I'm sure it will be her favorite of all time:
Purple Rock and Roll.
Showing posts with label Brayden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brayden. Show all posts
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
As much as I hate feet, you'd think I wouldn't stick them in my mouth so often
Updated to add: Teacher Tom, or anyone else who might have read this and gotten the wrong impression .... I did not at all think this young woman was "trashy" looking ... in fact, I wrote that very thing below. She was adorable .... just so much older looking than twelve that I was taken aback. And promptly stuck my foot in my mouth about it, which is about par for the course for me. :)
*****************************************************
Tonight, I attended the second in a six-week series of classes I am taking at the local vo-tech to learn portrait photography. Tonight's session was about learning to use studio lights and the proper camera settings for traditional studio photography, as well as letting us "practice" posing a model. That's something I have struggled with every time I've ever taken photos for someone else .... we show up, I've got my camera, and they say something along the lines of, "So, tell me what you want me to do or where you want me to stand or sit and what should I do with my hands" and I look at them like they've grown a second head, or like they're speaking a foreign language because truly, I have no clue where to even begin.
Tonight, the instructor brought his daughter along to be our model. The first half of the class she helped him with the computer, viewing images we had all brought in to be critiqued ... then he had a photo session with her, to show us how he would do it as a professional if she came into his studio for portraits. Then we all got to practice with her.
When he was preparing to start his session, he told us how he likes to visit with his clients, especially if this is their first time in his studio, and develop at least a little bit of rapport to help them feel at ease. So while he was putting up the backdrop, and meter-testing each light, and syncing the strobes, he was sort of half-handedly asking her questions as if he didn't know her .... again, just to give us an example.
He started with the standard, "What's your name?" and then "How old are you?"
Now, she had been in the room over an hour already, and although she hadn't spoken much, I could clearly see she was in high school. Not very tall, but with a fairly-developed figure, nicely styled hair, and a full face of makeup. I wouldn't have *guessed* college, but definitely at least driving age. So when she replied, "Twelve", well, I about fell over.
"You're kidding," someone else in the room asked. "You're twelve?"
(Clearly, I wasn't the only one taken by surprise.)
"Yes," she said.
And I said, "Really? Twelve? Are you kidding?"
"No," she repeated, "I'm really twelve."
And then the thought that went through my brain was, "Holy cow, my daughter is twelve, but she doesn't look NEAR as ...." except unfortunately I realized, because everyone had turned to look at me, including the girl, that I wasn't actually thinking those thoughts in my brain, but that they were in fact coming out of my mouth. OUT LOUD. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE.
So I immediately started scrambling for an adjective I could use that wouldn't sound judgmental or mean-spirited. I mean, she was a cute girl, but what I was really thinking was, "My daughter doesn't look near as ......" What? Slutty? Trampy? Old? Developed? Mature? Because she didn't look slutty OR trampy ... she just looked so much more .... so much more ....
"Pretty!" I finally exclaimed. "My daughter is not near as pretty as you are."
And the lady sitting next to me turned and said, "That's not a very nice thing to say about your own kid!"
So I started back-pedaling, and trying to fix it, only it was clear I was just digging myself in deeper.
"No, I mean, she's pretty, too, it's just that she doesn't look so .... um ..... so .... grown up, is all" I finished weakly. Really, there is no good adjective to describe what I was thinking.
And her father, my INSTRUCTOR, heard the whole thing.
POSSIBLY she was so fixed up because she knew she would be having her picture taken twelve hundred times tonight.
POSSIBLY my daughter is a little behind the times, considering she is also twelve and wears no make up at all.
POSSIBLY I will soon be receiving a big fat "F" in Portrait Photography this year.
*****************************************************
Tonight, I attended the second in a six-week series of classes I am taking at the local vo-tech to learn portrait photography. Tonight's session was about learning to use studio lights and the proper camera settings for traditional studio photography, as well as letting us "practice" posing a model. That's something I have struggled with every time I've ever taken photos for someone else .... we show up, I've got my camera, and they say something along the lines of, "So, tell me what you want me to do or where you want me to stand or sit and what should I do with my hands" and I look at them like they've grown a second head, or like they're speaking a foreign language because truly, I have no clue where to even begin.
Tonight, the instructor brought his daughter along to be our model. The first half of the class she helped him with the computer, viewing images we had all brought in to be critiqued ... then he had a photo session with her, to show us how he would do it as a professional if she came into his studio for portraits. Then we all got to practice with her.
When he was preparing to start his session, he told us how he likes to visit with his clients, especially if this is their first time in his studio, and develop at least a little bit of rapport to help them feel at ease. So while he was putting up the backdrop, and meter-testing each light, and syncing the strobes, he was sort of half-handedly asking her questions as if he didn't know her .... again, just to give us an example.
He started with the standard, "What's your name?" and then "How old are you?"
Now, she had been in the room over an hour already, and although she hadn't spoken much, I could clearly see she was in high school. Not very tall, but with a fairly-developed figure, nicely styled hair, and a full face of makeup. I wouldn't have *guessed* college, but definitely at least driving age. So when she replied, "Twelve", well, I about fell over.
"You're kidding," someone else in the room asked. "You're twelve?"
(Clearly, I wasn't the only one taken by surprise.)
"Yes," she said.
And I said, "Really? Twelve? Are you kidding?"
"No," she repeated, "I'm really twelve."
And then the thought that went through my brain was, "Holy cow, my daughter is twelve, but she doesn't look NEAR as ...." except unfortunately I realized, because everyone had turned to look at me, including the girl, that I wasn't actually thinking those thoughts in my brain, but that they were in fact coming out of my mouth. OUT LOUD. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE.
So I immediately started scrambling for an adjective I could use that wouldn't sound judgmental or mean-spirited. I mean, she was a cute girl, but what I was really thinking was, "My daughter doesn't look near as ......" What? Slutty? Trampy? Old? Developed? Mature? Because she didn't look slutty OR trampy ... she just looked so much more .... so much more ....
"Pretty!" I finally exclaimed. "My daughter is not near as pretty as you are."
And the lady sitting next to me turned and said, "That's not a very nice thing to say about your own kid!"
So I started back-pedaling, and trying to fix it, only it was clear I was just digging myself in deeper.
"No, I mean, she's pretty, too, it's just that she doesn't look so .... um ..... so .... grown up, is all" I finished weakly. Really, there is no good adjective to describe what I was thinking.
And her father, my INSTRUCTOR, heard the whole thing.
POSSIBLY she was so fixed up because she knew she would be having her picture taken twelve hundred times tonight.
POSSIBLY my daughter is a little behind the times, considering she is also twelve and wears no make up at all.
POSSIBLY I will soon be receiving a big fat "F" in Portrait Photography this year.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The Faces of Twelve
Updated to add: Thanks, honestly, for the nice comments. I was thrilled with how they turned out. Not because I believe in my own fabulousness, but because I felt they really showcased her personality and (best of all!!) didn't cost an arm and a leg since I took them myself. (No, we won't consider the cost of lens in this equation .... that's a "gimme") :)
To answer a few questions:
6. Achieving 11: I used my photo editing program (I use Photoshop CS4) and ran a "faded" action. You can do the same thing by using any photo editing program and lowering the saturation of the entire photo. If you don't *have* a photo-editing program, then I have no clue .... basically, if I can't take shortcuts with technology, then I'm lost!
5. Lens: I used my new Canon 85 mm 1.8 lens.
4. Where: Shara, there is an overturned semi (don't ask me, who even knows) in a field next to the Dolese plant on Wilshire between Rockwell and Council. The rust-ish background is the underside of the trailer and the graffiti'd part is the back of the trailer. I'm sure I was breaking every OSHA code known to man by letting her climb on it, but I got the exact background I was hoping for, so it was worth risking arrest, ha!
3. Skirt: purchased from a vendor at the OKC Affair of the Heart craft fair in February. I found TONS in little-girl ballerina sizes, but only one booth, with only one skirt, in a size 8-10. I snagged it, felt grateful when I got home that it fit Brayden, and have been kicking myself ever since that I didn't think to get the person's card.
2. Favorites: Brayden's favorite is number 12. And although no-one asked (ahem) MY favorite is number 11, although I can't choose between the "faded" action (which is what I have in this post) or the original in all its vibrancy.
1. Looks like me: I know, isn't it funny? Although, anyone who has ever seen Brayden's birthmom (Hi, M!! <-- waving frantically) has said she and I could pass for sisters, so I suppose its not too odd that Brayden might look a little like me. Except for when she's in trouble. Then she looks just like Blaine.
Again, thanks for posting your opinions .... its great for me to read them!
**********************************************
Every year Iforce encourage my children to let me take pictures of them on (around) their birthday. Despite the fact I am falling farther and farther behind, I still consider myself a scrapbooker and like to have the visual documentation of how they grow and change each year.
Brayden's birthday is in February, and while that wasn't a problem in balmy Georgia, now that we live in Oklahoma we've discovered we often have to wait a month or two for weather nice enough for outdoor photography. We had such a day yesterday ....temps in the high 70's, and little to no wind .... a RARITY here.
I was also excited to take her photos this year because I had purchasedand Lord knows I needed to justify my new lens. I was really hoping for some quality snapshots.
I'd love to hear your opinions, and I've numbered the pictures so if you'd like to leave a specific comment, I'll know which image you're referring to. For the record, I did not increase color or vibrancy or hue or contrast or anything on any of them. In fact, they came out so vivid that I actually DECREASED the color on some of them ..... guess when you combine the perfect outdoor light with a clear day and a good lens, you get good color ... to the point of kaleidoscopiness ... yes, it is a word. I just made it up.
#1.
#2.
#3.
#4.
#5.
#6.
#7.
#8.
#9.
#10.
#11.
#12.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go perform cpr on my own uterus, because it's shriveled up and crying at the realization of how grown up my baby girl is getting.
To answer a few questions:
6. Achieving 11: I used my photo editing program (I use Photoshop CS4) and ran a "faded" action. You can do the same thing by using any photo editing program and lowering the saturation of the entire photo. If you don't *have* a photo-editing program, then I have no clue .... basically, if I can't take shortcuts with technology, then I'm lost!
5. Lens: I used my new Canon 85 mm 1.8 lens.
4. Where: Shara, there is an overturned semi (don't ask me, who even knows) in a field next to the Dolese plant on Wilshire between Rockwell and Council. The rust-ish background is the underside of the trailer and the graffiti'd part is the back of the trailer. I'm sure I was breaking every OSHA code known to man by letting her climb on it, but I got the exact background I was hoping for, so it was worth risking arrest, ha!
3. Skirt: purchased from a vendor at the OKC Affair of the Heart craft fair in February. I found TONS in little-girl ballerina sizes, but only one booth, with only one skirt, in a size 8-10. I snagged it, felt grateful when I got home that it fit Brayden, and have been kicking myself ever since that I didn't think to get the person's card.
2. Favorites: Brayden's favorite is number 12. And although no-one asked (ahem) MY favorite is number 11, although I can't choose between the "faded" action (which is what I have in this post) or the original in all its vibrancy.
1. Looks like me: I know, isn't it funny? Although, anyone who has ever seen Brayden's birthmom (Hi, M!! <-- waving frantically) has said she and I could pass for sisters, so I suppose its not too odd that Brayden might look a little like me. Except for when she's in trouble. Then she looks just like Blaine.
Again, thanks for posting your opinions .... its great for me to read them!
**********************************************
Every year I
Brayden's birthday is in February, and while that wasn't a problem in balmy Georgia, now that we live in Oklahoma we've discovered we often have to wait a month or two for weather nice enough for outdoor photography. We had such a day yesterday ....temps in the high 70's, and little to no wind .... a RARITY here.
I was also excited to take her photos this year because I had purchased
I'd love to hear your opinions, and I've numbered the pictures so if you'd like to leave a specific comment, I'll know which image you're referring to. For the record, I did not increase color or vibrancy or hue or contrast or anything on any of them. In fact, they came out so vivid that I actually DECREASED the color on some of them ..... guess when you combine the perfect outdoor light with a clear day and a good lens, you get good color ... to the point of kaleidoscopiness ... yes, it is a word. I just made it up.
#1.
#2.
#3.
#4.
#5.
#6.
#7.
#8.
#9.
#10.
#11.
#12.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go perform cpr on my own uterus, because it's shriveled up and crying at the realization of how grown up my baby girl is getting.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
And so the pre-teen years begin
Brayden: "Mom, you should know that I got sent to the principal's office today and you're probably going to get a call."
Me: "Why were you sent to the principal's office?"
Brayden: "Because B. sent me a note in class asking me out and the substitute totally had it in for me and embarrassed me and all my friends thought it was ridiculous and I should never have gotten in trouble for it!"**
Me: "Wait. Why did B. ask you out? You're too young to date. Plus, you already have a 'boyfriend' "
Brayden: "No, C. and I broke up two weeks ago. But I need you to understand that it was totally not my fault I got in trouble."
Me: "What do you mean you and C. broke up two weeks ago? Why? What happened? Why didn't you tell me?"
Brayden (loooooonnnnnnnnnnggggg exasperated sigh): "Because I KNEW you would go all Dr. Phyllis on me!"
And with that, I didn't know whether to laugh, or cry at what's clearly ahead.
**For the record, a little further poking and prodding in the conversation revealed a few teeny tiny (picture my thumb and forefinger, pinched very very very very closely together) minor details Brayden forgot to tell me (like the fact she was completely disrespectful to the sub) and that she in fact, actually, probably deserved the trip to the principal's office. And did I mention that the substitute is not only our neighbor, but in my ladies Bible Study group? Man, I love small towns.
Me: "Why were you sent to the principal's office?"
Brayden: "Because B. sent me a note in class asking me out and the substitute totally had it in for me and embarrassed me and all my friends thought it was ridiculous and I should never have gotten in trouble for it!"**
Me: "Wait. Why did B. ask you out? You're too young to date. Plus, you already have a 'boyfriend' "
Brayden: "No, C. and I broke up two weeks ago. But I need you to understand that it was totally not my fault I got in trouble."
Me: "What do you mean you and C. broke up two weeks ago? Why? What happened? Why didn't you tell me?"
Brayden (loooooonnnnnnnnnnggggg exasperated sigh): "Because I KNEW you would go all Dr. Phyllis on me!"
And with that, I didn't know whether to laugh, or cry at what's clearly ahead.
**For the record, a little further poking and prodding in the conversation revealed a few teeny tiny (picture my thumb and forefinger, pinched very very very very closely together) minor details Brayden forgot to tell me (like the fact she was completely disrespectful to the sub) and that she in fact, actually, probably deserved the trip to the principal's office. And did I mention that the substitute is not only our neighbor, but in my ladies Bible Study group? Man, I love small towns.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
She might not always get it right ....
Assignment: create a board game based on the 6th grade English book report, and draw scenes from the book to decorate the board game. Brayden's book had a graveyard scene.
She might not always get it right, but she tries hard, and sure makes me smile.
Man, I love that kid.
She might not always get it right, but she tries hard, and sure makes me smile.
Man, I love that kid.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
I am even more out of touch than I realized
One of the many, many, many cool things about middle school, of course, is getting a locker. It's almost as cool as the fact they have vending machines in the school, except for the fact students aren't allowed to use them without teachers permission. The vending machines ... not the lockers. Getting a locker is even cooler this year, because last year at the middle school, sixth graders didn't get lockers. The fact that they get them this year is surprising, and awesome, unless you are my seventh grade nephew, who swears it's the most unfair thing on the planet and *he* had to lug all his crap around last year and why shouldn't this years' sixth graders have to as well???? See, the "I had to walk six miles uphill in both directions to school in the snow with no shoes on" type mentality starts early around here.
Anyway, enough of that.
Brayden was very excited about getting a locker, until she found out they were only half-lockers. And she would have to share with another student. And her locker is located on the bottom, so she practically has to sit on the floor to open it. And when she actually *did* sit on the floor to open it, a dust bunny the size of Kansas flew out at her head, along with some scrap paper and last year's locker recipient's school photo. Did nobody clean these lockers the entire summer? Or since the school was originally built???
Anyway, enough of that.
The promise of wet wipes and some locker accessories made up for the crummy location and dusty condition, and so far, she hasn't been assigned anyone to share it with ... so it's actually big enough to hold her solitary binder. So I thought she would still be happy, until the first day she stormed up to me after school and informed me that "Her locker is JANKED!"
And I said, "You mean dirty?"
And she said, "No, I mean it's JANKED! The lock doesn't work!"
So the first thing I did was walk her back to her locker and show her the correct way to open a lock. Spinnnnnnnn to the right, then back around once to the left, then just a liiiiiiitle back around to the right. Ta-da!!! Lock opens!! (Seriously, hello, bosses of the school? Maybe next year on the first day of school you should consider a remedial class in "locker opening" because I was one of three parents standing there having to teach our kids how to open their "Janked" lockers after school today. Obviously this is not a skill these kids are just born with.)
The next thing I did was inform Brayden that there is no such word as "Janked". To which she promptly replied, "Oh yes there is" and I came back with the snappy retort, "Oh no there's not!"
When I got home I googled the word. Although Brayden is in fact correct, and "Jank" is a word with many meanings, one of which is "messed up" or "not right", do you know what the very first definition listed on Urban Dictionary is?
"To be brutally raped by a 400 lb wild gorilla"
What the heck does that even MEAN??????
Clearly, Brayden is getting a first-rate education in middle school --- specifically, language arts, don't you think?
************************************
Remind me to tell you the story sometime about how my senior year of high school I was completely obsessed with the Soloflex guy, and had dozens of bumper stickers and ads and photos of him and his amazing upper body slapped all over the inside of my locker, so that every day when I opened my locker between classes I pretty much just stood there and drooled over the pecs on that guy. And how on the last day of school, as all the seniors were getting excited for graduation that night, I got called to the office and told I wouldn't receive a diploma until all those stickers were removed. And so on the afternoon of the last day of school, while everyone else was doing whatever it is semi-nostalgic seniors DO, I spent my quality time with a straight-edge razor, cleaning out my locker. Man, that sucked.
In fact, had I had the stellar vocabulary at that time that Brayden has now, I'm pretty sure I would have said the whole thing was "Janked."
Anyway, enough of that.
Brayden was very excited about getting a locker, until she found out they were only half-lockers. And she would have to share with another student. And her locker is located on the bottom, so she practically has to sit on the floor to open it. And when she actually *did* sit on the floor to open it, a dust bunny the size of Kansas flew out at her head, along with some scrap paper and last year's locker recipient's school photo. Did nobody clean these lockers the entire summer? Or since the school was originally built???
Anyway, enough of that.
The promise of wet wipes and some locker accessories made up for the crummy location and dusty condition, and so far, she hasn't been assigned anyone to share it with ... so it's actually big enough to hold her solitary binder. So I thought she would still be happy, until the first day she stormed up to me after school and informed me that "Her locker is JANKED!"
And I said, "You mean dirty?"
And she said, "No, I mean it's JANKED! The lock doesn't work!"
So the first thing I did was walk her back to her locker and show her the correct way to open a lock. Spinnnnnnnn to the right, then back around once to the left, then just a liiiiiiitle back around to the right. Ta-da!!! Lock opens!! (Seriously, hello, bosses of the school? Maybe next year on the first day of school you should consider a remedial class in "locker opening" because I was one of three parents standing there having to teach our kids how to open their "Janked" lockers after school today. Obviously this is not a skill these kids are just born with.)
The next thing I did was inform Brayden that there is no such word as "Janked". To which she promptly replied, "Oh yes there is" and I came back with the snappy retort, "Oh no there's not!"
When I got home I googled the word. Although Brayden is in fact correct, and "Jank" is a word with many meanings, one of which is "messed up" or "not right", do you know what the very first definition listed on Urban Dictionary is?
"To be brutally raped by a 400 lb wild gorilla"
What the heck does that even MEAN??????
Clearly, Brayden is getting a first-rate education in middle school --- specifically, language arts, don't you think?
************************************
Remind me to tell you the story sometime about how my senior year of high school I was completely obsessed with the Soloflex guy, and had dozens of bumper stickers and ads and photos of him and his amazing upper body slapped all over the inside of my locker, so that every day when I opened my locker between classes I pretty much just stood there and drooled over the pecs on that guy. And how on the last day of school, as all the seniors were getting excited for graduation that night, I got called to the office and told I wouldn't receive a diploma until all those stickers were removed. And so on the afternoon of the last day of school, while everyone else was doing whatever it is semi-nostalgic seniors DO, I spent my quality time with a straight-edge razor, cleaning out my locker. Man, that sucked.
In fact, had I had the stellar vocabulary at that time that Brayden has now, I'm pretty sure I would have said the whole thing was "Janked."
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Tough Love
Without being the least bit sarcastic, we have long called Brayden “our little bag lady” due to her pack-rat tendencies. Since she was big enough to walk, she has always – ALWAYS – dragged around a purse. Or backpack. Or gym bag. Or pillow case. Or lunch box. Or paper sack. Or whatever else she could find to carry her “treasures” in. When she was younger she would sleep with her bags, and often carry more than one at a time. I even did a scrapbook layout about it. It was cute, and we laughed ….. and then as she got older, it got a little bit annoying.
Still, to this day, we're always waiting on her to gather her stuff, and she schleps all her crap around in purses or bags. In a pinch, she’ll even use a plastic Target sack … or whatever she needs to fit all her junk in. Totally unnecessary junk, I might add. This years 4th of July parade? She carried twenty (no exaggeration) stuffed animals with her. Why? Can anyone tell me??? Her book-bag from school is crammed so full of un-needed school supplies and extra books and graded papers --that she refuses to throw away -- that she can barely lift it. When we get in the car, for a ten-minute ride, she’ll bring two or three library books, a doll, a stuffed animal or two, a pen and paper, and a tie-a-knot blanket project, or bracelet making kit, or whatever, INSISTING that she NEEDS all of it. Also as she’s gotten older, the items in her purses have gotten more valuable. Now she has an ipod and a Nintendo DS that she insists on taking everywhere.
You’ve probably guessed where this story is going --- about two weeks ago, she lost one of her purses. Couldn’t remember *exactly* where the last place she had it was, but could remember pretty much everything that was in it: her Nintendo, all her Nintendo games, cash, all the tags and id codes for her Webkinz, and jewelry that her grandmother had given her. When I asked her why she was even carrying that stuff around, instead of leaving it in her bedroom where it belonged, she couldn’t really say. Just that you never know when or where you might NEED it. And now it was lost, and she was devastated. And somehow it was all my fault, although I’m still not really sure how.
Blaine and I did everything we could think of to help her remember where she might have lost it. We searched the house and the van high and low. We checked grandma's house. We mentally back-tracked our steps the past two weeks, and called every restaurant we had eaten at. Brayden was very upset that it hadn’t been turned in to the lost and found anywhere …. I asked her, “Brayden, if you found a purse with no personal identification, with cash and a Nintendo in it, do you really think most people are going to turn it in to lost and found? And even if they did, what was to stop a restaurant or store employee from taking it??”
She was very upset, to say the least. And I’ll admit, I felt bad for her. The Nintendo DS and games she had purchased with her own money and a Christmas gift card. The cash was hers, and the jewelry was obviously personal. And as annoyed as I was with her, and as much as I wanted to say a big ole’ “I told you so!” for all the times I had told her not to carry all her stuff around, that she was going to lose it eventually ….. I still hated to see her without. Anytime Kellen and Kendrie would race one another on their DS’s this past week, I felt sad about the look on Brayden’s face.
And yeah, I’ll admit, I was tempted to go buy her another one. She was so genuinely distressed, and no parent wants their kid to be unhappy or do without. But Blaine and I knew replacing the stuff she had lost wasn’t the answer, nor was that the lesson we wanted her to learn. So as much as I hated it, I told her she was going to have to save up the money to buy her own replacement. Oh, the drama and tears that ensued …..
Saturday night, Kendrie had a friend spend the night. Yesterday, Kellen had a friend over to play, and last night, Brayden has a friend spending the night. You can about imagine the state of the girls’ bedroom upstairs. As I was helping set up the extra mattress on the floor and getting blankets for our guest, Brayden made some comment about the room was so messy she couldn’t even sleep in it and wanted to pick up some. Now, you have to realize she’s one of the biggest slobs on the planet, so she was TOTALLY only trying to get Kellen and Kendrie in trouble, by clearly pointing out to me how the room had been trashed. I told her if she wanted to pick up that would be fine, and if not, I’d make everyone do it in the morning. Then I came downstairs and (shocker!) got on the computer.
I few minutes later I heard a shriek, and someone running down the stairs. Brayden bust into my office, holding a cardboard box, and announced to me in a jubilant voice, “Mom, I found my stuff!!” Apparently she had put the purse, along with another purse, a necklace, a tin full of pencils, more costume jewelry, and a journal, into a cardboard box and put it in the corner of her room, where it had promptly been covered up by her dolls. When she was cleaning up tonight she straightened the dolls and discovered the box. To say she was overjoyed would be an understatement. **WHY** all that stuff was in a cardboard box in the corner is still not clear to me, but it's pretty par for the course for her. I was just thrilled that she finally found it.
I gave her a big hug and told her how happy I was for her. Then I tried to turn it into an educational moment with comments like, “This has been a good lesson to all of us about putting things where they belong, right?” and “Now that you know how it feels to lose something, I’m sure you’ll be more careful in the future.” And Brayden agreed, and exuded relief and glee, and smiled happily, and kittens and rainbows and blahblahblah, all was right with the world again.
So then I said, “In a weird way, we can even be grateful to Kendrie for messing up your side of the room since otherwise you wouldn’t have found it.”
And she looked me square in the eye and replied with, “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Still, to this day, we're always waiting on her to gather her stuff, and she schleps all her crap around in purses or bags. In a pinch, she’ll even use a plastic Target sack … or whatever she needs to fit all her junk in. Totally unnecessary junk, I might add. This years 4th of July parade? She carried twenty (no exaggeration) stuffed animals with her. Why? Can anyone tell me??? Her book-bag from school is crammed so full of un-needed school supplies and extra books and graded papers --that she refuses to throw away -- that she can barely lift it. When we get in the car, for a ten-minute ride, she’ll bring two or three library books, a doll, a stuffed animal or two, a pen and paper, and a tie-a-knot blanket project, or bracelet making kit, or whatever, INSISTING that she NEEDS all of it. Also as she’s gotten older, the items in her purses have gotten more valuable. Now she has an ipod and a Nintendo DS that she insists on taking everywhere.
You’ve probably guessed where this story is going --- about two weeks ago, she lost one of her purses. Couldn’t remember *exactly* where the last place she had it was, but could remember pretty much everything that was in it: her Nintendo, all her Nintendo games, cash, all the tags and id codes for her Webkinz, and jewelry that her grandmother had given her. When I asked her why she was even carrying that stuff around, instead of leaving it in her bedroom where it belonged, she couldn’t really say. Just that you never know when or where you might NEED it. And now it was lost, and she was devastated. And somehow it was all my fault, although I’m still not really sure how.
Blaine and I did everything we could think of to help her remember where she might have lost it. We searched the house and the van high and low. We checked grandma's house. We mentally back-tracked our steps the past two weeks, and called every restaurant we had eaten at. Brayden was very upset that it hadn’t been turned in to the lost and found anywhere …. I asked her, “Brayden, if you found a purse with no personal identification, with cash and a Nintendo in it, do you really think most people are going to turn it in to lost and found? And even if they did, what was to stop a restaurant or store employee from taking it??”
She was very upset, to say the least. And I’ll admit, I felt bad for her. The Nintendo DS and games she had purchased with her own money and a Christmas gift card. The cash was hers, and the jewelry was obviously personal. And as annoyed as I was with her, and as much as I wanted to say a big ole’ “I told you so!” for all the times I had told her not to carry all her stuff around, that she was going to lose it eventually ….. I still hated to see her without. Anytime Kellen and Kendrie would race one another on their DS’s this past week, I felt sad about the look on Brayden’s face.
And yeah, I’ll admit, I was tempted to go buy her another one. She was so genuinely distressed, and no parent wants their kid to be unhappy or do without. But Blaine and I knew replacing the stuff she had lost wasn’t the answer, nor was that the lesson we wanted her to learn. So as much as I hated it, I told her she was going to have to save up the money to buy her own replacement. Oh, the drama and tears that ensued …..
Saturday night, Kendrie had a friend spend the night. Yesterday, Kellen had a friend over to play, and last night, Brayden has a friend spending the night. You can about imagine the state of the girls’ bedroom upstairs. As I was helping set up the extra mattress on the floor and getting blankets for our guest, Brayden made some comment about the room was so messy she couldn’t even sleep in it and wanted to pick up some. Now, you have to realize she’s one of the biggest slobs on the planet, so she was TOTALLY only trying to get Kellen and Kendrie in trouble, by clearly pointing out to me how the room had been trashed. I told her if she wanted to pick up that would be fine, and if not, I’d make everyone do it in the morning. Then I came downstairs and (shocker!) got on the computer.
I few minutes later I heard a shriek, and someone running down the stairs. Brayden bust into my office, holding a cardboard box, and announced to me in a jubilant voice, “Mom, I found my stuff!!” Apparently she had put the purse, along with another purse, a necklace, a tin full of pencils, more costume jewelry, and a journal, into a cardboard box and put it in the corner of her room, where it had promptly been covered up by her dolls. When she was cleaning up tonight she straightened the dolls and discovered the box. To say she was overjoyed would be an understatement. **WHY** all that stuff was in a cardboard box in the corner is still not clear to me, but it's pretty par for the course for her. I was just thrilled that she finally found it.
I gave her a big hug and told her how happy I was for her. Then I tried to turn it into an educational moment with comments like, “This has been a good lesson to all of us about putting things where they belong, right?” and “Now that you know how it feels to lose something, I’m sure you’ll be more careful in the future.” And Brayden agreed, and exuded relief and glee, and smiled happily, and kittens and rainbows and blahblahblah, all was right with the world again.
So then I said, “In a weird way, we can even be grateful to Kendrie for messing up your side of the room since otherwise you wouldn’t have found it.”
And she looked me square in the eye and replied with, “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Thursday, July 03, 2008
I’ll text you my answers. Ha! Kidding! No I won’t.
Wow. Wow! Seriously? A hundred-something responses??? *THIS* is what brought all you lurkers out into the daylight? A post about cell phones? I’ve written from the very very bottom of my very very self-absorbed heart in the past about my woes as a parent, my hatred for Wal-Mart, and how stupid, shallow, selfish people make me want to rip their faces off ….. and *THIS* is what got you talking? Cell phone usage and text messaging? Hmmm, maybe my next post should be about microwaves. Or mp3 players. Or hand mixers.
Kidding, of course. I’m thrilled so many of you wrote in with your own experiences! I’m grateful for the ideas and information, and proud that we did it without a single snarky comment, despite differences of opinions. We were respectful, and polite ….. to quote London Tipton … “Yeah, us!”
In all honesty, I think there were a lot of helpful personal experiences shared, and I think the bottom line is what works best for one family might not be the same thing that works best for another. Most of all, I feel much better about my opinion that Brayden, personally, is currently too young for a cell phone. The fact that the vast majority of you (not all, but most) had your kids wait until much later most certainly makes me feel validated.
A few things I’d like to mention, specifically:
I think there are absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt, certain situations where giving (or lending) a cell phone to a child (as young as eleven, and even younger than eleven) is perfectly justified. It’s just that for *US*, most of those situations don’t apply. I drive or walk my kids to and from school, a distance of about fifty yards. I am a stay-at-home-mom and am never unavailable during the day, nor do my kids go to an after-school program, or stay home alone. Ever. They don’t yet do much, if anything, in the way of after or before-school activities. Evening sports practices are accompanied by a parent. They’re not allowed to play anywhere but on our street, they don’t go to the mall or movies or anywhere without an adult, they don’t babysit, they don’t travel with church or school groups that I’m not a chaperone, and they’re not allowed to visit friends’ houses unless the parents are home. So, FOR NOW, I don’t feel it’s a necessity, although I know as they get older our situation(s) will change. At that point, I have no doubt I will feel differently about the need for a cell phone and we’ll get one when we see fit.
It never occurred to me that text bullying might be an issue. I agree that the written word can often be misinterpreted, even when no harm was intended. In my personal e-mails, I have a tendency to really, really, really overuse the smiley emoticon, so people will know I am trying to be pleasant. (Shockingly, sometimes my naturally agreeable and lovely personality doesn’t come across, can you imagine???) It’s certainly something to keep an eye out for.
I understand that for many professionals, especially those who cannot be interrupted during the day (ie, schoolteachers) texting is a better option. When Blaine has a meeting at work, he simply leaves his cell phone on his desk so as to not be interrupted. Even for important, urgent, life-threatening calls like me wanting to know if he’s seen my library book anywhere in the house. Or does spaghetti sound ok for dinner. But for me, for now, texting is not necessary. And although it makes me an old fogey that I don’t want to mess with it …. Well, I don’t. If and when the time comes, I’ll learn it. But not until then.
It never occurred to me that a child could use their cell phone to text a parent, to initiate a phone call back to the child, to get said child out of a sticky situation and then “blame” it on the parents. That’s devious and sneaky …. And genius! I love it! Most certainly a trick we’ll be remembering when the time comes! As an aside, my mother ALWAYS told me growing up that if ever I found myself in a situation that made me uncomfortable, or a group of kids were doing something I knew would get me in trouble, I could always use her as an excuse (“My Mom won’t let me”) --- no matter what. I don’t think I ever had to, but it was good to know I had that to fall back on, you know, when my friends starting doing their underhanded and criminal behavior, like toilet papering the principal’s house. (I know, that’s about as delinquent as I ever got. Well, except for that one time at a wedding reception my senior year, before I fully understood the power of alcohol, but we won’t talk about that.)
I understand and agree that a cell phone can be a fabulous tool for teaching a child responsibility. The responsibility of keeping track of the phone, keeping track of minutes, keeping track of payments, etc. And I’m sure plenty of kids Brayden’s age are capable of doing it. Brayden …. However ….. hmmm. I’m not so confident. At this stage in the game, I just wish she was responsible enough to put all her dirty clothes in her laundry basket, or NOT forget her homework at least once or twice a month, or remember to feed the damn cat she insisted we take in. So I think for her, she has a ways to go in the Personal Responsibility Arena before we move on to cell phones.
Elle, I agree wholly with your comment about technology, which is supposed to make our lives easier, seeming to own us in certain ways. I know when I am forced to go a few days without the ability to check my e-mail, I can physically feel my blood pressure starting to rise. Why? Because I might miss a bazillion e-mails about free shipping from JC Penney, or an update on my Upromise account, or the summer reading list from Border Rewards? Thanks to iphones and fax machines and webmail, it’s practically impossible for people to escape the office … ever … anywhere. I’m not in any rush for my daughter to become addicted to a cell phone, either, and start down the slippery slope that seems to trip up the vast majority of us here in the 21st century. (Are we actually still in the 21st century? When does the 22nd century start? Does anyone know?)
I also loved the comments about how with a cell phone, a teen can tell her parents she is one place, but actually be someplace else. I plan to do the same thing my friend did with his daughter’s cell phone … activate the GPS feature inside the phone without telling her. Then, as long as I call her and she answers, I’ll know exactly where she is. (Heh-heh-heh, evil-parent laugh.)
Oooh, yes, I never thought about them texting late into the night after everyone else is in bed. Most assuredly will need to keep the cell phone in a separate location at night …. Like, um, in between my bosoms, so there’s no chance of her sneaking it back.
Anonymous, I also agree with you that kids are being raised to expect instant gratification and that cell phones, and more specifically, texting, only serve to enhance that. That’s already a problem we have here in our household, what with money burning a hole in everyone’s pockets, and now, now, now, and how much longer, and I want I want I want …. You get the picture. Last night Kendrie wanted to make strawberries dipped in chocolate. She was seriously annoyed to discover we had neither strawberries, nor chocolate, in our house. She was even more annoyed that I wouldn’t drop everything and drive to the store at 8 o’clock at night to buy them for her. I think even bigger than a cell phone, patience and appreciation and DELAYED gratification (picture me waving my arms about very grandiosely) are lessons we should be working on in our family.
I also agree that all the texting is leaving (some) children less capable of carrying on a verbal conversation. I still have to prompt my children to say please, and thank you, and remind them to look an adult in the eye when speaking. I would like them to TALK to their friends, on the phone, or even better, in person, and work on improving their communication skills. And by “improving”, I do NOT mean memorizing the entire text-message shorthand abbreviation language. I mean, wouldn’t it be great if all pre-teens had the ability to carry on a five-minute conversation with an adult? Of course, that would require them taking their cell phone off one ear and taking their ipod headphones out of the other ear and quite possibly, world peace and saving the rain forest and inventing an alternative fuel before gas hits five dollars a gallon would be more do-able.
Really? I can set the phone to review all sent and received text messages? I can DO that??? Sweet! Score!
Anonymous, you made the comment that sometimes you prefer texting because you’re busy and don’t want to have to go through any polite interchanges before making your request to whomever you are texting ….. I get it. I really do. I’ll confess, there have been times in my life when I’ve called someone, needing only to give a brief piece of information, and have been relieved when the voicemail or answering machine picks up. (Did I just admit that out loud???) So I understand what you’re saying. But still, it makes me sad to think saying ‘Hello’ and “How are you?’ to our friends and family is a chore to be avoided when we’re busy. I *get* it, but I don’t like it.
So, bottom line, Brayden won’t be getting a cell phone at eleven. Most likely not twelve, and maybe not even until thirteen or fourteen or later. We’ll wait and see how the wind blows then. People gave some very, very valid reasons for kids to have them, and some helpful pointers for making the process manageable. But mostly, I appreciate everyone sharing their experiences and letting me know I’m not alone in my feelings and opinions.
In the meantime, it sounds like we should form some kind of Meanest Mothers in the World Club or something. I think we have enough women here to form the board of directors, fill all the officer positions, and get a decent sized membership going. We could serve Diet Dr. Pepper from Sonic at the meetings, and bring all kinds of snacks and goodies that we refuse to share with our kids. Then, each gathering could be designated to sharing tips and strategies for making our kids as miserable as possible by denying them all the things in life they truly NEED, like designer clothes and electronics and pink ponies.
I promise not to text you the minutes of our meetings.
Kidding, of course. I’m thrilled so many of you wrote in with your own experiences! I’m grateful for the ideas and information, and proud that we did it without a single snarky comment, despite differences of opinions. We were respectful, and polite ….. to quote London Tipton … “Yeah, us!”
In all honesty, I think there were a lot of helpful personal experiences shared, and I think the bottom line is what works best for one family might not be the same thing that works best for another. Most of all, I feel much better about my opinion that Brayden, personally, is currently too young for a cell phone. The fact that the vast majority of you (not all, but most) had your kids wait until much later most certainly makes me feel validated.
A few things I’d like to mention, specifically:
I think there are absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt, certain situations where giving (or lending) a cell phone to a child (as young as eleven, and even younger than eleven) is perfectly justified. It’s just that for *US*, most of those situations don’t apply. I drive or walk my kids to and from school, a distance of about fifty yards. I am a stay-at-home-mom and am never unavailable during the day, nor do my kids go to an after-school program, or stay home alone. Ever. They don’t yet do much, if anything, in the way of after or before-school activities. Evening sports practices are accompanied by a parent. They’re not allowed to play anywhere but on our street, they don’t go to the mall or movies or anywhere without an adult, they don’t babysit, they don’t travel with church or school groups that I’m not a chaperone, and they’re not allowed to visit friends’ houses unless the parents are home. So, FOR NOW, I don’t feel it’s a necessity, although I know as they get older our situation(s) will change. At that point, I have no doubt I will feel differently about the need for a cell phone and we’ll get one when we see fit.
It never occurred to me that text bullying might be an issue. I agree that the written word can often be misinterpreted, even when no harm was intended. In my personal e-mails, I have a tendency to really, really, really overuse the smiley emoticon, so people will know I am trying to be pleasant. (Shockingly, sometimes my naturally agreeable and lovely personality doesn’t come across, can you imagine???) It’s certainly something to keep an eye out for.
I understand that for many professionals, especially those who cannot be interrupted during the day (ie, schoolteachers) texting is a better option. When Blaine has a meeting at work, he simply leaves his cell phone on his desk so as to not be interrupted. Even for important, urgent, life-threatening calls like me wanting to know if he’s seen my library book anywhere in the house. Or does spaghetti sound ok for dinner. But for me, for now, texting is not necessary. And although it makes me an old fogey that I don’t want to mess with it …. Well, I don’t. If and when the time comes, I’ll learn it. But not until then.
It never occurred to me that a child could use their cell phone to text a parent, to initiate a phone call back to the child, to get said child out of a sticky situation and then “blame” it on the parents. That’s devious and sneaky …. And genius! I love it! Most certainly a trick we’ll be remembering when the time comes! As an aside, my mother ALWAYS told me growing up that if ever I found myself in a situation that made me uncomfortable, or a group of kids were doing something I knew would get me in trouble, I could always use her as an excuse (“My Mom won’t let me”) --- no matter what. I don’t think I ever had to, but it was good to know I had that to fall back on, you know, when my friends starting doing their underhanded and criminal behavior, like toilet papering the principal’s house. (I know, that’s about as delinquent as I ever got. Well, except for that one time at a wedding reception my senior year, before I fully understood the power of alcohol, but we won’t talk about that.)
I understand and agree that a cell phone can be a fabulous tool for teaching a child responsibility. The responsibility of keeping track of the phone, keeping track of minutes, keeping track of payments, etc. And I’m sure plenty of kids Brayden’s age are capable of doing it. Brayden …. However ….. hmmm. I’m not so confident. At this stage in the game, I just wish she was responsible enough to put all her dirty clothes in her laundry basket, or NOT forget her homework at least once or twice a month, or remember to feed the damn cat she insisted we take in. So I think for her, she has a ways to go in the Personal Responsibility Arena before we move on to cell phones.
Elle, I agree wholly with your comment about technology, which is supposed to make our lives easier, seeming to own us in certain ways. I know when I am forced to go a few days without the ability to check my e-mail, I can physically feel my blood pressure starting to rise. Why? Because I might miss a bazillion e-mails about free shipping from JC Penney, or an update on my Upromise account, or the summer reading list from Border Rewards? Thanks to iphones and fax machines and webmail, it’s practically impossible for people to escape the office … ever … anywhere. I’m not in any rush for my daughter to become addicted to a cell phone, either, and start down the slippery slope that seems to trip up the vast majority of us here in the 21st century. (Are we actually still in the 21st century? When does the 22nd century start? Does anyone know?)
I also loved the comments about how with a cell phone, a teen can tell her parents she is one place, but actually be someplace else. I plan to do the same thing my friend did with his daughter’s cell phone … activate the GPS feature inside the phone without telling her. Then, as long as I call her and she answers, I’ll know exactly where she is. (Heh-heh-heh, evil-parent laugh.)
Oooh, yes, I never thought about them texting late into the night after everyone else is in bed. Most assuredly will need to keep the cell phone in a separate location at night …. Like, um, in between my bosoms, so there’s no chance of her sneaking it back.
Anonymous, I also agree with you that kids are being raised to expect instant gratification and that cell phones, and more specifically, texting, only serve to enhance that. That’s already a problem we have here in our household, what with money burning a hole in everyone’s pockets, and now, now, now, and how much longer, and I want I want I want …. You get the picture. Last night Kendrie wanted to make strawberries dipped in chocolate. She was seriously annoyed to discover we had neither strawberries, nor chocolate, in our house. She was even more annoyed that I wouldn’t drop everything and drive to the store at 8 o’clock at night to buy them for her. I think even bigger than a cell phone, patience and appreciation and DELAYED gratification (picture me waving my arms about very grandiosely) are lessons we should be working on in our family.
I also agree that all the texting is leaving (some) children less capable of carrying on a verbal conversation. I still have to prompt my children to say please, and thank you, and remind them to look an adult in the eye when speaking. I would like them to TALK to their friends, on the phone, or even better, in person, and work on improving their communication skills. And by “improving”, I do NOT mean memorizing the entire text-message shorthand abbreviation language. I mean, wouldn’t it be great if all pre-teens had the ability to carry on a five-minute conversation with an adult? Of course, that would require them taking their cell phone off one ear and taking their ipod headphones out of the other ear and quite possibly, world peace and saving the rain forest and inventing an alternative fuel before gas hits five dollars a gallon would be more do-able.
Really? I can set the phone to review all sent and received text messages? I can DO that??? Sweet! Score!
Anonymous, you made the comment that sometimes you prefer texting because you’re busy and don’t want to have to go through any polite interchanges before making your request to whomever you are texting ….. I get it. I really do. I’ll confess, there have been times in my life when I’ve called someone, needing only to give a brief piece of information, and have been relieved when the voicemail or answering machine picks up. (Did I just admit that out loud???) So I understand what you’re saying. But still, it makes me sad to think saying ‘Hello’ and “How are you?’ to our friends and family is a chore to be avoided when we’re busy. I *get* it, but I don’t like it.
So, bottom line, Brayden won’t be getting a cell phone at eleven. Most likely not twelve, and maybe not even until thirteen or fourteen or later. We’ll wait and see how the wind blows then. People gave some very, very valid reasons for kids to have them, and some helpful pointers for making the process manageable. But mostly, I appreciate everyone sharing their experiences and letting me know I’m not alone in my feelings and opinions.
In the meantime, it sounds like we should form some kind of Meanest Mothers in the World Club or something. I think we have enough women here to form the board of directors, fill all the officer positions, and get a decent sized membership going. We could serve Diet Dr. Pepper from Sonic at the meetings, and bring all kinds of snacks and goodies that we refuse to share with our kids. Then, each gathering could be designated to sharing tips and strategies for making our kids as miserable as possible by denying them all the things in life they truly NEED, like designer clothes and electronics and pink ponies.
I promise not to text you the minutes of our meetings.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
CUL8TR! ROFLMAO! SDOISJNFODAVFBIDHNFOE!!!
Updated to add:
Something else I forgot to mention (yet another thing that I hate ... my gosh ... I am quite possibly the world's grumpiest person) is how much the acronyms and short-cut spellings that are used in IM'ing (yep, something else I refuse to do) and texting are ruining the plight of the English language. I've heard of teachers having to mark down papers because kids are using abbreviations instead of real words ... "that's just how they spell these days", which bothers me. So let's make that reason #4 Brayden doesn't need a cell phone ... the girl's spelling is atrocious enough as it is, why add to the confusion by letting her LOL and TTYL???
Someone asked: Oh as a footnote, I just sent my second text message Sunday (took FOREVER), and hubby still refuses to get a phone. Does Blaine have one? Yes, Blaine and I both have cell phones, and neither of us text. Blaine actually has a Blackberry, as is required by his work. Due to security clearances for military e-mails, his phone is given to him by the government because it's the only phone from which he can check his e-mails. It also has internet access which he uses very infrequently. I'll admit it's convenient at home because we only have one computer so he never needs on it (unlike my kids, who currently have obsessions with the Webkinz site and some weird warlord game that Kellen is addicted to**) My phone is a no-frills phone. It doesn't even have (gasp!) a camera! I use it to make calls only ... no texting, no internet. And I've never been anywhere that wasn't enough for me.
**PS I'm kidding about the addiction. Well, maybe not, he does love it an awful lot. But the kids have a 30-minute a day limit on computer time, so I'm not too worried it's going to get out of hand ... yet. :)
OK, so seriously, all kidding aside, I would love to know what you guys think ...
Brayden went to a birthday slumber party a few weeks ago. A girl from her class at school was turning eleven. There were approximately ten other girls from school there, all the same age (fifth going into sixth grade .... official middle school-ers this fall … excuse me while I weep into my hankie because my precious baby is not a baby anymore.)
Brayden came home from the party and informed me that she was the only .... ONLY .... girl there without her own cell phone. The birthday girl was given hers as a gift from her parents at the party. I said, "Do you mean their parent's cell phone that they brought to the party?" and she said no, their OWN, personal, private cell phone. Which they used to talk and text each other all night at the party, despite the fact they were all sitting right there next to each other. And text other people who weren't at the party. And Brayden was the only one who didn't have one. And how her life is in shambles without one. And could she have one, PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE, please please please, or am I going to continue my reign as the meanest mother in the world???
So. Although I could babble on for days (imagine that) about how I feel about this, I think I can sum up my opposition to this idea in three basic reasons:
1. She's ELEVEN, for goodness' sake. Not sixteen, not fourteen. It's not like she works, or drives, or goes on school trips, or away sports games, or over night camp, or is ever anyplace by herself that she might need one for security or safety purposes. She is either at school, or with me, or Blaine, or my mom, or my sister, or with someone we trust, at all times. She doesn't NEEEEEEEED a phone; she wants one. Big difference. Plus, she rarely talks to friends on the regular phone, why on earth does she need a cell phone?
2. We have told her (and Kellen and Kendrie, since they've both asked for their own phone as well) repeatedly that until they can help pay for it, the answer is no. When she replies she has enough in savings to buy the phone, I respond that *when* she gets a phone (because yes, of course I know the day is coming, I’m not a total doofus) she will also be responsible for a portion of the monthly cost. Since my kids have chosen the "we don't care if we get an allowance, we want to be lazy and not do any chores" option for this year's summer break, I know for a fact she can't afford to pay for any part of it. Even when they *are* getting a regular allowance, at this age, it's not enough to help pay any great part of cell phone service each month.
3. And this, I must admit, is the kicker. The real reason I don't want my daughter to have a phone, and why although I know it is an inevitability at some point in her future, I plan to push it off for as long as possible: I absolutely, positively, entirely, totally and completely, cannot STAND the sight of teenagers obsessed with sending and receiving text messages. I think it’s discourteous to do when you are in the company of other people (much like I think it’s also discourteous to talk on your cell phone in the company of other people) and I despise how preoccupied and fixated these kids seem to be with their phones.
Obviously, cost is not the issue as long as you have unlimited texting. My problem lies with how much TIME is spent doing it. At even only ten seconds apiece, sending six thousand texts in one month (which my friend’s daughter did a few months ago) is the equivalent of two hundred texts a day --- almost twenty hours a month of texting …. That’s five hours per week of time that could be spent reading, or on homework, or sports practice, or doing some kind of volunteer or charity work. Do I think every minute of every day should be spent constructively? No, of course not. Kids need down time, and to waste time, and I certainly feel texting falls into that category. But I find it weird, and a little silly, that kids are happy to spend so much time sending messages back and forth to one another. Just pick up the phone and CALL if you have something to say, for goodness sake! In fact, texting for one hour a day probably wouldn't even bother me if they sat down, did it for an hour, then were done. But it's the constant, non-stop, a little bit here and a little bit there insidiousness of it that makes me bonkers. And no, to answer your question, I do not send text messages, nor do I open them on the rare occasion I receive them. In fact, I had the texting option turned off my last phone and will probably do it to this phone as well. I DON’T have unlimited texting, and am charged ten cents apiece each time someone sends me one.
I’ve seen people text while driving (unsafe!) and while eating at restaurants (rude!) Last weekend, I saw them texting during a wedding reception, and this weekend, I saw them texting during the Aly & AJ concert I attended with Brayden. Which prompted her to point to the many, many teens and pre-teens around us, texting, and remind me again about how her life is incomplete and what a hag I am.
One friend told me the great thing about texting is that it’s so “non-invasive” because he can send a text without bothering or interrupting the person to whom he is sending, like he would with a phone call. I disagree. I think texting is terribly invasive --- if you’re sending hundreds, or even dozens of messages a day, how is your own time not invaded? I’ve seen very few people who don’t instantly open a text mail they’ve been sent, and who don’t immediately reply with a text of their own. How is that considered non-invasive??
I’m well aware that I’m probably just a cranky-pants who doesn’t understand “these kids today” … but I don’t. My friends with teens all laugh at me and tell me when my kids are older, and have their own phones, I will be sending and receiving text messages like crazy as well because that’s the only way I’ll be able to keep track of them. I hope not. I hope my kids will pick up the phone and call me if they have a question, or need to talk to me. The thought of being relegated as a parent to a brief SYS is a teensy bit insulting to me.
And there you have it. The reasons I don’t think my eleven –year old needs her own cell phone. At least not yet. It’s unnecessary; I’m cheap; and I see what happens when kids (and some adults!) get one. (Actually, this post turned out to be less about my daughter getting a cell phone, and more about my own personal distaste for text messaging. Hmmm, me, grumpy about something. Imagine that.)
Am I wrong? Crazy? Fighting the unavoidable? Do YOUR kids have cell phones, and if so, why? At what age? With what rules and restrictions? Giving her a phone with no texting, or limited texting??? Tract phones? Limited minutes? Free reign? Do they help pay for it?
I’d really like to know, because I have a feeling when school starts this fall, the begging will begin in earnest, and I need to be prepared to either fight or succumb.
Something else I forgot to mention (yet another thing that I hate ... my gosh ... I am quite possibly the world's grumpiest person) is how much the acronyms and short-cut spellings that are used in IM'ing (yep, something else I refuse to do) and texting are ruining the plight of the English language. I've heard of teachers having to mark down papers because kids are using abbreviations instead of real words ... "that's just how they spell these days", which bothers me. So let's make that reason #4 Brayden doesn't need a cell phone ... the girl's spelling is atrocious enough as it is, why add to the confusion by letting her LOL and TTYL???
Someone asked: Oh as a footnote, I just sent my second text message Sunday (took FOREVER), and hubby still refuses to get a phone. Does Blaine have one? Yes, Blaine and I both have cell phones, and neither of us text. Blaine actually has a Blackberry, as is required by his work. Due to security clearances for military e-mails, his phone is given to him by the government because it's the only phone from which he can check his e-mails. It also has internet access which he uses very infrequently. I'll admit it's convenient at home because we only have one computer so he never needs on it (unlike my kids, who currently have obsessions with the Webkinz site and some weird warlord game that Kellen is addicted to**) My phone is a no-frills phone. It doesn't even have (gasp!) a camera! I use it to make calls only ... no texting, no internet. And I've never been anywhere that wasn't enough for me.
**PS I'm kidding about the addiction. Well, maybe not, he does love it an awful lot. But the kids have a 30-minute a day limit on computer time, so I'm not too worried it's going to get out of hand ... yet. :)
OK, so seriously, all kidding aside, I would love to know what you guys think ...
Brayden went to a birthday slumber party a few weeks ago. A girl from her class at school was turning eleven. There were approximately ten other girls from school there, all the same age (fifth going into sixth grade .... official middle school-ers this fall … excuse me while I weep into my hankie because my precious baby is not a baby anymore.)
Brayden came home from the party and informed me that she was the only .... ONLY .... girl there without her own cell phone. The birthday girl was given hers as a gift from her parents at the party. I said, "Do you mean their parent's cell phone that they brought to the party?" and she said no, their OWN, personal, private cell phone. Which they used to talk and text each other all night at the party, despite the fact they were all sitting right there next to each other. And text other people who weren't at the party. And Brayden was the only one who didn't have one. And how her life is in shambles without one. And could she have one, PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE, please please please, or am I going to continue my reign as the meanest mother in the world???
So. Although I could babble on for days (imagine that) about how I feel about this, I think I can sum up my opposition to this idea in three basic reasons:
1. She's ELEVEN, for goodness' sake. Not sixteen, not fourteen. It's not like she works, or drives, or goes on school trips, or away sports games, or over night camp, or is ever anyplace by herself that she might need one for security or safety purposes. She is either at school, or with me, or Blaine, or my mom, or my sister, or with someone we trust, at all times. She doesn't NEEEEEEEED a phone; she wants one. Big difference. Plus, she rarely talks to friends on the regular phone, why on earth does she need a cell phone?
2. We have told her (and Kellen and Kendrie, since they've both asked for their own phone as well) repeatedly that until they can help pay for it, the answer is no. When she replies she has enough in savings to buy the phone, I respond that *when* she gets a phone (because yes, of course I know the day is coming, I’m not a total doofus) she will also be responsible for a portion of the monthly cost. Since my kids have chosen the "we don't care if we get an allowance, we want to be lazy and not do any chores" option for this year's summer break, I know for a fact she can't afford to pay for any part of it. Even when they *are* getting a regular allowance, at this age, it's not enough to help pay any great part of cell phone service each month.
3. And this, I must admit, is the kicker. The real reason I don't want my daughter to have a phone, and why although I know it is an inevitability at some point in her future, I plan to push it off for as long as possible: I absolutely, positively, entirely, totally and completely, cannot STAND the sight of teenagers obsessed with sending and receiving text messages. I think it’s discourteous to do when you are in the company of other people (much like I think it’s also discourteous to talk on your cell phone in the company of other people) and I despise how preoccupied and fixated these kids seem to be with their phones.
Obviously, cost is not the issue as long as you have unlimited texting. My problem lies with how much TIME is spent doing it. At even only ten seconds apiece, sending six thousand texts in one month (which my friend’s daughter did a few months ago) is the equivalent of two hundred texts a day --- almost twenty hours a month of texting …. That’s five hours per week of time that could be spent reading, or on homework, or sports practice, or doing some kind of volunteer or charity work. Do I think every minute of every day should be spent constructively? No, of course not. Kids need down time, and to waste time, and I certainly feel texting falls into that category. But I find it weird, and a little silly, that kids are happy to spend so much time sending messages back and forth to one another. Just pick up the phone and CALL if you have something to say, for goodness sake! In fact, texting for one hour a day probably wouldn't even bother me if they sat down, did it for an hour, then were done. But it's the constant, non-stop, a little bit here and a little bit there insidiousness of it that makes me bonkers. And no, to answer your question, I do not send text messages, nor do I open them on the rare occasion I receive them. In fact, I had the texting option turned off my last phone and will probably do it to this phone as well. I DON’T have unlimited texting, and am charged ten cents apiece each time someone sends me one.
I’ve seen people text while driving (unsafe!) and while eating at restaurants (rude!) Last weekend, I saw them texting during a wedding reception, and this weekend, I saw them texting during the Aly & AJ concert I attended with Brayden. Which prompted her to point to the many, many teens and pre-teens around us, texting, and remind me again about how her life is incomplete and what a hag I am.
One friend told me the great thing about texting is that it’s so “non-invasive” because he can send a text without bothering or interrupting the person to whom he is sending, like he would with a phone call. I disagree. I think texting is terribly invasive --- if you’re sending hundreds, or even dozens of messages a day, how is your own time not invaded? I’ve seen very few people who don’t instantly open a text mail they’ve been sent, and who don’t immediately reply with a text of their own. How is that considered non-invasive??
I’m well aware that I’m probably just a cranky-pants who doesn’t understand “these kids today” … but I don’t. My friends with teens all laugh at me and tell me when my kids are older, and have their own phones, I will be sending and receiving text messages like crazy as well because that’s the only way I’ll be able to keep track of them. I hope not. I hope my kids will pick up the phone and call me if they have a question, or need to talk to me. The thought of being relegated as a parent to a brief SYS is a teensy bit insulting to me.
And there you have it. The reasons I don’t think my eleven –year old needs her own cell phone. At least not yet. It’s unnecessary; I’m cheap; and I see what happens when kids (and some adults!) get one. (Actually, this post turned out to be less about my daughter getting a cell phone, and more about my own personal distaste for text messaging. Hmmm, me, grumpy about something. Imagine that.)
Am I wrong? Crazy? Fighting the unavoidable? Do YOUR kids have cell phones, and if so, why? At what age? With what rules and restrictions? Giving her a phone with no texting, or limited texting??? Tract phones? Limited minutes? Free reign? Do they help pay for it?
I’d really like to know, because I have a feeling when school starts this fall, the begging will begin in earnest, and I need to be prepared to either fight or succumb.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Almost as Much Fun as Being Boiled Alive
Our oldest daughter Brayden has gone through some sort of growth spurt recently. Actually, she’s been going through one for the past year and a half, and quite frankly, I’m sick of it. I had to buy her all new jeans last winter, and all new shorts this summer, and wouldn’t you know, not one single pair of jeans in her closet fit her now. I wouldn’t mind buying so many pairs if there was a snowball’s chance in Hell of passing them down to Kendrie, but no way **that’s** ever happening, seeing as how Brayden wants her jeans embellished with pink stitching and butterflies and sequins and feathers, for God’s sake, and Kendrie will ONLY wear jeans purchased in the boy’s department. (sigh)
But facing the fact that fall has finally arrived here in Georgia, and it was only 54 degrees when I took the kids to school this morning, and especially as it is certain to be cooler than that when we get to OK in ten days (OMG TEN DAYS I’M SO NOT READY WHY AM I SITTING HERE ON THE COMPUTER I SHOULD BE PACKING I TELL YOU PACKING!) I figured it was time to replenish her winter wardrobe. Not only are her jeans too small, but she’s outgrown all her long sleeve tops as well. And shoes. Oh, geez, don’t even get me started on the shoes.
And thus began the shopping spree otherwise known as “Who Invented This Fresh Hell?!”
We started with jeans, since that seemed to be the most desperate need. Brayden is average sized -- not heavy, not skinny. Just starting to get a little bit of a girlish figure, which she despises because “it makes me look fat!” -- but the biggest problem is she has short legs. The past year or so she’s probably put on ten pounds, but not necessarily grown much taller. So, 12’s are too small in the butt and thighs, 14”s are too long and too big in the waist, 12 plusses were the right length, but so big we could have hidden another kid in there with her. She wants LOW rise, but then complains when she sits on the floor (as she insists on testing in every fitting room) and the back rides so low her crack shows. She wants the big flare leg that is so popular, but because her legs are short, it’s like a stinking wedding train dragging behind her. I estimate she tried on 4,823 pairs of jeans. And every pair had a belt she had to fasten and unfasten. Not one pair fit.
I was exhausted, and we hadn’t even started on the shirts yet.
I love Brayden dearly, but I’ll be the first to tell you she has crap taste in clothes. I could take her to the nicest, most upscale department store in the state, and she will instantly gravitate to the clearance rack with the cheapest, tackiest, most poorly made clothes in the whole store. The shiny-er, and sparkly-er, and shimmery-er, the better. Sequins a plus -- GLITTER a double plus.
Then, because she’s just starting to develop a chest (won’t she be glad I shared *that* with you in years to come?) and she can’t stand her shirts to be skin tight (Thank you, God, at least we did one thing right) she’s topping out the girl sizes … girl plus sizes hang on her like gunny sacks … and junior sizes are flat-out too big. Plus, a lot of the Junior stuff seems to be even tackier and sequiny-er than the smaller sizes. I’m working very hard NOT to raise a Britney Spears Jr. but those clothes designers sure aren’t helping.
Anyway. The really depressing moment of the evening was when we discovered she has officially outgrown the biggest size in Children’s Place, one of my all-time favorite stores. After that disappointment, I caved and let her buy a piece-o-crap High School Musical long sleeve T from JC Penneys that will no doubt fall apart and shrink to doll size the first time we wash it. But at least we didn’t come home empty handed.
Then, the shoes --- my God, the drama of the shoes. I would swear, based on her behavior whilst trying on shoes, that she has some sort of sensory processing disorder. That, or she’s a spoiled rotten brat. One of the two, anyway.
First we disagreed over the general GOAL and PURPOSE of the shoes. I was looking for casual shoes she could wear with blue jeans; something besides tennis shoes. SHE was looking for something that would have been more appropriate for a Kid Rock video. And the problem is, we discovered tonight that she currently wears a size 8, which means not only are we forced to shop for Junior shoes, which we also discovered tonight means slim to none pickings, or we were in the ladies department where everything is too dressy. Plus, if her feet are already that big, she’s probably going to be twenty-seven feet tall, hence the too-long blue jean problem will soon disappear to be replaced with a permanent high-water situation.
We tried on shoes in eight, count ‘em, EIGHT stores tonight. Personally, I prefer the stores that have all their stock right out on the floor, so she and I can help ourselves to the various sizes, considering this is how most of our conversations went:
Kristie: "What do you think of these?" {indicating a black ankle boot with a modest heel}
Brayden: "I don’t like ankle boots. Can I get knee-high boots? Ooh, look! Those have fringe!"
Kristie (snort!): "No, I’m not buying you knee high boots .. these are to wear with blue jeans. What do you think you are, a go-go dancer?"
Brayden: "Well if I can’t have knee highs then I want low ones."
Kristie: "Here, here, try these."
Brayden: "That buckle is ugly."
Kristie: "Oh, for Pete’s sake!"
Brayden (sulking): "Fine, I’ll try them on."
Kristie: "Here’s a 7."
Brayden: (cue whining voice): "They’re too tight! I can’t even fit my foot in them! Ow! Ow!"
Kristie: "Calm down …. Here’s a 7 1/2."
Brayden: (cue dramatic voice) "They’re still too tight …. I don’t like them! They’re hurting my toes!!! Why can’t I try those?" {Indicating some bizarre pair of freaky crocheted pumps with a six inch heel. Or something, I wasn’t even sure.} "You never let me have anything I want, and those won’t hurt my feet!"
This is the point where I got annoyed, made a comment about ungrateful children, then made another comment about trying on boots with thick sports socks, and then snatched a pair of trouser socks off the rack, ripped open the package, and thrust them at Brayden.
Kristie: "Here, your socks are why the shoes are too tight, put this on. OK, is that better? Now … try the 8."
Brayden: "They’re too tight across the toes, but too big around my ankle."
And she proceeds to walk across the shoe department and yes, the shoe comes right off the back of her foot, at which point she makes a big display of almost falling down because of “these stupid shoes! Ugh! They’re all wrong!!!”
I glance at the helper-girl, only to discover she is psychic and can read my mind, as she says aloud, “Nope, no extra wides in that style.”
Damn.
Brayden: "Should I try the 9?"
Kristie: "Why would you try the 9? The 8’s are falling off your feet!"
Brayden: "They’re still too tight on the toes and I don’t even like these. Why can’t I have this pair of brown plaid lace-up Sketchers with the wedge heel? Or these hot pink party sandals? Or look, here’s another pair of knee-high boots!"
Kristie: "Because none of those match ANYHING in your closet!!! And for the last time, no knee-high-boots!"
This was about when I looked at the cashier and asked her to please kill me now. Or wait, let me pay for the trouser socks I opened, and THEN kill me now. The heck with this mother-daughter bonding crap.
My child will be the naked, barefoot one at school. Because I just don’t have the stamina to try again.
********************************************************
PS. I do feel compelled to mention, so that people will know (mainly the one or two people who have the need to e-mail me on a regular basis and let me know what a fucking whining complainer I am) that I *AM* kidding. The above journal entry is a JOKE. I mean, it all happened, exactly like I said, right down to the drama in the fitting room with the whole butt-crack thing, but the “kill me now” and “I’d rather be boiled alive” is clearly an exaggeration. Well, maybe not CLEARLY, if you’re not familiar with my sense of humor. But it’s supposed to be funny. I have no misconceptions that there are other moms out there who would give anything for a shopping date with their daughters. Even if their daughters are hard to please and impossible to find clothes for and the simple sight of a shoe store gives the moms hives. I KNOW that I’m lucky.
But facing the fact that fall has finally arrived here in Georgia, and it was only 54 degrees when I took the kids to school this morning, and especially as it is certain to be cooler than that when we get to OK in ten days (OMG TEN DAYS I’M SO NOT READY WHY AM I SITTING HERE ON THE COMPUTER I SHOULD BE PACKING I TELL YOU PACKING!) I figured it was time to replenish her winter wardrobe. Not only are her jeans too small, but she’s outgrown all her long sleeve tops as well. And shoes. Oh, geez, don’t even get me started on the shoes.
And thus began the shopping spree otherwise known as “Who Invented This Fresh Hell?!”
We started with jeans, since that seemed to be the most desperate need. Brayden is average sized -- not heavy, not skinny. Just starting to get a little bit of a girlish figure, which she despises because “it makes me look fat!” -- but the biggest problem is she has short legs. The past year or so she’s probably put on ten pounds, but not necessarily grown much taller. So, 12’s are too small in the butt and thighs, 14”s are too long and too big in the waist, 12 plusses were the right length, but so big we could have hidden another kid in there with her. She wants LOW rise, but then complains when she sits on the floor (as she insists on testing in every fitting room) and the back rides so low her crack shows. She wants the big flare leg that is so popular, but because her legs are short, it’s like a stinking wedding train dragging behind her. I estimate she tried on 4,823 pairs of jeans. And every pair had a belt she had to fasten and unfasten. Not one pair fit.
I was exhausted, and we hadn’t even started on the shirts yet.
I love Brayden dearly, but I’ll be the first to tell you she has crap taste in clothes. I could take her to the nicest, most upscale department store in the state, and she will instantly gravitate to the clearance rack with the cheapest, tackiest, most poorly made clothes in the whole store. The shiny-er, and sparkly-er, and shimmery-er, the better. Sequins a plus -- GLITTER a double plus.
Then, because she’s just starting to develop a chest (won’t she be glad I shared *that* with you in years to come?) and she can’t stand her shirts to be skin tight (Thank you, God, at least we did one thing right) she’s topping out the girl sizes … girl plus sizes hang on her like gunny sacks … and junior sizes are flat-out too big. Plus, a lot of the Junior stuff seems to be even tackier and sequiny-er than the smaller sizes. I’m working very hard NOT to raise a Britney Spears Jr. but those clothes designers sure aren’t helping.
Anyway. The really depressing moment of the evening was when we discovered she has officially outgrown the biggest size in Children’s Place, one of my all-time favorite stores. After that disappointment, I caved and let her buy a piece-o-crap High School Musical long sleeve T from JC Penneys that will no doubt fall apart and shrink to doll size the first time we wash it. But at least we didn’t come home empty handed.
Then, the shoes --- my God, the drama of the shoes. I would swear, based on her behavior whilst trying on shoes, that she has some sort of sensory processing disorder. That, or she’s a spoiled rotten brat. One of the two, anyway.
First we disagreed over the general GOAL and PURPOSE of the shoes. I was looking for casual shoes she could wear with blue jeans; something besides tennis shoes. SHE was looking for something that would have been more appropriate for a Kid Rock video. And the problem is, we discovered tonight that she currently wears a size 8, which means not only are we forced to shop for Junior shoes, which we also discovered tonight means slim to none pickings, or we were in the ladies department where everything is too dressy. Plus, if her feet are already that big, she’s probably going to be twenty-seven feet tall, hence the too-long blue jean problem will soon disappear to be replaced with a permanent high-water situation.
We tried on shoes in eight, count ‘em, EIGHT stores tonight. Personally, I prefer the stores that have all their stock right out on the floor, so she and I can help ourselves to the various sizes, considering this is how most of our conversations went:
Kristie: "What do you think of these?" {indicating a black ankle boot with a modest heel}
Brayden: "I don’t like ankle boots. Can I get knee-high boots? Ooh, look! Those have fringe!"
Kristie (snort!): "No, I’m not buying you knee high boots .. these are to wear with blue jeans. What do you think you are, a go-go dancer?"
Brayden: "Well if I can’t have knee highs then I want low ones."
Kristie: "Here, here, try these."
Brayden: "That buckle is ugly."
Kristie: "Oh, for Pete’s sake!"
Brayden (sulking): "Fine, I’ll try them on."
Kristie: "Here’s a 7."
Brayden: (cue whining voice): "They’re too tight! I can’t even fit my foot in them! Ow! Ow!"
Kristie: "Calm down …. Here’s a 7 1/2."
Brayden: (cue dramatic voice) "They’re still too tight …. I don’t like them! They’re hurting my toes!!! Why can’t I try those?" {Indicating some bizarre pair of freaky crocheted pumps with a six inch heel. Or something, I wasn’t even sure.} "You never let me have anything I want, and those won’t hurt my feet!"
This is the point where I got annoyed, made a comment about ungrateful children, then made another comment about trying on boots with thick sports socks, and then snatched a pair of trouser socks off the rack, ripped open the package, and thrust them at Brayden.
Kristie: "Here, your socks are why the shoes are too tight, put this on. OK, is that better? Now … try the 8."
Brayden: "They’re too tight across the toes, but too big around my ankle."
And she proceeds to walk across the shoe department and yes, the shoe comes right off the back of her foot, at which point she makes a big display of almost falling down because of “these stupid shoes! Ugh! They’re all wrong!!!”
I glance at the helper-girl, only to discover she is psychic and can read my mind, as she says aloud, “Nope, no extra wides in that style.”
Damn.
Brayden: "Should I try the 9?"
Kristie: "Why would you try the 9? The 8’s are falling off your feet!"
Brayden: "They’re still too tight on the toes and I don’t even like these. Why can’t I have this pair of brown plaid lace-up Sketchers with the wedge heel? Or these hot pink party sandals? Or look, here’s another pair of knee-high boots!"
Kristie: "Because none of those match ANYHING in your closet!!! And for the last time, no knee-high-boots!"
This was about when I looked at the cashier and asked her to please kill me now. Or wait, let me pay for the trouser socks I opened, and THEN kill me now. The heck with this mother-daughter bonding crap.
My child will be the naked, barefoot one at school. Because I just don’t have the stamina to try again.
********************************************************
PS. I do feel compelled to mention, so that people will know (mainly the one or two people who have the need to e-mail me on a regular basis and let me know what a fucking whining complainer I am) that I *AM* kidding. The above journal entry is a JOKE. I mean, it all happened, exactly like I said, right down to the drama in the fitting room with the whole butt-crack thing, but the “kill me now” and “I’d rather be boiled alive” is clearly an exaggeration. Well, maybe not CLEARLY, if you’re not familiar with my sense of humor. But it’s supposed to be funny. I have no misconceptions that there are other moms out there who would give anything for a shopping date with their daughters. Even if their daughters are hard to please and impossible to find clothes for and the simple sight of a shoe store gives the moms hives. I KNOW that I’m lucky.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
A ROSE FOR BRAYDEN
Thanks to all of you who took a moment to visit Cam's site, and especially to those of you who left a hopeful, helpful message in his guestbook. I’ve had people tell me they don’t feel comfortable signing a guestbook for someone they don’t know, and I’ve felt the same way at times. But, reading the notes is such an encouraging thing and I’m sure his family appreciates it, so please continue to stop by if you have a minute. As for us, we'll keep him at the top of our prayer lists.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming ……. Life with the Escoe’s.
I had lunch with the kids yesterday at school, and thought that might be a good time to do a little sleuthing on Brayden’s Mystery Rose Giver. Both of the boys sitting on the bench that morning looked familiar to me, but the “my cousin likes you” comment threw me a bit. I thought the chaos of the cafeteria at lunchtime might be the perfect cover for me to scope the boy out without seeming too obvious. This is pretty much what happened:
Me: Brayden, show me the boy who gave you the rose the other day.
Brayden (pointing to a boy in her class): There, that boy Chris. He gave me the rose.
Me: So Chris likes you?
Brayden: No, his cousin likes me. I guess.
Me: Well, which one’s his cousin?
Reagan (Brayden’s little friend who was sitting next to us, pointing to another boy in their class): That boy Adrian next to him, that’s his cousin.
Me: So the rose was from Adrian? Adrian and Chris are cousins and they’re both in your class?
Brayden: Yes, they’re cousins and they’re both in my class. But no, the rose wasn’t from Adrian, it was from Adrian’s brother, DJ. He’s Chris’s cousin, too.
Me: Oh, OK. I get the family relations, but where’s DJ? Which one is he? Point him out.
Brayden: He doesn’t go to our school.
Me: What do you mean he doesn’t go to your school? Then how the heck does he know you?
Brayden: He used to go to our school. But he was so bad they sent him to another school.
Reagan: Yeah, he was bad. Really bad.
So, great. Brayden is apparently conducting a long-distance relationship with a juvenile delinquent. You know those women you hear about who are pen-pals with men in prison? And then marry them while they’re still in prison and only get to visit for two hours every other Sunday afternoon, and you think, who DOES that? Well, it looks like Brayden might be one of them in twenty years or so.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming ……. Life with the Escoe’s.
I had lunch with the kids yesterday at school, and thought that might be a good time to do a little sleuthing on Brayden’s Mystery Rose Giver. Both of the boys sitting on the bench that morning looked familiar to me, but the “my cousin likes you” comment threw me a bit. I thought the chaos of the cafeteria at lunchtime might be the perfect cover for me to scope the boy out without seeming too obvious. This is pretty much what happened:
Me: Brayden, show me the boy who gave you the rose the other day.
Brayden (pointing to a boy in her class): There, that boy Chris. He gave me the rose.
Me: So Chris likes you?
Brayden: No, his cousin likes me. I guess.
Me: Well, which one’s his cousin?
Reagan (Brayden’s little friend who was sitting next to us, pointing to another boy in their class): That boy Adrian next to him, that’s his cousin.
Me: So the rose was from Adrian? Adrian and Chris are cousins and they’re both in your class?
Brayden: Yes, they’re cousins and they’re both in my class. But no, the rose wasn’t from Adrian, it was from Adrian’s brother, DJ. He’s Chris’s cousin, too.
Me: Oh, OK. I get the family relations, but where’s DJ? Which one is he? Point him out.
Brayden: He doesn’t go to our school.
Me: What do you mean he doesn’t go to your school? Then how the heck does he know you?
Brayden: He used to go to our school. But he was so bad they sent him to another school.
Reagan: Yeah, he was bad. Really bad.
So, great. Brayden is apparently conducting a long-distance relationship with a juvenile delinquent. You know those women you hear about who are pen-pals with men in prison? And then marry them while they’re still in prison and only get to visit for two hours every other Sunday afternoon, and you think, who DOES that? Well, it looks like Brayden might be one of them in twenty years or so.
Monday, July 17, 2006
WELL, *THAT* CAME AROUND TO BITE ME ON THE BUTT
Kendrie -- Day 214 OT
Blaine -- 9 weeks until we find out if the radiation worked
When Kendrie commenced the long-term maintenance portion of her chemo protocol, she began taking a nightly chemo drug that couldn’t interact with food, and especially couldn’t interact with dairy products. This posed a problem for us, as all three of my kids were accustomed to drinking a glass of milk right before bed, and had done so for years. Blaine and I were actually relieved for a concrete reason to break the nightly milk routine ---- most nights they didn’t drink it all before falling asleep (WASTEFUL), I was sick and tired of finding congealed, putrid, rancid sippy cups underneath the beds (DISGUSTING), and mainly, I just didn’t want to make the milks every night anymore (LAZY).
So we proclaimed that if Kendrie couldn’t have milk before bed, neither could the other two. The moaning and wailing and begging that ensued was bothersome for a while, but eventually everyone got used to the new rule, and I haven’t had to throw out a nasty, revolting, spoiled sippy cup for the past two years. (Nasty, spoiled Tupperware, housing biology experiments in the back of my fridge, is another story, but no cups.) Blaine and I patted ourselves on the back at our clever thinking and resourcefulness. Outsmarted those kids once again, yes we did, and right proud of it.
Fast forward to today: Brayden began Phase I of her Orthodontic Regimen (Did you just hear that pathetic groan? That was Blaine’s wallet!) and had spacers placed between her teeth, in preparation for next week’s visit, which will be the start of twenty-two months of extenders, and bands, and tightening keys, and Lord only knows what other kinds of modern-day oral torture the poor girl will have to endure. And that's before she even GETS the braces!!
As we were leaving the office, the dental technician gave us a hand out about the spacers and how to take care of them, and gave us one last minute piece of advice: No gum, or sticky, chewy candy of any kind, otherwise the spacers will pop right out and she’ll have to get them re-done. “For how long?” I asked, thinking of the bag of piñata candy Brayden got at a birthday party yesterday (more on that to come later) and how I would have to confiscate it as soon as we got home. “Oh, the entire two years” replied the technician, with a sympathetic smile. “Her candy and gum chewing days are over for quite some time.”
We got out to the car, and Brayden turned to me and said, “Well, if I can’t eat candy or gum, neither can Kellen or Kendrie, or that’s not fair.” I sort of snorted, and said, “You expect them to give up candy for two years just because *YOU* are getting braces?” and she came back with, “We all had to give up milk at bedtime when Kendrie was on chemo and *SHE* couldn’t have it!”
{crickets chirping}
Damn. I hate when they’re right. Outsmarted by those kids once again.
Blaine -- 9 weeks until we find out if the radiation worked
When Kendrie commenced the long-term maintenance portion of her chemo protocol, she began taking a nightly chemo drug that couldn’t interact with food, and especially couldn’t interact with dairy products. This posed a problem for us, as all three of my kids were accustomed to drinking a glass of milk right before bed, and had done so for years. Blaine and I were actually relieved for a concrete reason to break the nightly milk routine ---- most nights they didn’t drink it all before falling asleep (WASTEFUL), I was sick and tired of finding congealed, putrid, rancid sippy cups underneath the beds (DISGUSTING), and mainly, I just didn’t want to make the milks every night anymore (LAZY).
So we proclaimed that if Kendrie couldn’t have milk before bed, neither could the other two. The moaning and wailing and begging that ensued was bothersome for a while, but eventually everyone got used to the new rule, and I haven’t had to throw out a nasty, revolting, spoiled sippy cup for the past two years. (Nasty, spoiled Tupperware, housing biology experiments in the back of my fridge, is another story, but no cups.) Blaine and I patted ourselves on the back at our clever thinking and resourcefulness. Outsmarted those kids once again, yes we did, and right proud of it.
Fast forward to today: Brayden began Phase I of her Orthodontic Regimen (Did you just hear that pathetic groan? That was Blaine’s wallet!) and had spacers placed between her teeth, in preparation for next week’s visit, which will be the start of twenty-two months of extenders, and bands, and tightening keys, and Lord only knows what other kinds of modern-day oral torture the poor girl will have to endure. And that's before she even GETS the braces!!
As we were leaving the office, the dental technician gave us a hand out about the spacers and how to take care of them, and gave us one last minute piece of advice: No gum, or sticky, chewy candy of any kind, otherwise the spacers will pop right out and she’ll have to get them re-done. “For how long?” I asked, thinking of the bag of piñata candy Brayden got at a birthday party yesterday (more on that to come later) and how I would have to confiscate it as soon as we got home. “Oh, the entire two years” replied the technician, with a sympathetic smile. “Her candy and gum chewing days are over for quite some time.”
We got out to the car, and Brayden turned to me and said, “Well, if I can’t eat candy or gum, neither can Kellen or Kendrie, or that’s not fair.” I sort of snorted, and said, “You expect them to give up candy for two years just because *YOU* are getting braces?” and she came back with, “We all had to give up milk at bedtime when Kendrie was on chemo and *SHE* couldn’t have it!”
{crickets chirping}
Damn. I hate when they’re right. Outsmarted by those kids once again.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
8 Years Old
I watched my 8-yr old daughter coloring pictures earlier this week, and she had drawn and colored a very elaborate sketch of herself and her two best friends from 2nd grade, holding hands and wearing very fashionable clothes with very fashionable hair, one blonde, one brown, and one black, almost like a Jr. Miss version of Charlie’s Angels, and I was reminded that my daughter is very creative.
I watched my 8-yr old daughter singing songs from her Cheetah Girls CD in the van today, tossing her hair about as she announced to the world that “I don’t wanna be no Cinderella” and I realized my daughter is indeed creative.
I saw a picture my 8-yr old daughter had drawn and colored of some incredibly creepy villain from the Star Wars movies she is now obsessed with, thanks to her idiotic father renting them from Blockbuster and letting all three kids watch them when I was gone for the day (but that’s another journal entry for another day) and although the picture of the villain gave *me* the heebie-jeebies, it was actually quite good, and colorful, and detailed, what with the spikes coming out of his face and all, and I realized my daughter is truly, honestly, creative.
I listened as my 8-yr old daughter regaled her younger sister with a re-telling of the time last year she got to ride a horse at a friend’s birthday party:
Brayden: “And remember, Mom, how I got to take my turn riding that horse and he was really big?”
And I said yes.
Brayden: “And remember how half-way through the party the wind started blowing really, REALLY hard?”
And I said yes.
Brayden: “And remember how the napkins started blowing off the table and flying around?”
And I said yes.
Brayden: “And remember how one of the napkins flew right in front of the horses’ face, and scared the horse, and it went up way high on its back two legs, and I had to hang on for dear life????”
Me: “Ummm, no. That didn’t happen.”
Brayden: “Oh yes it did! I was holding on to his mane with my bare hands and trying not to fall off!”
Me: “Ummm, no. That didn’t happen.”
Brayden: “Did too. You just didn’t see it.”
And I realized my daughter is not so much creative, as she must be a pathological liar. Or maybe it just goes with the territory of being 8 years old?
Kristie
I watched my 8-yr old daughter singing songs from her Cheetah Girls CD in the van today, tossing her hair about as she announced to the world that “I don’t wanna be no Cinderella” and I realized my daughter is indeed creative.
I saw a picture my 8-yr old daughter had drawn and colored of some incredibly creepy villain from the Star Wars movies she is now obsessed with, thanks to her idiotic father renting them from Blockbuster and letting all three kids watch them when I was gone for the day (but that’s another journal entry for another day) and although the picture of the villain gave *me* the heebie-jeebies, it was actually quite good, and colorful, and detailed, what with the spikes coming out of his face and all, and I realized my daughter is truly, honestly, creative.
I listened as my 8-yr old daughter regaled her younger sister with a re-telling of the time last year she got to ride a horse at a friend’s birthday party:
Brayden: “And remember, Mom, how I got to take my turn riding that horse and he was really big?”
And I said yes.
Brayden: “And remember how half-way through the party the wind started blowing really, REALLY hard?”
And I said yes.
Brayden: “And remember how the napkins started blowing off the table and flying around?”
And I said yes.
Brayden: “And remember how one of the napkins flew right in front of the horses’ face, and scared the horse, and it went up way high on its back two legs, and I had to hang on for dear life????”
Me: “Ummm, no. That didn’t happen.”
Brayden: “Oh yes it did! I was holding on to his mane with my bare hands and trying not to fall off!”
Me: “Ummm, no. That didn’t happen.”
Brayden: “Did too. You just didn’t see it.”
And I realized my daughter is not so much creative, as she must be a pathological liar. Or maybe it just goes with the territory of being 8 years old?
Kristie
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