After posting into the ether yesterday about several of the things keeping me awake at night, I actually slept last night. I don't know if it's legit cause-and-effect, that I wrote it all out and then was freer in my mind and that helped me nod off. But maybe it was. So maybe this needs to be my Irrational Fear and Stupid Concerns Blog.
Things got clearer and muddier in my life last night. One thing, where I was worried about my kid and her two best friends (one boy and one girl) came to fruition. Those two do like each other. TJK is happily in the middle right now, helping the boy find a way to ask out the girl. She says, emphatically, that just because she is in a band with him, that does NOT mean that she likes him. They are just friends. Right now, she is happy for them and playing a bit of matchmaker. Now I worry that the two of them will seriously veer off and TJK will be left alone. But, I feel confident that she will make it out alive.
I am still waiting to hear back from my boss about The Big Job in The Big City. I am excited and nervous and I need her to tell me how much money I am going to be making. I have a big number in my head to match up with the big job, and I am hoping I am not disappointed.
Something I think I forgot to talk about yesterday is something that has been solidly on my mind for a couple of months now. TJK is a tiny chica. She is only 4'10, while most of her friends are closer to my height of 5'8. She feels so small, even with her big personality and big intelligence. She has been going for tests: lots of blood tests (like, A LOT), an MRI to make sure she didn't have a brain tumor, and appointments with specialists. Everything has come back clear - no medical issues, no tumors or cancers or health concerns. She is just small. So now we need to make a decision about growth hormones. They might get her another inch or two in height. She is projected to be about 5' in total without them...so now we are faced with deciding if it is worth it to have her take a daily injection so she can be two inches taller. And I don't know what the right answer is. I do feel like 5'2 is so much better than 5'. I mean, at 5 feet tall, you even have a greater chance of dying in a car crash because you are too short for the airbag to deploy properly! I think I was leaning against the hormones until the doctor said it was time to decide about the hormones and then suddenly, I was for them. And, TJK was all for them until I told her it was time to decide and now she is against them. We have a month to talk it over and come to a decision....but this is super stressful. You always want to do the right thing for your kid; you want her to be happy and well adjusted and to feel normal. I wish this was a black and white decision....I am sick of the grey.
And this Kavanaugh stuff. JFC. I don't understand why it's so hard to put together what happened in this situation. Dude was drunk AF the night this happened, and on other nights in high school and college too. He and his buddy were drinking, having fun, thinking they were gods because that's what everyone had always told them they were. They took a liking to Christine Blasey-Ford and hit on her. They thought they were having fun - thought SHE was having fun. They tried to have sex with her, not noticing that was not into it because A) they were drunk AF and B) they were not used to being told no so they didn't recognize it. In their minds, it was all fun and not very memorable for them. It was not memorable because A) they were drunk AF and B) there was nothing different about this night than any other night, and possibly C) they were blackout drunk AF and don't remember how it went down or that it went down at all. We all know men like this, and knew boys like this, and the fact that all of these other privileged white men can't see it shows me that they are men just like Kavanaugh and were boys like Kavanaugh. If they admit something might have happened...then maybe they stepped outside the bounds too and just haven't been called on it.
Showing posts with label dilemma. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dilemma. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 02, 2018
Monday, October 01, 2018
Random Questions in my Head That Are Making Me Not Sleep
Can you still consider yourself a generous person if you are very giving with people and "treat" all the time because you know you make more money than others, but yet you get pissed off when people are not appreciative? In particular, when you take your kid's friends out to expensive events, treat them to dinners, buy them the keepsakes that come along with the events...and the parents never even text you a "thanks"? Are you still generous if you are bitter about your giving?
Is it wrong to really want a promotion because it will pay you a lot more money but really not want it because you aren't sure you want more responsibility and work?
Should I feel bad that a co-worker, who sucks at actual work and has for years, is going to be laid off? What if she is lazy af and is kind of an asshole, but she smiles in your face and pretends that you are still good friends?
What car should I get? I'm looking at the Lexus RX350 or the Range Rover Evoque SE Premium. I really like the Range Rover the best but it is known for being unreliable, and everyone I know with a Lexus loves it. And what about the fact that what I really and truly in my heart want is the Porsche Panamera? Will I always resent the fact that I am not getting what I really want? And, if I'm taking the promotion with all the extra work and commitment, do I owe it to myself to at least check out the more expensive and more perfect car?
What do you do when your daughter has become best friends with a boy and a girl, and things then start getting teenager-y? Like, its the three of them all the time, and they get along great. And now, I think the boy and girl are starting to like each other, and then my kiddo is left out. How do I help her manage that?
What happens when you get to an age where you decide you will take no shit from anyone, and that people who are ignorant or annoying or careless will have no place in your life...and then realize you are maybe becoming intolerant of imperfection? Where do you draw the line between what is acceptable and what isn't? How do you know when you are cutting too many people out of your life, and how do you know if you are using good reasons to cut them out?
How do you remove yourself from solving everyone else's problems when you can't even solve your own? If you are overwhelmed with your own petty life decisions and issues, why do people even think you are capable of tackling their problems? And why do I think I'm capable of this?
Will I be able to get past the pit in my stomach every time I see a friend/family member/high school acquaintance post their support for Bret Kavanaugh? It's taking everything in me to not drive to Louisiana and beat the crap out of my cousins for things they have posted (but then I have never met them in person so why do I even care?). This whole Kavanaugh thing is making me insane and I feel like the world is on fire and that none of these other issues means anything because Trump and his collection of douchebros are going to kill us all anyway so why even bother getting up in the morning?
Is it wrong to really want a promotion because it will pay you a lot more money but really not want it because you aren't sure you want more responsibility and work?
Should I feel bad that a co-worker, who sucks at actual work and has for years, is going to be laid off? What if she is lazy af and is kind of an asshole, but she smiles in your face and pretends that you are still good friends?
What car should I get? I'm looking at the Lexus RX350 or the Range Rover Evoque SE Premium. I really like the Range Rover the best but it is known for being unreliable, and everyone I know with a Lexus loves it. And what about the fact that what I really and truly in my heart want is the Porsche Panamera? Will I always resent the fact that I am not getting what I really want? And, if I'm taking the promotion with all the extra work and commitment, do I owe it to myself to at least check out the more expensive and more perfect car?
What do you do when your daughter has become best friends with a boy and a girl, and things then start getting teenager-y? Like, its the three of them all the time, and they get along great. And now, I think the boy and girl are starting to like each other, and then my kiddo is left out. How do I help her manage that?
What happens when you get to an age where you decide you will take no shit from anyone, and that people who are ignorant or annoying or careless will have no place in your life...and then realize you are maybe becoming intolerant of imperfection? Where do you draw the line between what is acceptable and what isn't? How do you know when you are cutting too many people out of your life, and how do you know if you are using good reasons to cut them out?
How do you remove yourself from solving everyone else's problems when you can't even solve your own? If you are overwhelmed with your own petty life decisions and issues, why do people even think you are capable of tackling their problems? And why do I think I'm capable of this?
Will I be able to get past the pit in my stomach every time I see a friend/family member/high school acquaintance post their support for Bret Kavanaugh? It's taking everything in me to not drive to Louisiana and beat the crap out of my cousins for things they have posted (but then I have never met them in person so why do I even care?). This whole Kavanaugh thing is making me insane and I feel like the world is on fire and that none of these other issues means anything because Trump and his collection of douchebros are going to kill us all anyway so why even bother getting up in the morning?
Monday, September 24, 2018
I've Even Impressed Myself
My boss has hated me for years. When I first started reporting to her, about 7 years ago, I was invited to a meeting at our 5th Ave office with the rest of the HR team. I wore a (respectable) leopard print dress (no, really, it was respectable and pretty and not at all strippery, I promise) with a black cardigan and black boots. It was edgy and again, totally work appropriate, but didn't fit in with the conservative nature of that office culture. During the meeting, again, my first in-person meeting with her, I made a (very funny) sarcastic comment. She doesn't have a great sense of humor so she took me seriously. Ugh. I did not make the best first impression, but I always felt like she knew who I was right up front (I was the broad who would wear animal print and throw sarcasm and own the shit out of it). For the next 7 or so years, I did not win her over, did not get her to like me, and did not care all that much. I'm good at my job, everyone in my location loves and admires me, and I won't be fake for anyone. So, hate me if you want, but this is who I am and I'm not going to change.
About 6 months ago, I worked on a project for my boss. Actually, a good number of us were doing the same project for each of our locations. I got mine done super fast and she was super impressed. I could see her looking at me differently. After I completed my project, I helped everyone else with theirs (not to impress her - just to help my co-workers). Again, she was impressed. She was seeing me in a different light. I also found over $1m that our landlord owed us and recouped the money. Again, impressed.
Suddenly, our conversations were different. It was no longer me talking and her barely listening. She started asking for my opinions. She sought me out for projects. She asked me about where I saw my career going. She heard what I had to say and advocated for my ideas. She started telling me more personal things about herself. I started calling her my bestie (no, not to her face. She isn't that kind of boss).
On Friday, she called me from her cell phone. Of course, I thought I was being fired because I just knew that once we became best friends, she would let me go. But no, that wasn't to be. Instead, she offered me a promotion. It's a pretty big promotion and a little scary to even consider. I don't know yet how much money is in it for me, but I know I'll be working in NYC three days a week (which entails me taking the bus - I know, I'm a weenie...but I really like driving my own car). It entails me working at 3 different locations throughout the week (two in NYC and my current NJ location). It entails me getting up much earlier and getting home much later, with my commute increasing from about 40 minutes a day to almost 3 hours a day (ugh).
But. My kid is almost 15 years old. She is in high school. She hangs out with her friends after school all the time. Do I still NEED to be home at 5:30 for her? Isn't it time to maybe focus on making that cash and building my career further? Am I supposed to wait around for another 4 years till she goes off the college and hope for an opportunity like this again?
But. Do I want more responsibility? Do I want to start over with having to gain trust from a new group of people when my peeps are already there? Do I want to get home later and potentially lose some of the closeness TJK and I have built? (Honestly, I don't see that happening...I think I did a good job with this kid and she will support me and understand, and that we will find time for each other.)
Y'all. My boss, who hated me six months ago, created a senior position for me and wants me working directly with her. She told me I have impressed her, that I am a good manager of people, that I have a good head on my shoulders, that I'm good at building bonds with the execs I support. How could I not take advantage of this opportunity?
I'm movin' on up.
About 6 months ago, I worked on a project for my boss. Actually, a good number of us were doing the same project for each of our locations. I got mine done super fast and she was super impressed. I could see her looking at me differently. After I completed my project, I helped everyone else with theirs (not to impress her - just to help my co-workers). Again, she was impressed. She was seeing me in a different light. I also found over $1m that our landlord owed us and recouped the money. Again, impressed.
Suddenly, our conversations were different. It was no longer me talking and her barely listening. She started asking for my opinions. She sought me out for projects. She asked me about where I saw my career going. She heard what I had to say and advocated for my ideas. She started telling me more personal things about herself. I started calling her my bestie (no, not to her face. She isn't that kind of boss).
On Friday, she called me from her cell phone. Of course, I thought I was being fired because I just knew that once we became best friends, she would let me go. But no, that wasn't to be. Instead, she offered me a promotion. It's a pretty big promotion and a little scary to even consider. I don't know yet how much money is in it for me, but I know I'll be working in NYC three days a week (which entails me taking the bus - I know, I'm a weenie...but I really like driving my own car). It entails me working at 3 different locations throughout the week (two in NYC and my current NJ location). It entails me getting up much earlier and getting home much later, with my commute increasing from about 40 minutes a day to almost 3 hours a day (ugh).
But. My kid is almost 15 years old. She is in high school. She hangs out with her friends after school all the time. Do I still NEED to be home at 5:30 for her? Isn't it time to maybe focus on making that cash and building my career further? Am I supposed to wait around for another 4 years till she goes off the college and hope for an opportunity like this again?
But. Do I want more responsibility? Do I want to start over with having to gain trust from a new group of people when my peeps are already there? Do I want to get home later and potentially lose some of the closeness TJK and I have built? (Honestly, I don't see that happening...I think I did a good job with this kid and she will support me and understand, and that we will find time for each other.)
Y'all. My boss, who hated me six months ago, created a senior position for me and wants me working directly with her. She told me I have impressed her, that I am a good manager of people, that I have a good head on my shoulders, that I'm good at building bonds with the execs I support. How could I not take advantage of this opportunity?
I'm movin' on up.
Friday, July 06, 2018
WWMD? (What Would Mama Do?)
It's hard to describe how difficult it is to parent a teenage girl.
I know I was one, and I know I was a particularly difficult one. And for that, mom, I'm sorry.
My girl isn't difficult (yet) in the way I was. She is not rebellious, she is not a rule-breaker or even a rule-tester, and she talks to me and her dad all the time in great detail. Whereas my parents knew nothing about what was going on in my life or mind, TJK shares everything with us. And that's where my difficulty comes in.
TJK tells me when her feelings get hurt by her friends. The other day, she was with four friends at the fireworks in town. One friend took off as soon as they got there, and then there were 4. Two of the girls were kind of huddled together talking, not including the other two. TJK was one of the ones who was left out (although she was "left out" with one of the other girls, who she was talking to the whole time, so...). She called me, right from the fireworks, because her feelings were hurt. She needed advice so she wanted to talk to me.
Now this is fantastic in so many ways. TJK tends to be shy and doesn't like to start trouble (again, the opposite of me). So in this case, I told her to talk to the other girls and either a) confront them about why they weren't talking to anyone else or b) just start talking to them and make conversation...basically, just include yourself if they weren't going to include you. Or, the third option: just hang out with Girl 4 and have a great time laughing and talking so you aren't missing out on anything - you are creating your own fun. She actually chose option A - I was so proud - and did it in her own, nicer and kinder way. And it worked for her.
So why is this difficult? It all worked out in the end, right? Well, do most kids call their moms from the fireworks, with a group of their friends around, to ask advice and vent? What do her friends think? And why can't she channel me in her mind instead of calling? I mean, she knows what advice I am going to give (be bold, ask questions, confront bad behavior in whatever form, be strong). Am I raising her to be too dependent on me?
When she was little and would have little girl problems, I would tell her there was nothing I couldn't figure out a way to fix. She would tell me her issues and we would talk them through and find solutions. It's what I do best. It's why I'm good at my job and why I'm (mostly) good at life. I think I thought showing her strength and showing her how I came to solutions would help her do the same. But I'm afraid it's just made her dependent on me to solve her problems.
So, what do you do with that when you are talking about a teenage girl? A girl who has a great group of girlfriends, but who is heading into the unknown world of high school? A girl who is spending more and more time with the cute boy in her class? A girl who is now in a punk band that plays in bars and who could easily be put in compromising situations with drinking and drugs and sex? A girl who will get her driver's permit in a year and a half?
Part of me says I have to let her start figuring out her own problems. And the other part says, some of these problems are big and could have life-altering consequences and the fact that she comes to me is a huge plus. I know that the kid she is now would call me if her driver was drinking. I know that the kid she is now would tell me when she finally kisses the cute boy in her class. I know that the kid she is now would share it with me if she was offered drugs or if a boy got "fresh" with her. So is now really the time to cut that cord?
As I'm writing, the solution has perhaps become clearer (which is why I love to write - it clears my head). I need to use these little problems as tests. When she is at the fireworks and two friends make her feel sad, I need to ask her what she thinks she should do. I need to not give her the answers, but help her learn my process for finding solutions. I need to help her find which avenue she should take instead of driving her there myself.
I need to buy her a WWMD bracelet so I'm always in her head when she's making decisions.
I know I was one, and I know I was a particularly difficult one. And for that, mom, I'm sorry.
My girl isn't difficult (yet) in the way I was. She is not rebellious, she is not a rule-breaker or even a rule-tester, and she talks to me and her dad all the time in great detail. Whereas my parents knew nothing about what was going on in my life or mind, TJK shares everything with us. And that's where my difficulty comes in.
TJK tells me when her feelings get hurt by her friends. The other day, she was with four friends at the fireworks in town. One friend took off as soon as they got there, and then there were 4. Two of the girls were kind of huddled together talking, not including the other two. TJK was one of the ones who was left out (although she was "left out" with one of the other girls, who she was talking to the whole time, so...). She called me, right from the fireworks, because her feelings were hurt. She needed advice so she wanted to talk to me.
Now this is fantastic in so many ways. TJK tends to be shy and doesn't like to start trouble (again, the opposite of me). So in this case, I told her to talk to the other girls and either a) confront them about why they weren't talking to anyone else or b) just start talking to them and make conversation...basically, just include yourself if they weren't going to include you. Or, the third option: just hang out with Girl 4 and have a great time laughing and talking so you aren't missing out on anything - you are creating your own fun. She actually chose option A - I was so proud - and did it in her own, nicer and kinder way. And it worked for her.
So why is this difficult? It all worked out in the end, right? Well, do most kids call their moms from the fireworks, with a group of their friends around, to ask advice and vent? What do her friends think? And why can't she channel me in her mind instead of calling? I mean, she knows what advice I am going to give (be bold, ask questions, confront bad behavior in whatever form, be strong). Am I raising her to be too dependent on me?
When she was little and would have little girl problems, I would tell her there was nothing I couldn't figure out a way to fix. She would tell me her issues and we would talk them through and find solutions. It's what I do best. It's why I'm good at my job and why I'm (mostly) good at life. I think I thought showing her strength and showing her how I came to solutions would help her do the same. But I'm afraid it's just made her dependent on me to solve her problems.
So, what do you do with that when you are talking about a teenage girl? A girl who has a great group of girlfriends, but who is heading into the unknown world of high school? A girl who is spending more and more time with the cute boy in her class? A girl who is now in a punk band that plays in bars and who could easily be put in compromising situations with drinking and drugs and sex? A girl who will get her driver's permit in a year and a half?
Part of me says I have to let her start figuring out her own problems. And the other part says, some of these problems are big and could have life-altering consequences and the fact that she comes to me is a huge plus. I know that the kid she is now would call me if her driver was drinking. I know that the kid she is now would tell me when she finally kisses the cute boy in her class. I know that the kid she is now would share it with me if she was offered drugs or if a boy got "fresh" with her. So is now really the time to cut that cord?
As I'm writing, the solution has perhaps become clearer (which is why I love to write - it clears my head). I need to use these little problems as tests. When she is at the fireworks and two friends make her feel sad, I need to ask her what she thinks she should do. I need to not give her the answers, but help her learn my process for finding solutions. I need to help her find which avenue she should take instead of driving her there myself.
I need to buy her a WWMD bracelet so I'm always in her head when she's making decisions.
Monday, November 02, 2015
Doggie Dilemma
So here's the thing about no longer having a dog.
It has made life so much easier, and yet so much lonelier.
We can now pick up and go out, at any time, for any length of time, without having to worry about coming back to let Gypsy out lest he pee on the floor. We can go away for the weekend (as we are doing this coming weekend - yay!) without having to get someone to stay at the house to watch him, and then have to spend time cleaning the house and changing sheets and doing all the prep work for someone to stay at the house, in addition to packing and prepping to go away. That part of it really kicks ass, because we are very spontaneous and we love to go out. My husband is particularly happy that our lives have changed in this way, and I am enjoying the freedom it has given us.
However.
There is still not a day that I come into my house and don't expect to be nearly licked to death by my dog, even though he has been gone for a couple of months now. There isn't a time when I sit on the couch to watch tv and I don't look to call him up to lay with/on me. There isn't an occasion when I cook and drop crumbs and don't expect the dog to eat them before they hit the floor.
On Saturday night, we were over at a friend's house celebrating Halloween. It was post-trick-or-treating, and the kids were trading candy and playing while the adults sat around and talked and had drinks. My friend's daughter came up and sat on my lap at one point and told me I was her favorite person in my family...then my husband, and then my daughter (probably because my daughter is older and doesn't always want to let her play with the older kids). Then she corrected herself - I was first, followed by Gypsy, and then hubby and then TJK. Ugh, she didn't know Gypsy had died because she hadn't been over in a while. I choked back a sob and didn't even have the heart to tell her that Gypsy was gone.
Everywhere we go, we see dogs. Everyone in our neighborhood has dogs, and we live right next to a huge park so everyone walks their dogs past our house. And I basically want to roll around on the ground and cuddle and/or wrestle with every single one. And then I just want a dog so badly again. I want a boxer. Or maybe a bulldog. Or another pittie, a white one with black markings. Or a little chi-chi dog like a yorkie or shitzu that I can put in my Louis Vuitton bag and carry with me everywhere. Or any dog, really. An ugly dog will do just fine because even the ugly ones are still cute.
And I know my husband would never go for it. At the end of Gypsy's life, he was the one getting up 10 times a night to let him out and still stepping in a puddle of pee the next morning. And honestly, it was really hard for me at the end, too. Gypsy couldn't hear and could barely see. He had accidents every day, usually multiple times per day. He walked sideways because his balance was off. He couldn't walk down the stairs anymore, and our house is full of staircases. He couldn't jump up on the couch by himself so you'd have to hoist him - and he was 65 pounds. And then, of course, there was the very end, which was so difficult and so awful and I never want to go through it again.
And that, honestly, is why I will probably never have a dog again. I love dogs so much and love having them as pets/family members...but they don't live forever and I can't deal with that again.
It has made life so much easier, and yet so much lonelier.
We can now pick up and go out, at any time, for any length of time, without having to worry about coming back to let Gypsy out lest he pee on the floor. We can go away for the weekend (as we are doing this coming weekend - yay!) without having to get someone to stay at the house to watch him, and then have to spend time cleaning the house and changing sheets and doing all the prep work for someone to stay at the house, in addition to packing and prepping to go away. That part of it really kicks ass, because we are very spontaneous and we love to go out. My husband is particularly happy that our lives have changed in this way, and I am enjoying the freedom it has given us.
However.
There is still not a day that I come into my house and don't expect to be nearly licked to death by my dog, even though he has been gone for a couple of months now. There isn't a time when I sit on the couch to watch tv and I don't look to call him up to lay with/on me. There isn't an occasion when I cook and drop crumbs and don't expect the dog to eat them before they hit the floor.
On Saturday night, we were over at a friend's house celebrating Halloween. It was post-trick-or-treating, and the kids were trading candy and playing while the adults sat around and talked and had drinks. My friend's daughter came up and sat on my lap at one point and told me I was her favorite person in my family...then my husband, and then my daughter (probably because my daughter is older and doesn't always want to let her play with the older kids). Then she corrected herself - I was first, followed by Gypsy, and then hubby and then TJK. Ugh, she didn't know Gypsy had died because she hadn't been over in a while. I choked back a sob and didn't even have the heart to tell her that Gypsy was gone.
Everywhere we go, we see dogs. Everyone in our neighborhood has dogs, and we live right next to a huge park so everyone walks their dogs past our house. And I basically want to roll around on the ground and cuddle and/or wrestle with every single one. And then I just want a dog so badly again. I want a boxer. Or maybe a bulldog. Or another pittie, a white one with black markings. Or a little chi-chi dog like a yorkie or shitzu that I can put in my Louis Vuitton bag and carry with me everywhere. Or any dog, really. An ugly dog will do just fine because even the ugly ones are still cute.
And I know my husband would never go for it. At the end of Gypsy's life, he was the one getting up 10 times a night to let him out and still stepping in a puddle of pee the next morning. And honestly, it was really hard for me at the end, too. Gypsy couldn't hear and could barely see. He had accidents every day, usually multiple times per day. He walked sideways because his balance was off. He couldn't walk down the stairs anymore, and our house is full of staircases. He couldn't jump up on the couch by himself so you'd have to hoist him - and he was 65 pounds. And then, of course, there was the very end, which was so difficult and so awful and I never want to go through it again.
And that, honestly, is why I will probably never have a dog again. I love dogs so much and love having them as pets/family members...but they don't live forever and I can't deal with that again.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Tween Friendships
It's hard to know what to do when your daughter is friends with someone, so you became friends with the mom, and now the girls are no longer friends but you are still friends with the mom. It's also really hard to figure out what I'm trying to say in that sentence.
TJK has been friends with Sam since kindergarten. Sam lives right around the corner and they walk and ride bikes to each other's houses and have sleepovers and hang out nearly every day. Well, they used to.
Now, TJK is not so fond of Sam anymore, and from what she told me, I can understand why. Sam is kind of whiny and she cries over everything and overreacts and storms off - basically, she is full of tantrums and that gets old, especially when you are nearly 12. They aren't little kids anymore. They are on the cusp of being teenagers and that kind of behavior can get annoying really quickly.
TJK has lots of other friends. Now, instead of going to Sam's, she is hanging out with any one of 8 or 10 other girls. So while I noticed she was no longer hanging out with Sam, I wasn't too worried because she is still surrounded by friends and isn't longing for her friendship with Sam. But Sam's mom emailed me yesterday, asking for help.
Sam doesn't have a lot of other friends. In fact, last year her mom told me that TJK was her only friend (and TJK acknowledged this and said that was one of the main reasons she hung out with her - she felt bad). So her mom is looking for me to help build a bridge between the girls, which I get because hers is suffering and it sucks to watch your kid suffer.
But TJK is good. She is fine with not hanging out with Sam anymore. She sees her in school and that's enough for her. I talked it all through with her last night and she has actually given it thought and weighed her options and taken the time to look at the entirety of their friendship...and based on what she has experienced, she has decided it's not worth it anymore.
Sam's mom told me that Sam is seeing a therapist. She seems to be a very sensitive kid who has just a small handful of friends who she holds up to nearly impossible standards, and then feels disappointed and angry when they can't meet those standards. TJK feels that she has been a really good friend to Sam - comforting her continuously when she gets sad or has a tantrum - and Sam doesn't seem to appreciate it. I can't blame TJK for saying "that's it, I've had enough."
But, when I'm friends with Sam's mom and I see her struggling and in pain because her daughter is struggling and in pain, it's hard to know how to guide TJK. I want to value and trust her opinions and decisions about who she wants to be friends with (and reinforce the idea that she gets to decide who is in and out of her life - she doesn't have to stay in relationships that make her feel bad or sad). But I also want her to be able to have compassion for her friend who is going through a rough time, and cut her some slack. That balance is not so easy, because tweens can be painfully black-and-white without seeing the many shades of grey.
So I'm going to see Sam's mom tonight, and we will talk and try to come up with a solution that helps her daughter while not hurting mine. And then, if the attempt does not work, we will see if she and I can remain friends when my kid wants nothing to do with hers.
TJK has been friends with Sam since kindergarten. Sam lives right around the corner and they walk and ride bikes to each other's houses and have sleepovers and hang out nearly every day. Well, they used to.
Now, TJK is not so fond of Sam anymore, and from what she told me, I can understand why. Sam is kind of whiny and she cries over everything and overreacts and storms off - basically, she is full of tantrums and that gets old, especially when you are nearly 12. They aren't little kids anymore. They are on the cusp of being teenagers and that kind of behavior can get annoying really quickly.
TJK has lots of other friends. Now, instead of going to Sam's, she is hanging out with any one of 8 or 10 other girls. So while I noticed she was no longer hanging out with Sam, I wasn't too worried because she is still surrounded by friends and isn't longing for her friendship with Sam. But Sam's mom emailed me yesterday, asking for help.
Sam doesn't have a lot of other friends. In fact, last year her mom told me that TJK was her only friend (and TJK acknowledged this and said that was one of the main reasons she hung out with her - she felt bad). So her mom is looking for me to help build a bridge between the girls, which I get because hers is suffering and it sucks to watch your kid suffer.
But TJK is good. She is fine with not hanging out with Sam anymore. She sees her in school and that's enough for her. I talked it all through with her last night and she has actually given it thought and weighed her options and taken the time to look at the entirety of their friendship...and based on what she has experienced, she has decided it's not worth it anymore.
Sam's mom told me that Sam is seeing a therapist. She seems to be a very sensitive kid who has just a small handful of friends who she holds up to nearly impossible standards, and then feels disappointed and angry when they can't meet those standards. TJK feels that she has been a really good friend to Sam - comforting her continuously when she gets sad or has a tantrum - and Sam doesn't seem to appreciate it. I can't blame TJK for saying "that's it, I've had enough."
But, when I'm friends with Sam's mom and I see her struggling and in pain because her daughter is struggling and in pain, it's hard to know how to guide TJK. I want to value and trust her opinions and decisions about who she wants to be friends with (and reinforce the idea that she gets to decide who is in and out of her life - she doesn't have to stay in relationships that make her feel bad or sad). But I also want her to be able to have compassion for her friend who is going through a rough time, and cut her some slack. That balance is not so easy, because tweens can be painfully black-and-white without seeing the many shades of grey.
So I'm going to see Sam's mom tonight, and we will talk and try to come up with a solution that helps her daughter while not hurting mine. And then, if the attempt does not work, we will see if she and I can remain friends when my kid wants nothing to do with hers.
Friday, September 04, 2015
The Long Tale of Sir Street Gypsy Louis of Newark
I am having such a hard time.
Most of the day and night, I'm okay. I am a really busy person, so my mind doesn't get caught up in tangles of thought when I need to get stuff done. But I keep having these bursts of remembrance and it is just. so. hard.
People without pets just don't get it. Your dog dies and you move on. You just get another dog. It's not a person dying, after all.
But this was my baby.
--------------------------------
This was the puppy who, almost 16 years ago, I picked out from the Newark Shelter. The weekend after we closed on our house, I NEEDED A DOG. We went to a few places to look at rescues and finally ended up in Newark. Not a pleasant place, and definitely a kill-shelter. When we got there, they were bringing in a passel of pit bulls, one pregnant, and the woman at the desk gave the people holding the leashes the signal - hand across the throat. Put them down.
So when we walked among the cages, with the roar of cooped-up dogs surrounding us, I was looking for someone to save. My first love at the shelter was a 6-week-old German Shepherd. It was tiny and adorable and sick. But it couldn't be adopted for a few more weeks and I couldn't wait. So we kept looking.
We came upon a cage filled with 4 dogs. Three of them were big, and they were aggressively trying to get our attention. The fourth was under the mass of the other dogs, trying to check us out but getting nipped and pushed back at every turn. I made eye contact with the little guy, and that was that. He was mine. We had him taken out of the cage and he was shy and sweet and nervous. He was also full of scars from who-knows-what and he had gum stuck in his matted fur. He was my boy.
The tag on the cage said that he was a "Black Lab Mix" - which, I didn't realize, was code for a pit bull mutt. I just saw his sweet face and kind demeanor and I had to take him home.
My husband was not so sure. He did not grow up with a dog and thought we should get settled in the house for more than 2 days before bringing a dog home. I would hear nothing of it. We took him home that day, after a stop at Petco to have him groomed (he stank) and at my parents's house to show him off. My mom freaked out that I was bringing a pit bull into my house (and, despite her being totally in love with him, she still, to the end, had a hard time telling people he was a pittie).
We name him Gypsy, as we will not conform to your gendered name expectations. Boys are gypsies too, was my answer when people questioned his moniker. He was manly enough to deal with a girly name anyway, haters.
--------------------------------
Day one, day two, day three...all is well. He is not quite as manly as we had expected. He is sweet and all that, but he does not bark. He chirps. Like a bird. Our friends mock us for having the one and only chirping pit bull in the world. I street-fight them to defend Gypsy's honor.
Suddenly, he starts getting mean. I think he got comfortable. He realized he now has a nice house and all the food and treats and toys he can handle. He is not living on the rough and tumble Newark streets any longer. He comes out of his shell, and he is kind of a dick.
But he is only mean to me. Me, the one who saved him from sure death. Me, the one who catered to his every whim. Me, the one who took him running in the park. This dog was trying to eat my face. I didn't know what to do. My mom was in a panic - "you need to get rid of him! He is going to murder you in your sleep!" No. He is my baby and I said I was going to save him and that's exactly what I am going to do, whether I have a face left or not.
I got scared though. This was one strong dog. He was hard to fight off. I counted the minutes till my husband got home so he could control this dogmonster. Finally, I got a trainer, who taught me in 3.5 minutes that it was all my fault and that this was not an evil dog; I was just a bad human.
Dogs are pack animals, and Gypsy thought I was beneath him in the pack. I was basically too nice to him. When he wanted to sit on the couch, I'd move so he could have my spot. When he wanted a treat, I gave him 10. Once I stopped being a dog's doormat, my sweet puppy was back and he never left me after that.
Oh, and she also tried to teach him to walk on the leash, proclaiming it to be a simple thing. He never did learn that trick - he was always just so happy to be outside going for a walk that he didn't care if he walked in circles. He just wanted to be out there.
---------------------------------
For the next 15-and-some-odd years, he was my loyal companion. He was waiting at the window when I pulled up to the house. He sat outside the bathroom door and waited for me every time I peed. He curled up on the couch next to me and chilled. Now don't get me wrong. This was not a lovey-dovey kind of dog. He didn't cuddle. But he was a sweetheart and he loved us.
When True Jersey Kid was born, we were nervous about how he would be with her. I mean, he was a pit bull and they eat babies, right? My mom, in particular, was sure we were going to have to get rid of Gypsy because he was going to murder the baby's face. Well, TJK was born, we brought her home, Gypsy sniffed her and then went and laid down. Did not care about this alien in his house. And the truth was: When people told me that my dog might not get along with my baby, my answer was always that the baby would have to be the one to go because I knew and loved my puppy and this baby was a stranger. Luckily, that decision never had to be made.
---------------------------------
Gypsy loved to go the park and was horrendous on the leash. He would pull me around the park like I was a rag doll, and he would have that pit bull smile on while he did it. This terrified people and when they saw us coming, they would hide their little chi-chi dogs while he dragged me past them. He wouldn't have hurt a fly though. He truly just wanted to play with everyone - dog, cat, bird, human, whatever - and was very exuberant about it. His exuberance came off as aggression, which was really okay with me because no one messed with me when I was with him. His playful craziness came off as homicidal, and that kept me safe. So while he wasn't a protective dog, per se, he did protect me in his own way.
---------------------------------
I was walking Gypsy around the neighborhood when he was maybe 8 months old, just taking a stroll around my development. This man is sitting in his driveway on a lawn chair (do people do that everywhere or just the Italians in Jersey?) and he saw me coming and basically freaked out. Ran at me. Got on the ground. Had my dog all up on him and did not care. Then finally talked to me: Can you wait here a minute? I have to get my wife, she will love this dog so much. He looks like our dog who just passed away.
So this guy runs in the house and he and his wife bolt back out. She ignores me and rolls around on the sidewalk with Gyspy, who is totally cool with it. They tell me all about their dog, with tears in their eyes, and we kind of become besties. Then, a few weeks later, they come to a BBQ at my house. The guy pulls me aside and offers me $1000 for my dog. I look at him like he's insane, for several reasons:
---------------------------------
I am very protective of my dog, and I will not have him disparaged in any way.
So we start hanging out with Diddy, who is a co-worker of my husband's and also Patsy Darling's boyfriend. He is annoying when he drinks and we fight all the time (not any more, but we did back then).
I'm pouring tequila shots for us all and as we are doing the shots, of course Gypsy is right underfoot. Some tequila gets spilled on him. Diddy starts yelling that my dog is 50 Cent. He is all shot up.
I get furious because in my drunken state, I am assuming that because my dog is black and is from Newark, Diddy is calling him a thug. This becomes an ongoing joke, and Gypsy comes upon another of his nicknames: 50 Cent.
------------------------------------
We go to CT every year for Thanksgiving and 4th of July. In 2004, TJK was going up to CT for her first Thanksgiving. She was 11 months old. We leave Gypsy home, with a friend of ours staying at the house to watch him.
We get home on Sunday and of course, Gypsy bounds for the door when we get there and greets us as his long lost family (which we are). As soon as she sees him, TJK says her very first word: Gypsy. She pronounces it "Gypy" which becomes another of his nicknames.
My kid did not say Mama or Dada or No for her first word. She called her dog. For some strange reason, this was always a source of pride for me.
---------------------------------
There are a thousand stories I could tell about Gypsy Lou, and I may come back at times to add them when they come to mind.
This is a dog who was so loved. So loved that for the past 2+ years, he has been peeing in the house due to kidney disease, and we just cleaned up after him every day, sometimes multiple times a day. So loved that again due to kidney disease, he got up 2-3 times a night for the past several years and we had to get up with him and let him out (okay, so Hubby did most of that). So loved that even though he had been sick for a couple of years and wasn't himself and walked sideways and had several strokes...I couldn't let him go. I still saw a spark in him, that spark of a puppy who still wants to run and greet you even though his legs won't take him any more.
I can't talk yet about the whole process of saying good bye. I'm going to leave this here and just say that every word has been typed with tears in my eyes.
Miss and love you, LouLou.
Most of the day and night, I'm okay. I am a really busy person, so my mind doesn't get caught up in tangles of thought when I need to get stuff done. But I keep having these bursts of remembrance and it is just. so. hard.
People without pets just don't get it. Your dog dies and you move on. You just get another dog. It's not a person dying, after all.
But this was my baby.
--------------------------------
This was the puppy who, almost 16 years ago, I picked out from the Newark Shelter. The weekend after we closed on our house, I NEEDED A DOG. We went to a few places to look at rescues and finally ended up in Newark. Not a pleasant place, and definitely a kill-shelter. When we got there, they were bringing in a passel of pit bulls, one pregnant, and the woman at the desk gave the people holding the leashes the signal - hand across the throat. Put them down.
So when we walked among the cages, with the roar of cooped-up dogs surrounding us, I was looking for someone to save. My first love at the shelter was a 6-week-old German Shepherd. It was tiny and adorable and sick. But it couldn't be adopted for a few more weeks and I couldn't wait. So we kept looking.
We came upon a cage filled with 4 dogs. Three of them were big, and they were aggressively trying to get our attention. The fourth was under the mass of the other dogs, trying to check us out but getting nipped and pushed back at every turn. I made eye contact with the little guy, and that was that. He was mine. We had him taken out of the cage and he was shy and sweet and nervous. He was also full of scars from who-knows-what and he had gum stuck in his matted fur. He was my boy.
The tag on the cage said that he was a "Black Lab Mix" - which, I didn't realize, was code for a pit bull mutt. I just saw his sweet face and kind demeanor and I had to take him home.
My husband was not so sure. He did not grow up with a dog and thought we should get settled in the house for more than 2 days before bringing a dog home. I would hear nothing of it. We took him home that day, after a stop at Petco to have him groomed (he stank) and at my parents's house to show him off. My mom freaked out that I was bringing a pit bull into my house (and, despite her being totally in love with him, she still, to the end, had a hard time telling people he was a pittie).
We name him Gypsy, as we will not conform to your gendered name expectations. Boys are gypsies too, was my answer when people questioned his moniker. He was manly enough to deal with a girly name anyway, haters.
--------------------------------
Day one, day two, day three...all is well. He is not quite as manly as we had expected. He is sweet and all that, but he does not bark. He chirps. Like a bird. Our friends mock us for having the one and only chirping pit bull in the world. I street-fight them to defend Gypsy's honor.
Suddenly, he starts getting mean. I think he got comfortable. He realized he now has a nice house and all the food and treats and toys he can handle. He is not living on the rough and tumble Newark streets any longer. He comes out of his shell, and he is kind of a dick.
But he is only mean to me. Me, the one who saved him from sure death. Me, the one who catered to his every whim. Me, the one who took him running in the park. This dog was trying to eat my face. I didn't know what to do. My mom was in a panic - "you need to get rid of him! He is going to murder you in your sleep!" No. He is my baby and I said I was going to save him and that's exactly what I am going to do, whether I have a face left or not.
I got scared though. This was one strong dog. He was hard to fight off. I counted the minutes till my husband got home so he could control this dogmonster. Finally, I got a trainer, who taught me in 3.5 minutes that it was all my fault and that this was not an evil dog; I was just a bad human.
Dogs are pack animals, and Gypsy thought I was beneath him in the pack. I was basically too nice to him. When he wanted to sit on the couch, I'd move so he could have my spot. When he wanted a treat, I gave him 10. Once I stopped being a dog's doormat, my sweet puppy was back and he never left me after that.
Oh, and she also tried to teach him to walk on the leash, proclaiming it to be a simple thing. He never did learn that trick - he was always just so happy to be outside going for a walk that he didn't care if he walked in circles. He just wanted to be out there.
---------------------------------
For the next 15-and-some-odd years, he was my loyal companion. He was waiting at the window when I pulled up to the house. He sat outside the bathroom door and waited for me every time I peed. He curled up on the couch next to me and chilled. Now don't get me wrong. This was not a lovey-dovey kind of dog. He didn't cuddle. But he was a sweetheart and he loved us.
When True Jersey Kid was born, we were nervous about how he would be with her. I mean, he was a pit bull and they eat babies, right? My mom, in particular, was sure we were going to have to get rid of Gypsy because he was going to murder the baby's face. Well, TJK was born, we brought her home, Gypsy sniffed her and then went and laid down. Did not care about this alien in his house. And the truth was: When people told me that my dog might not get along with my baby, my answer was always that the baby would have to be the one to go because I knew and loved my puppy and this baby was a stranger. Luckily, that decision never had to be made.
---------------------------------
Gypsy loved to go the park and was horrendous on the leash. He would pull me around the park like I was a rag doll, and he would have that pit bull smile on while he did it. This terrified people and when they saw us coming, they would hide their little chi-chi dogs while he dragged me past them. He wouldn't have hurt a fly though. He truly just wanted to play with everyone - dog, cat, bird, human, whatever - and was very exuberant about it. His exuberance came off as aggression, which was really okay with me because no one messed with me when I was with him. His playful craziness came off as homicidal, and that kept me safe. So while he wasn't a protective dog, per se, he did protect me in his own way.
---------------------------------
I was walking Gypsy around the neighborhood when he was maybe 8 months old, just taking a stroll around my development. This man is sitting in his driveway on a lawn chair (do people do that everywhere or just the Italians in Jersey?) and he saw me coming and basically freaked out. Ran at me. Got on the ground. Had my dog all up on him and did not care. Then finally talked to me: Can you wait here a minute? I have to get my wife, she will love this dog so much. He looks like our dog who just passed away.
So this guy runs in the house and he and his wife bolt back out. She ignores me and rolls around on the sidewalk with Gyspy, who is totally cool with it. They tell me all about their dog, with tears in their eyes, and we kind of become besties. Then, a few weeks later, they come to a BBQ at my house. The guy pulls me aside and offers me $1000 for my dog. I look at him like he's insane, for several reasons:
- I paid $100 for this dog and got $50 back when I had him fixed. So this is a $50 street dog.
- You can go to the shelter on any given day and get a pit bull for $100 with a $50 rebate for fixing; why do you want to pay $1000 for mine?
- Um, you freak, this is my baby and you know that and do you think for one minute I would sell him to you for any amount?
---------------------------------
I am very protective of my dog, and I will not have him disparaged in any way.
So we start hanging out with Diddy, who is a co-worker of my husband's and also Patsy Darling's boyfriend. He is annoying when he drinks and we fight all the time (not any more, but we did back then).
I'm pouring tequila shots for us all and as we are doing the shots, of course Gypsy is right underfoot. Some tequila gets spilled on him. Diddy starts yelling that my dog is 50 Cent. He is all shot up.
I get furious because in my drunken state, I am assuming that because my dog is black and is from Newark, Diddy is calling him a thug. This becomes an ongoing joke, and Gypsy comes upon another of his nicknames: 50 Cent.
------------------------------------
We go to CT every year for Thanksgiving and 4th of July. In 2004, TJK was going up to CT for her first Thanksgiving. She was 11 months old. We leave Gypsy home, with a friend of ours staying at the house to watch him.
We get home on Sunday and of course, Gypsy bounds for the door when we get there and greets us as his long lost family (which we are). As soon as she sees him, TJK says her very first word: Gypsy. She pronounces it "Gypy" which becomes another of his nicknames.
My kid did not say Mama or Dada or No for her first word. She called her dog. For some strange reason, this was always a source of pride for me.
---------------------------------
There are a thousand stories I could tell about Gypsy Lou, and I may come back at times to add them when they come to mind.
This is a dog who was so loved. So loved that for the past 2+ years, he has been peeing in the house due to kidney disease, and we just cleaned up after him every day, sometimes multiple times a day. So loved that again due to kidney disease, he got up 2-3 times a night for the past several years and we had to get up with him and let him out (okay, so Hubby did most of that). So loved that even though he had been sick for a couple of years and wasn't himself and walked sideways and had several strokes...I couldn't let him go. I still saw a spark in him, that spark of a puppy who still wants to run and greet you even though his legs won't take him any more.
I can't talk yet about the whole process of saying good bye. I'm going to leave this here and just say that every word has been typed with tears in my eyes.
Miss and love you, LouLou.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Black vs. Blonde
So these are the things that keep me up at night: what color shall I dye my hair?
I spent a good portion of my best years with jet black hair. I often had some dark red chunks of color thrown in just to make it a little less goth, or something? I have just always felt like black hair complimented my personality. I'm dark. I have a dark sense of humor and I mostly do not like people. I am sultry and sexy and a little mysterious. I am full of sarcasm and vinegar and I really don't give a fuck what you think about me. So black hair has always matched me well.
As I age (quite gracefully, if I do say so myself, but aging nonetheless), I feel like black hair shows every imperfection in my face. I am very pale ("alabaster" is my shade, I have been told) and until now I have always liked the contrast of darkest hair with lightest face. Now though, I fear it makes me look older, which is not something I am particularly looking for at this stage of the game. Light hair keeps my skin looking lighter and fresher and non-wrinkly. Black hair reveals every secret my face is trying to hide with a good makeup job.
(Now, don't get me wrong. I am not a wrinkled mess. I have very few wrinkles and pretty good skin. A former boyfriend's mom used to call me a porcelain doll because my skin was so perfect, and I'm not that anymore. That was in high school. But I'm still pretty happy with what I've got.)
I really needed a drastic change a few years back and my hair has always taken the brunt of my rash decisions to go insane. During a spontaneous visit to the salon, I went from black to blonde in one afternoon. And I then went even blonder. I liked it, but was it really representative of me?
I am currently a medium blonde. I don't love it. It feels mature and serious and while I may be at an age that is mature and serious, I am not. I have a high-level job and own a house and a BMW and have a kid...so yeah, I guess there's some of that in there. But I'm also the broad who will decide on a whim to fly off somewhere and spend a weekend letting loose. I'll jump in a mosh pit. I'll be decidedly unladylike in my consumption of beers and then argue my feminist politics with drunk fratboys till they give up or pass out because I outdrank them.
So I feel like my hair does not represent me right now and I don't know what to do. Part of me says, just go platinum blonde. Go for it. Dye your hair whitish blonde and cut it short in a pixie and say fuck it all. Another part of me says, Go for it. Dye your hair jet black again, maybe with dark blue highlights this time, and leave it long and gothy and punky and say fuck it all.
The truth is, as I try to make the "right" decision for my hair, I will never be younger than I am today. I dyed my hair pink a couple years ago and I felt like I had really had my fill of that when I was 20. But I did it because I wanted to and I loved it and so did everyone else (except my boss, I suppose...). So I think I just need to do what I want to do and not worry about age or any of that, because I won't be any younger next year so the window will just keep closing on what I think is "appropriate" for me.
Now, if I could just decide between way too blonde and way too black, I'd be in good shape.
I spent a good portion of my best years with jet black hair. I often had some dark red chunks of color thrown in just to make it a little less goth, or something? I have just always felt like black hair complimented my personality. I'm dark. I have a dark sense of humor and I mostly do not like people. I am sultry and sexy and a little mysterious. I am full of sarcasm and vinegar and I really don't give a fuck what you think about me. So black hair has always matched me well.
 |
| I am the goddess of darkness and evil. |
As I age (quite gracefully, if I do say so myself, but aging nonetheless), I feel like black hair shows every imperfection in my face. I am very pale ("alabaster" is my shade, I have been told) and until now I have always liked the contrast of darkest hair with lightest face. Now though, I fear it makes me look older, which is not something I am particularly looking for at this stage of the game. Light hair keeps my skin looking lighter and fresher and non-wrinkly. Black hair reveals every secret my face is trying to hide with a good makeup job.
(Now, don't get me wrong. I am not a wrinkled mess. I have very few wrinkles and pretty good skin. A former boyfriend's mom used to call me a porcelain doll because my skin was so perfect, and I'm not that anymore. That was in high school. But I'm still pretty happy with what I've got.)
I really needed a drastic change a few years back and my hair has always taken the brunt of my rash decisions to go insane. During a spontaneous visit to the salon, I went from black to blonde in one afternoon. And I then went even blonder. I liked it, but was it really representative of me?
 |
| I am sweetness and light and everything nice. Except, I'm not. |
I am currently a medium blonde. I don't love it. It feels mature and serious and while I may be at an age that is mature and serious, I am not. I have a high-level job and own a house and a BMW and have a kid...so yeah, I guess there's some of that in there. But I'm also the broad who will decide on a whim to fly off somewhere and spend a weekend letting loose. I'll jump in a mosh pit. I'll be decidedly unladylike in my consumption of beers and then argue my feminist politics with drunk fratboys till they give up or pass out because I outdrank them.
So I feel like my hair does not represent me right now and I don't know what to do. Part of me says, just go platinum blonde. Go for it. Dye your hair whitish blonde and cut it short in a pixie and say fuck it all. Another part of me says, Go for it. Dye your hair jet black again, maybe with dark blue highlights this time, and leave it long and gothy and punky and say fuck it all.
The truth is, as I try to make the "right" decision for my hair, I will never be younger than I am today. I dyed my hair pink a couple years ago and I felt like I had really had my fill of that when I was 20. But I did it because I wanted to and I loved it and so did everyone else (except my boss, I suppose...). So I think I just need to do what I want to do and not worry about age or any of that, because I won't be any younger next year so the window will just keep closing on what I think is "appropriate" for me.
Now, if I could just decide between way too blonde and way too black, I'd be in good shape.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Kids and Kissing
I had such a strange thing happen the other day and I don't know if I'm handling it right. I'd love advice because I want to do the right thing, but I don't want to sensationalize it by talking to people who know the players about it, I don't want to post it on facebook for advice because the person involved will see it, and twitter is too simplistic for this kind of question. So I figured I'd blog it and no one will see it or give advice, but maybe typing it all out will give me some clarity.
We were having dinner with one of Princess' friends, who is a girl of about 10 years old. I am forever trying to find out what boys Princess likes and she won't tell me...so I asked this friend (let's call her Jessica) who she herself likes. I was trying to prime the pump so I could then ask her who Princess likes. Jessica replied to me by holding up 2 fingers. I said, whoa, two boys? And she said no, actually, one boy and one girl (both around her same age). That answer surprised me a little, but I tried not to show it. We talked some more about it and she was very matter of fact about it (which impressed me - no guilt, no fearful questioning, no worrying that I wouldn't be accepting. What a difference a generation can make!).
Then, she told me that she had "done stuff" with the girl, which included kissing in her bed. They had gone into her bed, which is the top bunk of a bunk bed she shares with her younger sister, and set up pillows all around it so no one could see in. That's where I kind of got concerned. I mean, its one thing at 10 to have crushes or to like boys or girls or whatever. But the sneaking into her bed? The putting up the pillows so it was secret? The kissing in bed, at 10 years old?
After she told me all about this girl and boy she liked, she said that she was bisexual. Used that label, that word to describe herself. That threw me for a loop. Where had she learned that word, at 10 years old, and who told her that was the label for what she is?
I asked her if her mom knew about the people she had crushes on and about the kissing. She said no.
So the question is - should I tell her mother? My gut says no because I don't want to out this kid to her mom. I am friendly with the mom and she is a nice person...but she is very religious so I don't know how she would react. I don't know if it's my place to tell the mom something that the kid confided in me, something that she deliberately did not tell her mom. Maybe this opens a door for Jessica to talk to me about things she can't talk to her mom about, and I can guide her. Which, in all honesty, I did not do this time around because I was in shock and didn't know what to say. But I would be better next time.
But then I think about it and if this was my kid telling another mom that she was bisexual and kissing girls secretively in her bed...I would want to know. I'd want to deal with the kissing-in-the-bed part because I don't care if its a boy or girl or alien, they are not to be in your bed and you are not to be kissing. These are 5th graders we are talking about here.
I think my best bet is to leave it alone. I'd hate myself if I told the mom and then she punished the kid in some way for liking girls. I don't think I can take that chance, knowing what the repercussions could be.
We were having dinner with one of Princess' friends, who is a girl of about 10 years old. I am forever trying to find out what boys Princess likes and she won't tell me...so I asked this friend (let's call her Jessica) who she herself likes. I was trying to prime the pump so I could then ask her who Princess likes. Jessica replied to me by holding up 2 fingers. I said, whoa, two boys? And she said no, actually, one boy and one girl (both around her same age). That answer surprised me a little, but I tried not to show it. We talked some more about it and she was very matter of fact about it (which impressed me - no guilt, no fearful questioning, no worrying that I wouldn't be accepting. What a difference a generation can make!).
Then, she told me that she had "done stuff" with the girl, which included kissing in her bed. They had gone into her bed, which is the top bunk of a bunk bed she shares with her younger sister, and set up pillows all around it so no one could see in. That's where I kind of got concerned. I mean, its one thing at 10 to have crushes or to like boys or girls or whatever. But the sneaking into her bed? The putting up the pillows so it was secret? The kissing in bed, at 10 years old?
After she told me all about this girl and boy she liked, she said that she was bisexual. Used that label, that word to describe herself. That threw me for a loop. Where had she learned that word, at 10 years old, and who told her that was the label for what she is?
I asked her if her mom knew about the people she had crushes on and about the kissing. She said no.
So the question is - should I tell her mother? My gut says no because I don't want to out this kid to her mom. I am friendly with the mom and she is a nice person...but she is very religious so I don't know how she would react. I don't know if it's my place to tell the mom something that the kid confided in me, something that she deliberately did not tell her mom. Maybe this opens a door for Jessica to talk to me about things she can't talk to her mom about, and I can guide her. Which, in all honesty, I did not do this time around because I was in shock and didn't know what to say. But I would be better next time.
But then I think about it and if this was my kid telling another mom that she was bisexual and kissing girls secretively in her bed...I would want to know. I'd want to deal with the kissing-in-the-bed part because I don't care if its a boy or girl or alien, they are not to be in your bed and you are not to be kissing. These are 5th graders we are talking about here.
I think my best bet is to leave it alone. I'd hate myself if I told the mom and then she punished the kid in some way for liking girls. I don't think I can take that chance, knowing what the repercussions could be.
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