Hair-Raising Behavior

Didn't I tell you the black community has issues with hair? Clearly not everyone is heeding my warning about where not to tread. If you are not under a rock, you have most likely heard about the teacher who cut a 1st-grader's braid because she would not - breathe deep, Monica - stop twirling it. The CHILD. was TWIRLING. her hair. And that warranted scissors, it seems.

I was trying really hard to push this to the back of my mind, but it's everywhere and even Essence jumped on it, which is akin to Oprah calling a special meeting of the sistahs. (Note the url that calls the place "crazytown.") Nordette wrote about this with a little more depth than anything I first read so take a look at her story here: http://www.blogher.com/teacher-cuts-childs-braid-gets-175-fine.

I knew the little girl was black. What I did not know at first and honestly tried so very hard not to think about was whether or not this teacher was white. Dang it, she was. Seems to me she was either looking for a racial incident or she's the most sheltered teacher in America. Now before I go on, I've been reading what people have to say about this and one person who agreed this woman was nuts also wanted to stress that this is not a color issue, wishing that black Americans didn't have such knee-jerk reactions. The statement was made by a black woman, but I am guessing not a native American and that does make a difference. If you have never been abused (or lived in the midst of it), you cannot judge the self-preservation actions taken by the one who has. So let me clear this up now. No one wants it to be a color issue. But our race as a whole has PTSD (or maybe PSSD would be better) and it's not going away any time soon. When bad incidents happen, Black Americans in general pray every time that color isn't involved or that it's not a black person having an issue with a white one. We collectively hold our breaths. We are let down most of the time. So when it is a black and white person involved, we hope against hope it's not racially motivated. We don't all choose to have a knee-jerk reaction. It is the PTSD and it can't be helped. Please don't be so naive and stop trying to dismiss it.

Back to the teacher, I'm sure there have been blacks who have also maliciously cut some kid's hair who is not their own (Nordette mentions one case), but I am also sure any black person who does this knows precisely the implication of their action. It's a form of feminine castration for many black women.

I told you - the hair is sacred.

It's ingrained in us like the urge to fly is in a baby bird. No one is immune. Not even me. Reading this story got me PISSED big time and it happened so fast I didn't know what hit me. I immediately thought of all the teachers surrounding my children and the couple of times I have had to tell a teacher that my son, for instance, is not perfect at all times and his "change in behavior" after 6 months in school from quiet and obedient to a little talkative is not a sign of trouble at home. Instead it is a sign of them not knowing him like they thought they did. And how could they? They don't stay with him past that one grade.

Cutting that girl's braid is a sign of that teacher either not knowing the children she teaches - mainly black children, it is said - or just not caring. But if my daughter came home telling me that story, I can't promise I wouldn't get in that teacher's face. I would insist my husband come with me as we talk in front of the principal not because it's the adult way to handle the situation but because even now I can just feel myself choking the person who dared to lay a hand on my hair-twirling child in this most brazen way. I tell you, I was truly livid for this girl whom I don't know. How up in arms do you think I would get to find out it happened to my own?

You can take probably every culturally psychological issue we have as a people and lay it at the feet of slavery. That is likely the start of the self-esteem getting entwined in our hair and we simply have not dealt with it or refuse to believe there is a connection there. But even if you don't think the root of the hair problem is slavery, one thing is for sure - while we don't go looking for this, the majority of us do wrestle with a hair issue.

Maybe we want it straight because we want to be like white women. Maybe we are determined to be natural in order to spit in the face of that other thought. Maybe we want to braid our hair but there are still companies and careers where natural African-American hairstyles are considered bad form. (Oh yes. Those places do exist.) We have challenging hair, it's no lie, so we do what we can to make it easier to handle. I like braids and twists not because it's cultural but because it's just easier - get up and go! Plus, my hair grows better when I simply leave it alone. Thankfully, I am black and no one looks at me twice if I braid my hair. (Well, they do, but usually because they like it and it might even mean me going into teaching mode about my hair. Sigh. It does get a little tired.)

For some of us, those natural curls of ours are less a source of pride and more an embarrassment. But these and many other issues are owned by us, whether we want to own them or not and we go into defense mode when someone touches our issue - just like anyone of any other culture would. If a non-black person says a word about our hair or touches it or tries to just ask why we do what we do, it's like a sonar going off among nearby black women and every one of them will run to your defense, even if you personally aren't offended. "Its NONE of YOUR business! We can do what we want with our hair!" Don't tell your hairdresser there was talk, either. There will be consequences. And please, don't be a non-black parent with a black or mixed race child and not take care of their hair. There is a special prison where we lock you up for that offense. If that is you, just ASK FOR HELP. You won't find a black mother unwilling to help you beautify that child because, as as I said, our hair is sacred and so is the hair of every big and little sistah (or brotha) we see. There is no excuse for letting a child go wild.

It's a sensitive issue. You can't wish it away or joke it away or try to make black people feel badly for reacting the way we do. It is what it is. This teacher was foolish to do what she did. I don't necessarily think anyone should be required to learn the culture of another, but if you are going to work heavily with a population, it would behoove you to get a clue about the things they value and the things they take issue with. That teacher is naive to think people should not be upset (if she indeed thinks that). I still want her fired but I can't tell you yet if my logical, fair side is even in the conversation. A $175 fine for a teacher in Chicago probably does hit the wallet (good) but it's not enough. I'd even accept cultural sensitivity training (on top of the fine AND firing) and that to me is usually a lame thing to do.

I'm still angry. Truly. I want to hear this woman is gone. Just like Erin Andrews' stalker will hopefully get jail time for peeping at her and posting embarrassing pictures of her on the Internet, I want this teacher to face some kind of punishment for going one step further and laying a hand on the head of a child in front of all of her peers, equally and unnecessarily embarrassing her. But I also hope all this cutting behavior will mean some real discussion between the races about how to respect each other and within the race (black Americans and blacks from other countries) about the length of our hair issues. In the meanwhile, my daughter and I have hair appointments this weekend. You can bet the shop will be hopping mad.

Children Say the Dumbest Things

I was born and lived in southeast D.C. until I was 9. I went to a private school, where the teachers sometimes let you spend the night at their homes. (It was indeed a different time.) My best friend at school was one of the most popular kids in school even though we were on the younger end of things. We mostly got along with the older kids, though, simply because they adored my cute and friendly best friend so life was good.

I lived on a REALLY long street (at least that's how I recall it) where you could literally see the financial differences between the homes as you drove from one end to the other. I was in the middle. My best friend's house on my street was pretty much as far as I could go on one end. It was headed toward the rougher end. Maybe that was partly why. We had block parties and everyone played together. I was even Miss B Street one year because of my grades. Life was good there too.

Right before 5th grade, my family and I moved to Philly. That's when life became a challenge. The kids in Philly had a knack for knowing I wasn't from there because I spoke "proper" or "white." (My private school was all black, by the way, including most if not all of the teachers.) If you don't know what speaking proper means, it means I use nouns AND verbs and some of my words may be more than 2 syllables. I'm sure any African-American can tell you the deal with this particular issue. It's right up there with the light-skinned/dark-skinned and good hair/bad hair crap we still struggle with today. (Oh yeah. My hair was long too and so in the early days some kids believed it was fake even when it was pinned up.) Basically, this is all stupid. But it's still very much alive and ruining lives on a daily basis.

I eventually found my people in Philly and by high school, found some relative peace. But you never forget the dumb things kids say to each other. As much as you hate to let it get to you, you know you are shaped by it for life.

That's why it slightly pains but mostly angers me when my kids come home with the latest grievance.

Today from 4th-grade Son: "Today I was mostly ignored. I spoke to them but no one really spoke back."

Yesterday from Son: "Mommy, some people told me my eyebrows make me look angry. When I raise them up, I look friendlier. Can I make them thinner?"

Last week from 1st-grade Daughter: "Today I was drawing and (Nameless Child) told me I have no imagination."

Last month from Daughter: "Mommy, ever since I started wearing glasses, people don't speak to me anymore. The only ones who speak to me are the other kids with glasses."

My response to every one of these? "Are you alright? Did that hurt your feelings? Well, do you know why that happened?" Generally, they say they are OK and they didn't know why the kids said what they did. After I see they aren't literally crying over it and feel certain they aren't going to have a break down or start trying to be different, I tell them that "friends" don't talk to friends that way. I tell them they can feel free to say, "Why do you feel that way? Yeah? Well, that's just stupid and you can keep on walking."

I do not love children. I love MY children. Big difference. So "stupid" is not a word I want to teach my kids but mainly because I want them to respect each other. They are the only siblings they have. I tell them not to use that word on each other but I'm short on patience so when I hear this, I tell them that kids sometimes just say stupid things to each other, like that black people aren't "s**t," (uttered by a Jamaican child), but they can't let it ruin their day. As long as THEY don't agree and WE don't agree, then nothing else matters. In the words of Mariah Carey, we gotta shake it off.

"Daughter, your glasses are super cute and you are super cute in them, I tell you. I never wore them but they look GOOD on you, girl! (They really do.) You tell them if they don't want to be your friend because you wear glasses, then they are ridiculous and you don't have time for it. Not talking to someone because of glasses is just DUMB. You tell them that, Daughter."

"OK."

"No, Son, I am not going to let you make your eyebrows thinner. Your eyebrows are perfect. In fact, they are MINE (before I started getting them waxed). And anyone who knows you knows you are not angry. You tell them that's just the silliest thing you've ever heard and you keep on going."

"OK."

Son already has to deal with the foolish friends who tell him that he's "big" while they are skinny. Um, yeah, silly ones. His father is 6' 3", you little loonies. His cousins are drafted for pro basketball. Stop trying to make him feel badly for being a developing child. One day you'll strain your neck looking up at him.

I hate to see them getting their feelings hurt over things they have no control over or that simply aren't true but the little tykes are too limited in their world view to know it. I hate to keep telling them their so-called friends are silly and maybe they need to rethink their definition of a friend, or at the very least teach those kids how to treat them - give respect, get respect. Give nonsense, get the back of the head as you walk away. (Fingers together. Let us chant - We will not resort to smacking people. We will not resort to smacking people.) I suspect one day they will say exactly what I said and then we'll have all this politically correct crap to deal with, but I'll be all too happy to show my color then and share with the school admins/parents that my children are my primary concern, not their need to placate everyone.

I am SO glad not to be growing up at this time. The stupidity just flows from old to young to younger to youngest. My son's sensitive nature makes me concerned for him. He internalizes and keeps it there but he still tells me about it - for now. My daughter tends to wear her heart on her sleeve too but her hurt turns to anger and eventually she shakes you off, but all the world will hear her shaking you off. My concern for her is that someone ELSE will get hurt one day.

They tell me these things and I get thrown back to my own childhood every single time. I come back verbally swinging and hand them the bat, but yet trying not to make these things into baggage they will carry one day. I may not be winning that particular battle. But for now, we'll keep on cleaning Daughter's glasses, rubbing Son's eyebrows in the mornings so they lay straight and telling them they are the coolest kids we know - because they are.

Back to School Part 1

Day 1 of first grade for Daughter and 4th for Son, and yes, we started on time this time. But the school bus? (See link there.) The new driver is trying the route from two years ago! Can someone please inject some status quo here?

Anyhow, for Daughter, it's business as usual. Even the glasses, newly acquired in June, are becoming a fixture. For Son, it's all good except he has to be on a new lunch schedule with the 4th-6th graders. "It's later," he says. Hopefully that's all that really means to him.





See, this post is just Part 1 because when the kids came back from my parents' house, their new stuff was sent separately to keep from adding to the weight of the luggage. And that means Daughter did not get to start the year with the Jonas Brothers in tow, like she wanted, although I did get her a Jonas Brother lunchbox and that more than made her happy. Still, I'll have to remember to do a before and after shot once the beloved bags arrive because school just won't be the same without the pop trio on her back. (Roll eyes here.)

Can't wait to get home! Yeah sure, I do want to know about their day but more importantly, I don't know how to pronounce Daughter's teacher's name so I'm eager to find out!

Eyes Half Closed, I Am Still in The Race

My kids are in school. So why am I the one exhausted already?

I have been trying to make sure to be home by 8 each night so I can have both my ears pulled by their stories and their questions and their list of things they need BY TOMORROW. Checking homework that isn't really in depth just yet. Figuring out who will eat the next day's school lunch and who won't. Covering text books (think I'm done now). Baths, laundry, cleaning in an effort to not be too overwhelmed the next morning. My refrigerator REALLY needs cleaning but there's too much stuff in there right now and I'm too lazy to pull it all out. But maybe I will this weekend. Daughter got a hold of a toy catalog and is regaling me with her Christmas wish list, marking up about 75% of the catalog with things she "needs" and Son "needs" and the back yard is "empty. So we need to get stuff back there so we can play." Yes, your highness.

I have a to-do list at work that is miles long and my own to-do list isn't as long but it's VERY involved. Last night I was hoping to fold laundry and read a little bit while Mr. T watched football. But the business emails I had to go through first took longer than I expected and the laundry was actually 3 loads sitting around waiting for me, because clearly I'm the only one in the whole house who knows how to put seams together and fold.

And then McCain made his speech. I'm curious about him so I listened. It was all I could do not to fall asleep. The speech was uninspired and uninspiring. The man clearly has nothing on his Veep, that's for sure, but he solidified one thing for me - I do NOT want him running the show.

I've got a mortgage to refinance. I've got kids who want the moon. I've got a car that I think wants to retire but it has to keep working for me. I've got a business I can't give the proper time to. I've got a husband who works two jobs and yes, he loves to work, but I hate the thought of him working overtime some days, which means the kids need to get off the school bus at Nana's house and that increases the likelihood of them getting off at the wrong bus stop again and then I'll have TWO misplaced children. I've got a job that I love but that needs a ton of my time - just like everything and everyone else. I don't see McCain being able to empathize with me. Frankly, I don't see Palin in my boat either.

I need debates now. That where the differences will show up. I was just telling a friend earlier that I am glad things have gone the way they have because there's a black man on one side and a woman on the other. If you hate one, you'll go for the other out of spite. But guess what? Racists and sexists all have to bite the bullet on this one because you will get one or the other like it or not, baby. So what's your choice? To forget the unimportant stuff like race and gender, and actually LISTEN to these people and pick the best person for YOU and YOUR family. Maybe hate will spur people to vote! What a concept!

I'll be watching it all through sleepy eyes, I'm sure, but I know I'll be wide awake when it's time to vote. If you haven't registered yet, get your butt in gear. It takes SECONDS and you'd wait longer than that to get into a club or to buy the latest cell phone. Look at your family or just consider your life and make a choice.

Welcome, September

I'm on a break - sort of. It's been another hectic week and I didn't blog (here) and I had about 100 emails to catch up on and a new tool on my job's website just launched and I am basically in charge of running it and my eyes are hurting from my stupid allergeies that didn't come when I was expecting it and I was therefore lulled into a false sense of freedom thinking this was my better allergy year when it was all just delayed until mid-July and continues through right now.

I missed blogging about my kids' first day of school basically because it was all screwed up and it took two days to get it sorted. Daughter had kindergarten orientation on Thursday. She went in for a 20-minute or so tour of her classroom and treasure hunt. She loved it even though she can't seem to remember her teacher's name. That's OK. I keep pronouncing it two different ways myself.

As we prepared to go home, I asked the teacher about all the kids who were there that day. "Oh, it's the first day of school for the rest of the school."

"Excuse me, what?"

You see, the information we got in Daughter's letter from her teacher mentioned that the first full day of school was Friday.

"Oh, that's just the kindergarteners," she said. Yes, of course it is! I hopped on my cell phone while she spoke. "Mr. T. get Son dressed. He's missing his first day of school!"

"It's tomorrow."

"No it isn't! I'm talking to Daughter's teacher right now!"

"But the paper said Friday."

"That's just for the kindergartners. I know. I was confused too. Just get him dressed and we'll switch kids!"

I made sure the office was cool as Daughter and I trotted out to go get her brother. All was well when I brought him in approximately an hour and a half late. "We're just glad he's here now," the office secretary said as she wrote an excused tardy note for him. Funny how she, the principal and Daughter's teacher all had the same it-was-a stupid-mistake-but-we-won't tell-you-that-though-we'll-smile-patronizing-smiles-instead voices. Well, at least Mr. T got confused too. He's as aware as I am when it comes to the kids' needs and school goings-on. At least we were clueless together.

And the next day was no better, I suppose. As we waited for the bus and it didn't come, I called the bus company to make sure the route had not changed. Normally they would be the last ones on, which makes sense since we are close to the school but right at the line between the kids having to get themselves to school (because they are close by) and the school bus being made available. Come to find out, our stop will now be the first stop and we were about 10 minutes late getting there. So, no first day on the school bus pictures for our new kindergartner. I can't care too much. Honestly. There was just so much confusion over those two days and between those two days when our two public school kids came home with folders full of stuff to do and sign and buy (or find in the house). I just needed a break. I haven't really Tweet on Twitter, faced the nation on Facebook, Linked with anyone or socialized on my 3 business networking sites in about a week. What have I been doing? Well, working on my book proposal, which I hope to wrap up tomorrow and chillaxin' with Mr. T whenever possible. I really just needed to do that. Plus my eyes. My tired eyes. My allergic, aching eyes have been plaguing me. But I had to get back here to my neglected blog as she was calling me for days but I've been too busy to answer. I'm here, sweet blog! You're never too far from my heart. I haven't even commented on the Dem convention and McCain's VP pick! You KNOW I have thoughts on those!

I'm kind of glad September is here. It's a fresh month and a fresh start. I can't wait to get started!

Tomorrow.

Time's Up!

Tomorrow I go get the kids. Summer at Camp Grandma must have been really good because this was the first time ever that no one said, "Mommy, when do you come get us?" They are growing up and getting used to it and I'm glad. Mr. T is too. I know he was happy that he was able to take every overtime opportunity that came at him at work, which is good for the bills but takes away from our time. Still, we found our moments so it wasn't a total waste of freedom. Plus, I got a chance to get my book proposal to near completion. I had hoped to have it mailed out today but I found another expert to add to it and I waited to hear from her and some of the others I had already talked to about being in it. So now I'm shooting to mail it on Friday because I really want it moving before September hits. It will have been 3 months and a week since I last talked to the agent and told her I didn't have a proposal yet but I would do one. On that front, time's up as well.

School starts on Friday and Mr. T keeps mentioning Daughter getting on the school bus. I don't recall him mentioning it quite as much when Son went for the first time but it's probably because she is still the baby and there's that whole father/daughter thing I'm sure. He's right. It's a big step. New school; a public school. Riding the school bus. New teacher (for the school as well). New friends. At least she has Son and that makes it easier for me to handle it. Plus she, unlike when Son was in kindergarten and we were living with my MIL, is getting on at the last stop before they hit school, which makes it the first stop home so I know they won't even have to deal with a long ride. I'm looking forward to the new adventure for her but it conjures up thoughts that time will be up in another way as well - deciding on that 3rd kid.

Yeah, God is in charge ultimately but we're not exactly winging it here. Deliberate decisions would still have to be made but that's OK. We have enough on our plates with kindergarten and having to refinance our mortgage soon. I'll just wait until my 38th birthday at the end of the year and see what's what. I told Mr. T about a dream I had recently that I saw some boxes in a store that had my MIL's name on it. They were baby shower gifts being held for her to buy for us. Surely just a random reaction to a topic that stays at the back of my mind. The first part of that dream was he and I running around France trying to catch a cab to the airport to get back home. The only thing we had were the suits we were born in. ;-) Not likely to happen either, right? So I guess nothing is for certain.

Lead, Follow Or....What?

How do you teach leadership?

This has been something I've been struggling with since I was pregnant with Son. I knew there would be a ton of things I'd want to tell him over the years so I started writing him letters as things came to me when I first found out he was on the way. I'm not sure right now if leadership was one of those topics at that time but it sure is one now.

If you aren't a parent yet but will be one day or if you are brand new at it or shoot - if you're as clueless about some of this as the rest of us, one important thing to remember is people are pretty much born with a certain personality. Life and circumstances affect it, for sure, but a lot of things are innate. The child who succeeds in everything they do. The one who tries. The one who has to be pushed. The one who is friendly and outgoing. The one who is shy. That's built-in stuff, my friends, so don't beat yourself up about it and don't let a therapist blame for you for it later. I believe God wants us to watch these babies, pray over them, try to discover their gifts, talents and natural inclinations, and then take all that to figure out how to guide them in the path they should go according to how God made them - not according to how God made you.

It's not easy. Sometimes our own dreams and ambitions and tendencies get in the way. I know they do for me. But I try to force myself to remember these babies of mine are who they are and they must live their own lives one day. So I want to try to teach them how to be who they are and do what they enjoy and yet how to wrangle their shortcomings so they don't get unnecessarily hurt because of them. I want to encourage the stuff I know will make them strong and happy in the long run. But sometimes what's a "good" trait and what's problematic is all mixed up and I'm not sure what to say about it.

Son. You knew this would be about him, didn't you? He's my challenge since he's my oldest. Early on we could tell Son might be a follower. I can't explain it. It was just what we thought, much like we can clearly see Daughter is a leader, and not always in a good way. When they're together, Son comes down to Daughter's age level. But that's OK. She's a smart cookie so he's not stooping that far. They basically get along and play together and what more can you ask of a brother and sister with 3 1/2 years between them?

Son has Pokemon trading cards. I bought them for him for Christmas and he was truly elated when he unwrapped them. I still don't know if this is HIS thing or just another must-have picked up from the group he hangs with at school. At the ages of 7 and 8, a lot of things are going to arise from that collective mentality, I know.

Last night I picked up Son and one of his friends from their cub scout meeting.

"Mommy, Z won't give me back my Pokemon cards."

"What? You brought cards with you?"

"No."

"He has your cards from some other time?"

Son then spoke in tongues as he explained how last Thursday, Z wanted some weird-named card and Son traded him two other strangely named cards for two equally tongue-twisting cards. At some point, Son decided it wasn't a good trade and wanted them back but Z wasn't giving them up. Great. A debate. Just what I was looking for during the ride home. On top of that, I could see Son was going to get upset.

So what do you say? They are trading cards, after all. That's what he did. You can't get trader's remorse afterward. You suck it up because you should have thought of the importance of them before you let them go. But on the other hand, you say you are friends. If one friend is going to get upset, are you really going to let trading cards be the reason for it?

"Son, these are trading cards. That's what they are for. You wanted what you traded for at the time so you should live with your decision. Z has a right to keep them. It's the code. And Z, you see Son is upset. This is your chance to be a friend and swap back. Friendship isn't easy but it's more important than cards. It's your decision. You two work it out."

I wanted that to be the end of it. I didn't want to be in this. But Son wasn't letting go. Z was unusually quiet as Son nagged him to trade back. "Please, Z?" Eventually Z blurted out, "Ohhhh, stop it! Give me time to make up my mind!"

We got to the parking lot where I hand Z over to one of his parents but we had to wait a bit for his father to arrive.

"Please," Son continued begging. "Please! Please!"

If you had been there you would have seen my skin crawl and watched it turn red as my blood boiled. It was all I could do to stay out of it. Son appealed to me again.

"What do you want me to do, Son?"

"Call his mother."

"To complain about trading cards? I don't think so, baby."

Z's father showed and out he went to get into his own car. Son's crying got louder but I didn't realize it until I got back into my car and closed the door. I waited until we were driving once again. I could only imagine what Z was saying to his own father.

"Let me tell you something, Son. Don't you ever, EVER beg that boy or ANYONE for anything every again! Got it? They're cards, for crying out loud. You're upset? Fine. Cry at home! But don't you allow yourself to break down in front of these kids."

Extreme talk, I know. And I knew I had to explain this but first I had to get that off my chest. Z is a leader. A strong one. I've listened to him malign Daughter to Son during the few times I've taken her with me to pick them up, telling Son, "Just ignore her," when she tried to be part of the conversation. Z is a middle child and has no sisters so I understand the psychology of it all but I made sure he understood (and Mr. T has had to say the same, I found out) that he was not going to belittle my girl to my boy and start a rift in a perfectly good relationship. Son already acts like she isn't there when friends come over and I expect this but it hurts her feelings and she doesn't get it.

I could see years of Son being a lapdog to Z and God knows who else and I wasn't having it. I was already trying to figure out how to get the boy to do independent thinking. The last thing I needed was for him to get labeled as a baby among his peers for crying over trading cards. But in explaining all this, there's the whole balance of reacting to things as they really are and then telling them how it should be and acting as if it were. It's a difficult dance to master.

I told Son about being a leader and being a follower and standing alone.
I told Son it's alright to cry but you have to learn to check those feelings in certain places.
I told Son that Z wasn't wrong about the cards and neither was he. It's life.
I told Son to start thinking about his criteria for friendship and making sure people fit the bill before you bestowed that title.
I told Son that the school years are tough and kids can be mean. Don't make it easy for them to make your life hard.

Hopefully he gets his cards back but what I'm really hoping is that he'll never trade his self-respect for someone else's approval.

And The Verdict Is..

Yes. Son and I have found out the Family Project for his summer camp program this summer. And yes, we DO have to write a book. I ought to get paid for my clairvoyance.

But I've got an idea and that is lightyears ahead of where I was at this time last summer when told of his project.

One of the things that was suggested by the IT Guru there was that we purchase this little baby called a Wacom tablet. Now, I've got taxes to pay, a vacation coming, stuff I want to do for the house, treats to buy for the kids' rooms when they leave to go to the grandparents and the last thing I want to do is spend more money. But I admit, this baby is cool. Son loves to write as much as I do and he loves to draw too, so it's not like this would be a waste of money for either of us. I'll think about it. But if you want to write your own book, this is a great way to illustrate it and write it electronically in your own handwriting. Very cool, even for non-techy me. And it's not that expensive. Very tempting. Now, I can imagine a lot of the kids will do the same things, especially if they end up getting and/or using this Wacom. So I doubt I'll buy it for THIS purpose. Hopefully my idea is just seemingly complicated enough that no one else will do it. I do like to be different if I can. Oh, wait. This is HIS project. Yes, yes. I misstated that. He likes to be different. There we go. That's what I meant. Yes I did and you can't prove otherwise.

Son and I have much reading to do. And planning to do for this book. Get me to the library!

Saturday, Father's Day, Last Day

It was a good weekend for pictures. So why didn't I take any? Or many? Well, Saturday I was too busy chasing my kids around the beach making sure no one got hurt or fell in the water while Mr. T. hung out with his family members during one of their many family get-togethers. He comes from a huge clan, many of whom live right here in this state with us, so they see each other as much as they can.

I had just had a discussion the day before with a friend of mine about my independence and how much I protect it. She's like me so she's see no problem with it. I told her sometimes I listen to other people in relationships and I feel like I should want to spend all my time with dear hubby, but guess what? I don't. I told her it seemed like we should be talking about everything under the sun but we don't because we don't choose to. (Mind you, there ARE a few things we DO need to work on discussing but that fierce independence in both us gets in the way.) Mr. T., like many men, goes off into his cave sometimes and acts like no one else is there. Sometimes it bugs me when I want to say something to him right then but mostly, I really don't care. I have no need to be under him all the time. I have no need to tell him every little thing. I have no desire to share every thought in my head. But it's not because of him. He'll listen to anything I say and pops up with presents and trips to places every now and again that proves it. But me? I've ALWAYS been this way and I'm glad to have found someone who accepts that and doesn't ask me a zillion questions. I've never liked to be asked a lot of questions, for reasons I don't even fully understand myself. Some days I can take it. Other days, it just feels nosey. But it's how I am. Moody. So, we come and go as we please, making sure each other knows when we're doing something not routine, but we like to do the same things for fun when it's time to not be so busy so it just works for us. It's nice to have someone there when I want it but who also knows how to leave me to myself and not take it personally.

So spending Saturday with his close family was a little hard because I was feeling especially anti-social that day and they - the ones who don't know me - probably found me stand-offish but I was really just wanting to read the book my critique group and I are reading, and keep my kids from burying each other in that icky old sand. I don't like beaches. Sand is dirt to me. My daughter wanting to walk on it with her bare feet gave me shivers but in that case it was because of the unknown. You never knows what's buried in that shifty, seeping sand.

Most of the time, I like it to just be the four of us. And that's what we did on Father's Day. A trip to see Fantastic 4 - for Son's sake - dinner at Outback and then a Sunday drive to no where in particular. Daughter informed us along the way that she needed new clothes, and could we please go somewhere because dinner, a movie, and a stop at the store to get her Pull-ups was not enough of an outing for her. So we drove along the water in one town and then we drove through the park in another town. That's where we stopped to watch a family feeding ducks and geese.



As you can see, Daughter is practically fearless, but somehow still can't take off her own shirt unless she's having a sudden bout of independence. (Fiercely independent mommies try to make fiercely independent children and when one even utters, "I can't!" when really that child means, "I won't!" regarding the simplest of tasks, FIM simply goes nuts.)

So now we are going to have to make another trip with a loaf of bread one day because I promise you, Daughter will not forget that we said we would - one day.

In the end, we all came home somewhat tired, though we did nothing particularly physical. And we got ready for this special week. Because today is...


SON'S LAST DAY AS A FIRST-GRADER!

I didn't get a chance to take a picture of him waiting for the bus but I'll do like I did last year and have Mr. T. take a picture of him coming home.

Where did the time go? The start of school does feel a million years ago but 2nd grade is looming and I'm not sure yet if I feel anything about that. I'm too busy thinking about the busy summer ahead. (We slow down for nothing in my house.) He's got a math packet to complete for 2nd grade, and the reading one too. We got 5 books from the library last night to tide him over between the end of school and the start of his summer literacy program but he's already read 3 of them. Guess we'll have to go back Wednesday. The literacy camp WILL be work - remember the scrapbook? - so he'll be occupied. Then it's August. Sweet August. My month of childlessness. It's gonna be a tight one, taking them down one day and coming back home the next, but it'll be worth it.

I do love this time of the year when everyone has done the hard work of completing another school year and routines can relax a bit. And this summer, I am in my own home to boot. It's gonna be simply marvelous.