I can't remember if I began talking about my son's dictionary obsession and I am to lazy to check.
Kaleb my 4th grader is now obsessed with the dictionary which is a good obsession. Call me lazy but I got tired of two things
1) reading his stories with misspelled words ( I have to add that he never gets more than one wrong on the spelling test since 1st grade)
2) being approached by a mad man asking me to spell something real quick (even banging on the door while I was sitting on the commode)
Friday after school he said there were several words that he found in the dictionary that were gross.
He briefly gave me a preview on last Thursday of the "gross" words.
He started off with the word "sexual intercourse"- briefly it said "when a man inserts his penis into a woman's vagina for procreation"
Well, I had to begin with the words that he didn't know in that definition such as vagina and procreation.
I assumed the kid knew what a vagina was but I I guess he had no need to know because he doesn't have one. My sister, Markita, my friend a.k.a (Kita & George's mom) and I all admitted we owned one of those. Which he thought we were disgusting. I try to keep it light. I mean I was not ready for this conversation but my parents were like "you know what to do and you know what not to do".
Luckily, Markita's parents gave her some books and we spent our middle school years looking up the words and familiarizing ourselves with the STD's we never wanted to get. You can catch me on any given day telling her to make sure she stays away from gonococci, we taught ourselves.
I hope the guy continues to come to me.
Back to the lesson..
Procreation I sent him to look the word up. He finished looking that up and then we began to converse. His friend told him he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for sexual intercourse. I confirmed this to be a true statement. He then hid under my bed and stated he was as grossed out. I explained that he didn't have to think about such words and who would want to imagine such things in 4th grade. I took this time to explain how no one should approach him and he shouldn't approach anyone else because this is some serious adult stuff. He then asked about puberty. He went back to our buddy the dictionary and they defined it as "sexual maturity" , The word sex then grossed him out again and I had to explain that it was not referring to the act. I also explained that a dictionary definition can somehow be a little different than how real life or myself would explain it. He then asked about the word gay, which the dictionary led to the word homosexual. I called in my life lines at this time. He was shocked that he knew someone who is "gay". I asked him if this made the person less than the caring, creative, fun person before he knew she was gay an he said NO but he was still knocked off guard. I explained how a lot of society is opposed to "gay" relationships and how the bible speaks against it as well. I explained it is not our job to judge people by "labels" but their character and service.
I was ready for my relief at this point an I realized I had no relief. He asked about the word rape, we utilized the dictionary definition and then I explained the whole NO means NO.
I am asking that parents with fast tailed children slow them down because they are moving to fast for me. Thank GOD Kaleb felt this was to much and is now scared to look in the dictionary.
I explained how he shouldn't be scared of "words" because that is all they are. I explained how ignorance is what you should fear the whole knowledge is power speech.
I was excited that my son trusts me and considering me a good source of information. I thanked him for this and told hope I will continue to be honest an explain things in the best way I know how. I suggested a book about adolescence an asked me to refrain so that will come later.
I did welcome a call from his godfather who said he would offer some relief for the next wave of questions.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
My feet are cold
My feet are cold. I did not put on boots after working out. I am hoping to push out the reaminder of my blogs while i wait in the car for Kaleb (my 9 year old). He is in the library practicing for the community library's picnic play. Devyn (my 4 year old) is sleeping peacefully and I refuse to wake him. I don't think he get enough sleep since he refuses to sleep at nap time at school. I guess he feels someone has to keep an eye on the adults. I agree. :) Monday I got a note home from my son's lead teacher informing parents of her departure. The not explained how the economy is forcing her family to relocate to where her husband will begin a new job and I understand her decision. Unfortunately, she is the 2nd teacher this 2008-2009 school year. This sucks!!!! I know they say kids are resilient but I am not. I loved teacher #1, Mrs. Jones, she was enthusiastic, bubbly an warm. The new teacher (who will be leaving soon) appears caring and nice but I didn't know her long enough to make an honest assessment. I love Mrs. Kennedy who has been there since day one. Can she become the lead teacher? We need some stability.
Sincerely,
The grown up who will adapt if necessary but sometimes doesn't like change
Sincerely,
The grown up who will adapt if necessary but sometimes doesn't like change
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Love ----turns to hate
I began writing about love and deleted it all by mistake. I hate when that happens. There was so much to say, now I am a little pissed. (BE careful that was a little to much adult content). Hopefully, I will get excited about blogging again. Please tune in at a later time and date.
I will get back to doing Logic homework and refrain from saying words like pissed.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Are you Listening?
My ears are bleeding the invisible blood again.
My neck is stiff holding a brain full of thoughts.
Are you listening?
I wanted t o ask my mother the previous question. I did not.
I have found myself wanting to shout that question for years.
Today, I hung up the phone wishing I had the strength to call right back. I didn’t.
I can’t explain how this gives me such fury, her not listening.
I love listening. I am intrigued by the little facts. The things that are thrown in on the pretense that you might hear but the speaker didn’t really want you to hear it or the speaker finally has the courage to say it but says it in such a way only those really in tune will really hear it.
The salesmen hate it. I know the guy at mattress world muttered one of those things last night and it made me change my mind on the $800.00 mattress, that kind of thing
I am not just listening well but hearing well.
I have these supersonic ears that children hate
I have these supersonic ears that I hate. I hate hearing people beside me whispering and laughing small jokes that they feel they would NEVER say to your face because they are my “friends” but they feast on their “inside” joke as they are comforted in their whispers. I HEAR YOU!
I hear her sighs, her cries and I am listening to the worry and fear disguised in her voice.
Why can’t she hear me?
Why isn’t she listening to me?
She calls me everyday now.
Well, she always called daily until we had the incident on her lawn.
You know the one she called me a spoiled bitch,
I hardly ever think about that but it was yet a confirmation that she was not hearing, listening, or seeing the struggles of my life.
A little thing can spark thee questions.
I go months without giving them much thought these days.
I talk to her less.
I can’t stand the peacemaker in me. The side of me who will not say it because I don’t want to start an argument
I don’t want to upset anybody.
We can’t communicate.
You have to listen to communicate.
I am answering my question.
It was such a minor thing that sparked it today,
“It” is my aggravation with her.
I know if she read this she would think I have some type of disdain for her.
I don’t.
I love the strength in her that she cannot see in me,
I hate not being heard.
I have to practice this precise writing S, Gargiola is teaching in his book,
Maybe my conversation lacks precision and she cannot hear me.
A little thing ticked it off today,
She asked “When will u arrive’?
I explained how I just rolled out of bed,
We began small talk,
I hate that too,
We never talk of anything with substance,
When I try she tunes me out.
I began asking her advice about mattresses,
She then said “Okay I will see you when you arrive”.
I stood firm and said,
“Did you ever answer the question about the mattress?” You know that is what I was talking about.
She talks,
I talk, she says goodbye.
Does a conversation have to volley back and forth?
I hang up.
I am OVERWHELMED with memories.
Should I see a shrink?
NO, I think writing this on paper is enough therapy for me.
I remember the first time she heard my voice on tape.
I was excited about a career in radio. I practiced back then.
I loved penning and voicing commercials and promos,
She listened to me for the first time in my adult life.
She questioned over and over again the authenticity of my voice,
She couldn’t believe it was I,
When she finally accepted the voice as me,
She said “ you sound good you don’t even sound like yourself”,
I was proud.
Fast forward….. Today I am on my couch with hunger pains to lazy to fix breakfast.
I now know,
I will broadcast my life,
I will put forth my best performance and she will listen.
My neck is stiff holding a brain full of thoughts.
Are you listening?
I wanted t o ask my mother the previous question. I did not.
I have found myself wanting to shout that question for years.
Today, I hung up the phone wishing I had the strength to call right back. I didn’t.
I can’t explain how this gives me such fury, her not listening.
I love listening. I am intrigued by the little facts. The things that are thrown in on the pretense that you might hear but the speaker didn’t really want you to hear it or the speaker finally has the courage to say it but says it in such a way only those really in tune will really hear it.
The salesmen hate it. I know the guy at mattress world muttered one of those things last night and it made me change my mind on the $800.00 mattress, that kind of thing
I am not just listening well but hearing well.
I have these supersonic ears that children hate
I have these supersonic ears that I hate. I hate hearing people beside me whispering and laughing small jokes that they feel they would NEVER say to your face because they are my “friends” but they feast on their “inside” joke as they are comforted in their whispers. I HEAR YOU!
I hear her sighs, her cries and I am listening to the worry and fear disguised in her voice.
Why can’t she hear me?
Why isn’t she listening to me?
She calls me everyday now.
Well, she always called daily until we had the incident on her lawn.
You know the one she called me a spoiled bitch,
I hardly ever think about that but it was yet a confirmation that she was not hearing, listening, or seeing the struggles of my life.
A little thing can spark thee questions.
I go months without giving them much thought these days.
I talk to her less.
I can’t stand the peacemaker in me. The side of me who will not say it because I don’t want to start an argument
I don’t want to upset anybody.
We can’t communicate.
You have to listen to communicate.
I am answering my question.
It was such a minor thing that sparked it today,
“It” is my aggravation with her.
I know if she read this she would think I have some type of disdain for her.
I don’t.
I love the strength in her that she cannot see in me,
I hate not being heard.
I have to practice this precise writing S, Gargiola is teaching in his book,
Maybe my conversation lacks precision and she cannot hear me.
A little thing ticked it off today,
She asked “When will u arrive’?
I explained how I just rolled out of bed,
We began small talk,
I hate that too,
We never talk of anything with substance,
When I try she tunes me out.
I began asking her advice about mattresses,
She then said “Okay I will see you when you arrive”.
I stood firm and said,
“Did you ever answer the question about the mattress?” You know that is what I was talking about.
She talks,
I talk, she says goodbye.
Does a conversation have to volley back and forth?
I hang up.
I am OVERWHELMED with memories.
Should I see a shrink?
NO, I think writing this on paper is enough therapy for me.
I remember the first time she heard my voice on tape.
I was excited about a career in radio. I practiced back then.
I loved penning and voicing commercials and promos,
She listened to me for the first time in my adult life.
She questioned over and over again the authenticity of my voice,
She couldn’t believe it was I,
When she finally accepted the voice as me,
She said “ you sound good you don’t even sound like yourself”,
I was proud.
Fast forward….. Today I am on my couch with hunger pains to lazy to fix breakfast.
I now know,
I will broadcast my life,
I will put forth my best performance and she will listen.
Color me Bad
Yesterday, my youngest son wanted to know why President Obama was dancing. I had to explain that he was at a party and would be working the next day. My oldest, Kaleb , wondered how a 4 year old knew anything about the President. I explained that he learned about the President at school and they even celebrated the inauguration at latchkey.
The real topic of this blog.
The children in latchkey ate popcorn and colored in a picture of the President.
Children are awesome because they are without prejudice at such a tender age.
I was amused as the discussion mounted on who had the best picture.
Rhiska said that you can imagine anything you want and her picture displayed a green face, red teeth, a purple suit, red hands and a ring. The boys were upset about the ring, the said "Boys don't wear rings". I explained that maybe it was because he is married. Kenenedy then decided she would too add a ring to Mr. Obama's purple hands. Devyn went with a multicolor approach. Devyn colored a green ad orange face and every color in the rainbow suit. Tyrone was upset because everyone did their picture wrong. Tyrone's President was dark brown with a charcoal grey suit.
Finally, Devyn decided that he would make the white house blue.
The real topic of this blog.
The children in latchkey ate popcorn and colored in a picture of the President.
Children are awesome because they are without prejudice at such a tender age.
I was amused as the discussion mounted on who had the best picture.
Rhiska said that you can imagine anything you want and her picture displayed a green face, red teeth, a purple suit, red hands and a ring. The boys were upset about the ring, the said "Boys don't wear rings". I explained that maybe it was because he is married. Kenenedy then decided she would too add a ring to Mr. Obama's purple hands. Devyn went with a multicolor approach. Devyn colored a green ad orange face and every color in the rainbow suit. Tyrone was upset because everyone did their picture wrong. Tyrone's President was dark brown with a charcoal grey suit.
Finally, Devyn decided that he would make the white house blue.
Twinz
I always wanted twins for some strange reason. Today my twins from another mother turned 7 today. Kita and George are so different. They are very in.dependent. Kita is a feisty princess, she is very creative and loves art. She can be bossy at times (what princess isn't) George on the hand is usually always calm and NEVER feisty. The twins take their school work very serious. I mean Kita spends evening demanding I make up additional homework for her. They are a like in this regards. Unfortunately, it is hard to get any type of agreement on things that would make life easier. Kita requests vanilla if George says chocolate. This birthday I outsmarted them. I asked them separately what kind of cake they wanted and the answer was chocolate with white icing. If I asked them in the same room the answer would have changed. It is funny how hard it is for them to come to an agreement. Well. I don't think it is hard at all I would want to do my own thing after sharing a womb for 9month, it probably seemed like a lifetime.
They are great, HAPPY BIRTHDAY GEORGE and KITA and KITA an GEORGE.
They are great, HAPPY BIRTHDAY GEORGE and KITA and KITA an GEORGE.
Are you Listening?
My ears are bleeding the invisible blood again.
My neck is stiff holding a brain full of thoughts.
Are you listening?
I wanted t o ask my mother the previous question. I did not.
I have found myself wanting to shout that question for years.
Today, I hung up the phone wishing I had the strength to call right back. I didn’t.
I can’t explain how this gives me such fury, her not listening.
I love listening. I am intrigued by the little facts. The things that are thrown in on the pretense that you might hear but the speaker didn’t really want you to hear it or the speaker finally has the courage to say it but says it in such a way only those really in tune will really hear it.
The salesmen hate it. I know the guy at mattress world muttered one of those things last night and it made me change my mind on the $800.00 mattress, that kind of thing
I am not just listening well but hearing well.
I have these supersonic ears that children hate
I have these supersonic ears that I hate. I hate hearing people beside me whispering and laughing small jokes that they feel they would NEVER say to your face because they are my “friends” but they feast on their “inside” joke as they are comforted in their whispers. I HEAR YOU!
I hear her sighs, her cries and I am listening to the worry and fear disguised in her voice.
Why can’t she hear me?
Why isn’t she listening to me?
She calls me everyday now.
Well, she always called daily until we had the incident on her lawn.
You know the one she called me a spoiled bitch,
I hardly ever think about that but it was yet a confirmation that she was not hearing, listening, or seeing the struggles of my life.
A little thing can spark thee questions.
I go months without giving them much thought these days.
I talk to her less.
I can’t stand the peacemaker in me. The side of me who will not say it because I don’t want to start an argument
I don’t want to upset anybody.
We can’t communicate.
You have to listen to communicate.
I am answering my question.
It was such a minor thing that sparked it today,
“It” is my aggravation with her.
I know if she read this she would think I have some type of disdain for her.
I don’t.
I love the strength in her that she cannot see in me,
I hate not being heard.
I have to practice this precise writing S, Gargiola is teaching in his book,
Maybe my conversation lacks precision and she cannot hear me.
A little thing ticked it off today,
She asked “When will u arrive’?
I explained how I just rolled out of bed,
We began small talk,
I hate that too,
We never talk of anything with substance,
When I try she tunes me out.
I began asking her advice about mattresses,
She then said “Okay I will see you when you arrive”.
I stood firm and said,
“Did you ever answer the question about the mattress?” You know that is what I was talking about.
She talks,
I talk, she says goodbye.
Does a conversation have to volley back and forth?
I hang up.
I am OVERWHELMED with memories.
Should I see a shrink?
NO, I think writing this on paper is enough therapy for me.
I remember the first time she heard my voice on tape.
I was excited about a career in radio. I practiced back then.
I loved penning and voicing commercials and promos,
She listened to me for the first time in my adult life.
She questioned over and over again the authenticity of my voice,
She couldn’t believe it was I,
When she finally accepted the voice as me,
She said “ you sound good you don’t even sound like yourself”,
I was proud.
Fast forward….. Today I am on my couch with hunger pains to lazy to fix breakfast.
I now know,
I will broadcast my life,
I will put forth my best performance and she will listen.
My neck is stiff holding a brain full of thoughts.
Are you listening?
I wanted t o ask my mother the previous question. I did not.
I have found myself wanting to shout that question for years.
Today, I hung up the phone wishing I had the strength to call right back. I didn’t.
I can’t explain how this gives me such fury, her not listening.
I love listening. I am intrigued by the little facts. The things that are thrown in on the pretense that you might hear but the speaker didn’t really want you to hear it or the speaker finally has the courage to say it but says it in such a way only those really in tune will really hear it.
The salesmen hate it. I know the guy at mattress world muttered one of those things last night and it made me change my mind on the $800.00 mattress, that kind of thing
I am not just listening well but hearing well.
I have these supersonic ears that children hate
I have these supersonic ears that I hate. I hate hearing people beside me whispering and laughing small jokes that they feel they would NEVER say to your face because they are my “friends” but they feast on their “inside” joke as they are comforted in their whispers. I HEAR YOU!
I hear her sighs, her cries and I am listening to the worry and fear disguised in her voice.
Why can’t she hear me?
Why isn’t she listening to me?
She calls me everyday now.
Well, she always called daily until we had the incident on her lawn.
You know the one she called me a spoiled bitch,
I hardly ever think about that but it was yet a confirmation that she was not hearing, listening, or seeing the struggles of my life.
A little thing can spark thee questions.
I go months without giving them much thought these days.
I talk to her less.
I can’t stand the peacemaker in me. The side of me who will not say it because I don’t want to start an argument
I don’t want to upset anybody.
We can’t communicate.
You have to listen to communicate.
I am answering my question.
It was such a minor thing that sparked it today,
“It” is my aggravation with her.
I know if she read this she would think I have some type of disdain for her.
I don’t.
I love the strength in her that she cannot see in me,
I hate not being heard.
I have to practice this precise writing S, Gargiola is teaching in his book,
Maybe my conversation lacks precision and she cannot hear me.
A little thing ticked it off today,
She asked “When will u arrive’?
I explained how I just rolled out of bed,
We began small talk,
I hate that too,
We never talk of anything with substance,
When I try she tunes me out.
I began asking her advice about mattresses,
She then said “Okay I will see you when you arrive”.
I stood firm and said,
“Did you ever answer the question about the mattress?” You know that is what I was talking about.
She talks,
I talk, she says goodbye.
Does a conversation have to volley back and forth?
I hang up.
I am OVERWHELMED with memories.
Should I see a shrink?
NO, I think writing this on paper is enough therapy for me.
I remember the first time she heard my voice on tape.
I was excited about a career in radio. I practiced back then.
I loved penning and voicing commercials and promos,
She listened to me for the first time in my adult life.
She questioned over and over again the authenticity of my voice,
She couldn’t believe it was I,
When she finally accepted the voice as me,
She said “ you sound good you don’t even sound like yourself”,
I was proud.
Fast forward….. Today I am on my couch with hunger pains to lazy to fix breakfast.
I now know,
I will broadcast my life,
I will put forth my best performance and she will listen.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Hmm..
Somehow we got off the subject in Logic. :) A gentleman somehow found his way to the New York Times, he said "If they stop home delivery like the Free Press, it would be like "them having a black president. You know like history." I agree that if the New York Times stopped "printing" it would be a shock. I was just wondering who "them" referenced. Is he Canadian? Hey who cares who voted for who but the truth of the matter is the President of our United States is Barack Obama therefore if your an American he is YOUR president too. Just wanted to say that out loud. I must now leave to begin the pick up circle and get the ingredients for the twins cake or cake still undecided.
These trying economic times
Well, a friend of mine lost his job a few months ago. He no longer is recieving unemployment. He is moving from his apartment to a southern state to his mom's. I have never seen a grown man so unhappy. He is like a brother to me, since high school. I could not find enough words to comfort him and ease his mind. My mission was to remind him that "Trouble Don't Last Always" (words from a songwriter) .
He liquidated his apartment giving his sister and I first dibs on a newly purchased computer desk. I was thankful but yet depressed. He kept saying, "One man's misfortune in another person's gain." We rode in the car and I preached as if I was ordained to do it from birth. I took him to the bright side and encouraged him to dwell on such things as: at least you have no responsibility besides yourself, you are ALIVE, you have someone with an open door. He began to explain to me he understood all these things but his pride as a male. I then reminded him of the trials and test that he has witnessed me endure. I explained how we "females" have pride too. I have two sons that are now my sole responsibility. I know a lot of people are facing hardships with car notes, house payments, medical bills. Keep the faith, in whatever you believe will see u through. I am a witness that "Trouble Don't Last Always". (Look it UP) The parenthesis are for people like Courtney who probably doesn't believe there is such a song because they only listen to BRUCE SPRINGER oops Springsteen.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
My heart is heavy.
My heart is heavy as I hear the news of the plane crash in the Hudson River.
I did not want my sons to hear the news because there fear of flying will continue mount.
There were no human fatalities or injuries. A Canadian reporter gave a vivid picture of the scene. I feel so ashamed for finding humor in the deaths of the two geese. I got a urgent phone call from a reliable source confirming my dreams that somehow I could get rid of the geese one by one. I have to find a less horrific way because I don't want any humans injured.
The geese have tormented me since my days at EMU. I found myself arriving late for class several times trying to avoid them when I could have cut across Bob's Lake House if the geese weren't claiming their set. Last year my son was subject to geese poop on the school playground and still suffer because I missed the phone call to bring him extra clothes. I can't afford to throw away goose poopey pants but it was inevitable. I hate geese and their poop.
I have changed parking spaces at LTU because geese have greeted me exiting my car.
Geese will not continue to rule today's crash is the beginning to the end.
My heart is heavy because I can not afford to fly to NY for the funeral of the two geese.
I did not want my sons to hear the news because there fear of flying will continue mount.
There were no human fatalities or injuries. A Canadian reporter gave a vivid picture of the scene. I feel so ashamed for finding humor in the deaths of the two geese. I got a urgent phone call from a reliable source confirming my dreams that somehow I could get rid of the geese one by one. I have to find a less horrific way because I don't want any humans injured.
The geese have tormented me since my days at EMU. I found myself arriving late for class several times trying to avoid them when I could have cut across Bob's Lake House if the geese weren't claiming their set. Last year my son was subject to geese poop on the school playground and still suffer because I missed the phone call to bring him extra clothes. I can't afford to throw away goose poopey pants but it was inevitable. I hate geese and their poop.
I have changed parking spaces at LTU because geese have greeted me exiting my car.
Geese will not continue to rule today's crash is the beginning to the end.
My heart is heavy because I can not afford to fly to NY for the funeral of the two geese.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)