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Friday, September 24, 2010

This Generation

I've been meaning to write about this for quite sometime now, but have feared what the reprocussions might be. There could be some people out there that hate what I have to say, and some that might actually agree with me...

I love my Grandparents. I have never had anything but love and the deepest respect for them. I was raised that you respect your elders, including people that are only a few years older than me, because they still have just that little bit more life experience than I might have. The first time I ever spoke to someone who was older than me and in a manner that some might consider disrespectful (I even swore at him), I was 19. When I did it, I thought I was going to faint. However, it was a defining moment for me because it had to be done. To this day, I show respect to people that are older than me and make sure that I am always polite. I don't view this as a weak characteristic of mine, but actually as your basic maturity. If you ever read the books or hear the stories of "Our Greatest Generations", it is about the people who raised our parents. They are the people who you want to sit down with and talk for hours about what they went through during WWII and the depression. Out of all the presidents that have been in office while they were alive, who was their favorite? What types of things can they cook? All the things that if you asked some of your best friends, you wouldn't get near the interesting response.

Here is where I'm going with this. What has happened to today's generation? Why is it that I can walk through the mall and have kids (about 13 years old) walk around tossing out the "C" word as if it were the word "the"? Why can I walk around anywhere with kids that are anywhere from the age of 4 to 21, and no one knows how to say, "please, thank you, excuse me, etc"? It grosses me out. I do not enjoy going out to certain places anymore because I feel that I'm going to flip out on some of these assholes. I was walking with Mike and Farrah through the mall after getting Santa pictures done and there were older people all around us. However, behind us were some teenagers that were referring to a girl they went to school with as a c**t. I am not one who gets offended by words, unless they are used so poorly and with little to no creativity that it makes my blood boil. I spoke up to Mike loudly and said so as I watched the punks step back and walk in a different direction away from us. I had also taken the stroller into the bathroom area with Farrah so that I could change her diaper. While trying to get past some skater wannabes who decided to stand right in front of the entrance, I politely said excuse me. In response, the smallest one of the group said, "You're excused." He didn't expect me to stop and give him the look of, "I might just kill you" and say, "really." He looked very uncomfortable, as he should have. This little piss-ant punk, had a set of balls on him while around his buddies, but had I been in a real bad mood, I would have gone back to grab my husband to have a word with him. He wouldn't have been very happy.

What I'm trying to say is, we have to do something. I am a parent and I know some that read this are parents. I try so hard to listen to the things my Grandma tells me about when she was growing up and remember the things my parents taught me as I was growing up that I feel are important lessons and values to instill in my little girl. I know that society doesn't think the same way anymore and it seems like all we hear about is bad stuff on the news all the time about these kids. Isn't there a song out there about "Teenagers scare the shit out of me"? Yeah, pretty much. I feel it is our responsibility to help guide our kids to be the next best generation. Kids these days don't know what it means to be humbled, to be a part of something that is bigger than themselves, to not completely go for it on their own. I've named it the Generation of Entitlement. I've watched these kids receive a Mercedes for their 16th birthday and within a week toss a shitty attitude at their parents without any reprocussions. These kids walk around with a 'holier than thou" chip on their shoulder for the world to see, and still expect to get everything on their Christmas list or be allowed to go to their friends party or be given the job that should go to someone who has 3 more years experience than them. What has made these kids this way? I know that some feel that they want to be their kids' best friend and feel that they can't do that if they have to throw in discipline into the mix, but c'mon. Some of these kids deserve a little WWE Smackdown now and again.

My Grandma said to me not too long ago, "What is with the kids today? They are not going to make it should anything terrible ever happen in this world. Do they know how to sew, knit, grow a garden, can anything?" The answer is no, no, and no. Those are such important things to know, simply for the sake of learning the joy of accomplishment at a young age. These are the types of things that truly teach independence. Ugh, I'm rambling.

Farrah...

I haven't blogged in a while, but only because life has been, at times, a bit too overwhelming and not something to write about. I'll just leave it at that. However, while life has been going on, so has a lot in regard to my daughter. On December 18th, Farrah turned 2. The terrible twos. But, she began her terrible twos at the age of one, so I'm not really sure how that exactly works. Since we had the snow storm of the century, we couldn't exactly pull off a big party. We simply had her brothers over (that's right, brothers; another story, another time) and her Mommy and Daddy for presents and cake. It was nice, calm, and quiet. Except for when the sugar from the cake kicked in and she discovered her baby and stroller. Yikes. She pushed her baby in its stroller back and forth from the kitchen to the living room so many times until she ran out of steam. Ahhh, our little girl is two. She is sweet, kind hearted, loving, and so smart. I couldn't have asked for a better person to be made by me and her dad.

On December 24th, Christmas Eve, at the very last minute, on our way to my family's Christmas party, we took Farrah to see Saint Nick. It was an odd place we were told about to take her. We were told, he was real and, in fact, his real name was Santa Claus. He was located at a place in Marysville called, Santa's Den. When we arrived, I had a vision in my mind of what it was going to look like: Warm lighting, a beautiful Christmas tree (or about 5-6 of them), Christmas music in the back ground, pretty twinkling lights everywhere, perhaps someone selling cookies and hot cocoa, perhaps even seeing Santa; you know, something you'd find in Santa's Den. Not so much. It was located inside a mattress manufacturing place. The flurecent lights brightened up the whole place. You could hear a movie blasting through the room, there were fold out tables everywhere with papers and crayons and accompanied by fold out chairs (that could barely hold Mike's weight). Garbages were overflowing, there was one tree, kids were just hanging around and didn't look terribly excited, and the parents all had looks of dispair on their faces, including us. But worst of all, Santa was hidden in a little space behind a curtain. That space behind the curtain was actually Santa's Den. Where we were waiting was a loud, kinda decorated, low energy, mattress outlet with fold out chairs. The wait seemed to drag on forever and ever. I believe not just the kids were telling Santa what they wanted, but the adults were as well. Farrah looked so beautiful in her silver dress and her head band. What was missing from her darling ensamble? Shoes. We couldn't find her silver shoes anywhere, so ours was the ghetto kid in that place. When they finally called our number, we were allowed to go in to see the big man himself. Our friends were right, he was the real deal. Mike and I walked up with Farrah to meet him and she was hesitant (good girl - stranger danger) until Daddy shook Santa's hand to show her he was okay. She got up on his lap and was in awe. So were we. Sweetness oozed out of our child. Then she saw the camera. She knew what to do like a little professional. The pictures turned out amazing, and we were so happy that we had chosen that place to get her pictures done. Next time, however we will be arriving the day after Thanksgiving.

Girls' Day Out

Today was a fun day.  Farrah and I decided today would be a great day to get some of our Xmas shopping done.  We got a bit of a late start, so we thought we should get some lunch first.  Yay!  That ALWAYS means sushi for us.  Yes, my daughter has begun her mature tastes a bit early for her age.  It pretty neat.  I always order her teriyaki chicken and rice as a back up, but she usually eats half of my various rolls.  She has yet to have tried something I have eaten and spit it out.  She always asks for more!  We shared our lunch and she got plenty of practice using chop sticks.  She is a trooper, too.  Absolutely, my kid is NO QUITTER!!!  She worked through the difficulties of those two pieces of wood and only caved a couple times to use the fork to just turn around and go back to the sticks.  So cool.

After lunch, my favorite nail salon was conveniently located next door.  I had asked her if she wanted to get her nails done with me.  YESSSS!  I needed a small nail repair, so why not?  We walked in and I took her to the massive colorful wall of various nail colors.  What color?  PURPLE!!! Purple?  Okay.  She sat still the whole time and watched in awe as her nails were pampered and colored.  Not only that, Ryan took the time to design snow flakes on one of her thumbs and holly on the other.  Then she had to go sit by herself under the fingernail lamp.  For   A   Long   Time.  But she toughed it out.  Today she learned the agony of beauty.  Then it was my turn.  Did I do the same as her?  Of course I did.  How could I not?  She kept asking me if I was going to do purple, too.  "Are you going to do purple like me?!!"  Again, how could I not?  So, purple looks different on lady nails than it does on a two year old's nails (almost 3).  I look a lil' trampy.  I also have the holly on one thumb and snow flakes on the other thumb.  There was a gym member in there who thought it was great, a couple who came in, and of course, Ryan loved what we were doing, he charged a stupid awesome price.  Our hands are "pretty".

After that, we were off to get a couple things for a few people at Best Buy, and in came walking Mike and Alex; people I was maybe shopping for.  What are the odds?  Pretty good, since we live in a very small town.  So we were quick to get out of there and off to the next mission.  I can't tell what we did as it will be a wonderful surprise for everyone.  But...I can tell you it will be memorable.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Prayer

Most people who know me and Mike, know us to not be religious people. Don't mistake "not being religious" with not being spiritual. We are VERY spiritual people. We have chosen to raise our daughter down the same path as us which holds a strong focus on positive affirmations and having a sense of gratitude. We started with her having her gratitude rock. We basically explained that her gratitude rock holds all the things that make her happy in it and she just needs to give it a good squeeze and think of those happy things (Mommy, Daddy, Unicorns, Grandparents, Brothers, Ponies, School, Ice Cream, etc). It is also what I tell her to make her wishes with. All the things she dreams of having; all of her desires, I encourage her to squeeze her rock and make a wish. Since she doesn't know how to write down affirmations yet or know how to put together a vision board (which I'll help her put together someday soon), the rock was a good start.

Well, tonight, Farrah and I went to a Vietnamese restaurant to pick up some dinner. While we were waiting, Farrah noticed the little Buddhist shrine display with the candles, food offerings, and burnt incense. Farrah walked up to it and kneeled down on the floor in front of it. It was adorable and fascinating at the same time. She quietly asked me what it was. I knew how to answer, but not perfectly while people were watching her. So, I bent down and told her it's where she can make a wish. She immediately closed her eyes, squeazed her hands up to her face and over her eyes, sat still for a few seconds, then looked up to me and whispered, "I did it Mommy. I made a wish!" I was in awe with her innocence. When she was done, she noticed the little fountain in the restaurant with lots of coins. She knew what to do. I gave her a penny and she made yet another wish.

I expect to see a Pony or Unicorn in my front yard this weekend. She'll be an amazing projector.