Remember when we were kids and we liked to throw parties at our parent's homes when they were out of town? Remember when the cops were called and we scattered like seeds in the wind? Remember when I never got caught drinking and made it out of high school with out having to sit in the back of a Sheriff Deputy's patrol car? Well, my daughter can't say that.
My daughter is a liar; She's a damn good liar. She is a better liar than I was at her age. She's so good that she convinced me that the crap coming out of her mouth was the truth. And if you can't tell, I'm pissed.
I'm pissed because I have given her every opportunity to have a different relationship with me than I had with my own mother-- A relationship built upon honest communication and openness. Now it looks like we have to have the same relationship that I had with my mother. And having been through that type of relationship once already, I can tell you that this isn't going to be fun.
Within the last 5 months she has consistently done things to make me question her thinking, and those things have tested my nerves. I mean really, four minor car accidents and a ticket for failing to stop at a stop sign have altered my mood just a bit. One weekend she walked into the house and I KNEW she was hungover. She's been a pain in the ass to her sisters and a little bit bitchy with me. Catching her drinking in the bath tub was almost the catalyst of me epically losing my shit with her. But I remained calm and asked her if there was anything she wanted to talk about. I've openly asked her questions and assured her that I would not be mad if she told me the truth. But she made the choice to keep silent.
I sincerely thought the loss of her friend would catapult her back to the girl she once was. I know now that girl is gone forever. Haven is never going to be that girl again.
I remember when I lost myself as a girl; I still am sad about that lost soul I was at 17. I've never seen that Leslie again, the innocence I once held inside of me. I watched her disappear like water droplets on a very hot day. Now, I watch as Haven does the same, and it is the most heart breaking thing I've ever seen.
But because I know that loss, that doesn't mean that I am going to let what she chooses to do to herself slide in the least. I'm still her parent. I'm the only parent she has.
I always told Haven that if she got caught drinking at a party to call someone else to come bail her out. Never in a million years did I think she would get in this type of trouble. Never in a million years did I think she would call the guy I just started dating. He brought her home to me at 4:45 in the morning. She was very drunk.
Haven threw a rockin' party at her Grandmother's house while my mother was away on vacation. This party was so awesome the cops were called three different times. This party was so flipping wonderful, my daughter was put into handcuffs and thrown in the back of a patrol car.
It was not until the next afternoon that I discovered the distruction she had done to her Grandmother's home. My mother's home smells like beer, urine and sex. In total, Haven and my boyfriend picked up 8 trash bags of beer cans, liquor bottles, jello shot containers and 3 used condoms. When I arrived at my Mother's home after working all day, I seriously wanted to cry. I wanted to cry for my mother, and anyone who knows me knows that that relationship isn't the best even in good times.
It was not easy for me to make that phone call to tell my mother what my daughter had done to her home. The call did not end well for either one of us. We both cried.
Then I looked at my daughter and I became so enraged that I screamed at her to call all of her friends and tell them to get their faces in front of me, like now. I gave them two choices: Face me, or I was going to let my mother unleash a load of crazy the likes they've never seen before. Some kids showed up, but not all. Some of those friends were genuinely sorry and promised to help Haven come up with the money to clean my mother's home and carpets. Haven found out who her friends were.
Seriously, some of these kids (apparently mine included) need a huge wake-up call. I don't exactly know what that wake-up call might be. You would think a dead friend and being handcuffed in the back of a patrol car would be it, but you never know with these kids. I guess I didn't finally wake up until I gave birth to Haven. I hope it doesn't take that for her to find herself again.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
The Wine is Mine
There is nothing quite like my life. I am grateful for it, but sometimes in certain circumstances I wonder if God uses my life for comedic relief.
Case in point:
I wonder if he sits back and watches how hard I work to put a roof over my children's head. I wonder if he sees my struggle and is thoughtful of my breaking point.
God, if you are unaware, I am getting close. This isn't a warning. I know you will be there to carry me until I am able to recover from the million and a half things that are thrown my way. I promise to get up as fast as I can.
Other than my children, there is nothing in my life that I do for myself. From the moment I wake up, I run. Literally run. Everybody has to get up, get dressed, be fed. Everyone goes in a million different directions. I get everyone off to school and then make the haul to my work. That haul is 55 miles one way.
I work very hard at work. I put my head down and make things happen; I do not take a lunch break; I give them 100% while I am there. I go to work when I am sick; I go to work when I have been up all night with children. I have a good work ethic and I model that for my children every day.
After work, I drive another 55 miles to pick every one up. I do this to keep my children in the schools that they want to attend. All three are happy and I would never make them unhappy because it was inconvenient for me. But, it really is inconvenient for me.
When we get home, I cook dinner, clean up, put children in bath tubs, and then to sleep. I am passed out dead by 7:30. I do all of this by myself, with no help from any one. I am not complaining, I know a lot of people have to do this alone.
But, all of this on top of paying the bills (or figuring out how to pay them), keeping the house clean, the 10 loads of laundry I do every week, family drama, work drama, and trying to make time for my two best friends, well, it can be a bit overwhelming.
One evening, I realized that I had not had an opportunity to see or speak with Haven very much. I heard the bath tub running and thought I would pop in just to check in with her. My current job has limited my ability to connect very well with her.
As I walked toward her room I thought about what I would ask her. It had felt like weeks since I had heard anything new with her. School had just began and I thought that might be a good place to start.
Through her bathroom door, I heard soft music playing; She probably never heard me come in. When I pulled back the shower curtain, I found that my daughter was very relaxed, soaking in the tub, listening to soft music, and drinking a glass of wine.
She looked at me with guilty eyes and said, "I've had a bad day."
I just stood there.
Can you imagine what went through my mind? No, I imagine you cannot.
What are you? 40? Seriously Haven?! And when do we drink just because we've had a bad day? If that were the case, I would be loaded 24/7. And wine? Really?? You should be pouring water in the Vodka bottle at your age, not drinking wine. Who are you?
I then told her to pour the wine out.
Aside from being pissed that she was drinking, I have to admit that I was a little jealous. I mean, I can't tell you the last time I was able to sit in a bathtub with a glass of wine; I can't even tell you the last time I was in a bathroom by myself.
Yes I can, it was in 1995 BEFORE SHE WAS BORN.
We talked about it at length, but I don't know if I can trust her now that she's doing these things while I am in the house. My mind races and creates what she might be doing when I am not in the house, and now I have to apply that same method of thinking while I am actually there. It is just another thing I have to do. Add it to the list, by all means.
This situation has really irritated me. I really thought that it was understood that the flipping wine was mine. It might just be Arbor Mist, but it's mine.
And I think it is completely reasonable for her to take showers from now on until I get the opportunity to soak in the tub.
Case in point:
I wonder if he sits back and watches how hard I work to put a roof over my children's head. I wonder if he sees my struggle and is thoughtful of my breaking point.
God, if you are unaware, I am getting close. This isn't a warning. I know you will be there to carry me until I am able to recover from the million and a half things that are thrown my way. I promise to get up as fast as I can.
Other than my children, there is nothing in my life that I do for myself. From the moment I wake up, I run. Literally run. Everybody has to get up, get dressed, be fed. Everyone goes in a million different directions. I get everyone off to school and then make the haul to my work. That haul is 55 miles one way.
I work very hard at work. I put my head down and make things happen; I do not take a lunch break; I give them 100% while I am there. I go to work when I am sick; I go to work when I have been up all night with children. I have a good work ethic and I model that for my children every day.
After work, I drive another 55 miles to pick every one up. I do this to keep my children in the schools that they want to attend. All three are happy and I would never make them unhappy because it was inconvenient for me. But, it really is inconvenient for me.
When we get home, I cook dinner, clean up, put children in bath tubs, and then to sleep. I am passed out dead by 7:30. I do all of this by myself, with no help from any one. I am not complaining, I know a lot of people have to do this alone.
But, all of this on top of paying the bills (or figuring out how to pay them), keeping the house clean, the 10 loads of laundry I do every week, family drama, work drama, and trying to make time for my two best friends, well, it can be a bit overwhelming.
One evening, I realized that I had not had an opportunity to see or speak with Haven very much. I heard the bath tub running and thought I would pop in just to check in with her. My current job has limited my ability to connect very well with her.
As I walked toward her room I thought about what I would ask her. It had felt like weeks since I had heard anything new with her. School had just began and I thought that might be a good place to start.
Through her bathroom door, I heard soft music playing; She probably never heard me come in. When I pulled back the shower curtain, I found that my daughter was very relaxed, soaking in the tub, listening to soft music, and drinking a glass of wine.
She looked at me with guilty eyes and said, "I've had a bad day."
I just stood there.
Can you imagine what went through my mind? No, I imagine you cannot.
What are you? 40? Seriously Haven?! And when do we drink just because we've had a bad day? If that were the case, I would be loaded 24/7. And wine? Really?? You should be pouring water in the Vodka bottle at your age, not drinking wine. Who are you?
I then told her to pour the wine out.
Aside from being pissed that she was drinking, I have to admit that I was a little jealous. I mean, I can't tell you the last time I was able to sit in a bathtub with a glass of wine; I can't even tell you the last time I was in a bathroom by myself.
Yes I can, it was in 1995 BEFORE SHE WAS BORN.
We talked about it at length, but I don't know if I can trust her now that she's doing these things while I am in the house. My mind races and creates what she might be doing when I am not in the house, and now I have to apply that same method of thinking while I am actually there. It is just another thing I have to do. Add it to the list, by all means.
This situation has really irritated me. I really thought that it was understood that the flipping wine was mine. It might just be Arbor Mist, but it's mine.
And I think it is completely reasonable for her to take showers from now on until I get the opportunity to soak in the tub.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
There is No Forever
Thank God Summer is over.
This summer has seen many changes in our home, and some of them have not been fun. I will say, for the most part, that Haven has taken these changes in stride. All of these changes have been an opportunity for her to grow.
In June, Haven passed her driving test (with a 94), and set out to navigate he northern hemisphere of our great city. She drove to friend's homes, to the movies, volunteered to run errands for me, and even went to the grocery store. I kept thinking to myself what a relief it was to have another driver in the household. By the end of June, she was driving her sisters to and from school without incident.
However, by August, Haven's driving history was not so pristine. She had a minor accident on the way to practice one morning, and then three days later, she got her first moving violation. It was a rough week.
She did not like my reaction to both of these events. I spazzed out a lot. This reaction was mirrored by my sister who selflessly gave Haven a car.
I'm not really sure why she took issue with our responses to these two infractions--maybe it was because she scored a 94 on her driving test--maybe because she views them as accidents and thinks that they will never happen again...I don't know. I really don't know what she's thinking.
What I do know is is that she is my precious daughter and that I don't want her to die (or kill anyone else). I swear to you every time that child pulls out of the driveway I send up a prayer that she returns to me safely. I ask God to watch over her, to protect her, to keep her from harm's way and to facilitate good choices through her. I don't mean to be ridiculous, but I became very religious when Haven began driving.
Up until this point I felt like I could control any ominous outside forces that came her way. I feel I've done a pretty good job of protecting her and keeping her from harm thus far. It has been incredibly hard to watch her drive away from me. Now it is up to God.
I say this because on this day, the day we were to be in court for her failure to stop at a stop sign, Haven lost one of her friends in an early morning car accident.
This all just became very real for Haven.
She was pretty shaken up when she met me at the courthouse. I hugged her, listened to her tell me about her friend, and watched her cry. It is not an easy thing watching your child overcome with grief. I watched her inwardly and outwardly process the loss.
I can't help but think about what that boy's mother must be going through. I know she herself must have sent up the very same prayers that I do every day; Every mother does when her child gets behind the wheel.
After Haven saw the Judge, and as we were walking outside to our respective cars, I asked Haven if she knew now why I have been so worried. She looked at me with the saddest eyes and said, "Yes." I don't think I've seen eyes that sad since my father died.
When we were young, we conducted ourselves as if we were unbreakable. Every teenager thinks they will live forever.
This has been a terrible way for her to learn that there is no forever.
This summer has seen many changes in our home, and some of them have not been fun. I will say, for the most part, that Haven has taken these changes in stride. All of these changes have been an opportunity for her to grow.
In June, Haven passed her driving test (with a 94), and set out to navigate he northern hemisphere of our great city. She drove to friend's homes, to the movies, volunteered to run errands for me, and even went to the grocery store. I kept thinking to myself what a relief it was to have another driver in the household. By the end of June, she was driving her sisters to and from school without incident.
However, by August, Haven's driving history was not so pristine. She had a minor accident on the way to practice one morning, and then three days later, she got her first moving violation. It was a rough week.
She did not like my reaction to both of these events. I spazzed out a lot. This reaction was mirrored by my sister who selflessly gave Haven a car.
I'm not really sure why she took issue with our responses to these two infractions--maybe it was because she scored a 94 on her driving test--maybe because she views them as accidents and thinks that they will never happen again...I don't know. I really don't know what she's thinking.
What I do know is is that she is my precious daughter and that I don't want her to die (or kill anyone else). I swear to you every time that child pulls out of the driveway I send up a prayer that she returns to me safely. I ask God to watch over her, to protect her, to keep her from harm's way and to facilitate good choices through her. I don't mean to be ridiculous, but I became very religious when Haven began driving.
Up until this point I felt like I could control any ominous outside forces that came her way. I feel I've done a pretty good job of protecting her and keeping her from harm thus far. It has been incredibly hard to watch her drive away from me. Now it is up to God.
I say this because on this day, the day we were to be in court for her failure to stop at a stop sign, Haven lost one of her friends in an early morning car accident.
This all just became very real for Haven.
She was pretty shaken up when she met me at the courthouse. I hugged her, listened to her tell me about her friend, and watched her cry. It is not an easy thing watching your child overcome with grief. I watched her inwardly and outwardly process the loss.
I can't help but think about what that boy's mother must be going through. I know she herself must have sent up the very same prayers that I do every day; Every mother does when her child gets behind the wheel.
After Haven saw the Judge, and as we were walking outside to our respective cars, I asked Haven if she knew now why I have been so worried. She looked at me with the saddest eyes and said, "Yes." I don't think I've seen eyes that sad since my father died.
When we were young, we conducted ourselves as if we were unbreakable. Every teenager thinks they will live forever.
This has been a terrible way for her to learn that there is no forever.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
The Terrible Sixteens
This is not an embellishment; It literally happened overnight.
And, in all honesty, it is my fault because I wished for it. I spoke the words out loud, and BAM, it happened.
A reader complimented me on my blog and what a wonderful person Haven is, and I joked back with her that I felt like my blog might be boring because all I seem to do is tell everyone how special she is. I wondered aloud when the difficult issues were coming because at the very least, my blog would be more entertaining.
What in the holy hell did I say that for? And Jesus, if you are reading this, I am eternally sorry and would like to retract my statement about blog entertainment. I really don't care if my readers laugh or not. Please restore my Haven back into the girl she was nights ago and I will never be ungrateful again.
That's how that works, right?
UGH!
I suppose you, dear reader, would like the specifics about what happened. I suppose I will tell you.
Picture your child during the terrible two's (I don't care what others say, girls go through it at age three, but picture it nonetheless.) Now multiply that time of growth, development and exertion of independence by let's say, FOUR MILLION. It is absolutely laughable that people tell you to fear your child at age two. THOSE people are obviously out of touch with reality; Sixteen is MUCH harder than three.
The long and short of it is that I said no to Haven when she asked to do something after being gone all weekend. I rarely say no to Haven, and expected a little back talk from her because that is what she does when I say no.
I said no for many reasons and those reasons angered her. They angered her a little more than they should have, and that in turn was the gateway for mouthiness and being disrespectful. And the mouthier and more disrespectful she became, the angrier I got. The incident became cyclical until we were inches from each others faces.
My mom slapped me across the face a couple of times when I was growing up. I swore when I had children that I would NEVER slap them on the face; I find that that type of discipline degrading and unnecessary. But, in that minute, when Haven and I were inches apart, I wanted to slap her in the mouth so hard. I wanted to knock every one of her $6,000 teeth down the back of her throat.
Haven even dared me to do it.
Now, before you all go calling Child Protective Services on me, please know that I did not hit her. I really wanted to, though.
Before we got to this point, believe me, I tried using every other tactic I had in my "Mother Bag of Justice." Nothing worked. When I grounded her, she said, "Whatever." When I told her to give me her phone, she told me, "No." NO! Things escalated pretty fast, but I did use everything that has previously worked to wrangle her back into conformity. Nothing worked. I realized I had a serious problem when Haven left the house after I told her not to.
I sat there in that empty house in shock. What had just happened to us? This cannot possibly be what we are turning into. I went from sobbing uncontrollably to burning rage. I pictured what Haven was telling her friends:
"My Mom is such a bitch!"
Oh Haven, you have no idea. Just ask anyone! Bitch does not even begin to describe me. That does not hurt my feelings in the least. You can call me a bitch as much as you want. It's okay.
"I HATE my MOM!"
Haven, please don't hate me. I don't say no to you because I want to be all mighty on the top of some disciplinary hill. I say no because you still have to be part of our family. You have to be present in our family. You don't just get to be gone all of the time, running around God knows where in a bikini. You get to participate in the mundane activities of family life. Just pretend to like it. It works out that much better in the long run.
Whatever Haven was saying and feeling is also valid. I am sure she was just as upset as I. This was a terrible experience for both of us.
When she returned, and after more arguing, we reached a punishment that I was comfortable with.
Since that day, there have been many other incidents of Haven trying to exert her independence from me. I am well aware that she is going to push the boundaries as much as she can to get her way. My concern is that if the things in my "Mother Bag of Justice" do not work, what is a single mother to do? It's not like I can threaten, "Just wait until your Father gets home!" like other Mothers get to do.
I need to get creative. I need to think of other ways to get her attention. I need to fill my bag up with some new tricks. I'll let you know what I come up with.
Until then, I will be in survival mode. I survived the terrible threes; I am sure I will survive this.
And, in all honesty, it is my fault because I wished for it. I spoke the words out loud, and BAM, it happened.
A reader complimented me on my blog and what a wonderful person Haven is, and I joked back with her that I felt like my blog might be boring because all I seem to do is tell everyone how special she is. I wondered aloud when the difficult issues were coming because at the very least, my blog would be more entertaining.
What in the holy hell did I say that for? And Jesus, if you are reading this, I am eternally sorry and would like to retract my statement about blog entertainment. I really don't care if my readers laugh or not. Please restore my Haven back into the girl she was nights ago and I will never be ungrateful again.
That's how that works, right?
UGH!
I suppose you, dear reader, would like the specifics about what happened. I suppose I will tell you.
Picture your child during the terrible two's (I don't care what others say, girls go through it at age three, but picture it nonetheless.) Now multiply that time of growth, development and exertion of independence by let's say, FOUR MILLION. It is absolutely laughable that people tell you to fear your child at age two. THOSE people are obviously out of touch with reality; Sixteen is MUCH harder than three.
The long and short of it is that I said no to Haven when she asked to do something after being gone all weekend. I rarely say no to Haven, and expected a little back talk from her because that is what she does when I say no.
I said no for many reasons and those reasons angered her. They angered her a little more than they should have, and that in turn was the gateway for mouthiness and being disrespectful. And the mouthier and more disrespectful she became, the angrier I got. The incident became cyclical until we were inches from each others faces.
My mom slapped me across the face a couple of times when I was growing up. I swore when I had children that I would NEVER slap them on the face; I find that that type of discipline degrading and unnecessary. But, in that minute, when Haven and I were inches apart, I wanted to slap her in the mouth so hard. I wanted to knock every one of her $6,000 teeth down the back of her throat.
Haven even dared me to do it.
Now, before you all go calling Child Protective Services on me, please know that I did not hit her. I really wanted to, though.
Before we got to this point, believe me, I tried using every other tactic I had in my "Mother Bag of Justice." Nothing worked. When I grounded her, she said, "Whatever." When I told her to give me her phone, she told me, "No." NO! Things escalated pretty fast, but I did use everything that has previously worked to wrangle her back into conformity. Nothing worked. I realized I had a serious problem when Haven left the house after I told her not to.
I sat there in that empty house in shock. What had just happened to us? This cannot possibly be what we are turning into. I went from sobbing uncontrollably to burning rage. I pictured what Haven was telling her friends:
"My Mom is such a bitch!"
Oh Haven, you have no idea. Just ask anyone! Bitch does not even begin to describe me. That does not hurt my feelings in the least. You can call me a bitch as much as you want. It's okay.
"I HATE my MOM!"
Haven, please don't hate me. I don't say no to you because I want to be all mighty on the top of some disciplinary hill. I say no because you still have to be part of our family. You have to be present in our family. You don't just get to be gone all of the time, running around God knows where in a bikini. You get to participate in the mundane activities of family life. Just pretend to like it. It works out that much better in the long run.
Whatever Haven was saying and feeling is also valid. I am sure she was just as upset as I. This was a terrible experience for both of us.
When she returned, and after more arguing, we reached a punishment that I was comfortable with.
Since that day, there have been many other incidents of Haven trying to exert her independence from me. I am well aware that she is going to push the boundaries as much as she can to get her way. My concern is that if the things in my "Mother Bag of Justice" do not work, what is a single mother to do? It's not like I can threaten, "Just wait until your Father gets home!" like other Mothers get to do.
I need to get creative. I need to think of other ways to get her attention. I need to fill my bag up with some new tricks. I'll let you know what I come up with.
Until then, I will be in survival mode. I survived the terrible threes; I am sure I will survive this.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
The Situation with J.R. Ewing
I love that Haven knows that she can tell me anything. I love that Haven knows that I will not judge the information she gives me. I love that we have a great relationship. I love that Haven comes to me instead of soliciting the advice of her friends.
In theory, this arrangement is ideal because I know what is going on with her and that is of utmost importance when raising a teenager. However, because she can tell me anything, I find that I know WAY more than any mother need know. There are times when I wish I didn't know everything.
Lord knows I never told my mother anything, and that is because she would be pissed off and bring the wrath of God down upon me. She was scary.
I made a vow when I found out that I was pregnant with Haven that I would want to know what was going on with her when she became a teenager, and told myself that I would be even more understanding when it came time to deal with the hard stuff: You know, sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. I vowed that I would not approach those issues like an After School Special or a 7th grade sex-education video. I think I have done a pretty good job of giving Haven information that she can use to make wise decisions. Maybe I should have had access to some of her friends...
Virginity is a big concern for me. It was not easy to have a child at a young age and I'll pretty much do anything to prevent my daughter from following in my footsteps. Do not get me wrong, I love my life, but it was challenging for me. All a parent wants for her child is for them to have an easier life.
But knowing about what some of her friends do with others is a double edged sword. On one hand, I am glad that she is divulging all of the threesomes, alcohol fueled parties, and pregnancy scares, but there is another part of me that flirts on the edge of vomiting after these conversations. My Mom doesn't know how lucky she was. Seriously.
The information Haven gives me about her friends has made me rethink how I felt about myself in high school. I'm not trying to rewrite history by any means, but if I had known that girls (and boys) would be doing this stuff 16 years later (Please use your imagination. It really is worse than threesomes and pregnancy scares.), I wouldn't have been so hard on myself.
And really kids, just because there is a line in a movie about gang bangs, doesn't mean you all need to run trains on one another.
I just don't get when things changed from merely having sex in high school to hanging naked from the ceiling. Don't they know that is what college is for? Why are they trying to rush these things?
I've had conversations with other mother's and they blame this evolution on reality television. I guess I can agree with that. I somehow managed to make my high school experience come straight out of an episode of Dallas; Why wouldn't they model their behavior after the residents of Jersey Shore?
I do want Haven to keep talking to me, but I really need there to be a preventative way for me not to become physically ill when she does. I want there to be a way for me to look at her friends without the urge to say, "I know what you've done." I need there to be a device I can install onto Haven's person that will alert me as to when another human being is trying to get into her "business".
The end.
In theory, this arrangement is ideal because I know what is going on with her and that is of utmost importance when raising a teenager. However, because she can tell me anything, I find that I know WAY more than any mother need know. There are times when I wish I didn't know everything.
Lord knows I never told my mother anything, and that is because she would be pissed off and bring the wrath of God down upon me. She was scary.
I made a vow when I found out that I was pregnant with Haven that I would want to know what was going on with her when she became a teenager, and told myself that I would be even more understanding when it came time to deal with the hard stuff: You know, sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. I vowed that I would not approach those issues like an After School Special or a 7th grade sex-education video. I think I have done a pretty good job of giving Haven information that she can use to make wise decisions. Maybe I should have had access to some of her friends...
Virginity is a big concern for me. It was not easy to have a child at a young age and I'll pretty much do anything to prevent my daughter from following in my footsteps. Do not get me wrong, I love my life, but it was challenging for me. All a parent wants for her child is for them to have an easier life.
But knowing about what some of her friends do with others is a double edged sword. On one hand, I am glad that she is divulging all of the threesomes, alcohol fueled parties, and pregnancy scares, but there is another part of me that flirts on the edge of vomiting after these conversations. My Mom doesn't know how lucky she was. Seriously.
The information Haven gives me about her friends has made me rethink how I felt about myself in high school. I'm not trying to rewrite history by any means, but if I had known that girls (and boys) would be doing this stuff 16 years later (Please use your imagination. It really is worse than threesomes and pregnancy scares.), I wouldn't have been so hard on myself.
And really kids, just because there is a line in a movie about gang bangs, doesn't mean you all need to run trains on one another.
I just don't get when things changed from merely having sex in high school to hanging naked from the ceiling. Don't they know that is what college is for? Why are they trying to rush these things?
I've had conversations with other mother's and they blame this evolution on reality television. I guess I can agree with that. I somehow managed to make my high school experience come straight out of an episode of Dallas; Why wouldn't they model their behavior after the residents of Jersey Shore?
I do want Haven to keep talking to me, but I really need there to be a preventative way for me not to become physically ill when she does. I want there to be a way for me to look at her friends without the urge to say, "I know what you've done." I need there to be a device I can install onto Haven's person that will alert me as to when another human being is trying to get into her "business".
The end.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
The Essence of Haven
In late April, Haven traveled to New York City (or "You Nork City" as she called it as a young child) to be a Rapporteur of The Human Rights Council for the Montessori Model United Nations.
Haven attended Montessori school from the time she was two years old until she entered the sixth grade. I truly believe that foundation of her educational background within the Montessori curriculum played an important part of who Haven is today. Montessori and her teachers have shown Haven compassion for her environment, a love of learning, and the ability to overcome obstacles.
Haven was diagnosed with dyslexia in the second grade. She struggled immensely for many years to be able to form words, numbers, and to be able to read. Through therapy and with the help of her caring and very patient teachers, Haven was able to approach the disability with grace and determination. She would not have been able to conquer dyslexia or continue her love of learning if it were not for her teachers. I love each of those women as if they were family and will forever be grateful to them for what they have done for my child.
The first time Haven traveled to New York to participate in the Montessori Model United Nations was in 2007. She, along with her fifth grade class, sat on many boards while representing the United Kingdom. She, along with her team members, drafted many resolutions and presented them to the Model UN Governing Council.
I was floored with her work on the resolution of the proliferation of nuclear arms in North Korea. Tell me, please, what 11 year old is or has ever been concerned about nuclear arms or human rights atrocities? A smart one for sure.
Mine.
That experience changed how Haven viewed herself. She saw that her struggle with her learning disability was insignificant in relation to what other people, and especially children, of other countries have to endure. She came home from that trip and told me, "Mom, I am so lucky I live here." And I replied back, "No Haven, you are lucky to have been born a girl in the United States of America. Other girls are not so lucky."
Haven has gone back to the Montessori Model UN many times since then and has continued to educate herself on human rights and armament issues that plague our world. If it were not for the experiences afforded to her through her Montessori school, she may have been a child that gave no thought to others out of her immediate vicinity.
This year, she was asked to become a Rapporteur. A Rapporteur is a member of the dias, a group of people who are in charge of a committee. This was a great honor for Haven, and her duties included keeping the speaker's list and taking the roll call. They have asked her to return next year and she will be given greater responsibilities. She is looking forward to it.
Tomorrow, my Haven turns sixteen years old. This beautiful child has impacted, shaped, and changed every person she has ever encountered. I am amazed at the person of action she has already become during her short time on Earth. I am convinced that her next sixteen years will be even more impactful.
The essence of Haven is this:
There are those that idly sit back and let the world determine their worth, and then there is Haven.
There are those who are defined by what happens to them, and then there is Haven.
There are those who watch wrongdoings from a distance and do not involve themselves, and then there is Haven.
There are those who want to create change but do not feel their voice strong enough to be heard, and then there is Haven.
There are those who are unable to speak for themselves, and then there is Haven.
There are those who do not care, and then there is Haven.
I named her Haven because I knew that she would be my safe place. Little did I know that she would be a safe place for others.
Happy birthday, darling.
Haven attended Montessori school from the time she was two years old until she entered the sixth grade. I truly believe that foundation of her educational background within the Montessori curriculum played an important part of who Haven is today. Montessori and her teachers have shown Haven compassion for her environment, a love of learning, and the ability to overcome obstacles.
Haven was diagnosed with dyslexia in the second grade. She struggled immensely for many years to be able to form words, numbers, and to be able to read. Through therapy and with the help of her caring and very patient teachers, Haven was able to approach the disability with grace and determination. She would not have been able to conquer dyslexia or continue her love of learning if it were not for her teachers. I love each of those women as if they were family and will forever be grateful to them for what they have done for my child.
The first time Haven traveled to New York to participate in the Montessori Model United Nations was in 2007. She, along with her fifth grade class, sat on many boards while representing the United Kingdom. She, along with her team members, drafted many resolutions and presented them to the Model UN Governing Council.
I was floored with her work on the resolution of the proliferation of nuclear arms in North Korea. Tell me, please, what 11 year old is or has ever been concerned about nuclear arms or human rights atrocities? A smart one for sure.
Mine.
That experience changed how Haven viewed herself. She saw that her struggle with her learning disability was insignificant in relation to what other people, and especially children, of other countries have to endure. She came home from that trip and told me, "Mom, I am so lucky I live here." And I replied back, "No Haven, you are lucky to have been born a girl in the United States of America. Other girls are not so lucky."
Haven has gone back to the Montessori Model UN many times since then and has continued to educate herself on human rights and armament issues that plague our world. If it were not for the experiences afforded to her through her Montessori school, she may have been a child that gave no thought to others out of her immediate vicinity.
This year, she was asked to become a Rapporteur. A Rapporteur is a member of the dias, a group of people who are in charge of a committee. This was a great honor for Haven, and her duties included keeping the speaker's list and taking the roll call. They have asked her to return next year and she will be given greater responsibilities. She is looking forward to it.
Tomorrow, my Haven turns sixteen years old. This beautiful child has impacted, shaped, and changed every person she has ever encountered. I am amazed at the person of action she has already become during her short time on Earth. I am convinced that her next sixteen years will be even more impactful.
The essence of Haven is this:
There are those that idly sit back and let the world determine their worth, and then there is Haven.
There are those who are defined by what happens to them, and then there is Haven.
There are those who watch wrongdoings from a distance and do not involve themselves, and then there is Haven.
There are those who want to create change but do not feel their voice strong enough to be heard, and then there is Haven.
There are those who are unable to speak for themselves, and then there is Haven.
There are those who do not care, and then there is Haven.
I named her Haven because I knew that she would be my safe place. Little did I know that she would be a safe place for others.
Happy birthday, darling.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Sexy Cars and Teenagers
Something happens to me when people drive recklessly around me when I have my children in the car. It gets my internal and external dialogue talking at the same time, and my blood pressure soars to high heaven. If the other driver is particularly reckless, these two dialogues merge into one profanity laden banter that scares even me. I blame it on the high blood pressure. But, it is even worse when the other driver is a teenager, especially so if the other driver is a teenage boy.
At the beginning of this school year I told you my feelings about children driving better cars than most adults I know. It is just not right, in my opinion, especially in a recession. These kids have not worked a day in their lives for vehicles of this caliber, and are rewarded with such in order for their parents to keep up with appearances. It brings about a bravado that would not be present had these parents gifted, say a Hyundai. Giving a child a $50,000 car permits them to behave as if money is no object and it is reflected in their driving, especially with boys. That's the truth-- plain and simple. It irks me when I see a seventeen year old driving the same car my friend drives. My friend is a mid-level OFFICER in the military, not a seventeen year old athlete. Good LORD! There is something wrong with this picture.
Today on the way to drop Haven off at her high school and as I crossed the intersection of Affluent and More Affluent, some little kid in a BRAND NEW BMW got so close to my back bumper that it got my internal dialogue whispering. It said, "Hey Buddy, you are a bit close, back off a little."
He didn't and got even closer to my car.
The conversation in my head was now at an audibly loud level. Outwardly I said, "What is this kid doing?" Internally I said, "Alright asshole, if you want to wreck your sexy, black car, I'm all for it." I did not act on that, however, as my children were with me.
The ironic thing about this incident was that the other lane was open. He could have just gone around me. He could have sped past me and called me old for going the speed limit. He could have given me the bird and called it a day.
But, he didn't.
I knew what was about to happen. I knew that my two dialogues would merge into one. I knew that I would have to talk to my children after it was all said and done about appropriate driving behavior. I knew I would have to apologize to my 4 year old for using the F-word. A lot.
The teenager angrily pulled up next to me and then swerved into my lane, pushing me almost onto the sidewalk, while honking wildly.
Really? You are a teenage road rager? Nice.
MY INTERNAL DIALOGUE: You piece of shit, you are so lucky you did not hit my car with my children in it! If you had hit my car, you'd better hope that you were injured. After checking to see if my children were okay, I would have pulled you out of that $60,000 car and kicked the shit out of you until every entitled bone in your body was broken or until the police came to pull me off of you. And then I would kick the shit out of your parents. I would beat the ever-loving-shit out of your parents right in front of you! (This goes on and on, but with a lot more profanity. You get the picture.)
(And don't act like you don't candidly talk to yourself about what happens to your children either. Don't act like you don't fantasize about what you would do if someone hurt them.)
MY EXTERNAL DIALOGUE: This is not for public consumption. I used the F-word and had crazy eyes. I talked about his mother. I almost put my middle finger through the rolled-up window.
(I felt passionately about getting my point across.)
Then the teenager darted across three lanes of traffic, two of which were on-coming, and disappeared into a neighborhood.
Obviously, this was not my finest moment, but in my defense I was scared. He came that close to hitting us and he could have flipped my car. My kids could have been hurt! I am not going to apologize for what I inwardly or outwardly say when it comes to my kids. What I said to this kid was appropriate and warranted and I would say it all again in the same situation, but maybe with more of a Christan undertone. I don't know; Hindsight is 20/20.
What I do know is that in less than 11 days my daughter will be turning 16 and driving herself to school without me. She will be thrown into the bravado mix and I am worried for her safety. What if some teenage driver does this to her? What if her reflexes are not as good as mine and she actually gets into a wreck? Do you know what I would do if she were injured? Killed? I can't even think about it.
The most positive thing I can take away from this incident was Haven's reaction. She gasped when he swerved at us and her brown eyes became mostly white. She asked what was wrong with him. Hopefully she will take something away from this experience, and I hope that it is not my colorful language...
Surely she will not be as aggressive as these other drivers in her 1997 model truck. Surely she will be more respectful of others around her. If I hear any differently there will be hell to pay.
At the beginning of this school year I told you my feelings about children driving better cars than most adults I know. It is just not right, in my opinion, especially in a recession. These kids have not worked a day in their lives for vehicles of this caliber, and are rewarded with such in order for their parents to keep up with appearances. It brings about a bravado that would not be present had these parents gifted, say a Hyundai. Giving a child a $50,000 car permits them to behave as if money is no object and it is reflected in their driving, especially with boys. That's the truth-- plain and simple. It irks me when I see a seventeen year old driving the same car my friend drives. My friend is a mid-level OFFICER in the military, not a seventeen year old athlete. Good LORD! There is something wrong with this picture.
Today on the way to drop Haven off at her high school and as I crossed the intersection of Affluent and More Affluent, some little kid in a BRAND NEW BMW got so close to my back bumper that it got my internal dialogue whispering. It said, "Hey Buddy, you are a bit close, back off a little."
He didn't and got even closer to my car.
The conversation in my head was now at an audibly loud level. Outwardly I said, "What is this kid doing?" Internally I said, "Alright asshole, if you want to wreck your sexy, black car, I'm all for it." I did not act on that, however, as my children were with me.
The ironic thing about this incident was that the other lane was open. He could have just gone around me. He could have sped past me and called me old for going the speed limit. He could have given me the bird and called it a day.
But, he didn't.
I knew what was about to happen. I knew that my two dialogues would merge into one. I knew that I would have to talk to my children after it was all said and done about appropriate driving behavior. I knew I would have to apologize to my 4 year old for using the F-word. A lot.
The teenager angrily pulled up next to me and then swerved into my lane, pushing me almost onto the sidewalk, while honking wildly.
Really? You are a teenage road rager? Nice.
MY INTERNAL DIALOGUE: You piece of shit, you are so lucky you did not hit my car with my children in it! If you had hit my car, you'd better hope that you were injured. After checking to see if my children were okay, I would have pulled you out of that $60,000 car and kicked the shit out of you until every entitled bone in your body was broken or until the police came to pull me off of you. And then I would kick the shit out of your parents. I would beat the ever-loving-shit out of your parents right in front of you! (This goes on and on, but with a lot more profanity. You get the picture.)
(And don't act like you don't candidly talk to yourself about what happens to your children either. Don't act like you don't fantasize about what you would do if someone hurt them.)
MY EXTERNAL DIALOGUE: This is not for public consumption. I used the F-word and had crazy eyes. I talked about his mother. I almost put my middle finger through the rolled-up window.
(I felt passionately about getting my point across.)
Then the teenager darted across three lanes of traffic, two of which were on-coming, and disappeared into a neighborhood.
Obviously, this was not my finest moment, but in my defense I was scared. He came that close to hitting us and he could have flipped my car. My kids could have been hurt! I am not going to apologize for what I inwardly or outwardly say when it comes to my kids. What I said to this kid was appropriate and warranted and I would say it all again in the same situation, but maybe with more of a Christan undertone. I don't know; Hindsight is 20/20.
What I do know is that in less than 11 days my daughter will be turning 16 and driving herself to school without me. She will be thrown into the bravado mix and I am worried for her safety. What if some teenage driver does this to her? What if her reflexes are not as good as mine and she actually gets into a wreck? Do you know what I would do if she were injured? Killed? I can't even think about it.
The most positive thing I can take away from this incident was Haven's reaction. She gasped when he swerved at us and her brown eyes became mostly white. She asked what was wrong with him. Hopefully she will take something away from this experience, and I hope that it is not my colorful language...
Surely she will not be as aggressive as these other drivers in her 1997 model truck. Surely she will be more respectful of others around her. If I hear any differently there will be hell to pay.
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