I found this article Fear of Success by Grace Fleming very interesting. Mostly because it agrees with everything I already say. It sounds a whole lot like the lecture I give Middlest about 5 or 6 times a year. I was excited when I found it because it would save me the trouble of repeating myself again. So I called Middlest.
Me: Hey, you need to come read this.
Middlest: sits down to read.
"What"? "I don't have fear of success Mom."
Me: "Just read."
"What do you think?"
Middlest: Well, that kind of sounds like me but....
Me: Did you read all of it?
Middlest: reads more
" Well I kind of do that, ...and think that,.... and feel like that sometimes".....
"But I don't have a fear of success."
Me: ? just ????
Actually, after she finished, it had such a huge affect on her that she decided to make a change!
To her facebook status. It now reads: My Mom thinks I have a Secret Fear of Success!
However if your teen is NOT obnoxious and you think they aren't living up to their potential, I think this is a pretty insightful article.
I spend a lot of time crawling around in my childrens heads trying to figure out what is going on in there. The other two have surprises and difficulties but can usually be figured out. The true free spirit of the group, Middlest is the biggest mystery. She is the one I have asked most often, "what are/were you thinking"? Most of the time the answer would be.. ?.. Her brain appears to be huge labyrinthe filled in 3rd's by: Words; Art; & Boys, with maybe a niche set aside for politics, history & religion. And nothing else. There are plenty of dark winding tunnels I haven't explored yet. But she steadfastly refuses to shine a light in there for herself much less for me. I truly have never encountered anyone else who has perfected the art of really Not Thinking about something she doesn't want to. She admits it herself. But I'll keep crawling around looking for matches. That's my job.
PS
Question: What was I thinking when I decided to change my tried and true hair highlighting method that has worked for years because I am extremely busy right now and it is a time consuming and intricate process, & opt for the quick easy method when I know I'm going to hate it, exactly one week before my daughters wedding?
ME: ?
© 2009 All Rights Reserved
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
So I Missed My Calling
As a Greeting Card Writer, Just Humor Me.
May your turkey be tender
Your stuffing just right.
Your corn mellow yellow
And your cranberries ripe.
May your blessings be numbered
That when you behold
How many you've Thanked for
Your food has gone cold.
Mom of the Perpetually Grounded
Inflicting bad poetry on others since around 1979
( when she was usually grounded )
Have A Happy Thanksgiving!
© 2009 All Rights Reserved
May your turkey be tender
Your stuffing just right.
Your corn mellow yellow
And your cranberries ripe.
May your blessings be numbered
That when you behold
How many you've Thanked for
Your food has gone cold.
Mom of the Perpetually Grounded
Inflicting bad poetry on others since around 1979
( when she was usually grounded )
Have A Happy Thanksgiving!
© 2009 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
One Moment Please.
We are currently experiencing a high volume of thoughts....We value your following and appreciate your patience while we gather and organize brain cells......You may continue to stare at the screen or if you prefer you may push close and a new post will get back to you as soon as one becomes available....Thank You for reading Mom of the Perpetually Grounded....we will be posting our thoughts in the order in which they are received....or completed....or at random cause I feel like pushing a button.
Have a Nice Day!
© 2009 All Rights Reserved
Have a Nice Day!
© 2009 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, November 14, 2009
A Cup of Tea and a Book
I set myself aside
Except in these small things
Pin part of me down
So I don't float away
Lonesome for myself
I would call, but
I don't want to answer the phone
© 2009 All Rights Reserved
Except in these small things
Pin part of me down
So I don't float away
Lonesome for myself
I would call, but
I don't want to answer the phone
© 2009 All Rights Reserved
Thursday, November 12, 2009
The Tattooed Daughter
Oh, the things we do when we are young and/or under the influence. My beautiful daughter is getting married. I'm lucky she is not a fancy stuff kind of girl and things will be pretty simple. She is getting married in a long yellow cotton jersey backless dress. It arrived the other day and she was so excited. She rushed over to try it on and was admiring herself in the mirror. "I love it" she said. "It's really pretty!" Then turning to view the back her face fell a little. "At least it would be pretty if it wasn't for the damn tattoo."
Across her back, one on her shoulder, around each ankle. They are fairly simple thin line designs and not as obnoxious as she could have done. But still, when she was born she had the most flawless porcelain skin, it makes me cringe. Though several young people I know have one, and my Dad did too, they just bother me. It isn't the tattoo in itself but my need for visual symmetry. To me it mars the lovely line of the human body and distracts from the person themselves. She is only 22. I begged her not to get them or at least wait till she was older to see if she still wanted them. Within a couple of years she has a love/ hate relationship with them. But you can't take them off when they're in the way and I can't afford to have them removed. She certainly can't either.
When she was 15 she had long hair, almost to her waist. One day she came home with it dreadlocked. Her friends did it, not professionals. They didn't cut it first either. I just bit my tongue because we were dealing with more important issues but it really looked awful. She left them in for two years. Things changed a lot in that time period and just before Thanksgiving when she was 17 she came to me. We were having a large family gathering and she wanted to look nice. Could I get them out? Or die trying, you betcha!
I went to the store and bought 2 giant bottles of Infusium. A metal teasing comb, a bag of regular combs and the hardest brush I could find. We started in the morning. She had let the hair grow out about 2 inches or so. I figured at worst she would end up with a short haircut. I soaked her head, cut the tips off and began. 10 hours, four broken combs (the metal one was bent) and a paper grocery sack half full of hair later, I was done.
And she had a pretty decent head of shoulder length hair. A little thinner than before and with one, kind of chunky, cut at that back, but her hair has a wave so it wasn't too bad.
I have spent half my life getting this girl off the ground, coaxing her to fly, for all of her rebellious independence she is still gripping some of the strings & may not ever let them go. I can't comb the tattoo's out, no matter how many hours I would toil. But I can find the prettiest shawl on earth, and I am searching. And I can love her and be very proud of the young woman she has become. And I am.....so very very.
© 2009 All Rights Reserved
Across her back, one on her shoulder, around each ankle. They are fairly simple thin line designs and not as obnoxious as she could have done. But still, when she was born she had the most flawless porcelain skin, it makes me cringe. Though several young people I know have one, and my Dad did too, they just bother me. It isn't the tattoo in itself but my need for visual symmetry. To me it mars the lovely line of the human body and distracts from the person themselves. She is only 22. I begged her not to get them or at least wait till she was older to see if she still wanted them. Within a couple of years she has a love/ hate relationship with them. But you can't take them off when they're in the way and I can't afford to have them removed. She certainly can't either.
When she was 15 she had long hair, almost to her waist. One day she came home with it dreadlocked. Her friends did it, not professionals. They didn't cut it first either. I just bit my tongue because we were dealing with more important issues but it really looked awful. She left them in for two years. Things changed a lot in that time period and just before Thanksgiving when she was 17 she came to me. We were having a large family gathering and she wanted to look nice. Could I get them out? Or die trying, you betcha!
I went to the store and bought 2 giant bottles of Infusium. A metal teasing comb, a bag of regular combs and the hardest brush I could find. We started in the morning. She had let the hair grow out about 2 inches or so. I figured at worst she would end up with a short haircut. I soaked her head, cut the tips off and began. 10 hours, four broken combs (the metal one was bent) and a paper grocery sack half full of hair later, I was done.
And she had a pretty decent head of shoulder length hair. A little thinner than before and with one, kind of chunky, cut at that back, but her hair has a wave so it wasn't too bad.
I have spent half my life getting this girl off the ground, coaxing her to fly, for all of her rebellious independence she is still gripping some of the strings & may not ever let them go. I can't comb the tattoo's out, no matter how many hours I would toil. But I can find the prettiest shawl on earth, and I am searching. And I can love her and be very proud of the young woman she has become. And I am.....so very very.
© 2009 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Music To My Ears
Sometimes when I think of my daughters it is to imagine, "What have I created" ? There are a lot of answers to that.
When I was born my sisters were 14 & 15. My brothers were 10 & 12. I kind of had the benfits from being in a large family & being an only child. The group of them have a childhood history together that doesn't include me, and except for a couple of years my closest brother watched (tortured) me after school my life was pretty quiet. I love my sisters but we don't have a hang out together, talk every day involvement with each others lives.
Last night my oldest was visiting here while her fiance worked late. I left these 22, 16 & 14 year old young ladies to have a chat and excused myself and put myself to bed around 8. ( yes, I was in bed at 8, I was exhausted after getting up at 2 AM in order to put in some more worry time, but I was reading.) Our house is a topsider with living upstairs, beds down and has wood floors. When the girls were little we could always tell if someone was up to something because it sounds like the house is falling if you walk across the kitchen. Anyway... There I lay when I suddenly heard a sound that was familiar to me, something I used to hear quite often but it has been awhile. The sound of bison stampeding through the upstairs, back and forth, careening through the hall, opening and slamming doors. Thuds & screams and.... laughter. This goes on about 10 minutes.
Dad: What are they Doing?
Me: I dunno.
Upstairs: Ugh! She Licked Me!
Dad: Are they fighting?
Me: No. They're laughing.
Upstairs: Don't bite me!
Dad: They need to quit it.
Me: They're just having fun.
Upstairs" Wait, hold her down!
A Door: Slam!
The two eldest bison running down the stairs & bursting into my room.
Biggest: Your daughter is weird!
Me: Which one would that be?
Biggest: The little one, she licked me!
Dad: Grumpy Face.
Me: To Middlest, What's wrong with you, do you have a hairball?
Middlest: (Working her mouth stangely like a dog with peanut butter.) Yes, I bit Littlest and got her hair in my mouth and it's stuck in my teeth.
Dad: Really Grumpy Face.
Me: That's nice ladies, you may go.
Sound:
Bison running up the stairs.
Door opening and sounds of a spray can.
Screaming, running, door slamming.
Upstairs: OOh no, Look out!
Repeat 3 times.
Fresh smell of mountain berry floating down the stairs.
Door opening
Upstairs: Got her.... Get off me.....
Dad: Stands up & then just sit's down again.
Me: Just smiles.
Because I have Created. Created young woman who feel free to be total goofballs and don't care. But even more so..... Sisters. Who love each other very much.
I am not annoyed. I'm enjoying listening to the racket.
It is music to my ears.
When I was born my sisters were 14 & 15. My brothers were 10 & 12. I kind of had the benfits from being in a large family & being an only child. The group of them have a childhood history together that doesn't include me, and except for a couple of years my closest brother watched (tortured) me after school my life was pretty quiet. I love my sisters but we don't have a hang out together, talk every day involvement with each others lives.
Last night my oldest was visiting here while her fiance worked late. I left these 22, 16 & 14 year old young ladies to have a chat and excused myself and put myself to bed around 8. ( yes, I was in bed at 8, I was exhausted after getting up at 2 AM in order to put in some more worry time, but I was reading.) Our house is a topsider with living upstairs, beds down and has wood floors. When the girls were little we could always tell if someone was up to something because it sounds like the house is falling if you walk across the kitchen. Anyway... There I lay when I suddenly heard a sound that was familiar to me, something I used to hear quite often but it has been awhile. The sound of bison stampeding through the upstairs, back and forth, careening through the hall, opening and slamming doors. Thuds & screams and.... laughter. This goes on about 10 minutes.
Dad: What are they Doing?
Me: I dunno.
Upstairs: Ugh! She Licked Me!
Dad: Are they fighting?
Me: No. They're laughing.
Upstairs: Don't bite me!
Dad: They need to quit it.
Me: They're just having fun.
Upstairs" Wait, hold her down!
A Door: Slam!
The two eldest bison running down the stairs & bursting into my room.
Biggest: Your daughter is weird!
Me: Which one would that be?
Biggest: The little one, she licked me!
Dad: Grumpy Face.
Me: To Middlest, What's wrong with you, do you have a hairball?
Middlest: (Working her mouth stangely like a dog with peanut butter.) Yes, I bit Littlest and got her hair in my mouth and it's stuck in my teeth.
Dad: Really Grumpy Face.
Me: That's nice ladies, you may go.
Sound:
Bison running up the stairs.
Door opening and sounds of a spray can.
Screaming, running, door slamming.
Upstairs: OOh no, Look out!
Repeat 3 times.
Fresh smell of mountain berry floating down the stairs.
Door opening
Upstairs: Got her.... Get off me.....
Dad: Stands up & then just sit's down again.
Me: Just smiles.
Because I have Created. Created young woman who feel free to be total goofballs and don't care. But even more so..... Sisters. Who love each other very much.
I am not annoyed. I'm enjoying listening to the racket.
It is music to my ears.
Monday, November 2, 2009
A Really Big Thank You
To the Terrific Ladies/ Bloggers who added themselves to my followers this weekend! Now my little follower spot doesn't look so cold & empty!
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