Kids just say and do the darnedest things....
I was driving with my kids the other night...the night after Miley Cyrus had her unofficial audition for "Club Chubby's" newest "stand up" lap dancer on live television the other night, when my straight laced, devout Catholic mother calls me and says, "so I heard a new word on one of the a.m. news talk shows. What does twerking mean? " My older kids, who, incidentally did not, and most definitely were not allowed to watch the MTV Video Music Awards, all bust out laughing. Apparently, even though I send them to Catholic school, that doesn't mean all the parents there share concerns about the over-sexualization of our children that I do. So of course, my middle school aged kids hear all about it. And then some, judging from the giggles and tittering going about the SUV. And of course, I'm on speaker phone. *sighs* So upon hearing all of the giggles about the car, my mom then wants to know what's so funny, and I'm stuck there, in traffic, with 7 children in the car with nothing but a whole lotta "ums" and an eventual "no...you don't, and I'll call you later, but seriously....when I do, do we really have to discuss it? " coming out of my puss.
So then my mom goes on further. Seiously...I love the woman, but she could never leave well enough alone. She goes on and mentions something about how and how she's pretty sure Robin Thicke's from Canada. Why on earth this is relevant, I have no idea. I think she was trying to change the subject. Or maybe she was just surprised that a Canadian would do something that must be naughty, judging from the snickering from my end, on live television. Like Canadians can't be just as bad as the rest of us? Maybe it's all that snow...you can't be too naughty all bundled up in a parka, right? But after my mom spills the beans about Canada's newest favorite son, my son Fin perks up and says, "sweet!! I can use him for my project sbout Canada. We have to give examples of famous people from our assigned country". I look at Fin, and give him the "ok" sign just to shut him up for a few minutes so I can say goodbye to my mom, promising to call her later, of course. After my mom hangs up, I tell young Finbar that "it might be better to look at some other famous Canadians, like Wayne Gretzky, for instance, because he had some mad skills, true, Fin?" To which my 15 year old, Nora Kate, who's riding shotgun, leans over and in a low voice says, so only I can hear (or so I think) fills me in on the situation.Counting on her fingers, she enumerates for me, "Well, you know mom...to get, #1) twerked by the darling of the Disney Channel on live TV, #2) in front of millions of viewers, and #3) with her dad and your wife in the audience not only watching, but cheering you on.... I'm thinking that takes some mad skills too." She of course gets the stink eye from me over this, but I know if I begin to discuss it, it will only get worse than it already is.
My oldest son (13), Sean apparently has overheard her elucidating some of Mr. Thicke's "mad skills", leans forward from the middle seat of the Suburban and says "yeah..but can that Robin Thicke guy hit a 30 ft slapper planting the biscuit between the pipes through the crease monkey's five hole?" To which Nora Kate turn around, saying "pervert!!!", and smacked him in the side of the head. With all the sisterly love she could muster, of course.
At this point, I had to pull the SUV over I was laughing so hard. Of course I knew that all Sean was saying was that Robin Thicke being twerked on live TV wasn't anything to compare to Wayne Gretzky's mad skills at putting the puck in the net from 30ft out, right between the goalies legs. Thank God I pay attention during hockey games. So after I made Nora Kate apologize for hitting her brother, and then explained to her what he said was actually innocent sports banter, we had to discuss the whole "twerking" incident once we got home. And you know....I kind of resent the fact that I had to "go there", you know. I purposely DO NOT expose my children to such things. But thanks to network morning news shows and other parents who do not limit the programming their children watch, I ended up not only having to explain to my children that twerking was something that "nice girls do not do". The point I didn't share with them was that twerking is okay, as long as they are married and their husband promises to buy them jewelry, furniture, re-do the kitchen and/or the bathroom, or take them to the a bowl game this football season....oh, yeah, and then only and only then WITH their husband, or else she is no longer a "nice girl". But then I also had to explain to my mom that it is "like the stork and the cabbage patch and where my brothers and I like to believe we came from...In other words, I just don't want to talk about it, and for the love of all that is holy, can we just leave it at that?"
So yeah...I resent having to explain overtly sexual behavior that has become part of pop culture not only to my children....but to my mother as well. And I swear if my mother-in-law calls me about this, I'm going to completely lose it....or maybe I'll just hand the phone to her son.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Raised on Rockets:Recollections of a Rocket Girl....
I grew up in Merritt Island, Florida, which was a tiny little dot on a map on the east coast of Florida. It is actually easy to find on the map, because it kind of looks like a handle smack in the middle of the East coast of the Florida peninsula. It is really only an island because it is between the Indian and Banana Rivers. There are a lot of fascinating facts and places in and around my hometown, but none quite as well known as the Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral Air Station launch facility. They are both about 5 miles from my house, as the crow flies. Growing up, I didn't know we lived anywhere that special. My father worked building rockets for the newly formed National Aeronautics and Space Administration, and it's various contractors. He worked building the rockets that first put men into orbit, and then on the much more powerful ones that would eventually put a man on the moon. But everyone's father I knew did that. I never really questioned my dad about what he did. It just seemed kind of boring, because everyone else's dad did the same exact thing. No big deal...
I also didn't think it was unusual to be woken at 4 in the morning by the rattling of my jaloussie windows, as a Saturn V rocket got it's groove on and lifted off from Pad 39A. Most days I'd just roll over and go back to sleep, not thinking another thing about it. My older brothers would often run outside and watch the sky be lit up all Halloween orange, with the glow of the massive Saturn V rocket engines lighting the purple pre-dawn sky. Engines our dad had helped build. But yeah...no big deal. However, they would also go back to sleep soon after lift off, and very rarely discuss it in the morning. This was just "normal" for us. Like I said..it was no big deal.
I was raised not to be boastful of ones blessings or of ones situation in life. My dad, though a larger than life character to me, was rather quiet and shy around others. He didn't ever talk about what he did, or how the work he and others did at Kennedy Space Center was so important and so fascinating. When everyone around you did the same thing, there really wasn't much to talk about, right? Plus much of it was highly classified, as NASA was terrified that the Soviets would beat us in the Space Race. I never realized that, even though thousands of people worked at then Kennedy Space Center, it was really a very, very small segment of the US population, and it was rather unusual to see rockets up close. It was only when I visited my cousins in Alabama one summer that I truly realized what a special upbringing I really had. I was probably about 10 years old. One of my cousins was actually jealous of the fact that I lived in the close proximity of rockets. And when she found out I was so 'meh' about the fact that I witnessed rocket launches every few months, or so, she was ready to slap the holy hell outta me. This was after Apollo 11, and the moon landing, so the country was all "Moon Fever" and anything about rockets or space was a huge deal. But not so much for kids raised on what was to become known as "The Space Coast" of Florida. We were raised on rockets. And we had no clue how cool that really was.
Fast forwarding to 19When the Space Shuttle Challenger blew up only seconds after lift off, I was sitting in the parking lot of Merritt Island High, in my convertible Mustang, with the top down, head leaned back, not really paying all that much attention to the launch behind my Bucci Rose shades. This was the launch that had the "Teacher in Space" on board, so all the schools in our county and around the country were encouraged to watch the launch. We were lucky in that we could actually go outside and watch it. But for me, and a lot of the kids in that parking lot that cold January morning, it was just another launch, and had been done dozens of times before, and it was just "no big deal". It was a wickedly cold day for Florida standards, and the mercury hadn't even made it past the 30 degree mark when NASA gave the "Go" for launch. My best friend, John Marose, was sitting next to me in the 'Stang, head also leaned back on the seat, shades on, and listening to the launch announcer on the radio. Marose was from Chicago, and was still enthralled with the idea of living on the Space Coast, and the idea of seeing a rocket go up. This was his first shuttle launch, so he was paying more attention than I was to the launch. So when the shuttle blew up only seconds after lift off, I jarred myself back into the moment, and REALLY looked up, only to see what was left of the Challenger falling from the sky. John asked me, "Is that normal?". I was dumbstruck...but finally managed to get out, "No, Marose...that isn't normal. THAT is most definitely NOT normal." We looked around at all the other kids and faculty gathered in the parking lot. Many of the women faculty openly crying, and the men trying keep a brave face for the kids. But we all knew. This was NOT normal. This event was NOT survivable for the astronauts on board. And when NASA says there's been a catastrophic anomaly...you know things have definitely strayed into the FUBAR zip code. Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition.
That day is seared into my brain...stuck onto my frontal lobe with super glue. I think it is for every person in that parking lot that day. It's one of those days that I will always remember where I was when it happened. Like 9/11...or for my mom's generation, the Kennedy asassination. It changed my thinking about every single launch that went up from Cape Canaveral. I appreciated how dangerous it was to dare to conquer space. Yeah...things went horribly wrong that day. But thinking back on the hundreds of rockets that have been launched from Cape Canaveral, I can count on one hand all of the "catastrophic events" that have occurred. And that is a pretty good record, in my book. That day changed how I felt about where I lived. I don't know...maybe I just grew up a little more that day. All I know is that I was proud to have been raised on rockets.
I also didn't think it was unusual to be woken at 4 in the morning by the rattling of my jaloussie windows, as a Saturn V rocket got it's groove on and lifted off from Pad 39A. Most days I'd just roll over and go back to sleep, not thinking another thing about it. My older brothers would often run outside and watch the sky be lit up all Halloween orange, with the glow of the massive Saturn V rocket engines lighting the purple pre-dawn sky. Engines our dad had helped build. But yeah...no big deal. However, they would also go back to sleep soon after lift off, and very rarely discuss it in the morning. This was just "normal" for us. Like I said..it was no big deal.
I was raised not to be boastful of ones blessings or of ones situation in life. My dad, though a larger than life character to me, was rather quiet and shy around others. He didn't ever talk about what he did, or how the work he and others did at Kennedy Space Center was so important and so fascinating. When everyone around you did the same thing, there really wasn't much to talk about, right? Plus much of it was highly classified, as NASA was terrified that the Soviets would beat us in the Space Race. I never realized that, even though thousands of people worked at then Kennedy Space Center, it was really a very, very small segment of the US population, and it was rather unusual to see rockets up close. It was only when I visited my cousins in Alabama one summer that I truly realized what a special upbringing I really had. I was probably about 10 years old. One of my cousins was actually jealous of the fact that I lived in the close proximity of rockets. And when she found out I was so 'meh' about the fact that I witnessed rocket launches every few months, or so, she was ready to slap the holy hell outta me. This was after Apollo 11, and the moon landing, so the country was all "Moon Fever" and anything about rockets or space was a huge deal. But not so much for kids raised on what was to become known as "The Space Coast" of Florida. We were raised on rockets. And we had no clue how cool that really was.
Fast forwarding to 19When the Space Shuttle Challenger blew up only seconds after lift off, I was sitting in the parking lot of Merritt Island High, in my convertible Mustang, with the top down, head leaned back, not really paying all that much attention to the launch behind my Bucci Rose shades. This was the launch that had the "Teacher in Space" on board, so all the schools in our county and around the country were encouraged to watch the launch. We were lucky in that we could actually go outside and watch it. But for me, and a lot of the kids in that parking lot that cold January morning, it was just another launch, and had been done dozens of times before, and it was just "no big deal". It was a wickedly cold day for Florida standards, and the mercury hadn't even made it past the 30 degree mark when NASA gave the "Go" for launch. My best friend, John Marose, was sitting next to me in the 'Stang, head also leaned back on the seat, shades on, and listening to the launch announcer on the radio. Marose was from Chicago, and was still enthralled with the idea of living on the Space Coast, and the idea of seeing a rocket go up. This was his first shuttle launch, so he was paying more attention than I was to the launch. So when the shuttle blew up only seconds after lift off, I jarred myself back into the moment, and REALLY looked up, only to see what was left of the Challenger falling from the sky. John asked me, "Is that normal?". I was dumbstruck...but finally managed to get out, "No, Marose...that isn't normal. THAT is most definitely NOT normal." We looked around at all the other kids and faculty gathered in the parking lot. Many of the women faculty openly crying, and the men trying keep a brave face for the kids. But we all knew. This was NOT normal. This event was NOT survivable for the astronauts on board. And when NASA says there's been a catastrophic anomaly...you know things have definitely strayed into the FUBAR zip code. Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition.
That day is seared into my brain...stuck onto my frontal lobe with super glue. I think it is for every person in that parking lot that day. It's one of those days that I will always remember where I was when it happened. Like 9/11...or for my mom's generation, the Kennedy asassination. It changed my thinking about every single launch that went up from Cape Canaveral. I appreciated how dangerous it was to dare to conquer space. Yeah...things went horribly wrong that day. But thinking back on the hundreds of rockets that have been launched from Cape Canaveral, I can count on one hand all of the "catastrophic events" that have occurred. And that is a pretty good record, in my book. That day changed how I felt about where I lived. I don't know...maybe I just grew up a little more that day. All I know is that I was proud to have been raised on rockets.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
The Last Half Only
I have a few theories about child rearing. One of them I lovingly call the "Last Half Only Theory". Now, I know I'm not a perfect mom. *snorts and thinks "far from it"* But I've noticed a few things over my years of being a mom. Kids seem to only listen to the last half of your sentence. For example, if I tell my kids, "Shut the door" then I'm good. They will shut the door. But if I say "Shut the door, you don't want to let mosquitoes in!" They will leave the door open because all they heard was "let mosquitoes in". I know, it's not a scientific theory. But hell...raising children is NOT a science. I sometimes feel I need to start talking like Yoda from Star Wars. He would have phrased the above command as: "Want mosquitoes in, you do not. Door shut you do". So, here's a case in point of what I'm talking about. (note, I have capitalized portions of the following only for emphasis in this blog....it was emphasized at the time nor was it "yelled" at Liam)
The other day, I caught my toddler, Liam, picking his nose. It's a normal thing for kids, even kids older than he is, to do this, so I didn't freak out. But I did realize there was a chance to nip this in the bud with just the right kind of parenting. *again, I snort at this...like I would know the "right kind of parenting" if it hit me in the head!* So back to Liam...I of course stopped him, helped him wipe his nose with a tissue, then proceeded to give him the "Why You Don't Pick Your Nose" lecture. So I go though the litany of reasons why NOT to pick your nose, like "it's unsanitary and can spread germs" or "it's just plain gross", and the ever important, but often overlooked "you can actually make your nose bleed, which might lead to infection" (I find this one gets trumped by the "it's just plain gross" argument nearly every time.). I end it up with an emphatic, "So don't DON'T PICK YOUR NOSE. After I am finished, I leave the room, to go throw in a load of laundry. My oldest two daughters, Maggie and Nora Kate were in the room, and of course, they had plenty to say on the subject. (I know...go ahead, roll your eyes now.) What they don't realize is that I can hear them from the other room...
Nora Kate begins by pointing out that it's not JUST picking your nose that's gross. She says, "There is indeed something even more disgusting than picking your nose." At this point, she gets right down in little Liam's face and says in a low, dramatic voice: "It's picking your nose AND eating it!" After she pauses for dramatic effect, she goes on to say, "Yes...I know it's so darn convenient, being that your nose is always on your face, and your finger is always on your hand. Why some might think that's why God put your nose so close to your mouth for the very reason that you could pick your nose and then eat what you dug outta there. You know...kind of like a big pantry for your face. Some might think it is even a biological imperative to pick you nose...But it's not. So little guy...don't EAT YOUR BUGGERS!" By this time, I have come back in the kitchen and am watching surreptitiously from the kitchen, suppressing my laughter. Liam is held in Nora Kate's spell...and he is just taking all this in like the little sponge a toddler is.
Then it's Maggie's turn. She has to add to what Nora Kate has just put out there, so she says, "You know...even little starving children wouldn't eat their buggers. And those little kids in Haiti mom told you about...they are STARVING(she uses big jazzy hands for emphasis here), like really starving (she sucks in her cheeks at this point), and they don't even eat their buggers. You can't possibly be hungrier than they are? You can't be so hungry that you'd eat your buggers, can you?" And little Liam, looks on, wide eyed, and blinking. So she finishes with a resounding, "So Liam...don't EAT YOUR BUGGERS, okay?"
Little Liam nods and goes back to the show he was watching on TV, and mindlessly begins to mine his nose again, and then proceeds to EAT THE BUGGER HE FINDS!. When I stop him, and ask him, "Liam...What did we just tell you? Didn't you understand what we said?" He looks up at me with a bit of a confused look and says, "Yes, mommy. You, said PICK YOUR NOSE, and Nori Kate and Mags all said "EAT YOUR BUGGERS".
I give up. It's time for the Grey Goose.
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