Who knew a glass table top would fit so perfectly into an 8 gallon trashcan. (If you did, please don't spoil it for the others.)
So... that might not make sense. It's okay. I'm totally about to out myself and explain it to you.
Remember last 4th of July? (Like... not THIS 4th of July... but LAST 4th of July...) That big huge storm we had? If you weren't here... that big huge storm we had Saturday? If you don't live in Italy... uhm... Irene? Okay. So you get the point.
I wish I could say that this particular instance happened during Irene, or Saturday... or even THIS 4th of July, but alas. It did not. Do the math. My poor patio table has been laying in a pile of amazingly stagnant shards since July 4, 2010. Before you get all freaked out or anything, it's upstairs, on my balcony patio where no one ever goes. Ever. Well, since we no longer had a nice patio table to sit and enjoy the evenings...
Anyhow. I put up a clothesline. (Just wait. It all ties together.) I rigged it to go from my garage to the corner of my balcony patio. (See?) Today I rigged it right (went to Bricofer and bought pullies and the little hook and bolt thingies... hey. I may not know what they're called but I know how to use 'em.). Since I now use this area again (even if it is for function instead of fun...) I thought it might be beneficial to us all to finally get around to cleaning the glass.
Apparently my broom decided it was going to bend all funky sometimes between yesterday and today. (Where's that crazy Morroccan broom guy when you actually need him?) If you've ever tried cleaning up glass, you are aware that it is a time consuming and frustrating process. Add the fact that this is a good 50lbs of glass, spread over a 6x8 foot concrete landing and I'm using a broom that is mocking me at every turn. But wait! That's not all, folks! Since this stuff has been sitting here for 13 months and 3 weeks it has hardened and stuck to every nook and cranny!! Oh YES! What fun!
But half an hour, a strawberry cheesecake Jell-O snack and one blog later I am proud to say that most of the glass (minus what flew into the neighbor's yard and the stragglers imbedded in the soles of my feet) is stored securely in a white plastic 8 gallon household trashcan. Still on the balcony patio. Hey. That's 50lbs of glass plus 2 empty A-1 bottles and the added weight of said trashcan. Think I'll task the carrying downstairs part of the mission to the husband.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
It Takes A Community...
I've known it for a while now, but after 2 trips to the park yesterday I cannot deny that I am THAT mother. Yep. I am the one who will tell your kid to get off the top of the playground equipment (and the skate park fence), make them apologize to the kid they just slapped, tell them to quit throwing sand in someone's face, walk them through how to fairly take turns and explain to them why playing "stab wound" is inappropriate.
Okay, so lets begin by saying that my kids aren't perfect. Neither am I. The difference in my imperfect kids and my imperfect parenting style and the imperfectionist styles of many parents and kids I come across is this: I don't overlook destructive, harmful or just plain asinine behavior. I don't overlook it in my kids, and one day you just might thank me for not overlooking it in yours.
Let's be honest... To say that kids learn everything at home is just ignorant. Case in point? Katy asked me yesterday is there a song called "Funked Up Kicks". I said I have no idea but it wouldn't suprise me... she then goes on to say it says something about all the kids in funked up kicks better run faster than my bullet. WOAH. Hold up. My kids can't listen to that crap... at home. See? Now here's what I did. I broke it down. I asked her what this part means and what that part means and to put it together as to what this 'artist' (I use the term loosely) means by saying that. Oh... See... Now that she's thinkin' about it... She's clearly disgusted. (Preteens can't hide their immediate emotions and mine is a worse actress than most.)
Anyway. This actually isn't about MY family. It's about everyone's family. The fact of the matter is that we ALL share this world. We all live in the same existance and eventually your kid and my kid may cross paths. Sadly, I don't want my kids having to deal with some of the stuff you teach your kid is okay, because it's not. But they do. Every day.
You may find it harmless to give your kid a toy gun and allow them to "shoot" their friends execution style. I don't. You may find it perfectly acceptable to teach your kids that they can take what they want from who they want because, after all, it's like that in life. I don't. You may assume that kids will be kids and that your kid can say whatever he wants to whoever he wants - profanity, vulgarity, rudeness, meanness, disrespect and the like included - as long as he doesn't embarrass you in front of your boss or your preacher. But rest assured that if I hear them, I WILL call them out. I will not tolerate such things in a community where they are influencing other children... or even just where I have to hear it. I don't expect a sunny, conflict free, we're all winners world, but I do think common decency sometimes gets lost in translation.
I was brought up in a time where the community help raise the children. I knew if I did something I wasn't supposed to, someone WOULD correct me. I took that lesson, and I apply it to my every day life. Don't get me wrong, I do it in love. Love for you, love for your kids, love for my own kids and love for other children nearby. A lot of the parents I know will do the same thing... because they believe that kids need boundaries, too. And sometimes, I get onto the kids of the parents I know would disapprove of the behavior I'm correcting. Sometimes it's other parents getting onto MY kids. Turnabout is fair play... and I WANT you to tell my kids when they're in the wrong. HELP ME teach them right from wrong!
It isn't always that the parent is at fault... (sometimes it is, okay... but it isn't ALWAYS) so we shouldn't automatically say "mmm. Their mama must just not care..." or things in that realm... We should step out and be part of the solution for ill behaved minions. That whole saying about 'no bad kids, just bad parents'? No. Perhaps their parents aren't the best at EVERYTHING, but if a child is held accountable at all, that is better than just sitting on the sidelines blaming the parent for the behavior you overlook and gossip about. If you can blow hot air of disgust about a kid in the store or the park or at the ballfield then you can redirect your intentions and offer kind, stern correction and suggestion for something appropriate in exchange.
Avoidance is acceptance and I refuse to accept growing these behaviors into adulthood. We need to stick together to help each other raise our children. Don't let my kids get away with blatant misbehavior and I won't let yours. Deal?
Okay, so lets begin by saying that my kids aren't perfect. Neither am I. The difference in my imperfect kids and my imperfect parenting style and the imperfectionist styles of many parents and kids I come across is this: I don't overlook destructive, harmful or just plain asinine behavior. I don't overlook it in my kids, and one day you just might thank me for not overlooking it in yours.
Let's be honest... To say that kids learn everything at home is just ignorant. Case in point? Katy asked me yesterday is there a song called "Funked Up Kicks". I said I have no idea but it wouldn't suprise me... she then goes on to say it says something about all the kids in funked up kicks better run faster than my bullet. WOAH. Hold up. My kids can't listen to that crap... at home. See? Now here's what I did. I broke it down. I asked her what this part means and what that part means and to put it together as to what this 'artist' (I use the term loosely) means by saying that. Oh... See... Now that she's thinkin' about it... She's clearly disgusted. (Preteens can't hide their immediate emotions and mine is a worse actress than most.)
Anyway. This actually isn't about MY family. It's about everyone's family. The fact of the matter is that we ALL share this world. We all live in the same existance and eventually your kid and my kid may cross paths. Sadly, I don't want my kids having to deal with some of the stuff you teach your kid is okay, because it's not. But they do. Every day.
You may find it harmless to give your kid a toy gun and allow them to "shoot" their friends execution style. I don't. You may find it perfectly acceptable to teach your kids that they can take what they want from who they want because, after all, it's like that in life. I don't. You may assume that kids will be kids and that your kid can say whatever he wants to whoever he wants - profanity, vulgarity, rudeness, meanness, disrespect and the like included - as long as he doesn't embarrass you in front of your boss or your preacher. But rest assured that if I hear them, I WILL call them out. I will not tolerate such things in a community where they are influencing other children... or even just where I have to hear it. I don't expect a sunny, conflict free, we're all winners world, but I do think common decency sometimes gets lost in translation.
I was brought up in a time where the community help raise the children. I knew if I did something I wasn't supposed to, someone WOULD correct me. I took that lesson, and I apply it to my every day life. Don't get me wrong, I do it in love. Love for you, love for your kids, love for my own kids and love for other children nearby. A lot of the parents I know will do the same thing... because they believe that kids need boundaries, too. And sometimes, I get onto the kids of the parents I know would disapprove of the behavior I'm correcting. Sometimes it's other parents getting onto MY kids. Turnabout is fair play... and I WANT you to tell my kids when they're in the wrong. HELP ME teach them right from wrong!
It isn't always that the parent is at fault... (sometimes it is, okay... but it isn't ALWAYS) so we shouldn't automatically say "mmm. Their mama must just not care..." or things in that realm... We should step out and be part of the solution for ill behaved minions. That whole saying about 'no bad kids, just bad parents'? No. Perhaps their parents aren't the best at EVERYTHING, but if a child is held accountable at all, that is better than just sitting on the sidelines blaming the parent for the behavior you overlook and gossip about. If you can blow hot air of disgust about a kid in the store or the park or at the ballfield then you can redirect your intentions and offer kind, stern correction and suggestion for something appropriate in exchange.
Avoidance is acceptance and I refuse to accept growing these behaviors into adulthood. We need to stick together to help each other raise our children. Don't let my kids get away with blatant misbehavior and I won't let yours. Deal?
Monday, August 29, 2011
Frankie, The Awesome.
I have this dog named Frankie.
We named him Frankie because he found us at Mr. Frankie's Pizzeria. (The other option was Gadubadu, which was the name I gave my Monopoly piece in the future board on Wii. Frankie just made more sense.)
Anyway. He came home with us all flea covered and so full of ticks that when he rolled over for a belly rub, little round ticks would roll off and we'd smash em into gross puddles of stray dog blood mush. After a bath and another bath... and another bath... and several comb overs with tweezers and a lighter, he was looking (and smelling) like a new dog.
Since the Italians have this thing about whoever has the dog owns the dog and the 91 year old lady who REALLY owned the dog didn't want him back, we were now the proud new family of a dog that didn't speak a lick of English.
We had several initial mini-issues with Frankie... I mean, it's tough to get him to sit or stay or, well, anything when he has no idea what you're trying to say to him. And when the previous owner says the dog is a flight risk and you can't keep him in the gate? Tough. But as it turns out, Frankie was and is quite well trained and always comes home. And he might take indecent liberties with the little female doggies he meets, he's always a gentleman with the kids. I have never seen a dog who takes as much beating, pounding, pulling, choking, wrestling and general toddler love as Frankie. And he just adores it. I don't know if maybe he just never got attention at his last home or what, but he is certainly making up for it here.
So as I watch Sophie and Kaden (3) push and pull and hug and tug and generally turn good ol' Frankie into a Stretch Armstrong just before the corn syrup erupts ('80s reference, y'all)... I am certain that he was looking for us. He needed us as much as we needed him. And I'm fairly certain he's part cyborg.
Here's to you, Frankie. Kudos for never snapping, growling, nipping or biting. And I'll keep your spot under the kitchen table sacred. I know how we all need that little retreat.
We named him Frankie because he found us at Mr. Frankie's Pizzeria. (The other option was Gadubadu, which was the name I gave my Monopoly piece in the future board on Wii. Frankie just made more sense.)
Anyway. He came home with us all flea covered and so full of ticks that when he rolled over for a belly rub, little round ticks would roll off and we'd smash em into gross puddles of stray dog blood mush. After a bath and another bath... and another bath... and several comb overs with tweezers and a lighter, he was looking (and smelling) like a new dog.
Since the Italians have this thing about whoever has the dog owns the dog and the 91 year old lady who REALLY owned the dog didn't want him back, we were now the proud new family of a dog that didn't speak a lick of English.
We had several initial mini-issues with Frankie... I mean, it's tough to get him to sit or stay or, well, anything when he has no idea what you're trying to say to him. And when the previous owner says the dog is a flight risk and you can't keep him in the gate? Tough. But as it turns out, Frankie was and is quite well trained and always comes home. And he might take indecent liberties with the little female doggies he meets, he's always a gentleman with the kids. I have never seen a dog who takes as much beating, pounding, pulling, choking, wrestling and general toddler love as Frankie. And he just adores it. I don't know if maybe he just never got attention at his last home or what, but he is certainly making up for it here.
So as I watch Sophie and Kaden (3) push and pull and hug and tug and generally turn good ol' Frankie into a Stretch Armstrong just before the corn syrup erupts ('80s reference, y'all)... I am certain that he was looking for us. He needed us as much as we needed him. And I'm fairly certain he's part cyborg.
Here's to you, Frankie. Kudos for never snapping, growling, nipping or biting. And I'll keep your spot under the kitchen table sacred. I know how we all need that little retreat.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
First Day of 7th Grade...
Oh. My. God. It's like, you just don't get it, ya know?
Yep.
I don't get it. I don't get why my recently turned 12 year old daughter is so determined to be anyone BUT herself. I don't understand why she feels it necessary to try so hard to be like every one of the girls she is friends with or wants to be friends with but will deny something she enjoys if it is shared by someone who the aforementioned girls don't like. Well, I do get it, actually... I, too, was once a *gasp* preteen. (Although this particular daughter cannot grasp that concept.)
When I was going into 7th grade I refused to be like the rest of the girls. Those of you who know me now will probably agree that I still refuse to be anyone other than me. Not that I've always liked me, just that I knew I didn't like them. And somehow, I've failed thus far to teach my eldest child the concept of "IF YOU DON'T LIKE THEM, CHANCES ARE PEOPLE WON'T LIKE YOU WHEN YOU ACT JUST LIKE THEM!!" How did I miss this all important lesson? Well, clearly my constant berading of her hasn't caused the message to seep into her skull, so apparently I need to try a different method.
So here's my idea. Overly protective/reserved/conservative parents STOP READING NOW.
Now that we've weeded out those who will no doubt hassle me, here goes. I'm gonna let her fall flat on her high and mighty face. Yep. The thing about middle/high school is that you need to make mistakes and be held accountable for them by someone other than your parents (who OBVIOUSLY don't know ANYTHING). A child will not learn every life lesson in the comfort of their home and if they do, that only speaks to the limited realm of life that you experience by never learning anything from real life experiences.
Tomorrow starts a new school year. A new batch of kids for her to idolize and squash under her foot. A new batch of kids to do the same to her. And it may sound wrong, but I hope someone puts her in her place. Not necessarily by making her 7th grade year hell... because I know mine was, and frankly, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, let alone my child. I just don't want her to be like Stephanie and Jamie. And my "friend" Annie who spent all summer hanging out with me and enjoying my awesome company until she had to choose between what was real in our friendship and throwing me under the proverbial bus in order to not join me in my lowly status as the preteen punching bag.
I know that it may sound wrong for me to say such things... I ought to be saying how wonderful this year will be for her and how it's a fantastic opportunity in her life to grow and develop and yada yada yada. Well, it's all that, too. I just hope that this year she figures out that the best way to treat people... ALL PEOPLE... is to treat them with kindness, compassion and grace. I hope that she learns that who she is is who she was meant to be. I hope she learns that there are good qualities, bad qualities and every other kind of quality in every person you meet... and that it's perfectly okay to encourage the positive, pray for the negative and overlook what doesn't really matter in the long run. Because that's life.
So here's to 7th grade. I hope you teach my daughter grace. I hope you teach my daughter humility. I hope you teach my daughter respect. And love. And acceptance. And friendship. Real friendship. I hope you teach my daughter that being who she is is exactly and perfectly and beautifully okay. Imitations never surpass the original... so work on what you originally are. Because THAT is the best YOU are going to ever get... God created you to be you. Bask in the awesomeness that has already been bestowed upon you and don't try to be anyone else... because you were never created to be anything LESS than who you are.
Yep.
I don't get it. I don't get why my recently turned 12 year old daughter is so determined to be anyone BUT herself. I don't understand why she feels it necessary to try so hard to be like every one of the girls she is friends with or wants to be friends with but will deny something she enjoys if it is shared by someone who the aforementioned girls don't like. Well, I do get it, actually... I, too, was once a *gasp* preteen. (Although this particular daughter cannot grasp that concept.)
When I was going into 7th grade I refused to be like the rest of the girls. Those of you who know me now will probably agree that I still refuse to be anyone other than me. Not that I've always liked me, just that I knew I didn't like them. And somehow, I've failed thus far to teach my eldest child the concept of "IF YOU DON'T LIKE THEM, CHANCES ARE PEOPLE WON'T LIKE YOU WHEN YOU ACT JUST LIKE THEM!!" How did I miss this all important lesson? Well, clearly my constant berading of her hasn't caused the message to seep into her skull, so apparently I need to try a different method.
So here's my idea. Overly protective/reserved/conservative parents STOP READING NOW.
Now that we've weeded out those who will no doubt hassle me, here goes. I'm gonna let her fall flat on her high and mighty face. Yep. The thing about middle/high school is that you need to make mistakes and be held accountable for them by someone other than your parents (who OBVIOUSLY don't know ANYTHING). A child will not learn every life lesson in the comfort of their home and if they do, that only speaks to the limited realm of life that you experience by never learning anything from real life experiences.
Tomorrow starts a new school year. A new batch of kids for her to idolize and squash under her foot. A new batch of kids to do the same to her. And it may sound wrong, but I hope someone puts her in her place. Not necessarily by making her 7th grade year hell... because I know mine was, and frankly, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, let alone my child. I just don't want her to be like Stephanie and Jamie. And my "friend" Annie who spent all summer hanging out with me and enjoying my awesome company until she had to choose between what was real in our friendship and throwing me under the proverbial bus in order to not join me in my lowly status as the preteen punching bag.
I know that it may sound wrong for me to say such things... I ought to be saying how wonderful this year will be for her and how it's a fantastic opportunity in her life to grow and develop and yada yada yada. Well, it's all that, too. I just hope that this year she figures out that the best way to treat people... ALL PEOPLE... is to treat them with kindness, compassion and grace. I hope that she learns that who she is is who she was meant to be. I hope she learns that there are good qualities, bad qualities and every other kind of quality in every person you meet... and that it's perfectly okay to encourage the positive, pray for the negative and overlook what doesn't really matter in the long run. Because that's life.
So here's to 7th grade. I hope you teach my daughter grace. I hope you teach my daughter humility. I hope you teach my daughter respect. And love. And acceptance. And friendship. Real friendship. I hope you teach my daughter that being who she is is exactly and perfectly and beautifully okay. Imitations never surpass the original... so work on what you originally are. Because THAT is the best YOU are going to ever get... God created you to be you. Bask in the awesomeness that has already been bestowed upon you and don't try to be anyone else... because you were never created to be anything LESS than who you are.
Friday, August 19, 2011
12 years ago today
So I've been dealing with a lot of random feelings about my baby girl turning 12 tomorrow. Actually today since it's 12:23 am... but she was born in NC where it is still only 6:23pm - on the 19th. And since she wasn't born until 7ish in the morning add another few hours and I'm technically correct on the whole tomorrow thing. I'm just smart enough to not try to pull that one out with her and deal with the whole preteen drama throwdown that is liable to ensue...
Anyhow.
12 years ago today I was scared to death. I didn't know what I was getting into but I knew that it was a choice I had made knowing full well that life as I never had a chance to know it would never be the same. I was between my junior and senior years of high school and 99.9% of the people who knew me honestly thought that the news of my having a baby was a cruel joke and couldn't grasp me being in that particular situation. Because at that point in time, you see... it was a "situation". As in "how could you have gotten yourself into this 'situation'" or "I just don't know how we're going to deal with this 'situation'"...
Twelve long, hard, beautiful, maddening, facinating, enlightening, survivalist years later? It's no longer a 'situation' that needs to be 'dealt with'... it is a child. A young woman. A lovely blessing. A hormonal confusion. A daughter. It's just Katy. And I'm just mom. Something that I couldn't see forward to 12 years ago today. I just knew that this was my child, my cross to bear, my life to mold, my twist of fate. And I took a leap of faith, having no faith to leap on. It was hard, I won't sugar coat that. It was definately no bed of roses and sometimes I feel like I didn't live up to my potential. But then I look at my children and think that maybe my potential was not to live into my OWN greatness, but to press forward and help them discover theirs.
I haven't always done right by Katy. I haven't always made the best decisions or packed the healthiest lunches (the trip to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing where I missed the memo about a bagged lunch and we all ate random snackfoods for lunch... not nutritious, but I was totally the coolest mom on the chaperone list...)... but I have ALWAYS known that I was meant to accept the responsibility and the challenge that would be Kaitlyn Rae Binkley. I knew that I was to learn and to teach, to nurture and be loved, to grow and to help grow... I knew that we were meant to be.
There have been times where I have questioned my sanity and my committment, there have been times where I knew without a doubt I was failing... but there has never been a time where I haven't known that my single most important purpose on this earth was to be a mom... even if the title DID claim me before I could vote and even before I graduated high school... This is who I am, and I wouldn't be who I am without who SHE is.
Katy has been with me throughout some of the hardest lessons in my life. She has remained an innocent player in the game of life and has battle scars inflicted by the trials and uncertainties that being the daughter of a teenaged mother can subject a child to. In spite of her beginnings and the sadness and anger which resulted from the 'situation' she was unknowingly the seed of, she immediately won the hearts of even the most rooted nay sayers. All it took was one look from that beautiful bundle of joy and everyone knew, just KNEW that this child was meant to be and was destined for awesomeness.
Now here we are, on the eve of her last year of official childhood, and I still know that this child is destined for awesomeness. And I have a renewed faith in myself, too... because after all is said and done, I haven't failed after all. I have succeeded... and my first notable accomplishment was standing my ground and accepting the gift of Katy.
Happy birthday to my first born, my life changer, my first love. Happy birthday to Katy.
Anyhow.
12 years ago today I was scared to death. I didn't know what I was getting into but I knew that it was a choice I had made knowing full well that life as I never had a chance to know it would never be the same. I was between my junior and senior years of high school and 99.9% of the people who knew me honestly thought that the news of my having a baby was a cruel joke and couldn't grasp me being in that particular situation. Because at that point in time, you see... it was a "situation". As in "how could you have gotten yourself into this 'situation'" or "I just don't know how we're going to deal with this 'situation'"...
Twelve long, hard, beautiful, maddening, facinating, enlightening, survivalist years later? It's no longer a 'situation' that needs to be 'dealt with'... it is a child. A young woman. A lovely blessing. A hormonal confusion. A daughter. It's just Katy. And I'm just mom. Something that I couldn't see forward to 12 years ago today. I just knew that this was my child, my cross to bear, my life to mold, my twist of fate. And I took a leap of faith, having no faith to leap on. It was hard, I won't sugar coat that. It was definately no bed of roses and sometimes I feel like I didn't live up to my potential. But then I look at my children and think that maybe my potential was not to live into my OWN greatness, but to press forward and help them discover theirs.
I haven't always done right by Katy. I haven't always made the best decisions or packed the healthiest lunches (the trip to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing where I missed the memo about a bagged lunch and we all ate random snackfoods for lunch... not nutritious, but I was totally the coolest mom on the chaperone list...)... but I have ALWAYS known that I was meant to accept the responsibility and the challenge that would be Kaitlyn Rae Binkley. I knew that I was to learn and to teach, to nurture and be loved, to grow and to help grow... I knew that we were meant to be.
There have been times where I have questioned my sanity and my committment, there have been times where I knew without a doubt I was failing... but there has never been a time where I haven't known that my single most important purpose on this earth was to be a mom... even if the title DID claim me before I could vote and even before I graduated high school... This is who I am, and I wouldn't be who I am without who SHE is.
Katy has been with me throughout some of the hardest lessons in my life. She has remained an innocent player in the game of life and has battle scars inflicted by the trials and uncertainties that being the daughter of a teenaged mother can subject a child to. In spite of her beginnings and the sadness and anger which resulted from the 'situation' she was unknowingly the seed of, she immediately won the hearts of even the most rooted nay sayers. All it took was one look from that beautiful bundle of joy and everyone knew, just KNEW that this child was meant to be and was destined for awesomeness.
Now here we are, on the eve of her last year of official childhood, and I still know that this child is destined for awesomeness. And I have a renewed faith in myself, too... because after all is said and done, I haven't failed after all. I have succeeded... and my first notable accomplishment was standing my ground and accepting the gift of Katy.
Happy birthday to my first born, my life changer, my first love. Happy birthday to Katy.
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