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Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself. And the Internet of Course.
The only thing we have to fear is…fear itself.
The famous quote was made by Franklin D. Roosevelt during his first inaugural speech in March, 1933 just after taking the presidential oath. Most people heard Roosevelt’s speech on the radio. Television was barely getting its footing. Personal communication was conducted by a group of operators working a local switchboard and there was nothing personal about it. Most telephone systems had party-lines with two to four households on the same circuit.
Callers were urged to be brief and courteous — no eavesdropping.
There was no such thing as a cell phone. Texting was nonexistent. Clearly, Roosevelt had never surfed the net. In fact, it would be nearly 50 years before the internet would be introduced and another 40 after that before it would literally explode, offering access to everyone, to information, places and spaces one could only dream of in 1933.
Email. Skype. Twitter. Facebook. Pinterest. OoVoo. Blogging. YouTube. Flickr. Wiki. MySpace.
People need people. Social media forums on the internet are emerging as we speak, providing a wide variety of venues for us to communicate thoughts and ideas, to share with one another.
Like the Black Hole the internet expands well into the vastness of the unknown, certainly my unknown. Its realm is daunting. It can and to a certain degree should be, considered a scary place, especially to those of us who grew up painstakingly practicing our cursive writing and memorizing the proper finger placement on a typewriter’s keyboard.
Every innovation has its resistors and no matter what is said or done, some of us will never be able to wrap our heads around the possibilities but for parents and educators alike, it would be negligent to ignore it. Children are curious sponges. They learn and adapt as they grow. For the most part, they are unaware of the dangers that lurk in the minds and hearts of unkind people who also have access to these many social forums.
We have a choice. We can try to hide ourselves and them from the evils of the internet or we can, if not embrace it, at least try to understand the workings of these new forums so that we can help our youth explore them and use them safely with meaningful purpose and a sense of responsibility.
Scientia potentia est ~
Knowledge is power.
The internet is not going away. It is ever-growing and changing how and where we communicate, forever. Our children will learn from it, work and play on it. No doubt their footprints will be embedded in code for who knows how many future generations to see.
Who would push a child into the on-coming traffic of a busy highway leaving them to fend for themselves?
We don’t have to agree or like it but we would be remiss not to educate ourselves the best we can with these new technologies. With knowledge we can prepare our children; arm them, take them by the hand and guide them safely across this super-highway that will inevitably encourage them to leave their digital mark on society.
Photo Creidt #1: Switchboard Operators/GoogleImages
Photo Credits #2: Social Media/GoogleImages
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The Other Side of Bullying
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
~John Mayer
We have an awesome job as parents to guide our children. We often do that by example. Children watch what we do and say, all the time.
Bullying is no joke. When an adult labels a child a bully, they need to make sure they have all the facts. Other children are watching.
Sadly, most of us adults have experienced bullying in one form or another, at some point of our childhood or adolescence and fully understand the hurtful mark it can leave.
I never took a school bus as a kid. My Dad drove me until I was old enough to walk on my own. I went to catholic school. I wore a white blouse, red sweater, pleated skirt, navy knee-socks and a sturdy shoe, every day. No sneakers. Sneakers were for gym class, worn in the gym; only.
School was a long walk, about two miles from the apartment building I grew up in. I was ten or eleven when I remember clearly, two girls who followed me home daily. They were also from my school. One was in my class, the other was a year younger. The route I took included a shortcut through a wildly-overgrown, empty lot between two residential streets. The lot had a path that cut right through the streets but concealed its foot bearers. The girls kept a fair amount of distance from me until I entered the lot. Once I stepped onto the pathway, there was no turning back and as soon as I stepped onto the pathway the taunting from behind began. Each day for several days in a row they’d make hurtful remarks about how fat or ugly or stupid I was, all-the-while, using their own sturdy shoes to take turns kicking up my pleated skirt from behind. Kicking up my skirt high enough of course to reveal whatever underwear I was wearing that day.
I was embarrassed. I was humiliated. It was painful.
So painful, that on the on the fourth or fifth day of “the following”, I finally summoned up enough courage to turn and face my “tormentors”.
Everyone has their limit and sometimes you need to let people know when that limit has been reached.
It surprised me as much as them when I abruptly turned and told them to “Stop!
They laughed and continued. I warned them again and told them to “STOP!”
They didn’t.
Instinct and impulse stepped in.
There was a full-force push to the ground, a stunned look from both ends of the assault and ultimately, freedom. The younger girl ended up on the ground, crying but they never bothered me again.
The question is, who’s the bully here? Maybe to some it’s debatable. Not to me.
I know what bullying is.
I would never endorse violence but I don’t believe in allowing yourself to be taunted either. Sometimes you have to tell people to stop and when they don’t, when they keep pushing or poking or pulling at you and you give them fair-warning and they still don’t stop; you need to push or poke or pull at them back; even if you are bigger than they are.
That’s not bullying, that’s setting boundaries.
Moms and dads who fail to see (or ignore) the whole picture and mislabel this as bullying are doing their sons and daughters an injustice, not to mention, sending a dangerous message.
As parents we have an awesome responsibility to teach and guide our children.
So, Mother’s — be good to your daughters.Teach them not to push, or poke or pull at other kids because they might get pushed, or poked or pulled on– back –and that’s not bullying; that’s setting boundaries.
Photo Credit #1 Mother/Daughter Silhouette
Photo Credit #2 Sturdy Catholic School Uniform Shoe/Google Images
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Transition 101
September is a time of change for many of us and change is a fact of life.
In the northeast, the warm weather wanes, temperatures begin to dip and cool breezes begin to blow. Our evenings get chilly and the mornings turn slightly brisk. After any kind of change, there is always a period of adjustment. Here in New York, sweaters are coming out of the closets, pants are being worn instead of shorts. Sneakers and socks are starting to replace sandals. September means school. Teachers and students are going back to school and in many cases, a new school. In some cases they’re going to a new middle school. Middle school is notorious for being difficult to navigate and signifies a huge change for kids ages 11 through 14. It can be a very scary endeavor.
For some kids the transition into middle school is really hard and approached tentatively.
They quietly tread their new paths lightly.
Others kids approach their new experience like an adventure.
They embrace it.
Jump into it with both feet.
Color their hair purple three days before the first day of classes….
…and then proceed to run for class representative, in their brand new school.
Go get ’em baby girl!
How do you meet change?
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Oooh, That Smell!
It’s back.
That smell.
That once foreign, gawd-awful, wretched, in-the-name-of-all-things-sweet-and-soft-and-pretty, what is that smell?—smell!
It. Is. Back!
It’s the one with gag-appeal that begs for the windows in the car to be rolled down, all-the-way-down, despite the rain storm beating against the windshield. It’s the smell that vanished suddenly for eight glorious months only to return with a fierce vengeance, commanding a presence as potent and foul as ever.
Unlike the lyrics of the song however, it’s not the result of a hard living; whisky drinking, pot smoking, pill popping, needle sticking, life that summons the angel of darkness carrying with him, that smell.
On the contrary, think cow manure meets bleach and laundry soap melded with freshly cut grass. Add a rain storm and mix it all together with the sweat from the body of a still growing teenage boy and you’ve got that smell!
That gross, worse than a wet, dirty dog, wonderful smell that tells me once again, it’s Football Season!
Yes, it’s that smell; that permeates every spec of fresh air living within the confines of my car after nearly 3-hours of hard-hitting, ball kicking, mud splattering practice that screams,
“My boy is back on the field!“
With all its potency, this horrible but heavenly smell brings with it the promise of good health, plenty of exercise, restful, slumber-filled nights and if history repeats itself, academic excellence!
Ooh, that smell, that wonderfully putrid smell has miraculously become a welcome and familiar waft now that dare I say, I think I missed! So, bring it on.
Bring on, that smell!
Cause, I’m taking that smell on with a smile!
Ph0to Credit #1 & 2: Google Images
Photo Credits #3,4, & 5 ©Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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Relax, Recharge, Repost #2: Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones But Names Can Break My Heart!
Week #2 of taking a blogging break in August. For a few weeks, I’ll be Relaxing, Recharging and Re-posting some of what my stats say are YOUR favorite reads.
Here’s one from January 2011….
Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones But Names…. Can Break My Heart!
“You know Mom, he’s lucky I didn’t SQUASH him like a bug!”
That’s what my 9-year-old daughter came home saying the other day after spending an afternoon at a birthday party. The “he” who is lucky “she”, didn’t, squash him like a bug, is a 10-year old classmate who was also at the party. “He” is her pal, her chum, her friend. He is her partner at school when pairing needs to be done. He is also the boy who tried to hold her hand when the lights went out in a Star Lab dome, but that’s not why she wants to pummel him.
There are some things you never forget: getting an award, your first sleep-over, punching a fella in the mouth for asking you to marry him (in first grade!), the soft, warm lips of a shy boy’s sweet and gentle kiss during a game of spin-the-bottle and of course, the first time someone embarrasses you in front of a group of friends by calling you a name. For me, it was buoy. And in 4th grade, I didn’t have a clue. So in a naive and unsuspecting way, I asked the boy who had just referred to me as a “buoy”, what that was.
You know, he said, it’s that round thing that bounces up and down, bobbing in the water. A buoy!
That was followed by what seemed to me, to be a roar of group laughter.
Painful. I forced a smile and walked away. I’m sure I could have flattened him but my heart had sunk to my knees and I was too hurt to react. I never forgot that feeling.
Like her mom, my girl is made of hardy stock. She is strong, confident and independent. She’s out-going and adventurous. She loves to laugh. Also like her mom however, she happens to be very sensitive.
He called me fat in front of all my friends at the party, she said. He embarrassed me. We were laughing about who would make the best Pińata and he said, ‘Hannah would, cause she’s fat!’
My heart immediately sank to that familiar place by my knees only this time, it broke.
He’s lucky I didn’t squash him like a bug! And you know I could, were the next words out of her mouth.
She’s right. She could.
Well then, I said, maybe next time, you should.
Okay, maybe that was wrong.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but names…..
Honestly, I would have preferred if he threw the stone. That wound heals faster.
We spent a long time that evening discussing potential reasons why her friend might have said that about her. Insecurity. Bravado. Maybe he was trying to look cool in front of the other boys. Perhaps he didn’t mean it and it was just a poor choice of words. Most likely, he like, likes her. No matter how much we dissected it though, the result was always the same. She could get past the word. She knows she’s bigger and taller than the other kids in her class. She accepts that her body is changing and maturing faster than theirs.
It was the betrayal she had a hard time reconciling with. He’s her friend.
It was after midnight when she came into my bedroom and crawled into bed with me that night. She snuggled up close and whispered,
Mommy, why did he do that? I thought he was my friend?
Cue the breaking heart again. She slept with me for the first time in years. And it was a big wake-up call to me as a parent and an adult, just how omnipotent words can be. Life is hard enough without us hurting each other with the things we say. And I’m reminded of how critical it is for me to set the example, practice kindness, show compassion and be forgiving.
Words may not be able to break a bone but they sure can break a heart.
The flip-side of that however, is to know that words also have the great power to fill a heart! So in the end, my advice to Hannah was to have, an open heart.
We are after all, only human. We all make mistakes and good friendships are worth keeping. So, when the boy came to school the next day and said,
Hey, I was only kidding. I didn’t mean it that way. I can’t believe you thought I was serious!
That was all she needed to hear to buddy-up again and put it behind her.
Besides, she told him that if he EVER does that to her again, she is going to “SQUASH him– like a bug!”
Photo credit: Squashed Bug, Broken Heart
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Relax, Recharge, Re-post #1: Just Another Once-In-A-Lifetime Experience
Many bloggers take a break in August and so too shall I. For the next few weeks, I’ll be Relaxing, Recharging and Re-posting some of what my stats say are YOUR favorite reads.
Here’s one from October of last year….
Just Another Once-In-A-Lifetime Experience
What constitutes a Once-In-A-Lifetime Experience?
I’ve been going back and forth on this for a while now, with my mom.….
…….and debated on whether or not to bring my kids.
But realized, this would be a Once-In-A-Lifetime Experience for them and me.
And my rather stubborn, 74-year old mother was not going to change her position anyway.
With or without me………………….
…………SHE was getting a tattoo!
Great job, Pepper -Thanks!
She – we, LOVE her first tat!
Not only did Pepper do a fantastic job on my mom’s tattoo. Everyone at Graceland was super nice to all of us. They let my kids sit on a couch close enough to be able to watch the process and they played Irish music in the shop while Pepper was inking Nana’s shamrock.
- A little “shell-shocked”, they had no idea they were going to watch their Nana get a tattoo! Life is full of surprises!
When I asked my kids what was going through their minds while Nana was getting her tattoo, my daughter said:
I was thinking, ‘Oh great, now mom is going to want one, too!’
So maybe that will make for two “Once-In-A-Lifetime Experiences.” We’ll see.
Have you ever taken somebody to get a tattoo?
Photo Credits: ©Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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Yes, I Am A Dren!
If you have kids, you know, part of their job in life is to go out of their way to baffle, befuddle and bemuse you, any-way-they-can. I know this to be true because (although my kids find this extremely hard to believe) I was a kid once too.
As a parent, it’s our job to stay one-step-ahead of them at-all-times, or at least try to anyway.
For instance, at 11:30pm when I head down to my 13-year old son’s bedroom to make sure the lights are out and Skype-ing is over for the night and I find him lying in bed with eyelids closed but rapidly flickering, I know that although he wants me to believe he is sound asleep, he’s not. I also see that even though the lid to the laptop is down, it’s still on.
I cut him some summer-time, slack though and leave him be. At least the light’s out!
In their effort to confound and confuse parents, kids often make up words or sayings; some more easily deciphered than others.
Similar to Rerun’s popular “Hey, hey hey, what’s happening?” phrase from the 1970s TV show of the same name for example, my 11-year old daughter often asks,
What’s the hap, Mama? What’s the hap?
Sometimes they take advantage of my desire to keep my pulse on all-things-current and use pure unadulterated trickery for their own evil childhood pleasure, like when they told me that kids no longer say that something is “cool” anymore. My lovelies informed me that they were now saying:
That’s so throw-up!
A word of caution: Do not use this phrase in a school, especially if you work there. Little kids don’t understand and may think you are saying their artwork looks like throw-up. They may then start to cry. I’m just saying. It could happen.
If you’re hip like me, you are familiar with the Pound It exchange between two or more people. Pound It, as those of us who remain in-touch and one-step-ahead know, is the new high-five.
When my 11-year old daughter witnessed me “Pounding It” with another student at her school one day, she quickly pulled me to the side and in a hushed but urgent tone asked me what exactly it was that I was doing. When I responded, “Pounding It. Why?” She informed me that, that was so–last-year and lame. Kids she said, don’t just Pound It anymore, they LICK POUND IT!
Immediately before “Pounding It”, right after you make a fist, you are meant to lick your knuckles, then Pound It.
Gullible? Perhaps.
Three bewildered (and grossed out) kids later, I realized I’d been duped — again.
I love summer for a bagillion reasons but mostly because I get to spend more time with these fun-loving, crafty kids of mine. I also have more time to read, read, read! We’re just about mid-way into our months of recreation and relaxation and to date, I’ve completed the Stieg Larsson Girl With The Dragon Tattoo three-book series and am halfway through The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, all of which have been most satisfying page-turners. I don’t leave the house without my book as you never know when the opportunity to read may arise (like when your sitting in your car on a long line at the Dairy Queen drive -thru) and I often find myself running back into the house exclaiming…
Oh, I forgot my book!
To this my angels
equally offer their latest cryptic description of my character for me to decode.
Mom, you are such a DREN!
Indeed, I suspect I am.
Parents be informed — as I am.
D R E N spelled backwards = Me. And maybe you too.
Either way, it’s all good.
Tell me, are you one-step-ahead too?
Photo Credit #1-4 Google Images
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News Blues
I try to stay positive in all my thoughts and dealings but some of last week’s news has left me feeling a bit grumpy.
Most distressing of course was the release of Louis Freeh’s report and his press conference on July 12th with regard to the actions of Pennsylvania State University surrounding the child abuse committed by former coach, Gerald Sandusky.
In short, the five most powerful and cowardly leaders men (and I use that term loosely) at Penn State failed to take the necessary steps to protect children and made an active decision to conceal.
Shame.
As a parent of a 13-year old football player, I’m dismayed and disgusted.
And while there is great debate, there still stands a bronzed statue of one of these men on campus.
Why?
My heart and sadness go out to the victims and their families.
Then, although on a much lighter (but disheartening none-the-less) note, there was the reveal of the 2012 U.S. Summer Olympic uniforms designed by Ralph (Lipschitz – yes that is his given name) Lauren.
Seriously, is there a brain surgeon on hand that could lend some intelligence to the Ralph Lauren design team that put these uniforms together? I concede that someone on this team did a fair amount of homework in the beret department. It’s true, members of the U.S. Army and Army Rangers as well as U.S. Special Forces have a long history of wearing a variety of colored berets. Indeed, a black beret was authorized for wear by Women soldiers in 1975. Still, it just doesn’t feel, let alone, look right. I don’t claim to be a patriotic fashionista but don’t most Americans wear baseball caps? Instead we have blazers, white slacks, skirts and berets. This is All-American sportswear?
The uniform, wreaks of upper-echelon snobbery.
It’s disappointing.
And did it not occur to anyone on the Lauren staff that there might be the slightest, tiniest, public or political outcry from American patriots when we learned these gems were outsourced and made in China? China? Isn’t that a competing country in the Olympics? To his credit (only after all of this media hullabaloo) Mr. Lauren stated that he will make the 2014 uniforms in America.
I’m happy to hear at least that, as our team is supposed to representative of our nation.
What’s your opinion about either of these news topics?
Photo Credit #1 Google Images
Photo Credit #2 Google Images
Photo Credit #3 Ralph Lauren U.S. Olympic Uniforms
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Moonrise, Mistakes & March of the Penguins!
Ever since I took my boy to see March of the Penguins, in 2005, he’s been “scarred” not to mention very skeptical of me when I say,
We’re going to the movies!
March of the Penguins, produced in part by the National Geographic Society is a French documentary film that depicts the yearly journey of the emperor penguins of Antarctica. It follows penguins of breeding age as they leave their natural habitat to participate in a courtship that will hopefully end in the hatching of an egg.
I was excited! My son was seven. My daughter had recently turned five. The three of us went to a matinee showing. Ten minutes after the movie began and both kids realized this was not a cartoon and there were no actors and no speaking parts, other than the soothing voice of Morgan Freeman’s narration, something extraordinary and completely unexpected happened.
She fell into a deep sleep and he began to cry.
It was one of those parenting moments that creeps up inside your head and blind-sides you, hitting you at the exact moment of no return.
What, was I thinking? And what was it again that made me think the 7-year old wearing the Spiderman suit would be interested in a documentary about penguins?
As I looked around the crowded theater, it struck me that not only was I the youngest adult (by about forty years)at this movie but there were no other children in the theater. Not one. Now, my daughter was sleeping and my son, with tear-filled eyes, was frantically begging mouthing the words:
I don’t like this! Please, I want to go home! Can we leave?
No, I thought in a panic! We can’t leave. Don’t you understand I’m caught between two generations and paralyzed here? Waking a nearly comatose toddler would be like calling in a storm, a very loud and disruptive, disastrous storm! It wouldn’t be fair to all these, well, elderly people that came to see the movie. I couldn’t carry her out either. At five, she was now too heavy for me.
We had to wait it out.
I spent the next 70-minutes dodging my son’s anger and avoiding his pleading glares, hoping my girl would awaken any minute, gently, quietly, happily, so we could sneak out without incident. She didn’t and he’s never forgiven me.
How could I have been so wrong? I thought for sure, he would love this movie.
He hated it.
He’s thirteen now & seven years later, history repeats itself — or some people never learn. I’m a repeat offender. Well, kind of.
This week I announced, “We’re going to the movies!”, the three of us, again, with my mom. He of course was skeptical and rightfully, so. Although, while he hadn’t heard of the movie, Moonrise Kingdom, in this case, it was the theater I was certain he would have a problem with and not-so-much the movie.
With a stellar cast of stars he actually knows and likes, including Bill Murray and Bruce Willis, it had to be good.
The Downing Film Center is a very cool, very small, non-profit theater in Newburgh, NY that shows about 50 independent and/or international films a year. The theater boasts 58 thickly, cushioned seats, most of which recline, all of which come with a pillow. It’s like being in a large living room. Even nicer, the tickets and snacks are affordable! With one showing a day during most week days and two showings of a single movie during the weekends, it’s advised you come at least 30-minutes early to get a real comfy chair. Seating, is first come, first served. Heading the warning, we arrived early and chose mid-center.
As the theater began to fill however, I couldn’t help but notice that the patrons were reminiscent of that day so many years ago. Apparently, so did my son.
Mom, this is “March of the Penguins” all over again!
He said with fear and anxiety in his eyes.
Once again, I found myself to be the youngest adult in the crowd, only this time it was by about thirty years and mine thankfully, were NOT the only children in the audience. There were two other kids there!
It turns out however, I was wrong — again.
It wasn’t the theater that the boy didn’t care for, in fact he later admitted,
It was cool.
No, it wasn’t the theater, it was the movie — again.
Come on mom. Boy, girl first crush = total chick flick!
Oh, well. He’s thirteen. At least he came! Besides, the girl stayed awake the whole time, this time. She loved the theater and the film and so did my mom and I!
Two thumbs up for Moonrise Kingdom — smartly written, humorous, off-beat and highly recommended. Go see it!
Have you seen any good movies lately?
Photo Credit #1 March of the Penguins
Photo Credit #2-5 ©2012 Karen Szczuka Teich & Takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
Photo Credit #6 Moonrise Kingdom
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OUR LIFE IN 3D
Please read my latest entry over at OUR LIFE IN 3D where this week, my friend Andy, invited me to Guest Post!
Click inside the quote above or on the link below and please, feel free to check out Andy’s site while visiting!
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It Smells Like Updog!
It smells like updog in here!
Updog?
Yes. Updog.
What’s-Up-Dog?
Oh, not much!
Come on, you know you’re laughing. Let’s face it, that’s funny!
That’s also the kind of humor you get subjected treated to when you spend a long weekend with two teenage boys, a 10-year old girl and her 9-year old comrade. Oh, and there’s the girlfriend of the thirteen-year-old (yes, I said, girlfriend) who makes her presence known with the constant text-ing that is revealed through his ringtone which loudly and annoyingly announces:
“Excuse me boss, you have a text message.”
Every 5 to 10 minutes.
I truly feel like she came with us.
It started with a simple statement. Me, telling my kids I was taking them up to our place in the woods for this President’s Day long weekend. Before I could be consulted, a cousin was quickly added to the mix and then a friend.
It became the perfect blend of a very unlikely pairing of people.
It takes two-hours by car to go through the Catskills to get to our destination, a place I usually go to for serenity. The car-load spent their time partly singing Katy Perry’s Fireworks (over and over again) and partly playing Truth or Dare.
I love kids. They’re so honest, especially when they’re playing a game like Truth or Dare. They feel completely obligated to tell the truth.
It was basketball on the driveway. Tacos for dinner. A game of Striker on the ancient but still functional game-cube. Ice-cream at the Penguin. Man-hunt in the dark with flashlights, in the middle of winter, while it was snowing. Hot cocoa with whipped cream. Playing monopoly while watching Jeremy Lin magically maneuver the ball on the court against the Hornets and tea and cookies before bed.
These are the things kids’ dreams are made of.
It’s good to take a break from life, if you can. I’m extremely fortunate to have the place to escape to and these fabulous children to escape away with. I’ve been laughing-out-loud now for nearly three days straight. It’s a privilege to be the fly-on-the-wall, allowed to listen in to the lively conversations that span the wit and humor of the seven-year-age-difference between the youngest and oldest in this motley but most-loveable crew, thrown together by chance and circumstance. They’re truly making the best of it.
Sometimes, the best times are had with the least amount of planning.
It’s been an incredibly difficult time for my kids, in particular these past two years. There’s been lots of upheaval and turmoil and change and it has been a very long time since they’ve been in a relaxed enough environment where they can just have fun. It’s a joy to witness.
But it’s the never-ending laughter that I am so grateful to hear.
Seeing your kids laughing and happy is what parents’ dreams are made of.
It’s the middle of a strangely warm winter but nothing warms a mother’s heart more than to hear the echoing of her child’s laughter.
Photo Credit #1: What’s Up Dog Hat
Photo Credit #3, 4 & 5: Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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One With It!
I’m not a skier, although one day, I intend to learn. It’s on that list I’ve started creating. The one containing all those things I used to be afraid of but now seem somewhat determined to master or at least try, like horse-back riding and riding a motorcycle.
Skiing is not a sport my parents were familiar with when I was growing up, let alone could afford. My dad however, was an excellent ice-skater. Each year he’d take us to a little shop in Larchmont, where we would trade in the previous year’s skates for “newer”, bigger-foot-sized ones and have our blades sharpened. In my mind’s eye, I can still see the sparks flying from the blade-sharpening machine that was operated by the elderly man wearing goggles. The shop was on our way to Playland in Rye, NY, where there’s an ice-skating rink that the New York Rangers hockey team used to practice at and where my Dad taught us how to skate. Despite my Dad’s not-so-warm-and-fuzzy demeanor, somehow he was able to convey encouragement when teaching me how to skate; somehow the message came through loud and clear: I can do it. I can do it and I did. Maybe it was just by example, as I clearly remember how aesthetic he appeared gliding along the ice the way he did; like he was connected to it; like he was one with it; like he owned it.
My kids ski. It’s part of the curriculum at the schools they attend and for at least five Fridays in a row each winter since age five, they ski. My kids ski and I don’t. But I tell them and text them the same thing each time they go since the first time they went:
Be one with the mountain. One with the mountain! You can do it! Feel it. Own it. It’s yours!
It’s my mantra for them and it never occurred to me that they might actually “hear” me saying it. Probably in the same way it never occurred to my Dad that watching him coast so gracefully across the ice was so encouraging to me. It never dawned on me that is, until I found myself meeting up with my 10-year old skier in the ER last Friday night. For the first time since she started skiing, she took a bad fall while helping a friend and wrangled up her lower back muscles pretty badly when her butt smacked against the ice that was hiding beneath the soft, white powder. An X-ray needed to be taken, just to make sure.
“It’s your fault!” she said as I entered the hospital room. “You didn’t tell me to be one with the mountain this morning.That’s why this happened!”
Really? Fudge.
There goes that “no instructions, no rule book” thing again when it comes to parenting. Any parent can attest to it, it’s a figure it out as you go along gig. “They” don’t come with manuals. You don’t always know what will impact their lives until perhaps it’s too late. And rest assured the one time you forget to do what they expect you to and something happens, it will be your fault!!
You try your best and hope for the best.
It’s never pleasant for a parent to be called onto to such a scene. But I’ve been down the ER road with my kids before, enough anyway to know it’s better to err on the side of caution than not. I took it in stride. And thankfully, nothing was fractured, this time.
#15 ~ That's my boy!
When I got called out onto to the same scene three days later however, I was not exactly “taking it on with a smile”. Once a year I can handle, twice in the span of three days; not so much. This time, it was my boy who had taken a knee in his abdomen during a fast paced, aggressive game of basketball at school. Internal bleeding or a damaged organ was the fear but thankfully once again, my child left for the most part, unscathed. Never a dull moment. That’s the one thing all parents can be certain of.
Maybe I should have told him to “be one with the ball, Noah, one with the ball!”
For the record then and so there’s no mistake about it and hopefully no more visits to the ER, this year at least, I’m saying it now loud and clear:
Be one with it, guys, whatever it is you’re trying to do! You can do it! Feel it. Own it. It’s yours! Be one with it!
Did I mention it was my Dad’s birthday today? Happy birthday to my not-so-warm-and-fuzzy, but you got the message across anyway, Dad.
It had an impact. Thanks.
Photo Credit: #1, #3, #4 ©Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
Photo Credit #2 Playland Ice Rink
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‘Twas The Week Before Christmas…
‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house,
Everything was scurrying. Why, we even drove out that mouse!
Our clothing was packed in boxes with care,
In hopes that the moving truck would soon be here.
Not a jingle or a jangle or an ornament could be found.
Somewhere they were buried among the boxes that abound.
There’s furniture to buy and curtains to be hung.
No time for wrapping or Christmas carols to be sung.
There were no plans for decorating or baking, it’s true.
And while the timing seems off, it’s just what we have to do.
We’re moving that’s right, in the HEIGHT of the Holiday season.
But amidst all of this craziness, thankfully, came the quiet voice of reason.
It was born from a terrible, awful, worry.
And came to me through the words of an innocent ten-year old’s query.
“Mommy?” she whispered, as I tucked her into bed.
Lifting herself slightly and tilting her head.
“Will we have a tree this year?”
I paused and thought, ‘Oh my, Oh dear.’
Will Santa find us, in our new home, is more likely this little girl’s fear.
I had to catch my breath and hold back a tear.
I was so unprepared for her question, that it gave me a start.
Like an arrow that came rushing through, piercing me, in the middle of my heart.
There were no visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.
Thoughts of setting up cable and internet were swimming with the fact that I have no bed.
Why I haven’t had any time to entertain thoughts of the man in red.
I looked at her face wide-eyed with wonder.
How could I omit this and create such a blunder?
My girl is always so brave — wise, even bold.
I forget sometimes that she’s really not that old.
It was in that moment, I realized the importance of this.
A reminder that Christmas is something we-just-can-not miss.
So, I smiled the most reassuring smile I could muster.
Desperately trying to hide any sign of startle-ment or fluster.
“No worries sweet baby, we will have a tree.”
“Sleep tight now,” I said.”Rest easy. You can count on me.”
No matter what, come hell or high-water,
There will be a Christmas tree in my new home, for my son and my daughter.
Sometimes it’s the smallest voice that speaks quite loud,
Bringing with it clarity. Moving out the dark cloud.
Yes, sometimes it’s the smallest voice that helps you NOT to lose sight.
Be sure to hear it as it’s usually right.
So, with that I will say, Merry Christmas to all!
And to all, a good night!
Happy Holidays! And may God bless our new home!
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Kids Really Do Say The Darndest Things!
This week I’m taking a cue from a blog I follow where the genius mom actually documents her kids’ quotes! Brilliant, cause kids really do say the darndest things!
If you follow my blog, you probably know I have two kids (that I love and adore) but I will only be quoting one today, my 10-year old daughter. Besides, if I were lucky enough to even overhear a conversation, let alone have one, with my 13-year old son, the entire quote would most likely consist of these three words:
Um, Yeah and Nah.
There.
I’m a good mom and have just documented my boy’s quotes for the past six months.
My girl on the other hand, is a non-stop chatterbox. (I think it’s a gender thing.) Ever see the Volvo commercial where the Dad puts his 5-year old daughter in her car seat, closes the door, gets into the driver’s seat and takes her to school, all the while, she is non-stop chatter, going on and on about who knows what?
That’s my Hannah and at age ten, not only do I get the non-stop chatter about who knows what, I get the added bonus of her opinion!
Here are a few recent ones….
On The World’s Status
My daughter goes to a progressive school and we do not practice any formal religion. I of course went to Catholic school and was a practicing catholic until I went to college, receiving many of the sacraments up until that age, including confession of my sins.
Not too long ago, my girl came home from school and asked,
Mom, what’s a sin?
Me, in freak-out mode responded, “A sin? Why? Why do you want to know what a sin is?”
I heard it was bad. My teacher doesn’t teach us about sins or war or anything. She pretty much teaches us that the world is perfect but I know it’s not perfect.
You’re a super sleuth, Hannah and you’re right, the world is not perfect.
On Getting A New Car
At the onset of having to get new wheels, I admit, I had a brief moment of panic at the thought of having to bring the car I loved so dearly back to the dealership it was leased from, knowing, now, there would be no way I could afford to lease the same car again. Myself and my girl were driving around town when it hit me and without really thinking about it or looking for a response, I tugged at the steering wheel and said,
“Hannah, how am I going to keep this car?”
Not a full minute passed before my girls’ wheels started turning and she sprung into solution mode……
Here's my Billboard Baby scooter-ing throughout the neighborhood, drumming up sales for our yard-sale earlier this year.
Mom, I got it! From tomorrow to the end of the summer, I say, we go out in the middle of the median and sell like there’s no tomorrow!
Sell? Sell what, Hannah? Lemonade?
Lemonade AND ice-pops mom, lemonade AND ice-pops!
Turns out, I LOVE my new car but Thank you, Hannah!!
On Edward
A year and a half ago, I brought Edward home. My Edward is a creepy but important part of me being able to live life on life’s terms and while we sometimes bring him out to participate in various family activities, his primary function is to keep a watchful eye on my 22-year old punk neighbor.
Edward does an excellent job!
My Edward. Doing his job.
In a few weeks we will begin the process of moving from the only home my daughter has ever known.
Mom I think we have to leave Edward here.
Why?
At least until we get to meet our new neighbors.
Why, Hannah?
Well, if we put him in the window before we meet them, they’re going to think we’re freaks and they won’t bring us cookies or cupcakes (cause we’re the new neighbors) and I want the cookies and cupcakes.
Point well taken, Hannah. I want the cookies and cupcakes too but Edward comes with us.
Hannah & Edward, just hanging around.
Besides, we both know you love him just as much as I do!
Aside from the funny stuff, there are also great pearls of wisdom and insight, as well as profound statements that often come from this blessing of a child, leaving me stunned but mostly, extremely grateful for the gift of her life in mine.
Those I’ll save for another day.
Meanwhile, for more adept quotes from other skilled and clever kids, visit the Young American Wisdom blog — the inspiration for this post!
For happy thoughts from a happy kid, visit Hannah’s blog, I’m Thinking Happy!
If you have an endearing or humorous kid quote, feel free to leave it with me!
Photo Credit #1: Sin
Photo Credit #2: Super Sleuth
Photo Credit# 3-5: Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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Not-So-TechNo-Savvy
This week I went to curriculum night at my tween-age boy’s school. He’s in the 8th grade. After a brief introduction by the head master and head of the middle school, we were directed to our children’s “Advisory” class-rooms or to put it more plainly, their “home-rooms”. From there, we were to switch classes, like our kids do, only we’d be spending 10-minutes rather than 100, in each of five classes. As a nod to the general “age-group” of the parents in attendance and to emphasize the progression of technology over the years, the archaic sound of the internet connecting through the phone lines via modem was played over the PA system, signaling us to move on to the next class.
For your listening pleasure and for those who are too young to remember anything but silence when connecting to the “net”, I borrowed one of YouTube’s renditions of a 56K Modem making the internet connection, back in the day.
Easy enough, I thought. How difficult could this be?
While I appreciate the nostalgic effect that particular sound brings with it, it truly has to be one of the most annoying sounds on the planet.
After ten minutes in five classes and a brief description of options offered in the “Arts” quite frankly, I was dizzy. It wasn’t the obnoxious modem sound or the subject matter that threw me, it was the technology and how information is disseminated that left me feeling well, stressed. Truth be told, I was absolutely exhausted by the time I left. It was overwhelming to try to keep up with how information gets exchanged between student and teacher and parent and administration, without a single piece of paper being is used.
Gone are the pen and pencil requirements. I’m not even sure these kids know what loose-leaf is anymore. There are hardly any textbooks either. Every child has to have their own lap top –in class! Homework and class assignments are posted either on the school’s website, a white board or a smart-board. When completed, the student uploads their work to a Google-docs, except in science where they put it into a wiki page on a wiki space. Here the students interactively edit each other’s pages and the teacher leaves comments or wiki-texts for individual students.
No offense, but I’m just starting to get the hang of regular “text-ing”.
What is “wiki-text-ing” and is it really necessary? Am I going to have to learn this too?
In science my son is going to be “paired” with a student from another school who is working on the same experiment his class is; one involving Menthos and Diet Coke –think lots of fizz and a minor, okay maybe not so minor, explosion! The pair will video-chat their methods and findings.
Are you still with me?
Good because by the time I got to the third class, I was losing steam and clarity, rapidly!
It started with the white board, moved to the smartboard and in Spanish we were introduced to the (new) soundboard! This is not like something you would find in a radio station. It’s something the student uses at home. They speak their homework into their computer and through this new program and technology, the teacher “hears” how they’re speaking in Spanish on her computer and assesses their progress.
In order to better grasp these technologies and try to make sense of what I saw, I tried looking them up when I got home. Here’s what I found:
A Smart Board is a series of interactive whiteboards developed by Smart Technologies and includes the 600 series, the 800 series and the 400 series (only available in Europe, the Middle East, Africa, Asia Pacific, Latin America and Mexico). The first Smart Board interactive whiteboard was introduced in 1991. (Wikipedia)
Got it?
Me neither.
An “interactive whiteboard” is the electronic equivalent of the physical whiteboard and may be software in a user’s computer or a stand-alone unit. It allows users in remote locations to simultaneously view a running application or view someone’s drawings on screen. Whiteboards may or may not provide application sharing, in which two or more people are actually working in the same application at the same time. (PC Magazine)
I think they’re messing with me here.
Is a smart board a whiteboard or a whiteboard a smart-board or what??
A soundboard is a computer program, Web application, or device, traditionally created in Adobe Flash that catalogues and plays many short soundbites and audio clips. Soundboards are self-contained, requiring no outside media player. (Wikipedia)
I totally got lost on this one. Is it a program or a device? Does the kid have this board at home? Is this another required purchase?
And again, is this something I am going to have to learn how to use?
I’m confused.
Even though I don’t quite understand them, I am pretty blown away by the capabilities of these boards although, I can’t say I’m fully on board with what seems like an inundation of technology.
Truthfully, I miss the chalk board.
Photo Credit #1 Chalk Board
Video Credit #1 56K Modem
Photo Credit #2 Smart Board
Photo Credit #3 White Board
Photo Credit #4 Texting
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Striving to live life on life's terms while taking the world on with a smile.
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Taking The World On With A Smile! 