one.) They will have apprehension over extra-curriculars and sports. But the thing that keeps them up at night and robs them of their peace is, quite simply, math. I would venture a guess that fear of teaching math is among the top five reasons why parents ultimately opt for traditional schools rather than educating at home.
I blame the math teachers. I blame the institutional school setting.
These adults have attended at least 12 years of traditional school, most of them even more when we include Kindergarten and College. 12 years of math education and they are so afraid and unsure of their own abilities that they doubt they can adequately teach first grade mathematics. Their schools and teachers failed them.
The problem lies in the institutional approach which we have developed towards math instruction. The focus is not on understanding the process by which 1 and 1 actually become 2, but on the memorization of the statement that 1 and 1 simply are 2. There is a world of difference between those two statements, and an ever larger gulf between understanding and rote memorization. It is the difference between mathematical confidence and arithmetical hand-wringing.
To put it even more simply, math is being taught as a skill when it is, in truth, a language which pupils must be taught to speak. Math is the language of logic and reason. It is poetry of absolute right and wrong. It is the ultimate song in praise of order.
Instinctively we know this. We sense, even from a young age, that math is the key to understanding the way it all works. If only we could learn to understand the meaning of the symbols on the page, we could begin to penetrate the mysteries which surround us!
....and then no one shows us how........
There are so few fluent speakers, and even fewer for whom this is their native tongue. The very people who should be teaching us to decipher these mysteries very often don't truly understand them themselves. We are, quite simply, a classroom full of people trying to learn a language from the guidebook. The only thing which sets the teacher apart is that she/he has been poorly speaking it longer.
I blame the teachers. They are attempting to teach something they don't know know with the very same methods which failed them! It is a vicious cycle of madness. It's no wonder American children can't do math, and why their mothers wring their hands in fear at the idea of teaching 1+1.
It doesn't have to be this way. What if we threw out the flash cards and the rote recitations and began again? What if we taught math as a love language? What if we taught the game of right and wrong? What if we instructed children in the idea that ideas could be proven with a formula by which everyone else would get to the same conclusion? What if we made it fun? What if we made it sing?
There would be no fear of it at all. There would again be native speakers like Pythagoras, Euclid, or Poincare! If we removed the dread and the trepidation, if we did away with the social narrative that math is too difficult, we might just discover that it really wasn't so difficult after all.
"Science is the great poem about material creation dancing to the music of perfect mathematics according to God's sovereign and lovely plan." ~ Mary
Daly
"What about math?"
They will furrow their brows with concern over socialization, and not wanting their kid to be "that homeschooled kid." (You know the one.) They will have apprehension over extra-curriculars and sports. But the thing that keeps them up at night and robs them of their peace is, quite simply, math. I would venture a guess that fear of teaching math is among the top five reasons why parents ultimately opt for traditional schools rather than educating at home.
I blame the math teachers. I blame the institutional school setting.
These adults have attended at least 12 years of traditional school, most of them even more when we include Kindergarten and College. 12 years of math education and they are so afraid and unsure of their own abilities that they doubt they can adequately teach first grade mathematics. Their schools and teachers failed them.
The problem lies in the institutional approach which we have developed towards math instruction. The focus is not on understanding the process by which 1 and 1 actually become 2, but on the memorization of the statement that 1 and 1 simply are 2. There is a world of difference between those two statements, and an ever larger gulf between understanding and rote memorization. It is the difference between mathematical confidence and arithmetical hand-wringing.
To put it even more simply, math is being taught as a skill when it is, in truth, a language which pupils must be taught to speak. Math is the language of logic and reason. It is poetry of absolute right and wrong. It is the ultimate song in praise of order.
Instinctively we know this. We sense, even from a young age, that math is the key to understanding the way it all works. If only we could learn to understand the meaning of the symbols on the page, we could begin to penetrate the mysteries which surround us!
....and then no one shows us how........
There are so few fluent speakers, and even fewer for whom this is their native tongue. The very people who should be teaching us to decipher these mysteries very often don't truly understand them themselves. We are, quite simply, a classroom full of people trying to learn a language from the guidebook. The only thing which sets the teacher apart is that she/he has been poorly speaking it longer.
I blame the teachers. They are attempting to teach something they don't know know with the very same methods which failed them! It is a vicious cycle of madness. It's no wonder American children can't do math, and why their mothers wring their hands in fear at the idea of teaching 1+1.
It doesn't have to be this way. What if we threw out the flash cards and the rote recitations and began again? What if we taught math as a love language? What if we taught the game of right and wrong? What if we instructed children in the idea that ideas could be proven with a formula by which everyone else would get to the same conclusion? What if we made it fun? What if we made it sing?
There would be no fear of it at all. There would again be native speakers like Pythagoras, Euclid, or Poincare! If we removed the dread and the trepidation, if we did away with the social narrative that math is too difficult, we might just discover that it really wasn't so difficult after all.
Daly
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Homeless
I miss my husband. He's been in Turkey for a solid week, and I miss
him. What's funny is that he's rarely home even when he's here but
somehow not here across town is totally different from not home half a
world away. His presence is comfort to me. He is home. So when he's
gone....where am I? It's why I feel so unsettled. He is my home and he's in a place whose name I'm not sure how to pronounce correctly. What does that make the place where I am? I'm not sure.
He calls us every day around lunchtime. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I can picture his face as he tells me about the events of his day. I can hear the exhaustion and I know how his eyes look. I can hear the smile in his voice when we talk about the children, and I know the smile lines are there at the corner of his mouth. When he laughs, I can see the way his cheeks move and his eyes crinkle. I know how he looks. After 16 years together, he is so familiar to me that I don't need to see him to know how he looks.
There is something to be said for the occasional traveling that he does. His warm presence is somehow less noticeable when he is here all the time. It takes its absence to remind me of exactly how dear it is to me. In the quiet of the evening, when the children are in bed and we are reading side by side, I take that comfort for granted too often. On nights like tonight, when all the children are in bed and it's just me alone downstairs with the sounds of the dishwasher and the snoring dog, I miss even his silence.
One more week and then he will come home. I will wrap my arms around him, and bury my face into his neck, and home will have returned to me.
He calls us every day around lunchtime. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I can picture his face as he tells me about the events of his day. I can hear the exhaustion and I know how his eyes look. I can hear the smile in his voice when we talk about the children, and I know the smile lines are there at the corner of his mouth. When he laughs, I can see the way his cheeks move and his eyes crinkle. I know how he looks. After 16 years together, he is so familiar to me that I don't need to see him to know how he looks.
There is something to be said for the occasional traveling that he does. His warm presence is somehow less noticeable when he is here all the time. It takes its absence to remind me of exactly how dear it is to me. In the quiet of the evening, when the children are in bed and we are reading side by side, I take that comfort for granted too often. On nights like tonight, when all the children are in bed and it's just me alone downstairs with the sounds of the dishwasher and the snoring dog, I miss even his silence.
One more week and then he will come home. I will wrap my arms around him, and bury my face into his neck, and home will have returned to me.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
What I've Learned So Far
I don't claim to be a genius, or even the smartest person in the room very often, but I've managed to learn a few things on my way to being thirty-*mumble*.
Here's what I've learned so far in life, in completely random order:
That's it for now. What about you? What have you learned along the way?
Here's what I've learned so far in life, in completely random order:
- The green M & M's taste exactly like the other colors, but they're more fun to eat.
- On cold winter nights, there's nowhere better to put my chilly feet than on my husband's calves. (He may disagree about that one.)
- If a person is constantly complaining about the drama in her life, she's usually the cause of it.
- Avoid drama people like they have the plague. They do. It's called drama. RUN AWAY!!!!
- There is nothing better than the smell of a newborn baby's head, or the feel of that baby curled up asleep on your chest.
- I've learned to make amazing fried chicken. Seriously....to make the angels weep....it's that good.
- Fried chicken makes a mess, so I should only make it for people who are willing to deal with it.
- Thinking about doing something and daydreaming about it, won't accomplish anything. If it would, I would have run hundreds of marathons. I've run one.
- Instant pudding makes amazing frosting for a cake when you've run out of powdered sugar and can't make frosting.
- The friends I loved in my childhood are among my favorite people to this day. Children have very good instincts about people if they are taught to listen to them.
- I like color in my household. A lot. I feel completely unsettled in a space which is filled with neutrals.
- If someone is an ass, they will not be able to hide it forever.
- You should believe them when they show you that they are, in fact, an ass.
- It is worth spending the extra money to get the highest thread count you can on sheets. You will regret the cheap ones almost immediately.
- Any time spent in prayer is not wasted.
- Sometimes it's best pray while you're doing other stuff, too. The 2 year old won't understand "There's no dinner because Mom was praying."
- There will never be a time that all the laundry is done unless I'm washing clothes while I'm naked. Even that isn't a good solution, because the second I get dressed it will start all over again.
- If I'm not completely happy with something I buy, I should take it back. My husband works too hard for our money, he trades his time with us for his paycheck. With that kind of sacrifice, we'd better be happy with it.
- If I eat like a vegan and cut out sugars, my body feels amazing and my brain works better.
- I really miss fried chicken( see #6) and grilled cheese sandwiches.
- I don't like blood and gore in either movies or books. The visual from the movies will haunt me for life, and the mental images from the books will keep me up at night.
- Strawberry water is my favorite thing to drink. Ever!
- My husband smells good, even when he thinks he's funky.
- The Princess Bride is always worth watching, and almost always worth quoting.
- Corn on the Cob is better when it's been grilled.
- I like my saints bloody, my priests holy, and my church Catholic
That's it for now. What about you? What have you learned along the way?
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
3 1/2 Time Outs Tuesday - Food Porn
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| Helping LarryD take over the internet one meme at a time |
I pause a moment and stare at the screen, salivating just a bit. Healthy may be better for my body, but my taste buds really want to eat
1.
Mexican Dorito Casserole
2.
A Thanksgiving turkey sandwich.
3.
Bacon
Hot, crispy, bacon-y bacon. Do you really need an explanation? I didn't think so.
3 1/2.
I'm not even thinking about anything baked, but seriously.....I am just drooling to sink my teeth into anything with
Monday, July 16, 2012
Laughter
I was sitting at the computer this morning paying bills and missing my Computer Guy (It was not a fun morning. Kinda sad, really) when my friend LarryD emailed me a link with the note "wanna see something funny? it's a *little* ribald with some mild language."
Since I do like funny and am not one to be turned off by mild language, I watched it. And then I watched it again. And I laughed both times.
and now I've watched it a third time (just to make sure the link worked, you know)...and still laughing.....he's a shoe!.....lol...*sigh*
Thanks to LarryD for brightening my morning. I needed that.
Since I do like funny and am not one to be turned off by mild language, I watched it. And then I watched it again. And I laughed both times.
and now I've watched it a third time (just to make sure the link worked, you know)...and still laughing.....he's a shoe!.....lol...*sigh*
Thanks to LarryD for brightening my morning. I needed that.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
I Don't Like It
My sweet Computer Guy is on his way to Turkey this evening. He's up in the air somewhere over Maine at the moment on his way to Amsterdam, then on to Istanbul. (The airline has a tracker app. I can keep track of his progress minute by minute.)
Within the hour, he'll be over the Atlantic Ocean. I'm not really a fan of that. I like my loved ones to be firmly on the ground. It's harder to fall that way. But in the event that they don't listen to me and they fly anyway, I prefer there to be somewhere for them to land in case of an emergency.
It's a charming quirk of mine.
I'm offering up a few rosaries while he's up there, and watching the little plane move steadily across the screen. I don't like that he's up there, and I miss him already, but tomorrow when he calls us on skype once he lands...boy howdy will I be happy to hear his voice.
****Updated at 7:14 - What? 3 hours in the air and they've already veered off the route?That's not inspiring a lot of confidence. Maybe they should bring him back.
Within the hour, he'll be over the Atlantic Ocean. I'm not really a fan of that. I like my loved ones to be firmly on the ground. It's harder to fall that way. But in the event that they don't listen to me and they fly anyway, I prefer there to be somewhere for them to land in case of an emergency.
It's a charming quirk of mine.
I'm offering up a few rosaries while he's up there, and watching the little plane move steadily across the screen. I don't like that he's up there, and I miss him already, but tomorrow when he calls us on skype once he lands...boy howdy will I be happy to hear his voice.
****Updated at 7:14 - What? 3 hours in the air and they've already veered off the route?That's not inspiring a lot of confidence. Maybe they should bring him back.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Who I'm Meant To Be...
It was just the other day, during a phone conversation with my 90 year old grandmother, when she asked, “Who are you?”.....
Go find out who I really am over at Ignitum Today
Go find out who I really am over at Ignitum Today
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
3.5 Time Outs Tuesday - Doing the Potty Dance
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| Helping LarryD take over the internet one meme at a time! |
1.
#6 will be 3 at the end of the month and is still in diapers. It's not that he isn't capable, I just haven't wanted to mes with potty training him. It's a huge undertaking which requires us to stay home for an entire week, which means I had to wait for a suitable week when the other kids' plans were at a minimum.
2.
Monday we went to the store and stocked up on undies, stickers, and a poster board to put the stickers on. Can I also admit, since I'm just telling you all the ways I'm a horrible mother, that I hate stickers? I do. Hate them, that is. They get left of clothes and sent through the wash. They get stuck on furniture and require superhuman effort to get the last of the sticky gunk off. I usually severely limit stickers to art paper and projects. THEY DON'T BELONG ON CLOTHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sorry. I just had to get that out of my system. #6 loves the dumb things and is thrilled to have his t shirt and potty chart covered with them. Ugh. Please don't let them slip past me in the wash.....
3.
He's doing alright, I suppose. We're still at the part where he hasn't learned much and I've relearned all my skills with a kitchen timer. He'll get there eventually. I know he will. It will just take a few more days.
Stuck at home. With the cabin fever setting in.......
3 1/2.
There is one bright side to is all though. He looks so cute in
Monday, July 9, 2012
Participation
I've written before about #3; about his sensory issues, his vision problems, and his memory issues. He struggles to be normal in a world which moves at a dizzying speed. He works so hard to catch up, and often never makes it.
He's been going to Mass every Sunday morning (except for the rare illness) for all of his 11 years. He can't remember the responses. If it were another child, we would tell him to follow along in the missal, but #3 can't read fast enough to stay up. Convergence Insufficiency is funny that way. (If you're new here, #3 has Convergence Insufficiency, a sight disorder which means that his eyes work independent of each other causing double and triple vision. Oh, and he's dyslexic, too.)
I struggle with knowing how much of his not participating in things is his deciding not to, and how much is his not being able to........like Sunday morning Mass. Is he being irreverent? Is there some crisis of faith? Is he rebelling against his parents and his upbringing? Or is he struggling along and doing the best he can? I try to assume the latter. Always. It's really hard though. 11 years of Mass. He can't remember even a part of anything enough to recite it with us, except for the Our Father. He struggles with the Our Father.
Please don't think it's an intelligence issue. The kid is wicked smart and creative. He's simply incapable of memorization. As his mom, I don't know what to do with that. Which doesn't mean much, because the experts we've seen don't know what to do with it either.
This past Sunday, his dad and I went to separate Masses. (It happens when someone is sick.) I took #3 and most of the children with me and left the sleeping kids home with the Computer Guy. #3 stood, knelt, and sat at the same times as everyone else (after watching us to see where we were going), but he said not a single word. He didn't sing. He was silent for the whole Mass.
So I sent him back with his father to the later one. With his father's focused one on one attention, he was able to be a part of what was going on around him. When he didn't have the commotion of his siblings in the pew, he could do it. (It was still hard, but he could do it.)
What is the solution then? What's more important? That we go to Mass as a family or that he have a parent's undivided attention to help him through it? The truth is that if we are all in a pew, one of the littles will be in dad's lap or arms, unless they are in a different part of the Church. So where is the priority? That he participates in his family or that he participates in Mass?
He's been going to Mass every Sunday morning (except for the rare illness) for all of his 11 years. He can't remember the responses. If it were another child, we would tell him to follow along in the missal, but #3 can't read fast enough to stay up. Convergence Insufficiency is funny that way. (If you're new here, #3 has Convergence Insufficiency, a sight disorder which means that his eyes work independent of each other causing double and triple vision. Oh, and he's dyslexic, too.)
I struggle with knowing how much of his not participating in things is his deciding not to, and how much is his not being able to........like Sunday morning Mass. Is he being irreverent? Is there some crisis of faith? Is he rebelling against his parents and his upbringing? Or is he struggling along and doing the best he can? I try to assume the latter. Always. It's really hard though. 11 years of Mass. He can't remember even a part of anything enough to recite it with us, except for the Our Father. He struggles with the Our Father.
Please don't think it's an intelligence issue. The kid is wicked smart and creative. He's simply incapable of memorization. As his mom, I don't know what to do with that. Which doesn't mean much, because the experts we've seen don't know what to do with it either.
This past Sunday, his dad and I went to separate Masses. (It happens when someone is sick.) I took #3 and most of the children with me and left the sleeping kids home with the Computer Guy. #3 stood, knelt, and sat at the same times as everyone else (after watching us to see where we were going), but he said not a single word. He didn't sing. He was silent for the whole Mass.
So I sent him back with his father to the later one. With his father's focused one on one attention, he was able to be a part of what was going on around him. When he didn't have the commotion of his siblings in the pew, he could do it. (It was still hard, but he could do it.)
What is the solution then? What's more important? That we go to Mass as a family or that he have a parent's undivided attention to help him through it? The truth is that if we are all in a pew, one of the littles will be in dad's lap or arms, unless they are in a different part of the Church. So where is the priority? That he participates in his family or that he participates in Mass?
Sunday, July 8, 2012
So Then....... Tell Me How
Yesterday I wrote about how overwhelming the volume of "boycotts" is to me and how I don't think it's effective at deterring businesses from supporting liberal causes such as gay marriage and abortion. I was chastised in the comments for not doing the research, toughing it out, or being willing to sacrifice for the cause. I'm pretty sure there was an implication of laziness in there too, which I might or might not agree with.
So, boycotter people, tell me how you do it. Here's your chance to sell me on it. Don't tell me where you won't shop or what you won't buy....tell me what you will. What companies do you support and why?
A list of negatives is too hard, because I don't see that I have alternatives. Show me the good guys.
Seriously. Treat me like I'm clueless. Take me by the hand, and walk me through it.
So, boycotter people, tell me how you do it. Here's your chance to sell me on it. Don't tell me where you won't shop or what you won't buy....tell me what you will. What companies do you support and why?
A list of negatives is too hard, because I don't see that I have alternatives. Show me the good guys.
Seriously. Treat me like I'm clueless. Take me by the hand, and walk me through it.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
I'm Just Boycotting It All
I've had enough. Will someone tell the religious right and the Conservative caucuses? I agree with 99% of what they say they believe (I don't actually know what percentage I agree with, but it's certainly most of it), but I can't take the boycotts any more. I just can't do it.
It stated innocently enough 10 years back or so when the owner of Hormel foods made some anti-Catholic remarks and even funded an anti-Catholic group. I've never been a huge fan of canned chili anyway (the homemade stuff is easy and cheap enough) and other people make pepperoni, so it was easy enough to keep his products out of my shopping cart.
Then a friend told me that she didn't buy Proctor & Gamble products because they were cruel to the animals they test stuff on, which is why I shouldn't buy them. I'm not in favor of harming sweet little bunnies, so I checked the list of stuff they make (holy buckets they make a lot of stuff!), and heaved a sigh of relief. We were poor and their stuff was too expensive for us except for Crest toothpaste. I switched to Colgate and congratulated myself for my moral superiority.
I read about the mean things KFC does to chickens (I couldn't find a link that wasn't disturbing. I'm not linking to that. I don't think it's necessary to show it in its glory. Google it yourself.). I resolved that Popeye's was the place for us.
Susan G Komen funded Planned Parenthood and I stopped buying anything pink (except girl clothes). I didn't even look for the dumb ribbon. If it was that SGK shade of pink, I just left it on the shelf. It killed me not to get the cute mixer, but I like babies better. I got the green one instead. (Yay me!)
Then Disney offered benefits to the same sex partners of their employees, and gay groups started having Family Pride Day at the parks. The Christians I knew started throwing out their VHS tapes and banning all things Disney from their homes. I tried to kick it out of my house, and mostly succeeded.....except for my 2 year old who loved Cinderella. She had an old tape she watched daily, and a tattered costume she had worn until the hem fell out. I let her keep them. I simply resolved to buy nothing new......
......which left us with very little for her to play with and very few house where she could go. What was the alternative? Bratz? No thank you. I'll take Cinderella and Snow White any day of the week. We weren't buying any more....but I wasn't going to take away the make believe she loved.
So grandma bought it for her. (We weren't on great terms at the time. A civil war wasn't worth risking.)
I tried to keep up with what we weren't buying now, but the list kept growing. We had to stay away from all toothpaste manufacturers. I can't find a single one who doesn't support gay marriage, planned parenthood, or test on animals. (In fact, that torturing animals thing is starting to look minor. I'm beginning to shrug my shoulders at it. Animals testing? eh. Worse things happen at sea.)
I can't figure out where to go on date night with my husband any longer. Red Lobster, Olive Garden, etc all support Planned Parenthood. McDonald's has pink slime, and there's only so much Chick Fil A a girl can eat.
The truth is I can't keep track of them all. There are too many things to boycott and I no longer think it makes a difference. Companies would rather tick of the conservatives among us than be called intolerant. They've also reached a saturation point at which we have run out of options. We can sit around with funky breath, rank laundry, stinky bodies, and no oreos......or we can come up with something new.
I vote for new, because this boycott thing isn't working.
A friend of mine told me that this was all a cop out because it was too hard for me and I just don't want to make the effort. She's right. I'm copping out. I'm not going to burn all of this time, effort, and energy on something that makes no difference at all. I'm willing to make my own laundry detergent and eat the store brand of cookies....but Wal Mart is killing small business and the fluoride in the water is killing us all!
In just the past week, I've gotten emails calling for me to boycott 37 companies, products, television shows, and media outlets. That's just one week. It wasn't a special week. It's the average of what I get in my inbox.
It's too much.
So here's what I'm doing. I'm not buying the pink stuff because their flip-flop earlier this year just ticked me off. My daughter won't be a Girl Scout ....because don't use my kid to push your political agenda, that's why. And I'm still not buying Hormel. That dude is crazy, and I try to stay away from crazy folks.
Other than that...I'm buying what I like. The boycotters have overwhelmed me and made my life impossible if I try to get with the program. It would be worth it if it worked.....
so here's the deal......come up with something new and let me know what it is. Until then, I'm praying and doing my best to raise moral children. It's the best I can do.
It stated innocently enough 10 years back or so when the owner of Hormel foods made some anti-Catholic remarks and even funded an anti-Catholic group. I've never been a huge fan of canned chili anyway (the homemade stuff is easy and cheap enough) and other people make pepperoni, so it was easy enough to keep his products out of my shopping cart.
Then a friend told me that she didn't buy Proctor & Gamble products because they were cruel to the animals they test stuff on, which is why I shouldn't buy them. I'm not in favor of harming sweet little bunnies, so I checked the list of stuff they make (holy buckets they make a lot of stuff!), and heaved a sigh of relief. We were poor and their stuff was too expensive for us except for Crest toothpaste. I switched to Colgate and congratulated myself for my moral superiority.
I read about the mean things KFC does to chickens (I couldn't find a link that wasn't disturbing. I'm not linking to that. I don't think it's necessary to show it in its glory. Google it yourself.). I resolved that Popeye's was the place for us.
Susan G Komen funded Planned Parenthood and I stopped buying anything pink (except girl clothes). I didn't even look for the dumb ribbon. If it was that SGK shade of pink, I just left it on the shelf. It killed me not to get the cute mixer, but I like babies better. I got the green one instead. (Yay me!)
Then Disney offered benefits to the same sex partners of their employees, and gay groups started having Family Pride Day at the parks. The Christians I knew started throwing out their VHS tapes and banning all things Disney from their homes. I tried to kick it out of my house, and mostly succeeded.....except for my 2 year old who loved Cinderella. She had an old tape she watched daily, and a tattered costume she had worn until the hem fell out. I let her keep them. I simply resolved to buy nothing new......
......which left us with very little for her to play with and very few house where she could go. What was the alternative? Bratz? No thank you. I'll take Cinderella and Snow White any day of the week. We weren't buying any more....but I wasn't going to take away the make believe she loved.
So grandma bought it for her. (We weren't on great terms at the time. A civil war wasn't worth risking.)
I tried to keep up with what we weren't buying now, but the list kept growing. We had to stay away from all toothpaste manufacturers. I can't find a single one who doesn't support gay marriage, planned parenthood, or test on animals. (In fact, that torturing animals thing is starting to look minor. I'm beginning to shrug my shoulders at it. Animals testing? eh. Worse things happen at sea.)
I can't figure out where to go on date night with my husband any longer. Red Lobster, Olive Garden, etc all support Planned Parenthood. McDonald's has pink slime, and there's only so much Chick Fil A a girl can eat.
The truth is I can't keep track of them all. There are too many things to boycott and I no longer think it makes a difference. Companies would rather tick of the conservatives among us than be called intolerant. They've also reached a saturation point at which we have run out of options. We can sit around with funky breath, rank laundry, stinky bodies, and no oreos......or we can come up with something new.
I vote for new, because this boycott thing isn't working.
A friend of mine told me that this was all a cop out because it was too hard for me and I just don't want to make the effort. She's right. I'm copping out. I'm not going to burn all of this time, effort, and energy on something that makes no difference at all. I'm willing to make my own laundry detergent and eat the store brand of cookies....but Wal Mart is killing small business and the fluoride in the water is killing us all!
In just the past week, I've gotten emails calling for me to boycott 37 companies, products, television shows, and media outlets. That's just one week. It wasn't a special week. It's the average of what I get in my inbox.
It's too much.
So here's what I'm doing. I'm not buying the pink stuff because their flip-flop earlier this year just ticked me off. My daughter won't be a Girl Scout ....because don't use my kid to push your political agenda, that's why. And I'm still not buying Hormel. That dude is crazy, and I try to stay away from crazy folks.
Other than that...I'm buying what I like. The boycotters have overwhelmed me and made my life impossible if I try to get with the program. It would be worth it if it worked.....
so here's the deal......come up with something new and let me know what it is. Until then, I'm praying and doing my best to raise moral children. It's the best I can do.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Hero Worship
It's the 4th of July and I have a houseful of teenagers. My eldest daughter's friends are here until tomorrow morning, on their way home from summertime activities. It's fun to be the house in the middle, the halfway point. It means that we have had more company in the past year than in the previous 15 years of our married lives combined! I know lots of people complain about teenagers, but I like them. They are full of energy and fun, laughter and teasing. There is such a different air when they are in our house.
The funny part for me is watching #4. She has quite the crush on her big sister's bff. He frequently declares her to be the favorite of #1's siblings and treats her with the familiar teasing of someone who is frequently around children. It's music to her shy little heart, and she sighs deeply when he walks by. There is something completely wonderful in little-girl crushes. It's hero worship and romance all rolled up in rapt attention and big eyes. She thinks he is wonderful and he doesn't even notice it at all. He's 17 and she is barely 8.
He and his brother are at our house until tomorrow morning. Long enough for my girl to sit in silent hero worship, and be teased into laughing a bit. She's unbearably shy and doesn't often open up to older people, especially when they're male.
Little girl crushes may seem such a small part of childhood, but they are, in fact, practice for the years to come. If the boys who capture her fancy continue to be nice guys who tease, play and aren't afraid to look silly? I think she'll do alright.
The funny part for me is watching #4. She has quite the crush on her big sister's bff. He frequently declares her to be the favorite of #1's siblings and treats her with the familiar teasing of someone who is frequently around children. It's music to her shy little heart, and she sighs deeply when he walks by. There is something completely wonderful in little-girl crushes. It's hero worship and romance all rolled up in rapt attention and big eyes. She thinks he is wonderful and he doesn't even notice it at all. He's 17 and she is barely 8.
He and his brother are at our house until tomorrow morning. Long enough for my girl to sit in silent hero worship, and be teased into laughing a bit. She's unbearably shy and doesn't often open up to older people, especially when they're male.
Little girl crushes may seem such a small part of childhood, but they are, in fact, practice for the years to come. If the boys who capture her fancy continue to be nice guys who tease, play and aren't afraid to look silly? I think she'll do alright.
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| He played Pretty, Pretty Princess because she asked him to, and even wore the ear rings. |
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