I finished a long ol' post about parenting earlier. About how I was all yelling at Mina this morning because we suffer from an age-old conflict called Getting Ready On Time Disorder. I realize that this has been a parent-child issue since amoeba were yelling at their kids to get their single-celled asses dressed already. The post revealed an interesting parenting technique that my husband and I resort to when we reach a boiling point with the kids. I like to call it the Blue Collar Threats Technique. For example last night Mina futzed around with her homework for an endless amount of time. We were constantly saying things like "Are you done yet? No? Then why are you (hanging upside down on the banister/mixing paint, glitter and salt on the patio/putting on lipstick in nothing but a tutu)?" When we couldn't take anymore, Husband pulled her aside and gave her a long speech about how school is a priority punctuated with comments like, "We don't make you dig ditches do we? No. Focusing on school is much easier than digging ditches, but I'll tell you what. You will be digging ditches as a career is you don't get it together." This morning she spent 75% of her getting-ready time staring out the window, tying ribbons on the dogs, dancing around in her cow-shaped slippers. Until I snapped from roboticly repeating the phrase, "Come on, baby, we're almost late." I then yelled a lot, which I don't like to do. Then I told her to forget it, that she wasn't going to school now. Not ever again, in fact. "I'M CALLING THE PRINCIPAL AND TELLING HER YOU'RE DROPPING OUT." "No, Mami!" "YOU'RE GETTING A JOB INSTEAD." "No!" "YUP, SCRUBBING PEOPLE'S FLOORS!" Nothing makes a kid like school more than the prospect of having to get a manual-labor job.
And then I wrote a whole long thing in the post about Maya's junior-high torment and how she gets made fun of this year and how it came to a bit of a head on Monday when her worst tormentor sent her a note calling her a "Super Dyke" . . .and how I told Maya to march into the Vice Principal's office to hand him the note and her cell phone so I could tell him I'm not tolerating that horseshit, not that level of derogatory name calling. I won't let Maya put up with it either. And he better handle it now. This part of the post was about this: For as much time as we parents spend teaching and guiding our children to do for themselves, sometimes they just need to know that we have their back. That we'll rip the gloves off for them and throw down if we have to.
Then I lost the entire post. Which made me examine a little too much about why I might have lost it. Like, what made the universe hit the delete button? Or was I just all aggravated and did the honors myself? Oh well. You get the drift.
I happily stumbled across this blog-project yesterday called Athlete.
David Lam is making a documentary about everyday people who are athletes, who endure the pain and training like any elite athlete. The doc spends a good amount of time on how connected these athletes are to charitable organizations. He also examines how everyday people who simply ENCOURAGE everyday athletes are heroes too. The whole concept touches me for obvious reasons. Plus, he's got some great posters aptly titled: Defy Odds featuring a blind runner. Defy Pain featuring a cancer surviving athlete. Defy Definition featuring twin sister cyclists. Check it out, and buy a poster! All the proceeds of the posters go to the charity with which the particular athlete is involved. I'm getting this one. Their proceeds go to Girls On the Run.
Cargo Bike Ladies
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