Don't Judge Me By Who I Follow

I joined Twitter a few weeks back for one reason and one reason only - my teenager has an account and spends WAY too much time on it.  I decided that the responsible thing to do would be to get my own account and follow her.

I really don't like Twitter that much.  There's little to no interaction.  No privacy settings.  Just random tweets that often have more hashtags and mentions than real content, which make them really irritating to read, in my humble opinion.

At any rate, if you go to my account and see who I follow, you will see an inordinate number of people usually relegated to teens and preteens.  Cody Simpson, Alli Simpson, One Direction, each individual member of 1D, Justin Bieber, Justin Bieber's manager (or something)...  The list goes on.  "Why?" you may ask.  The answer is really quite simple.  I don't sign out of my account, and when Charisma goes on my computer, she gets her kicks out of following people who interest her.  I'd say she is responsible for clicking on a good third of the people I follow.

Now, I know what you're thinking - why not just unfollow them?  It's a simple click, and then I wouldn't have to read all of Justin Bieber's tweets, and I wouldn't know that Harry Styles ate a sandwich until Charisma told me.  It's not like they would notice that their numbers went down by one. I wouldn't be hurting anyone's feelings.

You see, it's like this.  Now I can see what interests my teen, which really was the reason I signed up in the first place.  I can find out for myself what the public life of the people she admires is like.  And when she asks, "So you know what the boys did today?" I can tell her.  And I sometimes know before she finds out, which kind of ticks her off and makes me smile just a little.

And yes, sometimes I respond to these tweets that I read.  I mean, once in awhile, they're actually quite interesting.

So don't judge me by who I follow.  I'm not trying to be young again.  I'm not fangirling.  I'm just trying to be a part of my daughter's life.  And that, my friends, is worth it.

Not Single Parenting

Darryl's not home.  He left early this morning and won't return until Wednesday evening.  Work trip.  Lots of wives out there know what those are like - the men travel, they stay at home and do the house things.  (Not saying it doesn't go the other way, too.  This is just more common.)  One of my biggest pet peeves is when I hear these women (or men) comment that they are "single parenting this week."  No, no you're not.

Yes, life here is harder when Darryl is gone.  Suddenly I'm responsible for supper clean-up, baby baths, and all the other things he does when he's home.  I am very blessed to have an incredibly helpful husband, and I miss that when he's gone.  I also don't have his arms wrapped around me, don't get to kiss him goodnight, can't just talk the way we do when he's home.  I miss all these things, and more.

But it doesn't come close to single parenting.

I don't have to suddenly come up with the money to pay the bills and put food on the table.  Heck, I still HAVE a mortgage.  I'm not paying someone else's because I don't qualify for one.  I can still text him during the day, talk to him on the phone, Skype him before bed.  I know that even though he's not here, he's still supporting me.  And I know that this time of being alone with the house and the kids will come to an end in a few days.

I won't always be the one putting all the kids to bed.

I won't always have to do all the housework, or at least whatever I can get done.

I won't always have to be the only one in charge of discipline.

I won't always go to bed alone.

It's just a few days.

So, ladies (and men), next time your spouse is out of town and you're tempted to tell everyone how you have to "single parent," please don't insult the true single parents out there by trying to equate the next few days (or even weeks) to what they do every day.  Because it may be tougher, but it doesn't even come close.

Welcome to the World, Tessera

Tessera, you are now a week old.  Almost exactly.  I meant to write this much sooner, but somehow life is very busy with a newborn.

Moments after birth

You came into this world with pretty good timing.  I was able to finish my teaching term without finding a sub for the last day(s), but you didn't make us wait too much longer.

Waiting.  Nine months of waiting.  Then realizing that today will be the day we meet you.  And waiting.  There was a houseful here, waiting for your arrival.  All your siblings - Charisma, Hailey, Caleb, Daniele, and Justin.  All four grandparents.  Auntie Elli and Auntie Rina.  Then knowing the time was imminent.  Two midwives and a midwifery student.  Yes, a houseful.

And then you arrived.  Waiting for you to cry.  Realizing we hadn't thought to check if you were a boy or a girl.  Getting to be the first person to call you by name.  "Hi, Tessera." 

Tessera: "a small piece (as of marble, glass, or tile) used in mosaic work."  Your dad and I first heard the word at ICTN training camp last year.  Your dad thought it would make a beautiful name, and the symbolism was appropriate.  

We chose your name shortly after confirming that I was pregnant.  Tessera Beverley Damaris.  Tessera, the name bestowed upon you by your father.  Beverley after Grandma Nanka.  Damaris was my contribution.  When I was young I read a book called A Woman Named Damaris by Janette Oke.  It was about a girl who, among other things, is searching for the meaning behind her name.  All she knows is that her name comes from the Bible (which she has never read), and that for some reason it is special.  She is given a Bible and reads to find her name.  The story and the name always stuck with me, and I always wanted the chance to include Damaris in my daughter's name.  I waited for the opportunity, and thought that it would never come.  But it did.

Tessera Beverley Damaris, you have arrived in this world.  You are a beautiful piece in the mosaic of our family, of the world.  But the waiting has not ended.  We now wait to see who you will become.  What will you like?  Who will you be?  Will we be the guides that you need in life?  Will you be treated as the jewel you are?  "You is smart.  You is kind.  You is important."

The waiting never ends.  You will learn this.  So learn patience too, my darling.  Live your life well.  We will make many mistakes as we raise you, but know this.  You are loved.  By many.  If you only know one thing, know that.  We love you.

Welcome to the world, Tessera.

Musings of a Pregnant Woman

Well, it's been awhile.  I often think of things I could write about here, but rarely take the time to actually do it.  Translated: by the time I get to the computer, my brain is so done with thinking throughout the day that all I can muster is reading Facebook and the odd blog or new story.  Writing more than 140 characters feel like an insurmountable challenge.

Of course, a progressing pregnancy has added to the challenge.  A pregnancy that is getting close to the done, of which my body has started reminding me through Braxton Hicks.  Yup.  The end is near.

It has been a good pregnancy.  I have felt good.  I have actually enjoyed it.  There are certain changes that come along with the territory that I have quite appreciated.  Healthier and (slightly) thicker hair.  Clear skin.  (I still deal with acne, and the break from it is fantastic).  Stronger nails.  "Girls" that don't show their age and use like they do when I'm not pregnant.  Even the belly has been fun.  Hey, this is the only time in life when an expanding waist is a great thing!

Of course, there are the cons - training is harder (heck, doing everything is harder), the first trimester nausea, the last trimester digestive frustrations.  I must say that they have been minimal though.

I love that I've been able to stay active.  I was pregnant for the majority of triathlon season and raced all the way through.  I have run three half marathons - at three, four and eight months pregnant.  I may be slow, but I'm still enjoying every run.  At 37 weeks.

It's been good.  Since this is very likely my last pregnancy (I have said that twice before, so who knows), I am trying to cherish every moment.  Part of me doesn't want it to end.  Part of me can't wait.  It will be another change in life.  Another bit of craziness to add to our already insane household.  But it will be good.

No.  It will be great.

Not a Ruined Life

I saw this on a a picture today on Facebook: "I have puppies instead of children.  I'd rather ruin my carpet than my life."

I love animals.  I think dogs are amazing animals.  They provide companionship and love for many people.  I don't currently want one of my own, however, because I don't want the responsibility.  (This may seem odd coming from someone with a good-sized "litter" of children, but it's true.)

The second part of the quote made me sad.  I have four children of my own plus a step-daughter, and my life is far from ruined.  In fact, it has been enriched beyond my wildest dreams.  Although some of my own dreams have been postponed and maybe even cancelled because of my kids, the trade-off has been in my favour.  Even when I thought everything I had worked so hard for was going to all but go up in smoke because I got pregnant in university, it worked out to my advantage.  I was able to take courses I wouldn't have been able to fit in otherwise, giving me a French course that greatly improved my language skills (though they still have a long way to go), as well as an additional degree in Kinesiology that has opened up another world of possibilities.  I'm sure there are many blessings that I don't even know about, and I haven't even included the obvious one - my beautiful son who brings me joy every day.

I realize that having kids is not for everyone, just as having puppies is not for everyone, but know this: my life is different, not ruined.  It is a life of struggle as I try to raise kids to make the right choices, to make their mistakes and learn from them, to become a person they are proud to be.  I give up things so that my kids have more opportunities.  I hope and pray that they will learn to appreciate each other rather than criticize each other.  I hurt when they hurt.  I also rejoice when they succeed.  I experience great joy when they sacrifice something for another person.  I smile when they triumph over something that has been a hardship for them.  And I cherish every hug, every kiss, every "I love you" that leaves their lips.

Definitely not a ruined life.

A Teenager in the House

My daughter just turned 13.  You know what she was looking forward to the most?  Getting Facebook.  Not being a teenager.  Not taking that one step closer to adulthood.  Facebook.

So she got her Facebook account.  Of course, I made her add me as a friend.  Actually, to be more correct, I added myself as her friend.  I was helping her set up her account, and there I was, so I clicked "Add Friend."  I don't stalk her, watching her every move, but I do check in from time to time to see what is up on her page.

What I have noticed is that my little girl is growing up.  Now, obviously I have know this for a long time. The girl is my height, has bigger feet than I do, no longer has a stick figure and has been borrowing my clothes for over a year now.  We go hang out together, and have real discussions.  But there's something different about watching the interactions between her and her friends.  Seeing a discussion about whether or not a boy called her sexy. (I'm going out to buy a gun tomorrow, by the way.)  Realizing that she is slowly but surely (and yet far too quickly) moving into womanhood.

It'll be an interesting few years, I'm sure.  Fun, exciting, frustrating, scary.  And on the other side, I'll realize how few the years actually were.

You know what else is scary?  Now that she has Facebook, she'll likely find my blog.  Not sure how I feel about that...

Happy birthday, Charisma.  Love you.

Life with J, My Innovative One

I was enjoying my morning shower when I heard a knock on the door.

"Yes?"  I heard some mumbling, making it clear that it was my 3-almost-4-yr old on the other side.  "I'm sorry, sweetie.  I can't hear you."  Some more mumbling, then silence.  Deciding that there was no crisis, I continued enjoying my shower.

A few minutes later there was another knock.

"Yes, honey?"  I turned the shower off so I could hear better.

"I did it all by myself."

"What did you do all by yourself?"

"I put chocolate milk in my cup."

"You did?"

"Yes."

At this point, all sorts of images popped up in my mind, but I decided that any catastrophe that was going to take place had already happened, so there was no point in panicking.

When I got out, I thought I would survey the damage.  To my surprise, not a drop had been spilled, and the milk had even been put away.

All the mess that there was - just the chair that he used to get his cup from the cupboard.  :)

I have learned that I have a very independent and innovative son.  Here are some of his recent adventures:

At camp when I didn't get him food when he was hungry.  I think he went for chocolate chip cookies, but couldn't get them.  Seems he decided that a box of Cheerios was a close second.  By the way, when I asked him if he was sleeping, he said, "No, I'm dead."

What I found in the kitchen this morning.  Note the peanut butter lid on the counter, but the lack of the jar.  I went on a search to find this...

It seems that peanut butter tastes great right out of the jar.  I took it away and made him a sandwich instead.

He can also load and play Lego Star Wars on the PS3 all by himself, including choosing levels and characters.  I imagine if we taught him his password for Webkins, he would be able to get on there on his own as well.  He has been known to escape the yard to go across the street to play at the park.  Stools and chairs are tools to reach what others don't feel like getting for him (or in some cases, don't think he should have).

Yes, life is an adventure with him, but I can't think of any reason to have it any other way.  After all, it's this kind of thinking that will take him places.  Look out world...

Consequence-Free Violence?

Last week I watched Slumdog Millionaire for the first time.  I had known of its rating before watching it, but I was still somehow a little surprised when I saw the "R" after the movie was over.  I thought back over the storyline and concluded that it must have been given that rating because of the violence and perhaps the little bit of sexual content as well.  Then I wondered, "Why did the rating surprise me?"  I quickly realized that I was comparing it to other movies, mostly geared towards tween- and teenagers, that in many ways are equally violent.

What made the violence in Slumdog Millionaire different than the impaling of the Green Goblin in Spiderman, or the many battles in Harry Potter?  I don't know that it was any more graphic; however, it was more real.  You don't watch the images of the Bombay Riots and think, "Oh, that could never happen."  Maman disfiguring children so they are worth more to him as beggars (blind singers get more money) turns your stomach and makes you question how humanity can be so cruel.

On the other hand, many PG and PG-13 type movies are rated such for "comic book style violence."  We're not talking about Spidey throwing a punch with a "POW!" in a balloon over the image, though.  It has become full-on violence.  And it is almost celebrated.  Violence solves problems because the good guy always wins.

There's a line in The Incredibles that comes to mind here.  Helen has gone to the island to save her husband, and the kids have stowed away in the jet.  After the plane is shot down and they have made it to shore, she hides Dash and Violet in a cave, telling them to stay out of sight and not be afraid to use their powers.  "You know the bad guys in the movies?  Well, these guys are not like those bad guys.  They do not care that you are children.  They will kill you."  Of course, the kids don't get hurt, and once again, the good guys win.  When Syndrome is sucked into the jet engine because of his cape, it doesn't bring up much emotion.  In fact, none of the violence really does.  But the line is true of the real life bad guys - they really don't care about the children.  They will use them, maim them or kill them - whatever suits their purpose.

Compare to Slumdog Millionaire when Salim kills Maman at point blank.  Rather than an emotionless scene, I remember thinking, "What choice did he really have?"  There was no other way to be free of Maman, though he swore he would leave them be if he spared him.  Was there any way they could trust him?  Not likely.  The police were almost as corrupt as Maman, so going that route wasn't an option.  It still didn't leave a satisfied feeling - more of an empty, hopeless one.

They say exposure to violence can make kids more violent.  I'm sure there is truth to that; however, perhaps it is the almost consequence-free violence that is more at fault.  The stuff that doesn't really happen except for in the movies.  I'll be honest - I let my kids watch those movies.  I am selective, though, as to which ones.  There are many that my 10 and 12 year old kids watch that are still forbidden to my 8-yr. old.  They get frustrated because their friends have seen movies that they haven't.  Of course, I'm more ok with that than they are, hoping that when they are parents that they will understand.

Having said that, I made my son watch Hotel Rwanda after getting sick and tired of hearing him say that he hated his sisters.  I decided he should see what real hate was.  He wasn't quite 10 years old.  The movie impacted him though.  He saw that hate and violence were real, and the consequences devastating.  I'm not saying we should all make our children watch such movies, but maybe letting them see little glimpses of what true evil can do rather than filling their heads with "fun" violence would do a little good.