I don't know that I was what you would consider a 'girly-girl', but I definitely looked forward to attending my junior prom. I wanted to get dressed up, and to see my friends dressed up. I was eager to see who might win Prom King and Queen, and who was going where afterwards. I was the oldest grandchild and my grandfather started his tradition of buying the granddaughters their prom gowns the year I attended my prom.
I remember buying that red dress, borrowing the shoes, and doing my own hair. I think my dress cost $99 and that was the only expense I had. I don't really recall much else about the whole thing. I don't know what I ate, I don't know who danced with whom, I don't know who sat at my table. But I remember the spark in the air of the whole night. It was glittery, sparkly, magical and everything I'd hoped it would be.
When I had a daughter, the prom eventually crossed my mind. I had as much fun watching Abby attend prom as I had at my own. Dresses were more expensive and girls no longer did their own hair, but the feel was the same. In our town all of the kids meet at our library, slip in the back door and the crowd gathers in front at the bottom of the staircase. Couple by couple they are announced and come down those stairs for everyone to oooh and aaaaah at the gorgeous girls in their dresses and the handsome guys in their tuxes.
Abby attended again the following year and it was just as much fun for me. I love the whole idea of it, seeing these kids who are typically in jeans and ponytails all glamorous for the night. I can see the magic in their eyes and the excitement in their smiles.
When Logan became a freshman it dawned on me..he is in highschool..there will be a prom. At that time I pushed it out of my head. Why worry, its so far away. Sophomore year I realized we'd become a year closer to this and I started to wonder about it. Would he go? Who would he go with? Why worry..its a year away.
This year, his junior year. Prom year. Here we go. No more pushing it out of my mind, time to figure stuff out. Okay, I will....I promised myself. But I didn't. I procrastinated, and went back and forth with the idea. We made a couple of tentative plans and they fell through. I stressed over it, I beat myself up over it. He couldn't miss this night, this milestone, this tradition. I was asking him if he wanted to go, and he would just shrug. He could go with buddies, but part of the fun is having the girl in the pretty dress by your side, and I wanted the whole shebang for him. I wanted him to have the full experience, considering this might be the only prom he attends.
After multiple conversations with Abby about what to do, she called me and simply said "Kevin bought me a flight home. Pick out a dress that Logan likes, I am taking him to prom." A weight lifted off of my shoulders as I said that out loud.
Logan. Is. Going. To. Prom.
I know it seems like a small, insignificant thing to some people. Some people don't care about the prom either way. But for me, it means everything. It symbolizes so much. It was the first time I looked at my date, who would later be my husband and the father to my children, and felt love for him. It was the first time I got to feel like a princess, and the first time I got to help my daughter to feel like a princess. It is a rite of passage, a small town tradition, a coming of age type of thing that is special to us.
I don't care if he owns the dance floor. I don't care if he doesn't understand what a Prom King is. I don't care if he spills his drink down the front of his rented tux. My kid. Is going to PROM.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Thursday, May 9, 2013
The mother I've become
I've been a mom for lots of years. Almost 21 now. I've been a "special needs mom" for over 17. These are different kinds of moms, but the same in lots of ways.
I never in a million years thought I would be a mom of a kid who needed extra help. You don't plan for that in your head. You don't look at your toddler, who is doing everything right on target and perfect in your eyes, then rub your pregnant belly and think "yea, this next one will be completely different and need extra help for the rest of his life". You think things will go just like they did the first time. You will have a nice easy birth, go home and start writing milestones in the baby book. You will have play dates and dress the kid up cute and take it to the park and have coffee with moms while you all smile dreamily at your perfect little rugrats, while sharing the cute things they say and how high they can count.
Sesame Street will help you out, teaching your kid to count to 10 in Spanish, and Barney will teach it how to share. You think of all the stuff your kid is going to do, and wonder if he'd like baseball or soccer or maybe a skateboard. You look at the kids his age and wonder which ones his friends might be, or which girl may eventually be his first crush. Who will he sit with on the bus or at lunch? Will he be a good student? Or will he be a rebel? Maybe class president giving a speech in front of his class in the auditorium while you beam with pride in the front row.
You think of all the things that will happen...and then they don't. The milestones don't come, the playdates become less, the moms don't understand. You are a different kind of mother, thrust into a parallel universe and instead of football practice you are at physical therapy. Instead of speeches, you attend speech therapy..but you still beam proudly.
As a mother, I have goals for my children. The first time around Abby was hitting milestones left and right, mastering every goal set in front of her. She learned quickly, spoke early and well. She was a sweetheart, always chattering away happily, carefree and loving.
Logan was not. He was missing milestones left and right, struggling to master the basics. He didn't speak. At all. He became frustrated and hard to handle. He would scratch or bite or flail when angry, and you would never know what would set him off, because he couldn't communicate what he needed or what he was feeling.
I didn't know how to be this kind of mother. My kids were going to be right on target. They were going to be sweet, smart, well behaved and I would show how good I was at this mothering gig. I couldn't understand what went wrong, or how to fix it. I was no longer anchored, I was floating out into space with nothing to hold onto, and unable to catch my breath.
This was an odd time for me in my life, having one child who was so close to perfect and another who was struggling and so hard to help. I was very young, and had no idea what I was in for. I had no way of knowing how long of a journey I had just started, or how difficult it would be. I had no clue I would spend days on end at doctors appointments and my child would endure endless tests, pokes and prods.
I also had no idea how hard I would fall for this kid. My hard to handle, impossible to tame, difficult to help son. My wordless, biting, scratching, flailing kid, who I couldn't get to know because I couldn't communicate with him.
I am a different mother than I would have been, but as hard as its been, I love the mother that I am and the child that I have helped Logan become. It was worth every single frigging second. Every sleepless night, every long afternoon in therapy, every mile traveled to specialists office. Even though my child was not anything that I expected him to be, the day he was born I gave my life over to him and buckled down for the long haul. He owns my heart, and I would do anything I can to help him. He has become an amazing, inspiring young man and although he may not be the class president or football captain- I could not possibly be any more proud of him than I am.
I am so lucky to be his mom. I reflect each Mother's Day and look back on how far we've come. We're a damn good team.
Happy Mother's Day no matter what kind of mother you are. It's not always easy, we're not always perfect, but every day is a new day, a chance to try again. You can't predict or control the path you will travel with your child, but you can hold his hand while he jumps the hurdles, and cheer for him every time, no matter how small.
I never in a million years thought I would be a mom of a kid who needed extra help. You don't plan for that in your head. You don't look at your toddler, who is doing everything right on target and perfect in your eyes, then rub your pregnant belly and think "yea, this next one will be completely different and need extra help for the rest of his life". You think things will go just like they did the first time. You will have a nice easy birth, go home and start writing milestones in the baby book. You will have play dates and dress the kid up cute and take it to the park and have coffee with moms while you all smile dreamily at your perfect little rugrats, while sharing the cute things they say and how high they can count.
Sesame Street will help you out, teaching your kid to count to 10 in Spanish, and Barney will teach it how to share. You think of all the stuff your kid is going to do, and wonder if he'd like baseball or soccer or maybe a skateboard. You look at the kids his age and wonder which ones his friends might be, or which girl may eventually be his first crush. Who will he sit with on the bus or at lunch? Will he be a good student? Or will he be a rebel? Maybe class president giving a speech in front of his class in the auditorium while you beam with pride in the front row.
You think of all the things that will happen...and then they don't. The milestones don't come, the playdates become less, the moms don't understand. You are a different kind of mother, thrust into a parallel universe and instead of football practice you are at physical therapy. Instead of speeches, you attend speech therapy..but you still beam proudly.
As a mother, I have goals for my children. The first time around Abby was hitting milestones left and right, mastering every goal set in front of her. She learned quickly, spoke early and well. She was a sweetheart, always chattering away happily, carefree and loving.
Logan was not. He was missing milestones left and right, struggling to master the basics. He didn't speak. At all. He became frustrated and hard to handle. He would scratch or bite or flail when angry, and you would never know what would set him off, because he couldn't communicate what he needed or what he was feeling.
I didn't know how to be this kind of mother. My kids were going to be right on target. They were going to be sweet, smart, well behaved and I would show how good I was at this mothering gig. I couldn't understand what went wrong, or how to fix it. I was no longer anchored, I was floating out into space with nothing to hold onto, and unable to catch my breath.
This was an odd time for me in my life, having one child who was so close to perfect and another who was struggling and so hard to help. I was very young, and had no idea what I was in for. I had no way of knowing how long of a journey I had just started, or how difficult it would be. I had no clue I would spend days on end at doctors appointments and my child would endure endless tests, pokes and prods.
I also had no idea how hard I would fall for this kid. My hard to handle, impossible to tame, difficult to help son. My wordless, biting, scratching, flailing kid, who I couldn't get to know because I couldn't communicate with him.
I am a different mother than I would have been, but as hard as its been, I love the mother that I am and the child that I have helped Logan become. It was worth every single frigging second. Every sleepless night, every long afternoon in therapy, every mile traveled to specialists office. Even though my child was not anything that I expected him to be, the day he was born I gave my life over to him and buckled down for the long haul. He owns my heart, and I would do anything I can to help him. He has become an amazing, inspiring young man and although he may not be the class president or football captain- I could not possibly be any more proud of him than I am.
I am so lucky to be his mom. I reflect each Mother's Day and look back on how far we've come. We're a damn good team.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Mom-spirational Guest Post
Earlier today I had a discussion with Mom-spirational. I read her most recent blog and asked her if it would be okay that I post on my blog as a guest post. I was moved by her honesty and her insight into herself to admit her faults, and her decision to make them right.
I think we have all judged someone without all of the facts at least once in our lives.
Guest Post- Mom-spirational
Her Blog
Please go check out her blog and get to know her better.
Special Needs Child Meets “Me” The Asshole
March 14, 2013
This is a story about awakening, about being re-acquainted with my value for each and every human – regardless (and sometimes despite) their behavior. But mostly, this is a tale of understanding. About never forgetting.
As humans – we tend to find fault or anger or make false judgment against things we don’t understand. That doesn’t make it right, or valuable. We cannot just go around saying, “Well, I didn’t know all that,” and then find comfort in our belief systems that anyone who is different is not ‘right.’ And we certainly cannot expect to know each and every childs (persons) story – or think we have a right to knowing their story, before we can excuse or accept them for who they are.
I make no excuses for myself, except for sheer ignorance. I tend to believe that I am an extremely understanding individual, and have tried to teach my kids that there are all sorts of people in this world and that we have to try to accept them all.
When it comes to the human beings that land on this planet, I do not believe there are any mistakes. They are ALL here, WE are all HERE for a reason. There is not ONE singular exception to this rule….
I am bit embarrassed to admit however, that I too – have unknowingly discriminated against a special needs child. Not outwardly of course, but inwardly – within the confines of my mind and in conversations with my young daughter.
There is a particular child in my daughters kindergarten class who seems to be constantly out of sync. On the multiple times that I have visited the classroom, all I notice is his bizarre and impulsive behavior and his lack of self-control. My daughter comes home every day and tells me yet another story about this ‘little boy in her class’ who has once again, done ‘such and such.’
I always tell her shaking my head with disgust, “Well just stay away from him,” or “Maybe there is something wrong with him.”
I have told her that there are just some kids in this world that aren’t disciplined, and that have problems and that some kids just act badly at school. Bad. Badly. (Words that I am ashamed to admit I used about a 6-year-old boy). Rotten bananas are bad, not kids.
And yes, I will shamefully admit that I have felt sorry for his parents, have wondered what was wrong with his mother and father – and been curious about what atrocious things must be going in his home for him to act so strangely at school. And, YES, I will further admit that I have felt resentment that this one child has taken up so much time in the conventional classroom, time away from the kids who did fit into the perfect mold of kindergarten academia.
Here’s the thing. I didn’t know one thing about this boy. Not one. Just his name. And yet I saw him as a ‘threat’ a ‘detriment’ and a person that “normal” kids should not have to deal with on a daily basis. Yes, I did just write that sentence. And yes, I feel like a complete and total asshole for admitting that here on a public blog.
One of my all time favorite Facebook Pages/Blog is The Crumb Diaries. I look forward to her posts everyday about her son Logan, who is a special needs teen. I know all about indigo children (as I have one of my own), and I have fallen in love with Logan and his mother (they have no idea who I am) by reading her daily posts about life with Logan. I have grown to see him as not special needs, but simply special.
When I was young I wanted to be a writer AND a special needs teacher?
I have always been able to pick out the kids in this world with a broken wing and extend my hand and my heart openly to give them wings. So what the hell was wrong with me? When did I become such a bitch?
In a short conversation with someone who knew this child well and knew HIS story I was swallowed whole with guilt and remorse for my feelings toward a child. A child! A fewllow human being. I was guilty for words that I used to describe him without knowing HIS story. Here I am writing a blog segment called Stories of Us on this blog, and yet I was forgetting that even children have stories that don’t necessarily read like an open book. They are thrown into this world of standards and rules and when they don’t seem to fit into the puzzle – they are discarded or judged.
Had I really stepped so far off my moral and spiritual road to think that my thoughts were EVER okay? Apparently, I had. And apparently the Universe was going to remind me that although my kids may ‘look and act perfect’ on the outside – human perfection and love comes in all different wrappers.
Here’s what I didn’t know. (Not that it should matter)
But, this boy was found in a dog crate at the age of 18 months while living with his drug addicted mothers home. He had never had anything to eat at that point in his life – except a bottle. He spoke not a word. There’s more to the story that I wont share now, but you can rest assured that he is now in a loving and healthy home.
Here he was 4 1/2 years later, a handsome and healthy young boy with some developmental delays and some emotional problems. I skimmed the playground to find him and saw him hugging a classmate. When he accidentally got bark in another child’s face, he ran to the teacher to immediately confess and get a hug. In fact, he hugged his teacher many times during that short 30 minutes.
There wasnt a ‘mean’ or ‘bad’ bone in this childs body and his heart, when I was really looking at HIM, not his differences - was as honest and pure as crystal. C.R.Y.S.T.A.L! And perhaps that is exactly what made him different.
As we walked back to class, me still reeling from my own guilt and horror – I stood back to walk with him as he seemed distracted following the line of students headed back to the building. He accepted me as a friend without apprehension or shyness. I looked into his eyes and wondered if he was ever held as a baby, ever rocked to sleep. There aren’t words to describe the despair I felt for him. I grabbed his hand, and he told me – a perfect stranger – that he loved me. And I think that he meant it.
I think that he really meant it, as tingles shuttered through my body as if I had just touched an angel. I knew I didn’t deserve to be loved in that moment, especially by him – a perfectly beautiful child, who I had written off as a ‘bad egg’ so to speak.
Our teachers come in all shapes and forms. This day, my teacher, my messenger from the Universe was a small boy with warm hands and a big heart that I may have missed out on seeing due to my own close-mindedness.
I have never once considered myself close minded until this moment in my life.
The truth is, I shouldn’t have had to learn his story to be accepting. That is our responsibility from the get go, to accept others.
No one has a responsibility to share with us the reasons, or diagnoses, or unexplained history, or medical definitions of why anyone is the way they are. We (I) cannot walk around this world with a box to compartmentalize people by shape, size, or color as if we are all Legos.
Sure, we are all one small part of a bigger plan – a larger picture, a massive and tall Lego tower, where each of us has a place to belong – but none of us have any right to make decisions about where that place is. Not ever.
In the end, it was me with the special need – not this little boy. And I am grateful, that he was there to teach me, to put me back on the path of real human acceptance and love.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Bad Moms
Fun Fact Friday revealed more than one mother admitting she worries she isn't a good mom.
Ladies...Really?? The fact that you worry about that in itself says you care enough about your child, that you probably are a good mom. We ALL worry at times. I know I do. I know I always have, the worries have just changed over time.
At 18 bringing home my daughter I worried about keeping her alive! I worried I wouldn't know what to do, or pick up on her signals when she needed something. As she got older I worried I wouldn't be able to provide everything I wanted for her...then what about college? A wedding? Would I teach her everything she needed to know to live a good life?
With Logan I felt more comfortable bringing him home, but then worried about a whole different set of issues when he got a bit older. Could I teach him? Would I be able to fight for him? Not miss anything? How the hell am I going to do this??
Truthfully, I probably haven't been the ideal, perfect mom- but in reality, I have been a great mom for MY kids, and things have fallen into place. Yes, it took effort, and changes and sacrifices, but most parents are willing to make those for their child.
You might miss a night out with friends to attend an award ceremony. You might miss sleeping late for soccer practice. You might sacrifice a clean dining room table for a science project.
These are the things our kids will remember. Not your perfection.
So, you don't always make them brush their teeth. Maybe you could have pushed harder on homework or studying. Your teenager doesn't have the cell phone she wants. You couldn't afford to take them on vacation this year. You forgot your sons favorite cereal...These are not a huge deal in the long run.
We, as parents, beat ourselves up. We compare ourselves to our peers, and our kids to theirs. It's not fair to ourselves.
No matter what your situation- if you have your child's well being at the top of your priority list, and that child knows he is loved, you are a good mom.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Who Are You?
Who are you?
Well. Now Slice of Humble (her blog), Adventures of NinjaMama (her blog) and The Plucky Procrastinator (her blog) ALL tagged me in this Who are you blog so enough dragging my feet and getting on with it!!
1. Where were you born? Born & raised in Massachusetts
2. Were you named after someone? No, but my mother took the spelling from June Allyson the actress.
3. How many children do you have? 2
5. Your worst injury? Left arm broken 3 times, ankle, torn achilles tendon, stitches
6. Do you have a special talent? Painting is my favorite hobby
7. Favorite thing to bake? Have to be honest, baking and cooking are not my specialty.
8. Favorite fast food? McDonald's french fries
9. Would you bungee jump? No way in hell
10. What is the first thing you notice about people? How they treat others. If they are snarky, judgemental and rude they are not someone I want to know.
11. When was the last time you cried? Last week during Donna Day, more than once.
12. Any current worries? Typically I am extremely laid back and don't worry about much, but one thing that always weighs heavily on me is Logan's future. My husband and I work very hard to make sure he's going to be okay.
13. Name 3 drinks you drink regularly. Coffee, water. That's it...maybe some crystal light or beer here and there but not regularly.
14. What's your favorite book? I used to have a book going constantly, now I don't have as much time, but I do admit- I read all of the Twilight books, the Hunger Games books and the first 50 Shades of Grey (hated that). I'm reading some random novel right now, not that into it. I can't name a favorite.
15. Would you like to be a pirate? I am a part time pirate.
16. Favorite smells? So easy. Laundry just washed with Gain & bleach.
17. Why do you blog? I blog to vent, I like to write. I have had a bit of writers block lately though.
18. What song do you want played at your funeral? Bagpipes
19. What is your favorite thing about yourself? Probably my height. If I were 5' tall I would be obese. I get to weigh more but its stretched out.
20. Favorite hobby? See #6
21. Name something you've done, you never thought you would do? Become a mom people admire. I started this journey as a clueless teen mother, I never imagined someday I'd be here, having gone through all that I have with Logan. To get messages saying I give people hope for their own child's future, or that someone reads what I write and has a different outlook blows my mind.
22. What do you look for in a friend? Understanding and trust
23. Favorite fun things to do? Figure out ways to repurpose old stuff. Love taking something discarded and making it worth something
24. Pet Peeves? People who judge you when they have no clue what you're about
25. What's the last thing that made you laugh? Logan being a typical teen jerk this morning. I LOVE IT.
Now tag some bloggers to pass along this quiz to!
Scarred for Life
Its Cool To Be OCD
Fodder 4 Fathers
Friday, March 1, 2013
Donna Day March 1, 2013
Many of us watch our children struggle, with all types of things. It might be struggling to speak, to walk, or maybe its to read or figure out algebra. When its your child, any struggle is a big deal. Imagine if the struggle your child is facing is cancer......
More US children will die from cancer than any other disease, or many other diseases combined.
More statistics can be found on the St Baldrick's foundation site, and more informative links will be found throughout this blog post.
Over the last 8 months or so, I have fallen in love with Mary Tyler Mom and her little girl Donna. To read Donna's complete story, click here.
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| Donna |
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| The heart we made for Donna |
Blogging has introduced me to many types of people, and many styles of blog and Facebook pages. Some are fun, or naughty, some are annoying, or self-promoting. Some are just crazy, random and silly, but some are special. Mary Tyler Mom and her daughter are a perfect example of that. She is sharing this amazing little girl with all of us, in hopes to spread this message- KIDS ARE DYING at an alarming rate. Parents are losing their little girls and boys. We can't turn our backs on these families and push it out of our minds hoping it will never come crashing into our own lives.
We are declaring today, March 1, Donna Day. You will see many of your favorite pages and blogs sharing this Donna Day campaign.
The purpose of the Donna Day campaign is to raise donations for a head shaving event on Saturday, March 30 in Chicago. The oldest shavee is 89 years old and she is doing it with her daughter, a returning shavee. Here is a link to Donna's Team Page and you can donate by clicking on the GREEN button. ANY amount will help! If everyone gives $5, that will add up quick!
Logan has reached into his 'man wallet' and made a contribution, and we are hoping you will do the same. This is so, so very important. Still not sure? Please take 3 minutes to watch this video.
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| <3 |
Donna, I would have loved to have met you. Your smile is infectious, your spirit sweet. We love you beautiful girl.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Me? Let Go?....maybe someday
**Cough cough sniffle** My ninja-like immune system failed miserably at fending off the germs. I can feel them invading my body and head as I sit here contemplating going to work. I was sooooo convinced I would not catch this- even pushing my luck by kissing that little cold-ridden boy dangerously close to his germy breath. I simply cannot help myself.
So I am asking myself..When will I be able to help myself? Ever? He's 17 for crying out loud. He's BIG, he's GROWN! At thirty will I still be chasing him around for a quick squeeze? I need to get a grip here...
The problem is, its NOT me. Its him- he is simply too freaking cute, too damn sweet and extremely frigging lovable. It's literally his one and only fault.. Totally not my issue, I mean no human, especially a mom could be expected to resist that combination of charming. Even when he's being a jackwagon, he really isn't. It must just be how I am interpreting his behavior, because he is far too adorable to be a jerk. It's something I deal with, and need to check myself every now and then..Okay daily, but I am working on it. There are so many things in the world that really need some work before I can be expected to let go. I don't know how any kid can expect to grow up and get out of the nest these days..
The mess in his room, I would have to admit that's just a freedom of expression and a way to be creative on his part. Folded clothing? So rigid and ordinary.. And if there is one thing we all want, its for our kids to be independent and creative-am I right? And I know for a fact all the stuff of mine that I find in his room when I clean it? He's looking out for me, keeping it safe. If anything disappears, I usually know just where to find it, safe and sound.
The little stuffed ponies. Why would you make a pony, put it into a 50cent grab machine, but not make it durable enough to cram into a backpack with 10 other ponies? You should be able to love and shove as many ponies into a small space as you want, without the seams ripping. Stuffing coming from your beloved pony can be traumatizing. They need to rethink this design. Pisses me off.
Another total conformist type BS we don't adhere to? Pee, all in the toilet. I mean, if bathroom designers really expected no sign of back splash- all bathrooms would be wall to wall carpeting. And on the subject of toilets- who the hell decided we need these low water pressure commodes? They simply cannot handle the amount of toilet paper my baby needs to use, and overflow is a constant threat. Horrible design.
Oh, and while I'm thinking of it- who the hell would design a laptop that can't handle a good stepping on? I mean how cheaply made are these things? You'd think they'd factor that in to the design. You can't expect people to realize there's a laptop on the floor covered in clothes, that's just crazy....Electronics in general are really inconsiderate as a whole. Did you know if you repeatedly remove a battery and SIM card from a cell phone eventually it locks you out?? Wtf is that about? Oh, and Xbox360- it's stupid how easy it is to change the whole thing to Japanese. You need Google Translate and a YouTube tutorial to get it back. Unreal.
So, someday my baby will be grown, and I will have to maybe..MAYBE lighten up on the hugging and kissing and force cuddles, but with all of these other issues, how can I expect him to manage on his own? There's so much work for this world to do before it's ready for Logan unleashed. Until then, I will be here making sure none of these ridiculous issues impact him negatively. God this is a tough job...
So I am asking myself..When will I be able to help myself? Ever? He's 17 for crying out loud. He's BIG, he's GROWN! At thirty will I still be chasing him around for a quick squeeze? I need to get a grip here...
The problem is, its NOT me. Its him- he is simply too freaking cute, too damn sweet and extremely frigging lovable. It's literally his one and only fault.. Totally not my issue, I mean no human, especially a mom could be expected to resist that combination of charming. Even when he's being a jackwagon, he really isn't. It must just be how I am interpreting his behavior, because he is far too adorable to be a jerk. It's something I deal with, and need to check myself every now and then..Okay daily, but I am working on it. There are so many things in the world that really need some work before I can be expected to let go. I don't know how any kid can expect to grow up and get out of the nest these days..
The mess in his room, I would have to admit that's just a freedom of expression and a way to be creative on his part. Folded clothing? So rigid and ordinary.. And if there is one thing we all want, its for our kids to be independent and creative-am I right? And I know for a fact all the stuff of mine that I find in his room when I clean it? He's looking out for me, keeping it safe. If anything disappears, I usually know just where to find it, safe and sound.
The little stuffed ponies. Why would you make a pony, put it into a 50cent grab machine, but not make it durable enough to cram into a backpack with 10 other ponies? You should be able to love and shove as many ponies into a small space as you want, without the seams ripping. Stuffing coming from your beloved pony can be traumatizing. They need to rethink this design. Pisses me off.
Another total conformist type BS we don't adhere to? Pee, all in the toilet. I mean, if bathroom designers really expected no sign of back splash- all bathrooms would be wall to wall carpeting. And on the subject of toilets- who the hell decided we need these low water pressure commodes? They simply cannot handle the amount of toilet paper my baby needs to use, and overflow is a constant threat. Horrible design.
Oh, and while I'm thinking of it- who the hell would design a laptop that can't handle a good stepping on? I mean how cheaply made are these things? You'd think they'd factor that in to the design. You can't expect people to realize there's a laptop on the floor covered in clothes, that's just crazy....Electronics in general are really inconsiderate as a whole. Did you know if you repeatedly remove a battery and SIM card from a cell phone eventually it locks you out?? Wtf is that about? Oh, and Xbox360- it's stupid how easy it is to change the whole thing to Japanese. You need Google Translate and a YouTube tutorial to get it back. Unreal.
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| Seriously, this is what I'm dealing with. Are you F'ing kidding me?? |
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