The summer Merideth was sixteen, I went on a car trip with my parents to see relatives and some more of America. She was working as a lifeguard at a local pool and this was way before cell phones. A few months after I got home, I learned that she had called one of my sisters in my absence and asked about sex and birth control. My sister recommended that she get some pills. I was furious.
It wasn't my sister's place to advise her of anything except to wait for me to get back. But, Merideth had told her that her boyfriend was pressing her. "If you really love me, you'll do it with me." When I heard that, my eyes welled up. Young males use teenage girls and abuse their trust and caring. It's a darn shame.
Had I been given the chance, I could have told Merideth that sex is not the equivalent of love. It has to do ONLY with raging hormones. Boys could care less about love or a girl's feelings and that sometimes never changes.
I would have said that sex with love is a wonderful thing and she should wait until she was out of high school. She should wait until she falls in love with an older man, someone who respects women and would never demean them. That's what most high school/college boys are all about - sex without respect or kindness.
But, I did not get that chance. I hope that you do.
(There is a little more background to this history, but that will be for another day.)
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Never Too Busy To Hug
A few years ago, I was visiting my daughter, Merideth, and took the grandkids to wallyworld. We needed some groceries and maybe a toy or two, but were just meandering. It was about 5:30pm and I began to hear a child crying. As it grew louder, I came to a standstill in one of the major thoroughfare aisles. Moments later I saw a well-dressed 30ish working woman pushing a cart, and behind her with outreaching arms was a small, skinny girl of 4 or 5 years pleading, "Hold me," in between sobs.
I was overwhelmed with sadness. The mother was obviously a working woman and hadn't seen her daughter all day, but she was in a hurry to get something for dinner and get home to fix it, although she probably didn't really want to. She probably picked her daughter up from after-school daycare and maybe she was as tired as her child was, but that is no excuse not to give love. I wanted so badly to berate the mother and hug the little neglected girl.
Neglect isn't just aligned with poverty. It happens in every walk of life.
Nothing is as precious as a child. My heart would have been happy if that woman had just stopped, sat down on the floor, and opened her arms to the girl. But, that never happens, does it? No, life goes on. The child cries all the way home, the mother fixes dinner, puts the child to bed with a cursory peck on the cheek - maybe - and the child sleeps, exhausted by a long day and lots of crying. The child grows up thinking that her mother loves her, because she gets birthday parties and lots of Christmas presents, but becomes warped by lack of affection. She'll either become exactly like her working mother or needy and taken advantage of by men.
My mother did not work outside the home. I was the oldest of six children and she was very busy, too busy for hugs or showing us how to cook, etc. I received cursory attention when I was ill, but otherwise she was always sewing or cleaning or cooking. (Our Christmases were awesome.) My first hug from Dad was when I was about 32.
Sooo, my children, grandchildren, siblings, and husband know all about love from me. And, if that turns out to be my only contribution in life, I'm proud of it.
I was overwhelmed with sadness. The mother was obviously a working woman and hadn't seen her daughter all day, but she was in a hurry to get something for dinner and get home to fix it, although she probably didn't really want to. She probably picked her daughter up from after-school daycare and maybe she was as tired as her child was, but that is no excuse not to give love. I wanted so badly to berate the mother and hug the little neglected girl.
Neglect isn't just aligned with poverty. It happens in every walk of life.
Nothing is as precious as a child. My heart would have been happy if that woman had just stopped, sat down on the floor, and opened her arms to the girl. But, that never happens, does it? No, life goes on. The child cries all the way home, the mother fixes dinner, puts the child to bed with a cursory peck on the cheek - maybe - and the child sleeps, exhausted by a long day and lots of crying. The child grows up thinking that her mother loves her, because she gets birthday parties and lots of Christmas presents, but becomes warped by lack of affection. She'll either become exactly like her working mother or needy and taken advantage of by men.
My mother did not work outside the home. I was the oldest of six children and she was very busy, too busy for hugs or showing us how to cook, etc. I received cursory attention when I was ill, but otherwise she was always sewing or cleaning or cooking. (Our Christmases were awesome.) My first hug from Dad was when I was about 32.
Sooo, my children, grandchildren, siblings, and husband know all about love from me. And, if that turns out to be my only contribution in life, I'm proud of it.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Autism
Our six-year-old grandson, Carlo, has Asperger Syndrome, a form of autism but with normal language skills. After raising three kids and watching after scores more, I noticed something wasn't quite right with my precious Carlo before he was one-year-old. He was too focused and didn't respond when spoken to. Unfortunately, I shared this only with my husband.
Carlo would keep his head down too much. He would stare off at nothing most of the time. He would not look anyone in the eyes. When he was playing or watching Sesame Street or other children's program, he could not be interrupted. You would have to physically stand in front of him or pick him up to get a response. By the time he was three it seemed so obvious that something was wrong. My son thought that he just needed to get some social interaction and he began attending a private pre-school. This made a huge difference, but Carlo still would not look anyone in the eye.
By this time he was very fluent and by the age of four he was full-on reading. By age five he could read anything and was enrolled in kindergarten at a public dual-language school where he quickly caught onto Spanish. Halfway through kindergarten he was correcting his parents Spanish abilities. (They were in the Peace Corps in Nicaragua for two years and learned Spanish.) He can now speak, read, and spell in Spanish as well as English. Although he reads chapter books and has an off-the-chart IQ, he is socially lacking.
Over the summer, his cousins (Calvin, Lizzie, and Ben) were here the entire time and he came out of his shell and began interacting like a regular kid, but when first grade started, he seemed to regress and cried about missing Ben all the time. Carlo is very emotional and can become angry at the drop of a hat.
He has his own agenda about everything and often says that he knows more than his Mom, Dad, me, or any other adult. He has a strange sense of humor, as well. Everyone in Carlo's school knew him by the end of kindergarten. He's smaller than his classmates with blond, curly hair, blue eyes, and a bit of attitude. He is bored at school, but when tested for the Gifted/Talented program, he pretended he couldn't read. At three he was reading billboards!
My point: If your one-year-old isn't acting like other one-year-olds you know or have known, pay closer attention and seek help. If your two-year-old won't look at you or respond when spoken to, you might want to talk to the pediatrician about it.
If you have a child, nephew/niece, grandchild, etc. who seems different from other children, check out https://health.google.com/health/ref/Autism for some very good information.
Carlo would keep his head down too much. He would stare off at nothing most of the time. He would not look anyone in the eyes. When he was playing or watching Sesame Street or other children's program, he could not be interrupted. You would have to physically stand in front of him or pick him up to get a response. By the time he was three it seemed so obvious that something was wrong. My son thought that he just needed to get some social interaction and he began attending a private pre-school. This made a huge difference, but Carlo still would not look anyone in the eye.
By this time he was very fluent and by the age of four he was full-on reading. By age five he could read anything and was enrolled in kindergarten at a public dual-language school where he quickly caught onto Spanish. Halfway through kindergarten he was correcting his parents Spanish abilities. (They were in the Peace Corps in Nicaragua for two years and learned Spanish.) He can now speak, read, and spell in Spanish as well as English. Although he reads chapter books and has an off-the-chart IQ, he is socially lacking.
Over the summer, his cousins (Calvin, Lizzie, and Ben) were here the entire time and he came out of his shell and began interacting like a regular kid, but when first grade started, he seemed to regress and cried about missing Ben all the time. Carlo is very emotional and can become angry at the drop of a hat.
He has his own agenda about everything and often says that he knows more than his Mom, Dad, me, or any other adult. He has a strange sense of humor, as well. Everyone in Carlo's school knew him by the end of kindergarten. He's smaller than his classmates with blond, curly hair, blue eyes, and a bit of attitude. He is bored at school, but when tested for the Gifted/Talented program, he pretended he couldn't read. At three he was reading billboards!
My point: If your one-year-old isn't acting like other one-year-olds you know or have known, pay closer attention and seek help. If your two-year-old won't look at you or respond when spoken to, you might want to talk to the pediatrician about it.
If you have a child, nephew/niece, grandchild, etc. who seems different from other children, check out https://health.google.com/health/ref/Autism for some very good information.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Playpens and walking
My Mom and I were talking the other day about babies walking. My youngest grandchildren are 20 months, 14 months, and 14 months. The 20-month-old is my granddaughter, Ripley, who began walking at 17 months. The first 14-month-old is Oliver and he just started walking over the weekend. The second 14-month-old is Necalli and he isn't walking yet. All three, plus all the other grandchildren of my sisters never walked at one year or earlier.
I walked at 10 months, my daughter Merideth walked at 10 months, my second son Tyler walked at 11 months, and my oldest son Judson, who was blind at birth walked at 17 months. My siblings and their children all walked by the time they were a year old, but all the grandchildren are "behind" in the walking department.
What's the difference with this newest generation? The wooden playpen. This motherhood tool was invaluable to my mom's and my generations. It was the only way we could get household chores done. As soon as the baby was beginning to crawl, we would use the playpen in which went the baby and toys and sometimes a bottle. They never stayed in it for more than a half-hour at a time, but they didn't mind and often fell asleep in it. We also used it (sans toys or blankie) as a 5-minute timeout place, which worked quite well. The tantrum ended as soon as we took them out.
As the babies grew, the playpen enabled them to begin pulling themselves up, standing alone, and raising their arms to be lifted out. They would walk around the inside when they weren't interested in the toys or books. When they were outside the playpen, they would pull themselves up and begin walking around holding onto the furniture. They became more confident and independent.
Even after the babies started walking, the playpen was a good place for timeouts, independent play, or security while we were painting walls, moving furniture, sweeping up broken glass, fixing dinner, etc. It was not too big and was easy to move around.
Unfortunately, the babies of the last two decades have not had that tool. They have been forced to use the soft-mesh-sided portable crib, which is not sturdy or stable enough for building up their arm and leg muscles.
There is nothing bad about kids not walking "early," it just seems odd to us.
I walked at 10 months, my daughter Merideth walked at 10 months, my second son Tyler walked at 11 months, and my oldest son Judson, who was blind at birth walked at 17 months. My siblings and their children all walked by the time they were a year old, but all the grandchildren are "behind" in the walking department.
What's the difference with this newest generation? The wooden playpen. This motherhood tool was invaluable to my mom's and my generations. It was the only way we could get household chores done. As soon as the baby was beginning to crawl, we would use the playpen in which went the baby and toys and sometimes a bottle. They never stayed in it for more than a half-hour at a time, but they didn't mind and often fell asleep in it. We also used it (sans toys or blankie) as a 5-minute timeout place, which worked quite well. The tantrum ended as soon as we took them out.
As the babies grew, the playpen enabled them to begin pulling themselves up, standing alone, and raising their arms to be lifted out. They would walk around the inside when they weren't interested in the toys or books. When they were outside the playpen, they would pull themselves up and begin walking around holding onto the furniture. They became more confident and independent.
Even after the babies started walking, the playpen was a good place for timeouts, independent play, or security while we were painting walls, moving furniture, sweeping up broken glass, fixing dinner, etc. It was not too big and was easy to move around.
Unfortunately, the babies of the last two decades have not had that tool. They have been forced to use the soft-mesh-sided portable crib, which is not sturdy or stable enough for building up their arm and leg muscles.
There is nothing bad about kids not walking "early," it just seems odd to us.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
I am not Dr. Spock
First of all, I am not Dr. Spock. An infrequent swat on the butt does not constitute child abuse; it is a very effective attention getter. Children are CHILDREN, not little adults. They know NOTHING, have no wisdom, and need education about life (which is NOT fair), discipline, but above all love.
I believe in children. They are my favorite people. I believe children should be allowed to BE children. Several years ago, while eating out, at a nearby table there was a mother, grandparents, and a boy around three years old. He was put into a high chair and was quiet, until he asked, "Mother, may I interrupt now?" That sent shivers down my spine. It reminded me of a four-year-old boy in Boston whose psycholgist father strapped him into his crib every night. Yes, he was still in a crib and he wasn't small. When I inquired, this jerk told me it was the only way to keep him in bed.
Children are born to be loved. How can anyone not love a precious, helpless, innocent angel? And yet, all over the world too many children are born into neglect, abuse, molestation, and hatred. It is appalling, abhorrent, and should not be acceptable to anyone, let alone nations that allow it to continue.
I believe wholeheartedly with all my being that if a mother who does not want a child, who cannot take care of a child, and who will not love a child selflessly should not have a child. If a child has two parents, one of them should stay home with the child until he/she is at least three years old. Those are the most important years of a child's life, when nuturing means EVERYTHING!
I believe in children. They are my favorite people. I believe children should be allowed to BE children. Several years ago, while eating out, at a nearby table there was a mother, grandparents, and a boy around three years old. He was put into a high chair and was quiet, until he asked, "Mother, may I interrupt now?" That sent shivers down my spine. It reminded me of a four-year-old boy in Boston whose psycholgist father strapped him into his crib every night. Yes, he was still in a crib and he wasn't small. When I inquired, this jerk told me it was the only way to keep him in bed.
Children are born to be loved. How can anyone not love a precious, helpless, innocent angel? And yet, all over the world too many children are born into neglect, abuse, molestation, and hatred. It is appalling, abhorrent, and should not be acceptable to anyone, let alone nations that allow it to continue.
I believe wholeheartedly with all my being that if a mother who does not want a child, who cannot take care of a child, and who will not love a child selflessly should not have a child. If a child has two parents, one of them should stay home with the child until he/she is at least three years old. Those are the most important years of a child's life, when nuturing means EVERYTHING!
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