My Boys. . . My Future Men

I have read a lot of things about raising boys.  I have HEARD a lot of things about raising boys.  Some I listened to closely, some I disregarded immediately.  Maybe I listened when I shouldn't have.  Maybe I ignored when I shouldn't have.  But through this journey that so far is only a decade long, I've learned a lot, I've made a lot of mistakes, and I've done my best. In the end, These things are what I want my sons to know.

I want my boys to be REAL men, not a cardboard but out, not a wimp.

I want them to know their softer sides and when to show them, and when not to show them. To know it's okay to cry sometimes, but to also know there is a time and a place for crying.  Being able to cry over things that mean something to you is a strength, not a weakness, but it isn't always seen as such.  They need to know the difference.

I want them to stand up for themselves and their friends and family, and know when to compromise.  You can never give in to a bully, but sometimes resolving that conflict needs to be delayed.  Again, there is a time and a place.

I also want them to know how not to BE the bully.  I want them to know it's not okay to be mean to those smaller or weaker than you.  People, All people, are to be protected, not persecuted.

I want them not to judge people.  Tolerance is necessary, or life will be a constant fight.  They should stand up for their beliefs, but recognize that other people have different beliefs.  No one is always right.  Respect the differences, and learn.  Ask them to do the same.

I want them to know how to treat a woman with not just love and respect,but with love.  Holding doors, and listening to a woman when she talks is important.  But a woman needs to HEAR how her man feels.  Not every second of every day, but every so often, he needs to tell her.  We need the words.  Also, he should hold her hand.  Kiss her for no reason.  Touch her shoulder as he passes by her.  These little touches tell her he cares when he isn't saying the words.  But those little touches mean almost as much as the words.  We doubt ourselves.  We doubt our worth.  Men need to remember that.

I want them to show respect to Everyone.  Especially women and the elderly.  And especially to their enemies.  Respect can sometimes make a friend from an enemy.  But respect given almost always earns respect in return.

I want my boys to know how to change a tire, change the oil in the car, basic electrical and plumbing skills.

I want them to know how to shave with a safety razor and a straight razor.  It was good enough for my grandfathers, and my husband.  And sometimes, men should go back to the old ways so they aren't too comfortable and reliant on the conveniences of today.

I want them to carry a pocketknife and know how to use it.

I want them to own several guns.  They should know these firearms like they know their wife.  They should know just how much pressure pulls the trigger.  They should know how to care for it and clean it.  They should know how to love it.  Yes, guns need love, too.  If you care for a firearm like you should, it can be a great friend to you.  If not, it can be your worst nightmare.

I want them to know how to fish and how to hunt.  They don't have to like it, but they should have the skills if they ever need them.

I want them to know how to express themselves.  They need to be able to communicate.  They need the vocabulary, but they also need to know how to Talk to people.  They need to be able to chit chat for social occasions, and they need to be able to express themselves when the moment is important.

I want them to be neat.  I don't mean everything has to be spotless.  I mean their homes need to be tidy.  I mean their manner of dress should be neat.  No saggy pants.  No untucked button-down shirts.

I want them to be comfortable wearing a suit / tuxedo as well as jeans.  You never know what the occasion will be, and men should always be prepared.

I want them to know the value of their name.  Their name carries weight from those before, and will carry weight to those after. They should always Honor Their Word.  If they always keep their promises, people will remember.  If you never keep your word, people will remember.  I want them to be remembered positively.

I want them to know how to dance.  I don't mean this jumping all over the floor that kids do.  I want them to know how to hold a woman in their arms and dance her around a room.  They don't have to know how to waltz, or tango.  I just want them to know how to dance with care -- with care for her heart, and care for her toes.

I want them to know how to pray.  I want them to believe in God and to be able to talk to Him.  More importantly, I want them to know how to listen to Him.  I want them to have Faith, and be strong in that faith. This will be tested time and again.

My boys are important to me.  My husband and I are doing our best.  We make mistakes, but we make them out of love.  I want my sons to know all of this I've listed above, and so much more that I can't put into words.  My children are my world.  And when they go out into the world, I want the world to value them, and I want them to know how to value the world.

Moving

I am getting a LOT of spam.  The kind of spam that no one wants.  So, I am moving my blog to WordPress.  Please visit me at http://daughterwifemotherwoman.wordpress.com/ and see what I have to say about people, places, events, and life in general.

Thank you to the people who have read my posts and commented.  Some of you are close friends, and some of you are blog friends; old friends and new friends.  ALL friends I hope will follow me on over to this new place.  I'm hoping that I will lose all of x-rated spam followers, regain my desire to write, and discover some more friends on this new journey.

Happy Readings!

Good Girls & Bad Boys

My husband has told me many times that "Good girls want a Bad Boy that will be Good for them.  And Bad Boys want a Good Girl that will be Bad for him."  I've come to realize that there is truth in this.  (But PLEASE DON'T TELL him that I said he is right!)

I try not to dwell in the past to much.  After all, I have a husband who loves me at least as much as I love him.  (We argue who loves the other more, but he clearly wins with all he puts up with from me.)  I have two beautiful, smart, funny, charming demon-monkey boys that I adore so much I don't know whether to hug them or strangle them.  :-)  I have a sweet, smart, witty step-daughter who comes to stay during summers and help balance out the testosterone laden house I live in.  Both of parents are still alive, though quite happily divorced for almost 3 decades.  I have a lot of happiness and sunshine now, so I don't particularly care to look back in the past and shadows.  But occasionally I do.  This post is about one of those shadows.

I recently came across a link of Facebook to an interview with Patrick Stewart.  I had no idea he was a child of a domestic violence home.  His advocacy work now is a great tribute to his willingness to remember his roots, and overcome them.  He talks about his father suffering from undiagnosed PTSD (then called "shell shock") and how it manifested in violet attacks against his mother.  He talks about how his mother "did NOTHING to provoke him."  And I think about how close I came to being another statistic.

See, until my husband, I WAS that girl that wanted a bad boy who would be good just for me.  I thought I could "change" him.  Ha!  Let me tell you, that is NEVER going to happen.  A sheep is a sheep and a wolf is a wolf.  And an abuser is an abuser.  Unless they get professional help, they will not change.

My ex-husband was bad enough.  He took his own insecurities and attributed them to me.  I was the reason he couldn't do well.  I was the reason he got fired.  I was the reason he gambled all of our money away.  I was the reason he stayed out all night.  I was the reason.  And I almost believed him.  But then common sense would return and I would remember his gambling addiction and his alcoholism.  The final straw came when I found out he was cheating.  See, I had stayed for 4 years.  I took my vows seriously.  I had promised "till death do us part" and, well, death had not parted us.  Then HE decided he wanted a divorce.  Then I found out about her.  It was like I could finally hearing God say, "You've taken enough.  You CAN leave now.  It's okay."  And I left.  Happier than I had been in 4 years.  It is really an eye-opener when the news that your husband is cheating on you is the best news in your entire marriage.

He was bad.  But there was one worse.  The ex just yelled a lot.  Ridiculous accusations then gone again.  But the boyfriend.....there was a sociopath for you.  Seriously.  He really did know the difference in right and wrong.  He just didn't care.  Not only did he yell, and accuse, but he knew where to aim his words for the most damage.  He knew exactly how to destroy my psyche.  He obliterated any self-worth I had managed to attain.  By the time I finally left him (I lied to leave and hid where I was safe and he couldn't get to me), I was a shell.  I knew the entire time that he would begin hitting me soon.  Every time he lost his temper, I wondered if it would be then that he would hit me.  But I actually, luckily got away before we reached that "milestone".  Lucky wasn't it.  Again, I believe God was watching out for me even when I wasn't watching out for myself.

It took me over a year to put myself back together.  It was over a year before I would even consider going out with a guy again.  And honestly?  I'm still not sure I'm completely healed.  I still hear the echoes of his threats.  He's dead now.  Dead before 35 of a stroke.  Maybe God was watching out for his wife and kids then.  I hope she doesn't carry the scars that I do from him.  But I'm pretty sure hers are worse.

Domestic violence is never right.  There is no reason to beat, abuse, humiliate, destroy your partner.  It leaves scars mentally, emotionally, and physically on not just them, but any children in the house, and any family members that know or can guess what is happening.  It is a self-perpetuating circle.  From the parents to the children.  From the abuser to the victim.  The victim then becoming the abuser.  And it continues.  It takes a lot to break that circle.

Leave.  Run.  Get help.  No matter whether you are the abuser or the victim, get help.  Neither of you deserves the anger, guilt, or torment.  And neither does anyone else.

My husband spent YEARS helping me put myself back together, heal the wounds.  But there is still a lot of scar tissue to deal with.  I wouldn't fight with him for several years after we started dating.  We were probably together for 3 years before I would actually disagree with him instead of crying and hiding in a corner.  And he never raised his voice.  He never said hurtful untrue things.  It was just my conditioned response to a man I angered.  Now we can fight.  We argue.  But these are healthy fights that every marriage should have.  I no longer worry that he's going to leave me.  I no longer worry that I've made him so mad he might say something mean.  He loves me.  He really loves me.  The way a husband should love his wife.  The way a man should love a woman.

That is what every one deserves.  Love.  Understanding.  Compassion.  Trust that the person you give your heart and body to will not hurt you intentionally.

I want my boys to know that it is never okay to hit a woman.  And I want my step-daughter to know that she can never do anything bad enough to deserve being hit, or hurt.  Never.

 

My Baby is Growing UP. *SNIFF*SNIFF*

Tomorrow my baby turns 6.  Now for most of you, that doesn't sound bad, and I know you're sitting there asking yourself what the big deal is?  Well, here's the big deal.

My husband and I had a late start -- entirely HIS fault, of course.  We didn't get married until the week before I turned 30 -- again, entirely HIS fault as I had chased him shamelessly for 15 years and he was just too oblivious to notice!  We enjoyed a couple of years of just us (so that I could enjoy FINALLY having tripped, caught, and hog-tied him so he couldn't escape). Then we decided to have kids.  (Sometimes, I wonder about the wisdom of THAT decision, but that's another story.  J/K....mostly)

Our eldest little demon-darling came along when I was 34.  Not too bad.  We were old enough to have a little more patience and not be quite so freaked out about having this little human completely dependent on us for whom we were completely clueless about what to do.

Then the baby came along.   Our little goofy darling-demon.  I was 37.  How I went from MORE patient and a little freaked, to LESS patient and MORE freaked doesn't exactly make sense.  After all, I was older and more experienced.  But all of sudden, I realized that I was OLD.  Old enough to be M's grandmother.  ARRGGGHHHHH!!!  How did this happen??!!??!!  Again, it was all my husband's fault.  If he had paid a little more attention, and been a little less oblivious, I could have caught him 15 years earlier and our little demon-darling and darling-demon would be almost out of the house.  I would have soon been holding actual GRANDchildren, instead of my own child.

Now, I'm 43.  My oldest will turn 9 next month.  And the baby is turning 6 tomorrow.  And I'm OLD.  I feel old.  I act old.  I feel too old to play with my boys.  Granted, they are boys and play rough.  And no matter how often their father  (bless his heart) tells them, "Girls break easy. Play gently with Mom," boys can only play one way -- all out.  *Sigh*

The "Now" I Can Appreciate:

1.  I can still wrestle with the baby a little though.  But at his age, I see the end of that approaching rapidly.
2.  He still falls asleep in my arms sometimes.  His brother had stopped doing this by age 3, so every time M does this, I hold the memory in my heart, and hold him until my arm goes dead and can't support him anymore.
3.  He still gives me hugs and kisses in public.  His brother had also stopped this by age 3, because "People might SEE, MOM!"  Since M has continued to do this, I have hope that this will continue.  (Please, God, let it continue.)
4.  He still wants me to sit beside me when we go to restaurants.
5.  He still wants to be on MY team when we play the Wii.
6.  He still wants to sit by me when we have Movie Night at home.

The Future I Can See:

1.  He has NOTHING to do with me, because I'm "Mom."
2.  He refuses to acknowledge my existence in front of his friends.
3.  He assumes (probably correctly in most instances) that I am clueless about what his life is like.
4.  He realizes that I can no longer help him with his homework because his textbooks are written in Greek as far as I'm concerned.
5.  He suddenly realizes that I am a GIRL!!  Yuck!


The Future I HOPE & PRAY for:

1.  He realizes that I'm not an idiot.
2.  He actually wants my approval and respect.
3.  He is no longer in a hormone-induced idiot fugue.
4.  He again gives me hugs and kisses no matter who is watching.
5.  He gives me grandchildren I can spoil and regard as Revenge for all he put me through as a teenager.

Now do you realize why my baby turning 6 is a big deal?  I can still remember the little guy we brought home from the hospital, yet I can see the teenager he will become.  I see the polite young man my husband and I are trying to raise, and I can see the gentleman he will become.  I see the mischievous imp that is so much like me that I cry, yet I see the smart-aleck teenager that I'm going to want to beat into a bloody pulp in just a few years.

I see the past, the present, and the future all at the same time.  I want to cry, and celebrate all at the same time.  I have regrets for things I did wrong with him, and good intentions for the future.  I have memories and plans.

Pray for him, and pray for me.  My sweet baby is about to turn into a sweet young man, just before he morphs into a moody pre-teen, then into a monster Teenager.

But for now, I'm focusing on my baby boy that will be 6 tomorrow.  I'm going to focus on the smiles, and laughs, and all the good points.  I'm going to think about the snips and puppy-dog tails, and not the snails that are all what little boys are made of.

Please Help! Protect Our Children

I watched a Special Investigation segment on ABC News Nightline last night.  Just in case you don't believe what I'm about to post, here is the link for you to watch for yourselves.

Deadly Discipline? Students Hurt, Dying After Being Restrained

There are actually school systems (administrators and teachers) that not only approve of, but are actually encouraging torturing our children.  Physical and psychological abuse.  And then saying it's to "protect them from hurting themselves or others."

Worst of all?  These procedures are being practiced on Special Needs Kids such as those with Autism.

Such tactics are to include:

1.  Electric Shock Therapy
2.  Being physically restrained
3.  Being locked in "Seclusion Rooms"

Let's take the first.  Imagine 60 volts of electricity coursing through YOUR body!  And they are doing this to our children!  The young teenager in this video is held down as he SCREAMS and struggles to get away from the electric current.  I cried.  I just can't think of anything to say to this.  They are electrocuting him.

The Second:  Being Physically Restrained.  Tell me how you would react if you discovered your child or teenager lying on the floor with between 1 and 6 grown men lying on TOP of him.  Supposedly these men acted according to procedure.  The young man DIED.  Tell me how that is "Acceptable Procedure."

Third:  Seclusion Rooms.  These are small "pods" that are windowless, dark, and have padded walls so the child will not hurt himself.  I don't know about you, but I wouldn't like being locked in a pitch black room for HOURS.  Not minutes, HOURS.  Completely alone in the dark.  The "room" wasn't even that big.  It gives me nightmares to think about.

I don't see how ANY of these would help.  It all seems to me like it would make a bad situation ten times worse.  These children are already angry, and this will make them angrier, terrified, and LESS likely to cooperate.

This is Inhuman.

This is Cruel.

This is Torture.

If I did any of the above to my children, I would be arrested, tried, and convicted of child abuse and child endangerment.  And Rightfully So!  So why is it perfectly LEGAL for a teacher or school administrator to engage in this!  Not only is it LEGAL, school systems are ENCOURAGING THIS!!!

 This is an abomination.

Fortunately, there is legislation in Congress to prohibit most of this.  Please contact your Congressman to help support this legislation.  S.2860 - Preventing Harmful Restraint and Seclusion in Schools Act
We need this passed to protect our children.  ALL of our children. PLEASE Help me STOP this.  I can't do it alone.  I need anyone and everyone to help raise our voices so that we can be heard.

If WE don't protect our children, Nobody will.

For a Child's Sake, Please Help.

Our Mini-Vacation Debacle

It started off with lots of hopes and plans.  I had to travel to the coast for work.  One day of meetings, then the weekend would belong to my husband, my kids, and me.  Mileage paid down there and back, and the hotel room provided.  Sounds great, right?  Well.........

Let me count the things that went wrong.

1.  Car battery completely died when I was already late for one of the two meetings I had to attend.  (Though I do have to admit the car battery at $100 was still much cheaper than the $1000 alternator we thought it was.)

2.  Both boys managed to trash their bedroom at the hotel within MINUTES of arrival.  We tipped the maid.    Generously.  Okay, maybe not, but after the car battery, leaving her two of my favorite Mango Fruit Bars in the Fridge were all I could do.

3.  Neither boy would eat anything on vacation that wasn't junk food or a Happy Meal from the Golden Arches.  I am heartily sick of McD's.  And who goes to the beach and does NOT eat seafood?  My oddball children, I guess.

4.  I forgot to pack the oldest child any shirts.  I packed everything else.  But I forgot shirts for him.

5.  The oldest boys swim trunks were too small, so he had to swim in a pair of shorts.

6.  Our one foray to the beach ended up in us leaving almost immediately because the beach and the water were infested with jellyfish.  I did not relish the idea of spending one night of our vacation in the local ER due to jellyfish stings on my children who can create major drama out of papercuts.  And then refuse band-aids.  Yes, I have the only child on earth that WON'T wear band-aids.

7.  It was VACATION, so, of course, we all stayed up late.  And children being children that we have to drag out of bed during the school week, were up voluntarily at the crack of dawn.  So, for the sake of "Fun," Dad and I tolerated the whining, resisted the urge to buy duct tape in bulk to combat the bickering and fighting, bit our tongues to keep from screaming obscenities we thought we had forgotten at them, and generally decided we were going to have fun if it KILLED US!!!  Dammit!  And it almost did.

8.  I got sick with a Sinus Infection and felt miserable all day Saturday and Sunday.

9.  A half mile from home, M. decided to push the limits too far.  He spit on his brother.  In the car.  So dad finally gave him the spanking he swore M had been begging for since we left home last Friday.

10.  While we were gone, our two little puppies decided to pee in every available room in the house.  Fortunately, they stuck to the laminate areas and not the carpet.  Which brings us to . . . .

11.  Our German Weimaraner (who has separation anxiety issues by his breed) decided to take out his frustrations and anxiety by crapping on our relatively new carpet.  In multiple places.  Let me tell you, big dogs make BIG messes.

12.  So he's shampooing the carpet.  I'm doing laundry.  The boys are in the bedroom singing, "We will, We will, MOCK YOU!"  over and over and over.  Just that line.  And, yes, I know the line is supposed to be "rock you," but at the moment their version seems more appropriate.

So, there is the story of our mini-vacation.  Doesn't sound like much fun, does it?  It might be salvaged if one of you three readers would come shampoo the carpets, mop the floors, and fix me a drink.  A large one.

*Sigh*  I didn't think so.

Lost & Gained

I've written before about people I've lost.  I will do that again here (one specifically), but I also want to write about people I've gained.

My father-in-law was a wonderful man.  He was kind, sweet, smart, caring, generous, and loved life.  My oldest boy, Z, would always make him laugh.  All of his grandkids did, but this blog is from my perspective, so please pardon me if I don't mention the other grandchildren more.  He called him "Sport" and would always tease me and J about the "fits" that kid was giving us, and would continue to give us in the future.  He loved hearing the new things Z had done, learned, said, in a way that only grandparents can.  Z was only 18 months old when he lost his grandfather.  How we lost him is another blog, but suffice it to say it was a freak accident.  A sudden loss.  An unexpected hole blasted in our hearts.

But our family has grown since then.

My husband and I have given him another grandson, M.  Wow, my father-in-law (and us) only THOUGHT Z was a handful!  Whew!!! M exhausts me just watching him.  He is so full of energy, and mischief.  I never know what he's going to say.  Or do.  I have not yet figured out how his mind works, and frankly, I don't think I want to know.  He makes me laugh daily.  And shake my head in disbelief.  And rant and rave.  And pray for patience.  And blame my husband for all of his bad traits (even though he clearly got them from my side of the family.  Shhhhh!  Don't tell J that I admitted that.)  He is a charmer, though.  He can smile and you have to smile with him.  He laughs and you have to laugh with him.  He brings joy (and frustration, lol) everywhere he goes.  His Papaw would have LOVED him.  I don't mean just with his heart, but with sense of humor, with his mind, and with his heart.

M would have had Papaw wrapped around his little finger, too.  I have no doubt about that whatsoever.  M would have pulled one of his stunts that make me want to strangle him and Papaw would have laughed, shaken his head, and said (as he did so many times with Z), "He's all boy, isn't he.  It's terrible to spank a kid just 'cause he feels good."  So, of course, I couldn't have spanked him then.  No matter how much he needed it.  Yes, M would've loved Papaw just as much as Papaw would've loved him.

My husband also gave his dad a granddaughter.  We found out about her just a couple of years ago (another long story), but she is a joy.  Her mother is from a previous marriage, and H just turned 13.  Only 13.  And she's 5 inches taller than I am.  *sigh*  Yes, I'm vertically challenged, but that's beside the point.  H is pretty awesome.  She got all of her dad's best traits.  She's sweet, funny, smart, easy-going, and caring.  Her Papaw B (she calls her other grandfather Papaw) would have loved her, too.  See, she's just like he was.  H takes after her dad, and her dad takes after his dad.  Seriously, it's like they were cloned.  Well, except she's a little goofier (actually more than "a little"), and she's a girl.  This family is pretty amazing.

And H would've loved her Papaw B.  He would've spoiled her just as much as her other Papaw.  He would've given her the moon if she'd asked for it.  She'd have wrapped him around her little finger, too.  Just like she has her dad.  But I have to say, she doesn't over-step.  She doesn't push the limits.  She's just so quietly sweet, that people want to give her things just to see her smile.  She doesn't manipulate like so many kids do (including my boys that know exactly how to get what they want out of Mamaw B.)  She's just H.

My husband's brother, K, has also gotten married, gained two step-daughters, and had a little girl of his own.  My father-in-law would really have loved to see that.  K had some problems that slowed down his family creating abilities (a third long story, and not mine to tell), but everything seems back on track for him.  As much as I know my father-in-law would have loved to see the family that J and I have gained, I know in my heart that K's life now would have brought him more happiness and peace than any of you can possibly imagine.

So we lost one.  And we've gained six.  But each of those six lost one they never knew.  And that was a treasure of which they can never know the value.

I do like to think of my father-in-law looking down from Heaven and smiling.  Happy at what he left behind.  Proud of how we've grown.  Laughing at our children and how they make us pull our hair out.  Yes, I can see him laughing at us all.  And that makes me smile through all of the tears.