Category: Parenting

Valentine’s Day Morons.

Posted on Posted in Choices, conversation, ParentingTagged 2 Comments

Most old people say, “Kids today,” then add something along the lines of how WE never behaved in such and such a way. I always told myself I wouldn’t do that. I lied.

I was in Wally World this afternoon because we were out of milk and a few essentials. As I was walking down the main aisle, two boys between 10 and 12 ran out of a side aisle and nearly knocked my shopping cart over.

After making sure no one was hurt, I told them in my teacher voice, “Guys, this isn’t a playground and not a place to be running like that. Especially since it is so crowded.” They glared at me. No apology, nothing as they kept right on running.

Their mother came up to me, all puffed up like a ticked off hen, she said, “ How dare you discipline MY SONS! They are just being kids! You have no right to correct them, or say anything about their behavior. I am their mother, that is my job.”

Inside I was really pissed off. But I calmly said, “Well then, honey, you ought to act like a mother and teach them how to behave in public and teach them some manners while you are at it.” OK, snarky, but heck, I didn’t even raise my voice to the brats. Geesh!

The woman got right in my face, “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” “Oh,” I returned, “Not only are you a miserable failure as a mother, you are also hard of hearing if you have to shout at people. Or, perhaps, I used words that were too large for your limited vocabulary.” Still keeping calm outwardly, I was seething inside. Several people gasped at my comment, several more snickered, and a few laughed right out loud. Sarcasm, in the South, is best served by using a sweet, bless your heart, voice.

About that time, one of her kids came running back, and hid behind the old hen. Right behind him came the security guys. I made eye contact with another mother, and she just rolled her eyes. I didn’t stick around to find out what happened, but for security to chase him down he probably did something bad enough to get into big trouble. If his mother didn’t try to protect him, that is.

Why is it that parents are so afraid to parent their children? What happened to teaching kids basic manners, correct behavior for the situation, place and time? When did it become acceptable to get in an elders face and and scream at them when they simply ask kids to stop running before they get hurt? Maybe it is because I am old, or maybe it is because I was taught by parents who could put the fear of God in me when I acted up, but honestly, if I had ever behaved that way, not only would my mother warm my bottom up, I would get a lecture from my dad that would make me cringe. Those kids will probably have a car accident – heaven help other drivers – and even if they killed someone, she would make excuses for their behavior. Not their fault, after all, they are just kids being kids. Gag a maggot that excuse really ticks me off!

So, after fighting my way to the check out area, I got in a long line just like everyone else. As I stand there, the twenty-five-ish woman in front of me was picking up magazines and flipping through them. Putting them back in the wrong places, and every time the cart in front of her moved, she just stood there flipping through the magazines. Meanwhile, the distance between her and the cart in front of her was getting larger, large enough for someone to ask if she was still in line. She got a bit huffy, but moved up. Then started all over again.

I asked her if she wouldn’t mind moving along, as people were waiting to check out. “Besides,” I told her, “if you want to look at the magazines, perhaps you should buy them and read them at home.” “I ain’t gonna buy this $h*t, I just wanna look at ’em.”

“What are you, ten years old, little kids flip through comic books like that. A grown woman would at least have the common sense to put them back where they found them, or have the decency to actually purchase them. And keep up with what is going on around her, so not to delay everyone with her childish behavior.” I got an eye roll, and she told me to go do something totally impossible. I laughed and did my standard, “Sorry honey, I don’t roll that way, but its nice to know that you fancy me.” So she called me a female dog, and I thanked her for noticing. She was next in line and started throwing her stuff on the moving belt, fuming. She was still holding one of the gossip rags, and when the clerk asked if she wanted to purchase that, she slammed it back into the holder and nearly took the clerk’s head off with the glare she threw at her. Couldn’t help myself, I snickered, and rolled my eyes.

So, finished with Wally World, we headed to Sam’s to get diapers and such. I was wandering about looking at summer clothes and sales for Addie. I came around one rack, and a woman cut me off and got ahead of me. “Eh, so what,” I thought. But the woman just stopped right in the middle of the aisle, and started looking at those trousers all the little girls are wearing with the ruffles on the bottom of the legs. I think they look like clown clothes. But,I digress.

I waited patiently, I couldn’t get around her or her basket unless one of them moved. I finally asked her to let me by. She gave me the most hateful look, and ignored me. I waited another five minutes, by my watch. I couldn’t back up and turn around, there were people behind me. So I asked her to let me by again. She glared again and proceeded to ignore me AND the folks behind me. Eye contact and eye rolls were exchanged between us. I figured that if she could be that rude, I would serve hear a slice of her own hateful pie.

I reached out, took hold of her cart and pushed it out of my way, and moved in front of her. Again, with the swearing and the F word and the female dog word. I stopped, looked her dead in the eye, “If you insist on acting as if your are mentally disable or so ignorant that you don’t recognize a polite request to get your fat ass out of the way so others can get past you, then you should expect to be treated just as rudely in return.” Again, with the female dog word. “Thanks for noticing, I wouldn’t want anyone to think I am a push over or a door mat.” Again, I was told to go, well you know what, myself. “Nice language coming from a woman your age. Didn’t you go to school, read a book, or learn how to speak like a proper grown up person?”

They guy behind me walked past and leaned over to me. “Ma’am, there are just some people who ain’t got the sense God gave a tree, and they are stunted from growing in the wrong place. She can’t help it that she is stupid and rude, she don’t know no better.” Before I could come back with a response, she told him to do the same thing she told me. “Are you offering, sweetheart?” I thought she was going to turn inside out with indignation. She grabbed her cart and stomped off in a huff. “Hey,” the guy called after her, “Don’t go away mad, just go away, far far away to the land of the hateful.” I lost it and started laughing. “Good one.” He winked at me, shook my hand, and we both went our own way.

Must have been my day to deal with stupid people. Gotta love it that the guy got my sarcasm, most don’t. Oh, and the kicker is that he had to be at least 70 plus. Overweight, and not a pretty sight, he was sharp as a tack, and dead on right about people like that woman.

Too bad I don’t drink booze, I could use a glass of wine about now. Happy Valentine’s Day. everyone.Greetings

Brown Eyed Boy

Posted on Posted in Children, Choices, Family, Grandchildren, loss, ParentingTagged , , , , Leave a comment

arron_6yrs“Well, hello little man,” The new mother said when she first held her baby boy. He looked at her with his big brown eyes and cried. She cuddled him close and told him not to cry because she would always hold her brown eyed boy in her arms.

“Look at you, you’re walking!” The mommy said as her brown eyed boy took his first steps across the room on his own. He looked at her and smiled a drooling smile as he took his first steps away from her.

“Hurry! We’re late! You don’t want to miss the bus on the first day of school” she said, as she rushed him out the door and down the street to the bus stop. The big yellow bus pulled up and he climbed on with all the other children in his neighborhood. His mommy stood on the curb and smiled at him as the bus moved away. He didn’t see her cry as her brown eyed boy took his first ride away from her.

“Here’s your uniform, you need to change so we can get to the meeting on time. Tonight, you get to move up from a Bear Cub to Webelos in scouting” his mother said, as she rushed from one task to another. When he walked across that bridge to move up to his next rank, she applauded and smiled while he grinned with pride at his accomplishment. He didn’t see her cry as her brown eyed boy took one more step toward the future.

“What have you done!” The mother whispered in a quiet voice, as he was rolled into the emergency room. “We won!” He shouted as they gave him medicine so they could set his collar bone. He didn’t see her cry as he drifted off. But he knew she was right there by his side. She prayed for her brown eyed boy.

“Where have you been!” His mother shouted at him when he stumbled in at daybreak. He knew she had been waiting up for him all night, afraid he wouldn’t come home, afraid he was hurt. “Mom, we were out night fishing. Don’t worry, I’m almost a teenager I can take care of myself. Then he wandered off to bed. He didn’t see his mom cry in relief he was fine, and in sorrow that her brown eyed was one step further away.

“What is this?” His mother asked. He knew she knew what it was as he tried to think of an excuse or a reason he had it in his room. “It’s just pot mom. It isn’t going to hurt me.” He said it with a tone of contempt for her. She threw it away, and he was punished, but it didn’t bother him ’cause he knew where to get more. She knew he knew, and when he left she cried at the dullness and sullenness in the brown eyes of her boy.

“Get Out!” His mother shouted in anger and frustration. “Live by our rules, or live somewhere else.” He grabbed his pack, threw on his boots, and stomped out of the house. He was tired of being treated like a kid, and he would show her that he didn’t need her at all. He didn’t hear the painful sobbing of his mother as her brown eyed boy walked away in rage.

“Mom! It’s a girl.” He sang down the phone in joy when his baby was born. He was overjoyed and so was she. When she got to the hospital, he hugged his mommy tight and whispered, “I never knew, I never knew, how much a parent loves their child until now.” He had tears in his eyes as he held his daughter in his arms. “Well, hello there, little angel baby.” She looked at him with wise brown eyes, and sighed with content.

“Hey Mom! Merry Christmas!” he shouted over the popping phone line! He was, he said, doing great. He had a great woman, a beautiful daughter, a good job, and that is really all a man needed to be happy. “Mom….. Mom…. I’m losing you. I love you,” he shouted just before the line dropped the call. He didn’t hear her say “I love you, too, or see her cry because he missed it, and she deeply missed her brown eyed boy.

“He’s dead! He’s dead!” came over the phone in the deepest part of the night. His mother and father rushed back home to find it was true. It was… it was – inexplicably painful, horrific in every moment of pain. She went to the morgue to identify him. When she started to leave him, she turned back, and gently closed his eyes. He didn’t see her cry as she walked away from him, knowing she wouldn’t see her brown eyed boy until she joined him on the other side one day.

“Nana, can I play my daddy video again?” Her little voice asked. “Of course,” and she put the video on.” She didn’t she her Nana cry as she walked down the hall, knowing her brown eyed girl was getting to know her daddy the only way she could. She didn’t see her smile as her Nana stood still and listened – remembering her brown eyed boy.

Forever Young

Posted on Posted in Children, Choices, Family, Friendship, Grandchildren, Habits, History, Military, Parenting, Politics, ReligionLeave a comment

On September 11, 2014, my first born will be 40 years old. For many people that requires a birthday party with black balloons and silly “Over The Hill” banners. It has been almost 19 years since he moved on, and still we miss him every day. But my son, you see, is forever young. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E6-AYce-_M

If he were here, physically, he would be a proud father of his baby girl, and an even more proud grandfather to her baby girl. He would hug his girl, and spoil her girl, and still be a strong man to lean on when they needed him the most.

I don’t know what he would be doing as a profession, but I know it would be something outdoors. He hated being cooped up inside, no matter the weather. If it was hot, he would be off somewhere playing or fishing in the water. If it was cold, he would get up to all manner of things that required slipping, sliding, and general mayhem, with a bit of danger mixed in for spice.

I don’t know what his political bent would be, but I expect it would be about as conservative and his parents and brother tend to be. I don’t know if he would be religious, but I know he would be spiritual. I don’t know if he would like all the modern gizmos and technology, but I know he could master all of them quickly. I don’t know what kind of vehicle he would drive, but I know he would own a Harley.

But, I don’t need to know, because my son, you see, is forever young.

He would still like boxing, and loud music. Music that ranged from classical to heavy metal met his approval. He would still like reading and learning on his own, in his own way. He would still love to sit and talk with the elderly and people who captured his interest. He would still love to tinker with motors, even if they frustrated him every time he worked on one. He would still love his family, his friends, and impress strangers with his knowledge about all sorts of things. He would still give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, and make sure that you had something to eat if you were hungry. He would still support the Viet Nam Veterans, and give them all the honor they deserve. He would still want to hang out with his brother, and probably torment him as only a big brother can. He would still be our Arron. Because he knew that growing up didn’t mean becoming someone else, it just meant being more who you are. He was philosophical that way.

He would still get into fist fights, but maybe not as much. He would still stand up for the underdog, but he might not lose his temper over misjustice so easily. He would still protect his mother, wife, daughter, niece, or any other female in his life, but he wouldn’t put up with drama trauma from any female. Like most guys, it either made him uncomfortable, annoyed, or confused. He would still love his beer on a hot day, and his whisky on a cold night, and he would still sneak bites of dinner as it is being cooked.

He would still like to go shirtless while working outdoors, and he would still wear those motorcycle boots, no matter how hot it was. He would still wear 501 button down Levi jeans, Harley shirts, and the occasional button down with the sleeves torn out of it. He would still have his silver front teeth instead of changing the caps out for something like everyone else. And he would still have long hair, a beard, and wear an ear ring, even though he knows it bugs me.

He would still have his cheeky, wicked grin that told me he was up to something he shouldn’t be. He would still make me laugh at his irreverent humor, tell me that I looked like a dumpling, and tease me about everything I do, just to get me riled. He would still walk to the beat of his own drummer, follow his dreams, and fly his kite just the way he wanted to.

Yes, he would do those things, and he probably is doing just that where he is. Because, you see, my son is forever twenty-one.

Happy Birthday Arron. Welcome to the old fart club. I love you. Mom.

Forever Young. Arron Glen Combs September 1974 - Jan 1996.
Forever Young. Arron Glen Combs September 1974 – Jan 1996.

 

Seniors are not equal to others. A RANT.

Posted on Posted in Children, Choices, Habits, ParentingTagged , Leave a comment

To the CEO of Malco Theaters: Today, Saturday, April 12, 2014, my husband and I went to the Olive Branch, Mississippi theater to see Rio 2. We were there 20 minutes early so we could find a seat that would be comfortable for my husband as he just had surgery on his leg. Shortly before the movie started, a family sat down behind us. The theater was far from full, they could have sat anywhere else. However, as soon as they sat down, the boy started talking in a normal loud tone of voice as the preview for other movies came on.

I turned at looked at him and his mother got snippy and said, “I know you weren’t look at my child like that.” I said, “I was. I just wanted to know if you taught him to be quiet during the movie yet.” She stormed out and went to the manager. A woman with short blond hair, and I suppose her assistant manager, came into the theater just as the movie started. The woman said to me, as I once more looked back at her son who was still talking loudly, that the manager was watching me. So I went to the manager and told her that the kid was being loud and I simply wanted to be able to hear the movie. But, that the mother wouldn’t make him be quiet. She asked me to step out into the hall, so I did, knowing I would miss part of the movie.

When I explained to her what was going on, she said, “It is a child’s movie and children can be expected to talk and make noise.” I nearly went incandescent with shock! Since when is it ACCEPTABLE for other people to be rude and disrespectful in a theater by talking? Then the manager told me that we should move our seats, or we should go to a later movie when children wouldn’t be there. WHAT?! I did NOTHING wrong, I was there LONG before that obnoxious family, and my husband needed to sit in a place where he could stretch his leg out in front of him. The rest of the front row was full. Why should WE have to move because someone else was obnoxious?

The manager said straight out that she couldn’t do anything about the family, because SHE didn’t hear the kid talking. Of course not she was over by the entry, we were half way across the theater from the door. But, her attitude was that we were the problem and we had to leave or move. We left. My husband got a special pass to see the movie later, but hell will freeze over before I go back to that theater. I expect, at the very least, an abject apology from the manager, and from you, Mr. or Ms. CEO. I also think you need to train your managers to understand that NO ONE has the right to be rude and disrespectful to other patrons by talking out loud in the movie.All that child learned today was that his helicopter mother, and ineffectual father, will make sure he can do whatever he wants, no matter how badly behaved he is.

And I learned something too, older people are treated like criminals because we KNOW good manners when we see them and proper theater etiquette. How can anyone say it is EXPECTED for children to talk throughout a move? Since when has that sort of behaviour become acceptable to people who supposedly run theaters for the entertainment of all races, ages, and people? Obviously, those of us who expect manners and to be treated with respect when we have done NOTHING wrong are not equal to the rest of the people who are inept at parenting. Oh, yes, the manager made it clear she wasn’t there to parent other people’s children. But, I bet if I had been talking out loud, or chatting on my phone, that I would have been told off by the manager. Double standards really annoy me.

I expect an apology from YOU, Mr. or Ms. CEO, and I will expect to hear from that manager as well. If not, well, the internet is a great tool for making my thoughts known to many, many people in a very short time. After all, other seniors should know that we aren’t treated equally to other patrons. The manager said I had an attitude, but the mother didn’t. Well, I was being insulted by the manager and the ignorant mother was being proactive and accusing me of being. . . you know, I have NO idea what her accusation was. I just know, I was the one who had to be “punished” while that little prince was allowed to be as annoying as he wanted to be. I honestly wonder if that mother and the manager aren’t friends outside the theater.

Karron Combs

No Tech Christmas

Posted on Posted in Children, Choices, Family, Grandchildren, Habits, ParentingTagged , , , , , , , Leave a comment

It occurred to me, oh, several months ago, as I was organizing my Christmas list, that I wanted to give my grandchildren vintage toys. Well, remakes of vintage toys, the originals are far too pricey. I wanted them to have a Christmas where nothing they received from my husband and I needed a battery, cable, or plug in. It seems that we have overwhelmed our kids with things that beep, flash, talk, and require constant attention. It was time to get back to basics.

For my nine year old grandson, there were a set of stilts, modern and better made, but stilts, nonetheless. A honest to goodness wooden yoyo along with a trick book just like they had in the 1950’s, along with crazy straws, paddle balls, a board game, several joke books, and the Dangerous Book for Boys. I added a science project about gross things, and treats. Not one thing required any sort of power except boy power. He loved everything, and was working to master the yoyo when they went home.

For my six year old granddaughter, we got an art set. A real, honest to goodness set with everything from paints to pencils and everything to go with it. She is really into drawing and such. Several coloring books joined the set, along with lots and lots of paper. She also go the crazy straws and paddle balls, but girl stuff too, like a pair of shoes and an out fit. She got the Daring Book for Girls, that matched Nick’s for boys. And hair pretties along with a grooming kit. Nothing needed power other than the power of a girl. She was over the moon, and spent hours drawing.

And our little Addie? Her favorite toys is a small felt dolly I picked up for a buck at the dollar store. Who would have though!? We also got her a tent to play in, and to help corral her when we need to have our hands free for something. She loves that too, along with the drum, and soft toys she got. She was really having more fun with with the paper and boxes than anything.

It is easy to go on line and pick out things that beep and buzz for kids. It is much harder to think of the way their minds work and come up with innovative ways to entertain them. It is easy to let a machine entertain them, but it is, in my opinion, to encourage them to explore, invent, create, and study the world around them. Making them the center of the play, not the machine, will stretch their minds, help them create, and encourage exploration in all manners of topics.

Next year is going to be a challenge, but I am already doing research, and I expect something will come to mind. Like Jax and a jump rope for Bella, and some sort of cool science experiment for Nick. I’m thinking mad scientist, cool stuff. Addie will be easy, everything from toys to clothes . . . and boxes and paper.

I love being a Nana.

Why, Bless Her Little Heart

Posted on Posted in Children, Choices, Family, Habits, Parenting, WomenTagged , , Leave a comment

I follow the Matt Walsh Blog http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/11/06/kids-react-to-abortion/comment-page-1/#comment-62347 on a regular basis. He is a brilliant commentator and observer of life. He is also conservative in many of his opinions. Today his blog was about what the government run institutions called schools are teaching our children concerning several hot topics. One particular person who commented on the blog really hit my hot button. To save her embarrassment, I won’t include her name.

SHE SAID:
I knew there was a reason I wasn’t going to follow you any longer and this is it. Rick Perry used his own son to pass a “religion rights” bill (the Christmas bill) and anti-abortion spokespeople and politicians use fetuses to push their agenda. Give me a break. People like yourselves don’t want to provide for kids with social programs after they are fetuses, you don’t want women to have birth control because a) you think birth control is abortion and that’s what the right preaches, even though the science says it’s not (but wait, you don’t believe in science either been badmouthing it since Bush was President at least), b)you’re too afraid white people will be outnumbered by minorities, first of all, (at least according to Pat Buchanan’s book “State of Emergency,” and Fox News), and secondly, you think women should be controlled by men using your conservative fundamentalist religious ideology as applied to current ideology in the Republican Party. Your GOP politicians go on record saying that “rape” isn’t rape, and that you can’t get pregnant from rape, your party blocks a jobs bill for veterans, blocks VAWA, your party cuts food stamps so poor kids can’t eat, and calls 46% of the populations “takers” and moochers (some of those moochers vote Republican) and then you wonder why people are starting to vote Republicans out.

I SAID:
Takers? Of course they are takers, they sure aren’t doing anything to be productive, now are they? Honey it is the majority of conservative working people that allow the rest of the lazy moron leftists to sit at home in front of their big TV, eating, smoking, and drinking between producing more offspring to keep the money flowing. Unless, of course they decide to murder them either before or after they are born.

You can’t believe in religion because EVERY religion (except some weird off beat crazy people) says life is precious and children are blessings. So if someone does, they are racist or anti women (rolling eyes here).

I don’t care WHAT color someone’s skin is, I care about how they treat people and how they behave. So that argument is surely stupid too. I have lived in many countries, sweetheart, and some of them were not nice places to be, but the people were wonderful, and some were just as bad and stupid as people here in the US. I live in the deep south, dearie, and there are thousands of different colors of skin down here. To say that all white people are afraid of, or hate, minorities is purely ignorant.

I am a conservative woman, and heaven help any man who tries to own me, force me to anything, or try to treat me like a second class citizen. I am intelligent and I am not afraid to use that intelligence to set them straight. Or I could vote, or, if that doesn’t work, I have a carry permit and a gun. So your little diatribe on that topic is just as mistaken as the other comments you’ve made.

I don’t know a single conservative who does not support our men and women in uniform, or who have served in the past. Supporting them is vital to all of us. However that pot head ass in the white house loathes the military, unless he gets to play with the drones and kill people. Maybe that is where you are getting your particular point of view. From that and the talking heads on the liberal news networks like CNN (Communist News Network) and that sort.

I certainly do agree that food stamps and welfare need to be cut. Or, if those capable of work, have to be drug tested every month, that would make me happy too. Maybe then the whiners will get off their collective rear ends and GET A JOB. And there are jobs out there, they are just jobs that mean you have to get your hands dirty or work at night, oh, and pass a drug test on a regular basis. Even highest educated person in the land has to start at the bottom of the heap. Unless he is an elitist liar like the pot head ass in the white house.

What I am saying, bless your angry, greedy little heart, is that there is a VAST difference between conservatives and Republicans who are know as RINOs. (Republicans in name only) The RINOS are the guys you are talking about. The conservatives are people like me who work hard, save, give to charity, support our military heroes and our local police and firemen. We go to church, synagogue, chapel, temple, or where ever one worships their version of God. We are loving people, patriotic people, and profoundly protective people. Our families, country, and love of God are vital components of our humanity. So are unborn children.

Life is precious, every single life, even yours, is vital to someone. To use abortion to get rid of a child because he or she is inconvenient is flat out wrong. Use birth control correctly, or better yet, people need to stop sleeping around every time they get the urge and learn a bit of self control. However, I understand that being virginal after a certain age is frowned upon by a particular group of people.

I would suggest, (name withheld for her protection), that you stop trying to blend all conservatives and RINOS into one lump. We are not the same. And we will always fight for what we believe is right, and that includes the right for a baby to be born. You may call it tissue, but DNA says it is a human being from the moment of conception.

So, people, when are you going to make a stand and protect your innocent kids from the institutions political persecution of their minds and hearts? Home school folks, get them in a religious school, do something to protect your kids. Regardless of your stand on these issues, those are things that should be taught by parents, at home, in private, using real facts, not emotional knee jerk blather. People like that woman are everywhere, filled with anger, frustration, and a deep personal hatred for anyone who is a thinking, logical, person. We should pity her, because she will go to her grave just as angry as she is today since her brain and soul have been preempted by the left.

Why Is It Number Four

Posted on Posted in Children, Choices, Driving, Family, Friendship, Grandchildren, Habits, Parenting, WomenTagged , Leave a comment

Why is it, as soon as I put the hard top back on my car, the sun comes out?

Why is it, that having the top down makes me want to play my music really loud and drive really fast?

Why is it, that every time a young person sees me driving a sports car, they seemed shocked?

Why is it, when an old person sees me driving a sports car, they all look confused?

Why is it, when a person gets past 50, everyone expects them to slow down and be stodgy?

Why is it, that when a person gets past 50, every single working part of the body decides to retool and redefine their working order?

Why is it, that some women freak out and spend thousands on plastic surgery and products to look younger, when time will catch up eventually and they will look like freaks AND look old?

Why is it, that everyone is scared to death to be round? Round is a good shape. Comfy, and easy to maintain.

Why is it, women under 60 freak out about being a grandmother?

Why is it, that women under 60 come up with stupid names for their grandchildren to call them so they won’t be known as a grandmother? I mean, really, MoMo?

Why is it, getting old is a sinful thing instead of something we have earned?

Why is it, that the young never appreciate what we know and the wisdom we have to share until it is too late to make a difference in their lives?

Why is it, if a couple is out dancing and having fun, and they aren’t young, people think it is either sweet, cute, or disgusting?

Why is it, people stare if I hold my husband’s hand in public? It isn’t as if we are doing anything gross, like snogging.

Why is it, all little babies and toddlers know that I am a Nana? Hormones?

Why is it physically impossible to stop myself from cooing over little babies, snarling at kids between 8 and obnoxious, and loathing kids between oh, teenage and forever if they are impolite, gross, or disrespectful?

Why is it, no one offers to help mom’s who are struggling with kids in public instead of complaining and making rude remarks?

Why is it, the older I get, the more I love the old guy I married so many years ago?

Just asking.

Why Is It Number 3

Posted on Posted in Choices, conversation, Driving, Habits, Parenting, Story Time, UncategorizedTagged , , 1 Comment

Why Is It, Number Three.

Why is it when you have a time limit to be somewhere on time, it takes the server at your table forever to bring the check?

Why is it when people get on the road, and they are locals, they get into the wrong lane and hold up traffic trying to move over?

Why is it that babies like to shriek at the tops of their lungs in public places. Generally when sitting right behind you?

Why is it, on the hottest day of the year, everyone goes where you are going, and all the good parking spots are gone, resulting in having to hike from the car park to the entrance?

Why is it, that everyone insists on driving the standard route to get somewhere, fighting traffic, when learning the short cut makes life so much easier?

Why is it, that people feel they have to stand in front of the concession booth and waffle on about what to get for a movie snack. Easy people, soda, popcorn, candy. Think ahead and save time.

Why is it that said people take such great pleasure in crunching, slurping, chewing, and belching, (sometimes all at the same time) while talking through the previews at the cinema?

Why is it, that so many people want to text or chat through the movie instead of watching the show they just paid seven bucks to see?

Why is it, I ALWAYS get the Chatty Cathy Barbie doll sitting behind me who simpers her way through the plot like twists by asking her testosterone loaded date what happened and why?

Why is it, that parents of very young children under a year old bring their kids to the cinema? Used to be Drive-In movies for that sort of thing.

Why is it, that I get to listen to the guy behind us crunch his straw in the ice in his drink, every time the action gets intense?

Why is it when one walks out of the theater, the sun seems so much brighter, but the day seems a bit more mundane and gray when the movie is over?

Why is it, people park their shopping trolley right smack in the middle of an aisle, and get ticked when you politely ask them to scoot it over a bit so others can get past?

Why is it that every time I am trying to look at a particular product, someone will just walk up and stand right in front of where I am looking?

Why is the counter guys at the deli can’t seem to understand what Pastrami is, and that when I say Cajun, I mean spicy Cajun. I mean really, there is no other kind.

Why is it the produce looks delicious across the room, but finding something you want to eat is so difficult?

Why is it, no matter what, I always end up in the slow check out lane in the market?

Why Is It – second additon

Posted on Posted in conversation, Driving, Family, Habits, Parenting2 Comments

Why is it that patients are required to cancel appointments 24 hours in advance, but the doctor doesn’t have to show up until 45 minutes past the first appointment?

 

 

Why is it that the phone will always ring when you are in the middle of changing a diaper?

 

 

Why is it the dogs will go berserk when the UPS truck turns up, but ignores the kids walking across the yard?

 

 

Why is it that every time you sit down to eat, you think of a dozen things you forgot to do first?

 

 

Why is it that the check out lanes at a store can be empty when you come in, but when you get ready to leave, the all have lines ten people deep?

 

 

Why is it that the day you are in a huge hurry, you get behind the one person in the store who has a coupon for every single item in her trolley, and she has to have the amount checked on most of them>

 

 

Why is it that the very day you decide to water the lawn, it rains after you have put the sprinkler away?

 

 

Why is it that mowing the yard always makes it rain?

 

 

Why is it that clearing up stuff always leads to more stuff finding its way out onto the nearest flat surface?

 

 

Why is it the day your house is at its worse, someone always turns up without calling first?

 

 

Why is it that the best part of the book comes along right when you need to turn off the light and go to sleep?

 

 

Why is it that the one thing you need the most is never where you left it?

 

 

Why is it that the empty street becomes full of cars the minute you turn on it?

 

 

Why is it there is always one person too busy talking on the phone to drive at a reasonable rate of speed, not ten miles an hour under the posted limit?

 

 

Why is it that every time you sit down to relax for a few minutes, you get interrupted, or you wake up and it is three hours later?

 

 

Why is it that the one food you should never eat looks and smells so darned delicious?

 

 

Why is it the dog will walk right under your feet and then be offended when you trip over him?

 

 

Why is it the cat cannot pass up anything resembling a box without trying to nap in it?

 

 

Why is it when you need sleep the most, you simply cannot find it?

 

Three Generations

Posted on Posted in Children, Choices, Family, Grandchildren, Habits, ParentingTagged , , , , 1 Comment

As I was holding my new great granddaughter and watching her milk drunk little face fight off sleep, I was struck by a sudden, overwhelming, love for her. It felt, in many ways, just like the love I felt for my new born sons many years ago. I guess those innate nurturing emotions never fade.

I was a young mother. By the time I was twenty-one, our two boys were born. It wasn’t easy to be so young, poor, and parents. But we were, so we just worked harder, made do with less, and loved our kids. We learned to accept the fact that one of us would be out driving around in the middle of the night to sooth a grumpy, over tired baby. We learned to live with sticky mystery goo on hands and faces. We could wrangle a two year old into the bath while talking on the phone and feeding a new born. We were fast diaper changers, quick to feed a baby, and very good at carrying on a conversation with each kid and each other at the same time. Our house was loud, active, and somewhat crazy.

I never got the laundry completely done, not even when they were teenagers. I was always facing a sink filled with dishes, and a house that was beyond messy. But, my boys and I had fun, and it was much more interesting to be with them than it was to clean house. We survived bumps, bruises, bike wrecks, fist fights, stitches, and broken bones. Not to mention childhood illnesses and germ filled school days. It didn’t matter to me that things went unfinished or undone when a Scouting project or school project took up our evenings. Dishes would still be there the next day. We managed the teenage years. Not as well as we could have, but we managed.

Then, suddenly, my boys were grown. And, before I was ready, our first grandchild was on the way. She was born between Christmas and New Years, and we were thrilled to have a girl to spoil. We never really thought we would raise her, but when we lost her father, we did. So instead of cars and building forts in the woods, we had a little girl who knew she was a princess. She spent six months of her third year determined to turn used computer parts into a time machine. And she refused to go to sleep unless her Papa told her about another Princess Crystal adventure. I honestly think that those stories were as real to her as her own life. We did all the things we did with our boys, only differently. She was, and is, high maintenance in many ways. And our greatest delight was to see her riding on her horse in a show. She is a natural. But, suddenly she was a grown woman, with a baby of her own on the way.

Our second son gave us two delightful grandchildren. A boy and a girl. Both are smart, funny, opinionated, and a joy to us. It is different from our first grandchild, it is more like being a real Nana and Papa rather than a parent. Our son is a single father, and he does a super job raising his children. The divorce was not amicable, but at least he gets to see his kids every day. When I see him telling them the exact same things I told him when he was in trouble as a kid, I smile inside knowing I did something right.

Now I have a great granddaughter. She is only three weeks old, and, like most babies, she has taken over our home and our hearts. I have raised, or helped to raise, two generations of children. And at the age of 58, I get to be involved with a third generation. And as I talk to my granddaughter, I hear the words I told her about raising her come straight from her heart as she talks about raising her daughter.

I am a mother, grandmother, and a great grandmother. My life has been raising kids, encouraging my husband, and constantly improving me. I do not regret one moment of being a parent to two rowdy boys and one little princess. It has been the greatest accomplishment of my life, better than my degrees, and all the world travel we experienced. Raising kids to be faithful, hard working, patriotic, and dedicated men and women is the best thing I have ever done, or will ever do.

If you take the jump to parenthood, you will see that all the work, lack of sleep, school projects, and laughing at the dinner table is well worth it. Because that crying baby in aisle two of the grocery store that annoys you now, is going to grow up one day, and he will take on his world from the lessons his parents taught him.

Three generations of children fill my heart. I am blessed and thankful for the opportunity to love them.