He Was Just A Child

We live practically across the street from an area middle school.  A middle school where today they cancelled end-of-year exams.  A middle school where today they were mourning one of their own.

Yesterday afternoon, in broad daylight, a 14 year old boy, at the park with a group of friends, was gunned down.  When it first was announced on the news, I panicked.  My son, in the same age range, has a friend who lives in that neighborhood.  I Googled and checked all the local news websites till the identity was named, I had to know it was not him.  At the same time the relief washed over me, so did the sadness.  Someone’s child went to the park and now was DEAD.  This family can never joke with, laugh with, hug, be proud of, hang out with, celebrate with, or, heck, he’s a teen, even yell at and get mad at this boy again.  Ever.

Today I checked the news sites looking for updates.  Here I found comments that make this child’s death even more tragic.

Racism.  It is an ugly thing that still exists in huge measure in our country.  So many statements made based solely on race and neighborhood.  All the white people who assume it is a drug deal gone bad.  All the black people who state that white people live in a bubble and can’t understand.  All the purple, yellow, orange, green, whatever people who seem to have forgotten this is a CHILD, and people of all races and colors can understand what it is to love one, no matter what their lives are like.

A child is dead.  A human being’s life was cut off way before his time.  This child could have grown up to be anything, anyone.  We all should mourn that, and want to find a way to prevent this sort of thing.

As the information breaks on this story, we find out this child was set to testify against someone in court this week.  How brave is that for a 14 year old?  Articles have stated that the community is cooperating with leads.  Yet there are those people who still can’t get it out of their head that this has to be a child “gone bad.”  Questions about why the other KIDS ran.  May I ask this question?  What the HECK would you want your own child to do???  Hang out and get shot too?  Run right back to be a witness when the perpetrator is still at large, and possibly put themselves in danger too?

Can’t we all just be human beings sometimes?  I cried this evening for this child I don’t even know.  This isn't something that is about race or area of town.  This is a child who was trying to do the right thing.  This could be any of our children, ANY of our children.  Evil doesn't discriminate, perhaps we shouldn't either.

That’s why they have wine.  I need an extra glass right now.

A Toast To My Mom

The other night, my 13 year-old son and I watched the Billboard Music Awards.  At least that is what it purported to be.  On a show where two young women of the Kardashian/Jenner family were of the handful of more conservatively dressed, I’m pretty sure this was either the Who-Can-Show-More-Skin or Who-Needs-More-Boob-Tape-To-Avoid-A-Wardrobe-Malfunction Awards.  When I got a break being from being annoyed by what is now considered award-winning music, all I could think about was “In this day when us women claim to want to be accepted for our whole selves, why do we find it more and more acceptable to exploit our physical selves?"

And then I read an article today about how Taylor Swift’s video, premiered on that show, was a tribute to feminism.  And that Taylor Swift herself was our modern day feminist all our young girls should be looking to.  And, well, she thinks that is exactly who she is.

………………………………………………………………………Eh, hum, er, excuse me.  Just writing that made me gag.  Again.

Paging Feminism, your definition is lost and looking for you.  Very lost.  So very lost.

I don’t have a daughter, but if I did, I would tell her the same thing I told my son after he asked “What the heck was that?” at the end of this supposedly world-changing video.  I would have said “Another song about how everything is someone else’s fault.  It takes two to have any kind of relationship.  It takes two to keep one, it takes two for one to not work out.  I’m not really wondering why her relationships don’t last.”  Like my son, hopefully she would chuckle at my bluntness at first, and then a moment later say, “Hmmm….”

And I haven’t even touched on the packages of tape needed for that video, or for her award night outfit….

(Right here, the males reading this are Googling.  And it’s not to read about how empowered she is.)

Yes, women should have an equal chance at success.  Yes, women should be free to express themselves through their dress.

However, contrary to popular feminist belief, we are not “empowering” our gender by showing as much skin as possible, in whatever situation available.  Rather, we have taken 139 steps, at least, backwards, screaming out “Someone look at me and find me pretty!  I need you to desire me, or I am worthless.”

We are not empowering our gender by putting down men in the name of “equality.”  If we really wanted to be equal, we would accept men for their flaws just as much as we demand they accept us for ours.

There are lots of other things we wouldn’t do either, but I’ll save that for another blog.

In the meantime, I’m grateful to my mom for teaching me to be classy, to be a lady, and to truly love myself for all the great gifts that I have.  I’m grateful to her for being a very intelligent, successful women who would never, ever exploit what she looked like to get ahead, and that she taught me that by working hard, I could be successful too.  I am grateful for her vetoing clothing that I wanted when I was a teen, as mad as it made me at the time.  I’m grateful I learned that if someone truly likes, wants, and desires you, it is because of who you are on the inside.  I’m grateful I was taught to believe in myself and that the only one who could keep me down is myself.  I’m grateful my mom showed me what it really is to be a feminist.

That’s why they have wine.

A Simple Lesson

In the third grade, my son’s teacher taught him what may be the greatest thing he’s learned in his life thus far:   If someone picks on you or insults you, say “Thank you.” 

That’s it.  The whole lesson.  Those two little words, however, carry a heck of a lot of power.

Try it sometime.  You don’t even have to say it out loud.  Just say it in your head and I bet you’ll have a hard time stifling a chuckle afterward…and you’ll have an entirely different attitude than you would if you hadn't said it.  You won’t be sitting there dwelling on their words, or look, or the fact that they ignored you, you will instead have regained your sense of control over the situation.  You will realize that the other person doesn't really have the power you would usually give them.

Then, the next time, say it out loud and really soak in that strange, but wonderful feeling, watching the look of complete confusion on their face while they are trying to figure out if you really used the word that started with "th" and not with "f."

I read an article earlier based on a very common concept in recent times….that we need to make other people behave better so that we, or our kids, or our neighbors, or some random subgroup of society, don’t feel bad.  That concept, as great as it sounds on the surface, is flawed.  We can’t force other people to change, to act how we want them to, to think differently.  You don’t have that control. You do,  however, have control over how YOU act and think, and you do have the ability to change that.

Self-esteem isn't based on what other people think of us.  It would be called What-Other-People-Think-of-Me-esteem if it was.  Change, all change, starts from within.

Stop worrying if you are saying the right thing, if your shoes are last-season, if you are having a bad hair day, if someone else has something you don’t.  Be the person that YOU are proud of, and if there is something about yourself that you don’t like, well, then change it.  Don’t make excuses, make a plan.

And say the "Th" phrase instead of the "F" one to anyone who tries to get in your way.  

Some days can still be hard, but that’s why they have wine. 

That's Why We Have Strangers

Have you ever thought about why people are in your life?  Oh, come on, you know you’ve wondered about your mother-in law, your neighbor, maybe even your husband, admit it!

I think it is amazing how everyone, and I mean everyone, I’ve had in my life has affected me in some way.  My son would not be excited about church, I wouldn’t have ever thought to put chocolate in barbeque sauce, I would not have the wreath I have hanging on my front door, if not for the people I’ve encountered along the way. Even bad relationships have taught me something.

There is one random encounter I think about often.  When my son was 3, we were grocery shopping one day.  This may not sound like a very exciting event to you, but that just means you obviously don’t know my child.  You have not lived until you have maneuvered your way down every aisle of a grocery store catching boxes and cans being randomly thrown out of the back of the cart by your very unhappy toddler.

At the time, I did not have a good understanding of sensory processing issues or ADHD, or how those things could turn a grocery store into Evil Incarnate, but I did know it was frustrating.  Frustrating that this happened every time, frustrating that though I felt something was “off” I was just told he was being a boy, frustrating that it made me feel like a horrible mom.  Frustrating that most people would tell you to take your spawn of the devil home and leave your groceries, but I knew if I did that, we’d all be starving.  I had learned some coping skills though, and so when my son began doing this once we were walking down our second aisle, I calmly moved everything to the back of the cart or to the rack underneath, out of his reach.  Of course, because it was MY life after all, this just made him scream bloody murder at the top of his lungs because he couldn’t reach anything to throw.

I let him scream.  In fact, I left the cart right where it was and walked to the next aisle to get what I needed there, tears running down my face and an obvious look of defeat on my face.  Up to me walked a stranger, who said “Momma, you are doing a great job.  I’m a teacher, and trust me, I know how difficult some children can be, and it is not your fault.  Just keep doing what you are doing.”  I managed a tearful “Thank you” and walked away. 

Those few seconds, however, had a huge impact on my life.  I am not good at remembering faces, but I will always remember hers.  She is the woman who gave me hope, who made me feel like maybe I could handle this parenting thing, the woman who made me the mom I am. And I knew her for less than a minute.

My son is now a teenager.  He still likes to throw things (luckily we’ve channeled that into playing baseball!) and he still thinks the grocery store is the most horrible place on the face of the earth.  However, he has learned to tolerate the store for short amounts of time, and I’ve learned I need to tell him exactly what is on the list and not buy anything else (even a treat for him!) to make it a peaceful occasion.  

Never underestimate the impact you might have on someone.  And for those that have impacted you and not even realized it, raise a toast.  That’s why they have wine.  Just don’t take my son to the store when you go to buy it!

 

Gratefulness and a Shaun Cassidy Jacket

When I was about 12, I went down the street to my friend’s house, and, in horror, discovered her to be wearing a jacket with Shaun Cassidy screenprinted on the back.  I took her to the side, and whispered in here ear, “What are you doing wearing that?!  You know you will be made fun of.”  She answered me, and in a regular tone, “It was a gift.  From my parents.”

I got it.  I still get it.  I have things on display in my home or hanging in my closet (and sometimes I even wear them) that I don’t like.  They were gifts.  And in my upbringing, any gift is something to be grateful for, and, so, well, you just are.  You are thankful that someone cares enough about you to buy you something, even if they are off base.  You keep it, and, trust me, much to your own surprise you will come to treasure some of those things.

So why am I bringing this up?  It’s just that I’m bothered by what seems to be a lack of gratefulness in today’s society.  So many times I just hear, “But I deserve….”  That phrase just gets under my skin.

You know what, some days I deserve a month long trip to Tahiti and a $200 bottle of wine.  What I get?  A travel magazine and whatever wine was buy one, get one at Winn Dixie.  The reason, however, that I am happy despite that, is because I am grateful.  I know that life could always be worse.  There is always someone with better circumstances, there is always someone with worse circumstances, and the majority of the time we really have no idea who fits into which category.  Happiness does not depend on what anyone else’s life is like, it comes from accepting our own.  Sometimes life throws us some really crappy stuff, and I get that, and it is OK to grieve that stuff, but you eventually need to look at all the amazing things you do have.

Though my job can cause me to coming close to banging my head on the wall, I’m grateful that I have one (and that I work from home so no one can see me just in case I follow through with the banging).  Though I suddenly have to pay a whopping amount of money for my child’s medication every month, I’m grateful that it helps him.  Though we seem to have a knack for adopting animals with medical issues, I’m grateful for the love we get from them.  Though I deal with issues from 3 herniated disks in my back, I’m EXTREMELY grateful I haven’t had to have surgery (yet).  Though I hardly see my husband all week due to our conflicting work schedules, I’m grateful for the amazing man he is.  Though my child can have the typical teenage attitude issues, I’m grateful that HE knows how to be grateful.  I am very grateful for a want I had today that God came through on and fulfilled in an unexpected way, because it really wasn't something I really needed.  I could go on and on and on, for pages and pages and pages. 

Everyone, everyone, has something to be grateful for.  If you are alive, have the technology to get to this blog, and are able to read, there are three things going for you right there.  Be thankful, see how it feels.  Let it in.  Allow yourself to be happy, even in the face of struggles you may have.

And if you need a kickstart, that’s why they have wine.  Dark Horse is on sale at Winn Dixie and gets you a load of fuel perks. ;) 

I’m raising a glass to my family, my husband’s family, my amazing friends, my friends to come, and everyone else in my life.  I am extremely grateful for each and every one of you.

The Perfect Christian

I read a lot of stuff on the internet.  I prefer that media because most of the time readers can make comments, and it is a great study of society.

On some recent articles, I've read a lot of comments that start, “A good Christian would….”  Sometimes those comments are made by Christians, many times they are made by someone who believes Christians are just people that believe in fairy tales.  In both instances, I find myself wondering just how people’s minds work.

To me, “a good Christian” is an oxymoron, there is no such thing.  By definition, a Christian is a person who believes there is a God, that God came to earth in the form of his son, Jesus, and that Jesus died to take the punishment for all of our sins, so that we would not have to, thus making him our Savior.  Why would someone that is perfectly good all on their own need a savior?  Jesus didn't die for the perfect people, if they exist, he died for the sinners.  Today, Good Friday, today is the day we celebrate that event. Today is the day we all need to remember that.  Today is the day we all need to remember that no one is greater than the other, we are all loved the same by God, Christian or not.  We are all imperfect, we all sin, we all have issues, and we are all forgiven for them with the simple acceptance that Jesus took the punishment for us.

I’m not a “good Christian.”  I’m a plain old regular one, a person who makes lots of mistakes, who can be mean, who often says the wrong thing, who has been divorced, who has been known to drink one too many glasses of wine, a person who is certainly not worthy of God through my own actions.  I never will be.  I’m not different than anyone else.  I’m one of those crazy people who believes someone can be on death row and still be loved by God, who believes that no one is all good or all bad, who believes we are all incapable of unimaginable things.

I do have my convictions, as every Christian does.  They are not always the same as everyone else’s.  The Bible, well, it is not always clear.  I think that is on purpose.  I think God wants to speak to each of us individually.  I have a tendency to interpret some things in a, for a lack of a better word, less strict manner.  But I realize that is my interpretation, and I don’t know if I’m right.  Others have a different one, and I have no idea if they are the ones who are right, I just know I don’t feel uncomfortable in my relationship with God the majority of the time, and when I do, I pray and re-look at things.  Only God really knows everything, and he knows I don’t, and as he created me that way, I’m good with that.

I’m not a good Christian.  I don’t even know if I could be called a good person, what exactly is that anyways?  But Sunday is the day we celebrate Jesus’ rise from the dead, giving us all new life.  New life forgiven for our sins.

That’s why they have wine.  After all, Jesus has been known to turn water into it.

Working Hard For The Money

 

When I listen to music, I am a lyric person.  You can have the greatest melody in the world, but if I find your lyrics to be stupid or annoying, your song will go on my most hated list.

There have even been a few songs lately that have come REALLY close to bypassing “Barracuda” by Heart.  MOST ANNOYING SONG EVER.  But that song nor it’s extremely close competitors  are what this blog is actually about.  It’s about a certain song that just makes me want to slap Pitbull and Neyo.  What the heck kind of names are THOSE anyways?

Growing up, I remember a lot of songs about hard work.  You know, those songs that may have complained about it, but were about being responsible anyways?

Remember these?  “9 to 5” by Dolly Parton?  “Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin'. Out on the streets, the traffic starts jumpin'.  With folks like me on the job from 9 to 5.”

“Manic Monday” by the Bangles?  “Have to catch an early train.  Got to be to work by nine.”

 

“Working for a Living” by Huey Lewis?  “Hey I'm not complaining 'cause I really need the work.  Hitting up my buddy's got me feeling like a jerk.  Hundred dollar car note, two hundred rent. ”

 
“Working for the Weekend” by Loverboy?  Well, hey, the name says it all there.  That’s what us working people do.

“Working Hard for the Money” by Donna Summer?  “She'll never sell out.  She never will.  Not for a dollar bill.  She works hard.  She works hard for the money.”

Now we have “I knew my rent was gon' be late about a week ago.  I worked my ass off, but I still can't pay it though.  But I just got just enough  to get up in this club.”  Um, what?  You can’t pay your rent but going to a club is top priority.  I. WANT. TO. SLAP. YOU.  Ok, so maybe this song is close to being as annoying as “Barracuda.”  Or maybe not, because it probably won’t still be around in 20 years when all the people in the club are homeless and want to slap them too.

Life is hard work.  It’s not always about having fun.  Sometimes it sucks.

That’s why they have wine.  And it’s a lot cheaper to drink it at home.