Ponderous Rambling

2012

2012-01-02T03:04:00.000-05:00

Another year, another blog post. Hopefully I can get back into writing again. I have missed it and wished I could be inspired the way I used to be.

I blame Facebook and Twitter because with those outlets I can get my thoughts out in 30 seconds or less and call it a day. But, instead of writing out what's on my mind I wind up figuring out how to say what's on my mind in a minimal number of characters. Doing that minimizes the importance of what's going on in my head.

2011 was a decent year. I'm hoping 2012 will be a really GREAT year. Here's to doing my part to make sure that happens. =)

Bratty Kids Or Developmental Disorders?

2011-09-15T16:01:00.003-04:00

Let me preface what I'm about to say with the disclaimer that I KNOW EMOTIONAL/DEVELOPMENT DISORDERS EXIST.

That being said, I am skeptical about the authenticity of many of them. (Really, if there's no way to test for something as serious as a medical disorder other than to rule out OTHER disorders how and why should any of us believe in it?) I also think that many, many, MANY children are diagnosed as being some type of Autistic/Hyperactive/etc. because parents want to blame something other than their parenting skillz for producing bratty kids. I guess the more politically correct way to phrase that would be to say that too many children are being raised in such a way that they don't know how to process their emotions, they don't learn to empathise, they have no outlet for excess energy or frustration and as a result they act out in inappropriate ways. I also think that numbing themselves to high levels of frustration, anxiety, etc. is how they cope. And too many parents do not want the stigma of sucking at their role in child rearing to be reflected in the rightful direction so they take the easy way out.

I am not claiming to be educated about the ways and means of diagnosing any type of mental/developmental/medical disorder. I haven't done any research on any of these types of issues. All I have to go on is my gut reaction when I see or read or hear about behavior in children that is resolved by employing quirky protocols that sound more like coddling than teaching life lessons on acceptable behavior. And don't get me started on medicating children into acceptable behavior.

This topic irks me to no end, which is why I'm blogging about it now. I don't know why it bothers me the way it does, how people handle issues that have nothing at all to do with me is none of my business. This is just one of those things that gets my temper up and causes me to ALMOST say something I shouldn't, which doesn't normally bother me, but even I can't justify getting outwardly snippy about something that is none of my concern.

I am a single mom of two girls. They're both teenagers and they're both respectful, well adjusted, and well behaved. I have raised them largely on my own and I am told all the time that I have really good kids. I guess my question is, if I can do it, why can't everyone?

But then again, I guess the answer is...it's a disorder's fault.

Faith

2011-09-12T10:00:00.000-04:00

Faith is important to me. It's seen me through some turbulent times. I've never tried to explain it but it plays such a large part in who I am that I think it's time I tried. It's multi-faceted. Here are three main areas that I live by:

God. My faith in God is bone deep. It's also extremely personal and private. I don't talk about my faith in God. I don't talk to other people about their faith, whatever it may be. I am secure in my relationship with Him and I look to him for everything. When I feel lost. When I feel scared. When I'm anxious. When I'm angry. And also when I'm happy and thankful. I try hard to remember to always thank Him for the things He's given me. I'm not always good about thanking Him in a timely manner, but I think I'm pretty good about giving thanks where thanks is due. I need to share this part of my life with my girls. I need to tell them about the magic that is a good relationship with Him. They don't know the depth of my faith. They look to me for direction and I've failed them in this area. I need to figure out how to fix this.

Family. I know they will always be there. They, especially my father, have stood behind me through a lot. They have watched me make mistake after mistake but they're still there. My dad helped me buy my house so that I could provide a permanent place for my girls; so that we'd never have to move again because of a less than ideal renting/living situation. Buying this house was the most important thing I've ever done for the three of us and I couldn't have made it happen without him. I will be forever grateful for that.

Life. I have faith that there will never be anything that life can throw at me that I cannot handle. Yes, I realize this ties in directly to my faith in God, but I still see it as it's own separate entity. I'm not rich but I have faith that I will always at least scrape by. I have a great job and I have faith that one day it will provide me with enough money to live comfortably without ever having to worry. I have some health issues but I have faith that they will always be manageable. I have really good kids and I have faith that they've been raised well enough to follow a path to happiness and success in their adult lives.

I'm far from perfect. I'm extremely independent. Aside from my God, my family, and a couple of close friends I tend to hold people at arms length. I have a history of choosing to trust the wrong people and because of that I do not trust easily. One day I hope to restore my faith in people in general; that they are worthy of my trust until they give me a reason not to be rather than having to earn it over time.

I'm mostly happy with myself and where I am in life. I do have some goals I'd like to reach by the time I'm 40. I have faith that I will make them happen.

9/11 Remembered

2011-09-11T13:26:00.000-04:00

Last night I watched a made for TV movie about Flight 93. I already knew the story and I already had a great amount of respect for the people on that plane who refused to let their hijackers win. But knowing a story and seeing a depiction of what we understand of their ordeal are two totally different things.

At one point I had to stop watching because my stomach was in my throat. I was ready to throw up at any second. Not because it was graphic (it wasn't) and a passenger just got his throat slashed. No. It was because I can't imagine my last moments of life being like that. Knowing I was going to die so I could either sit back and let it happen or go out fighting.

My personal memory of 9/11 isn't anywhere near as traumatic as that but I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was 26. I remember sitting in my cube at work when the guy I was seeing at the time called me. (I had been divorced for 3 years at this point.) His routine good morning call started out quite differently than normal.

Him: Where are the girls?

Me: (with my ever present sarcasm fully engaged) Well, it's a weekday so one is at daycare and the other is in school...

Him: Where is the daycare? Quantico is on lock down.

That's how I found out that the Twin Towers and the Pentagon had already been struck.

The daycare was located literally around the corner from the main gate of Quantico. Chad knew the girls were in that general area but not whether they were inside or outside of the gate. Thankfully they were just outside. Still, it's a Marine base. FBI headquarters is there. No one had any idea if that particular base would be a target. I was scared to death and I was an hour away from my kids.

I couldn't get through to the daycare. Actually, after I hung up with Chad I couldn't get through to anyone. I told my supervisor where my girls were and she said "Go!"

I drove as fast as my car would take me. Traffic was moving at a faster pace than I ever thought possible and police cars were parked on the shoulder of I95. They didn't stop anyone who was very obviously speeding.

I got to the daycare in record time. The teachers were distraught but trying hard not to let the kiddos see it. Parents were rushing in and snatching up their kids. I remember having tunnel vision looking for mine. She was playing with a couple of other kids and I swooped in, picked her up, and headed back out the door.

I still had one more kid to get to before I could relax.

I went to the elementary school and it was more hectic than the daycare. The daycare recognized the parents of their charges. The school didn't know most of us. Parents were totally bypassing the main office and heading straight to classrooms to pick up their kids. I stopped by the office first and signed mine out but I didn't show any ID and I didn't hang around waiting for someone to say it was OK to take my daughter. I just went to the room and stood outside the door with 6 other parents. My daughter came out, all smiles, asking why everyone was going home.

I didn't have an answer. I must have given her one, though, because she didn't continue to ask questions.

We made it home to our apartment. Was that safer than the school or the daycare? Probably not, it was located directly in the middle of the two locations. But I felt safer and definitely more secure there with the three of us together than I did when none of us were in the same place.

Did I over react? Probably. But for me, living in the metro area of the Nation's Capital moments after devastating terrorist activity, keeping a cool head and thinking logically took a back seat to my need to gather up my kids and lock all three of us away.

Like I said, my experience wasn't anywhere near as traumatic as that of the people on those planes and in the target buildings. It certainly wasn't as traumatic as it was for those who had to make sense of the chaos and try to rescue as many victims as possible. Or those who had to sit helplessly and watch those planes on the radar go off course and not be able to stop them. To those people I say "thank you for being there and doing what you could".

How Many Times...

2011-09-10T23:42:00.003-04:00

How many times can one blog be recycled? Out with the old, in with the new...I think this is the fourth time I've deleted my archives with the idea of starting over.

I used to love writing. I would write blog entries at least once a day, sometimes more. But now, with Facebook and Twitter, where I can send out one liners to let folks know what's on my mind, blogging has kind of gotten lost. I want to get back into it. I don't want to get rusty on laying out the prose.

I'd like this space to be dedicated to something. Not a journal again, I've gotten to the point where putting my personal trials out there for the world to see is no longer appealing. I don't want to write about the girls either. They're teenagers now and they have a right to their privacy.

I'll figure it out. Stay tuned...