How Much Is Too Much? How Little Is Too Little?

Over at Dadshouse, there has been much discussion on how much one should be involved in their teenager’s life. Where do they learn about sex and relationships? Are they learning the right things? Are they learning about how sex relates to relationships? Do they know they can come to you to discuss virtually anything? Do they know you are interested in them and care about their well being, along with the things they are interested in? All of these things are very valuable. There is no way that it is bad to make sure these things are in order. But are they necessary? How many fathers have really been involved in their children’s lives to this degree? How many mothers? Just consider the people you know who are exceptional people. People you admire with strong characters. Did they have this level of support, encouragement and involvement from their parents?

At our house, we were very involved in our children’s lives and activities (I mean ~ we homeschooled for six years! I’d say that’s pretty involved!) and in another house down the street, there was virtually no parenting going on. On any given day, you could enter that house and there would be a flurry of children getting ready for school. All the way down to the three-year-old, they were just getting their own breakfast and doing what they needed to do to get out the door. Mom was in a drunken stupor in bed. In my house, I was up and making a hot breakfast for my kids. We had a structured day and things went pretty smoothly. I talked to my kids. I was interested in what they had to say and they knew they could talk to me about anything. In the other house, the kids only had one another to talk to. And their friends. And their friends’ parents.

During this time period, our family was tending to our new litter of miniature pinscher pups. Tiny, fragile, little short-haired things. It was September in Southern California and it gets damn cold at night. So I set up a pen in the garage with a space heater blowing on them. I’m not shitting you! When they were weaning, I would heat up their food and mush it up. I kept their papers clean and let them out in the yard on nice days and just nurtured the hell out of them. Down the street ~ at the other house ~ they also had pups born at the same time. Rottweiler pups. Looked just like my pups, only bigger! Mom had been tossed in jail for public drunkenness and child endangerment and the children had been farmed out to relatives. I called the local whatever… pet place … so they could come rescue the mama rottie and her pups. Those pups and their mama had been in the back yard with no one tending to them for a week. AND THEY WERE FINE! And guess what… All of those kids… THEY ARE FINE!

What the hell? I worked so hard to take care of kids and pups and they just turn out as fine as the ones who were supposedly neglected? Ha! As parents, we are all fuck-ups, at best. We can always find "a family down the street" to compare ourselves to, but really we are all just trying to make it through the day.

Seriously, though ~ in the home where I grew up, my mother was at home with us until I was in junior high school. Dad was away a lot, because he was an Air Force Pilot. In fact, I barely remember much about him when I was younger. When I was about twelve years old, Dad retired. I started spending some time with him… talking to him and learning about him and the stuff he knows. I did NOT talk to him about me. I talked to him about him. I soaked up information like it was precious jewels. I did not talk to my parents about sex or relationships or anything like that. They told me when to be home. They provided for me and gave me room to grow. (In all fairness, though ~ I will say that my mom provided me with one important message about relationships when I was in sixth grade. She saw a boy slug me in the arm when she was picking me up. She said, “Oh, he’s doing that because he likes you!” Made NO sense to me at all!)

I can say with complete confidence that I have great parents who did a great job. They weren’t perfect and part of growing up includes accepting the fact that your parents are not perfect. They are human, just like you. (I know I just said that, but I still believe my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world and my father is the smartest man in the world.)

The real point is that there are so many ways to love your children. But if you do it with all your heart, they’ll know it. And that will matter.

Here's my Dad (far right) ~ Ya gotta click it and read the caption. And I kept Miss Kirtland on the page as eye candy for all you boyz and girlz who love the hotties!

It's Cold Out There But It's Warm In Bed

Where the hell is Global Warming when we need it?

Here ~ Read this:
Southern Sage on a Tirade

I'm gonna ask BrynLeigh what she thinks, because:

I am not young enough to know everything. ~ Oscar Wilde ~

Man... Is A Giddy Thing

What would we do without humor? I have no fucking idea.

Beatrice says:
But I beseech your Grace, pardon me;
I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.

He answers:
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for out of question, you were born in a merry hour.

Beatrice:
No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born...

Diesel, of MATTRESS POLICE
fame, is up for Best Humor Blog of the year.
If you’ve not visited his blog, it’s high time you did so! Start with this SAMPLE.

This guy is up in the top ten percent of funniest guys alive. I have been known to send out links to his posts and also to purchase and hand out copies of his book, which is a compilation of a number of his very most bestest posts. He just has a way of saying things that I just… no have way!

But all of that aside, the voting for Best Humor Blog is happening THIS week. Please click this link
and feel free to vote for any of the finalists you like, as long as it’s Diesel! And do it every day until the polls close!

Don't forget.

After all ~
He strives to please you ~
Every day.

The Land of Oz

There's no place like it.

Run... do not walk... to go see AUSTRALIA!

Love? LORD ABOVE!! Now You're Tryin' To Trick Me In Love!

SEGUE ALERT (already?)

David, your wish is my command. (Although I have no idea how someone could say that I don't post enough hot women on here!)

Now... on to my real message, prompted at the request of The Exceptional One who has been drawing participants for a theme-based trilogy at her place.

It’s unfortunate that we don’t have several English words to describe the different types of love as the Greeks do. And even then, it’s hard to really put your finger on exactly what THOSE words mean. Since I don’t speak Greek, I am hardly an expert. But here’s my too brief summary:

1. Storge ~ It means “affection” in modern Greek. This is natural affection, such as that experienced by parents for their children.
2. Agape ~ This is the modern day Greek word for love in the sense of general affection felt for those you especially esteem. It’s a big love. The kind that gives that warm, surrounding feeling of comfort.
3. Philia ~ This is clean, friendly love. The type of love that loyalty springs from. It promotes equality and unity.
4. Eros ~ Passionate love. This is the love of most especial appreciation. The love of beautiful things. The things that make us stir inside. For most of us, this is our favorite. Only because it can be so strong at times. But so can the others. And not one of these types of love is more valuable than the others.

This thing ~ LOVE ~ is really all that matters. It’s really what we are all spinning our wheels looking for. Even though it’s actually all around us. (Man! I love that movie!)

And if love were something to find then there are a number of us who certainly should have found it! The fact that the seekers have not found is not for lack of trying.

But I’m afraid I must call this sort of seeking to be living chiefly from the ego.

Clarissa Pinkola-Estes says:
"Three things distinguish living from the soul versus living from the ego only. They are: the ability to sense and learn new ways, the tenacity to ride a rough road and the patience to learn deep love over time." ~ Women Who Run with the Wolves

Learning deep love. Whatever does that mean? Well, anything with the word “deep” in it, is nothing to take lightly. Or shallowly. :)

But even on the shallow level, I think we could safely say that love is something to learn.

Clarissa speaks in her book about the traps we find ourselves stumbling into. Some of these traps were haplessly laid by our own selves. We can spend years caught in them. And even when we get out of them, we are so comfortable with their snares, we stumble into them yet again and again. We look for them! We want them!

But there comes a time when you must draw into yourself. Recover your soul. Remember yourself. Own your own heart. And even there, you can find the comfortable trap. The temptation to stay there becomes strong. But that is where we stop feeding the soul, and start feeding the ego. The light must be sent out again in order for it to remain a living thing.

If only love were a static and tangible thing. I could find it, wrap it up, put a bow on it and set it on the shelf. When I find myself needing it, I could go to the shelf and take hold of it. Turn it around in my hands. Trace it with my fingers. And when I think I’ve had enough, I could put it back where it would wait for me to come another day.

This is what I think we often do with one another. We want love to live inside of the box of another human. And then we want that human to sit right where we left them. All pretty with a bow on them.

But love is not like this. It won’t live in a box. It requires nurturing attention. And just when we think we know the kind of attention it needs, it changes!

Love is a task of patience. The patience to learn deep love over time. And where does patience come from? The ability to sense and learn new ways and the tenacity to ride a rough road.

I hate it when she’s right.

See the posts on Skeleton Woman and Skeleton Woman Defined
for more of my feeble attempts at relating Clarissa’s genius of a mind.

And this ~ from Bernie (song available on my playlist at the sidebar):

Baby you're missing something in the air
I got a name but it don't matter
What's going on, it's cold in here
You have a life but it's torn and tattered
Maybe you're losing pieces of your heart
You have a world but it stopped turning
You lose the day and gain the dark
Love was a fire but it stopped burning
Spare your heart, save your soul
Don't drag your love across the coals
Find your feet and your fortune can be told
Release, relax, let go
And hey now let's recover your soul
Lazy old sunset sinking like a tear
Alone at night in a losing battle
That perfect world is never clear
You have to fight for the things that matter

A Wretch Like Me

I spent a number of years studying men. So I could understand them. Or rather, understand one. I also spent those years studying women. You know… so I could understand them. Or rather, understand me! (I'm not kidding.)

You know what I figured out? Men and women alike… we’re just people struggling to understand our place in the world. We’re rather egocentric, at heart. We say we want someone to share our lives with, but what we really want is someone to fill up those empty places we feel inside. I once heard a very astute counselor say that most often when a woman and a man say those vows about how they intend to be the thing that is the thing and blah blah blah (okay, he wasn’t so cynical, but still…) what they really mean is that they will let that other person make up for what is lacking in their lives. So it’s like a tick on a dog. But what you wind up with is two ticks………………………………………………………………… and no dog.

I hear men say, “Well, women must understand that men are THIS way or THAT way.” And I hear women say, “Oh, but women are THIS way or THAT way!” Really? So there is no level of intelligence in the human creature? No measure of overcoming our natures? And have you ever seen a laddie or a lassie... go THIS way or THAT? ;)

Fuckin’ hell. If that’s the way it is, then I’m outta here.

Man says he can’t help himself from being a fucker. (In the literal sense.) Woman says she can’t help herself from being a bitch. (Also in the literal sense.)

Of course you can help yourself! Stop that shit!

Anyway… whatever.

On the lightest of notes, let’s leave all of that bullshit (er… horseshit…) behind and look at something that matters.

Baby, It's Cold Outside!

Went to Utah last week to visit my WHOLE family. Erin flew in, Brady drove in (bringing a friend and baby Lexi!) and so I got to see them all. Well, except for my youngest grandchild. There are hindrances there. But here is a picture of him a couple of weeks before when he was visiting me mum (his great-grandmum).

Had a great time, and here are some pictures!
This is BrynLeigh on the same swing at the same age as Lexi above.


Also, in our world, cats are part of family. So here is the newest addition, Thor (JP's baby). And the lovely silhouette is Fritz, Becky Jo's cat.

Beggars Would Ride

I’ve been pondering this subject for a couple of weeks. I get calls from friends who feel alone. Especially if they are divorced. Oh wait. I mean, especially if they are married. No wait… I mean, especially if they are single.

FUCK! I guess I get calls from people who feel alone ~ especially if they are humans!

We all want someone to be there when we need… well… someone. We want that special someone. The one who we know cares about us more than anyone else in the world does. In my experience, the people I have generally found this to be true about have been my family and friends. They know me. They love me. Just as I am. And when I struggle, they are ALWAYS there for me.

Well except when they are not.

I come from a strong family background, with a strong belief that you just take care of family. That’s the rule. I also have a handful of very good friends. The type who believe you just take care of friends. That’s the rule.

So I always know that’s there. And there is certainly much to be said for that kind of security.

But what about intimacy? That great horse of an entirely different color. We are born with a place inside of us that yearns for that special one who will make everything matter more, will make every fire burn brighter, and will make every jagged pill easier to swallow.

Sometimes, as David at Dadshouse
mentioned this week, we just want a hug. We get busy. Time and responsibilities tie us down. We’re strong and independent individuals who just do the next thing without blinking. And from time to time, we want to collapse under the weight of it. We want someone there to catch us, or hold us, or just tell us they’ll take the mental reins for five minutes while we snuggle up to their warmth.

But strangely it seems, at those times, no one is there. Why is that? Where does everyone go? Family, friends, fuck buddies ~ all hidden from view. You could have two people in your support group, or two hundred. But those moments just happen when not one of them is available.

It’s a fact of life. We’re in this alone. Regardless of our situation. Yes, it happens less often if we have maintained a strong support group. David makes a comment that single parents have drawn the short straw in this sense. As married people, they lost contact with the huggers they knew as single people, and don’t have the free time to recreate a new store of huggers for those days. I’m going to call horseshit on this one. First off, single parents have the same 24 hours a day that everyone else in the world has. So you can develop friendships, but you have to make a concerted effort to do that. Relationships take work. And if you’ve done the work, then you have them. Secondly, as I said, regardless of how many of these relationships you have, people don’t just hang around in the woodwork waiting to hand out appreciative, heartfelt hugs.

So some of us are hardworking single parents who just want a minute to be weak. Some of us are stay-at-home moms who just want a break from the hectic life where everyone wants something from us so we can get something back. Some of us are single with no imminent partner on the horizon and we want some hope that someday that partner will show up. Some of us are in relationships, but apart from our loved one for one reason or another. We can’t go get an intimate hug from someone else, so we just have to make it through the yearning.

In the end, we find ourselves pleasantly surprised when a stranger tells us we look fantastic. When a cashier lingers long in handing us our change. When a little child gives us the simple gift of whatever precious thing is in their hand at the moment. Or when one of our grown children calls to say something unexpected and very timely like, “Mom, I just called to say that you are the most amazing person I know!”

We muddle through those alone times. They happen to everyone. And they make us strong. We wish there were another way to become strong. But if wishes were horses…

Am I My Brother's Keeper?

It’s hard to address a subject like this one. Worldwide, there are people who have coupled with someone they are displeased with for one reason or another. Yes, we adore one another during the whirlwind romance. We rip each others clothes off whilst in the throes of passion. And then domestic life settles in. We eat more than we should. Laze around on weekends more than we should. We drink too much, eat too much rich (and yummy) food. But when you choose a partner, you choose them for who they are and who they aren’t. The scary thing is that you probably have only a tiny inkling of who they are. It's a foundational lesson to grasp that when you are in a relationship, this does not give you the right to decide how the other person should be. If you have chosen someone who doesn’t suit you, that is your own damn fault. So my first advice would be to take great care in making a lifelong commitment with someone!

But apart from this, I think we need to seriously consider what we see as “acceptable” and “desirable” in a person. We happen to live in a society that worships physical beauty and doesn’t value the real and true things about a person. We compare our mates to others. We compare ourselves to others! In fact, I think this is the real root of the problem. A person who is constantly critical of their mate is likely overly critical of themselves. And they are fucking pissed off that their mate is comfortable with their flaws! "How dare they! I walk in misery, constantly striving for unattainable perfection, and they just lie there sleeping well through the night? Why aren’t they up, trying to improve themselves?" It’s a sick world, I tell you.

The fact is that if you have a healthy love for self, you are on the right track. First, you must be a good mate in order to find a good mate. Then, you must be reasonable about the person you choose to spend time with. And why you choose them. If you like spending time with one another, sharing mutual respect and consideration, that’s the large part of it. Of course, there needs to be attraction... chemistry. But chemistry is unreliable. It can’t be depended on to last through the years because it involves too many variables. And things change. We change. We all do. This is not a bad thing. I once heard that a woman marries a man expecting him to change and a man marries a woman expecting her not to. And they are both doomed to disappointment. So, let's just try not being a dumbass about it. Mind your own body. It's the only one that belongs to you.

A Person's A Person, No Matter How Small

And So It Goes...

Yes, it was Becky Jo's birthday this last weekend. She turned twenty. You may recall Becky Jo from a few posts ago in a Christmas video. She's such a sweetie pie. Here is a picture of her doing her part in carrying the weight of the world.Becky has always been a pleasure to know. She's just one of those people who brightens up a room and leaves it a little darker when she exits. She and my son, Brady, have always been close friends. Here is a picture of them together from a few years ago. They've both gotten older, but I think the difference in height is still the same. Hee hee.



Which leads me to the introduction of BRADY'S OWN BLOG! Yes, my friends... my son has entered the blogosphere and I would like to invite each and every one of you to visit his new space. Give a little hello and visit often. I think you'll be glad you did!

Nice Guys Finish Last?

Recently, one of my baby mamas broke my youngest son's heart. She told him she was no longer in love with him. This has been no fun. At any rate, they have split now, but he still spends daily time with his most precious darling baby girl, Alexa Jade.

Brady has been posting at his myspace blog and I asked for permission to post some of his quotes here.

He has this to say about this hard time:

Thank Heaven for Little Girls

... you gotta try and stay positive because life will go on remember? Fortunately, I have my daughter around to help me. She doesn't really know it but I talk to her for hours while she sleeps. It's kinda my therapy. But there's also when she's awake, we hang out and play and that's where the real magic happens. She reminds me of all the good things in this world, the reasons to be thankful you're alive and breathing, to be thankful for hugs and kisses and laughter. So it's getting better with time.

But this one especially touched me:

Nice Guys Finish Last

It always seems like no matter how kind you can be in life, people still screw you over without even thinking about it. But you know what, when I'm dead and gone I want people to remember who I was as a person. How giving I was, how thoughtful I was, how much I cared, how forgiving I was and overall I want people to think of me as an amazing person. Now I'm not saying that everyone will think that because I'm not the best person out there, but I am the best I can be. So people who are ass holes in this world might seem to get ahead in life. They get the girl, the job, the car. But to me all that means nothin. What really matters is the impact you have on people's lives. So my saying is "nice guys finish last...but they have the greatest endings." Personally, I would rather have that being said about me than the so called "achievements" I had in life by walking all over people. Life's not about how far you get but the impact you leave on the people you were around throughout your life.

All The Pretty Kitties

This is Amy.

She is my little "Juno" friend from the earlier post about teen pregnancy. She sent me an email and I asked if she minded if I shared it with y'all. She said she would be honored. Amy is now 22 years old. Her daughter, Abby (pictured here) is six.

Teri~

My Mamma Kitty. I just read your blog Where Have All The Young Girls Gone. I think it's really cool that you mention me in it.

It was all you that helped me make my decision. I never felt pressured or judged by you. You gave me all options and supported me with whatever I decided. (like any mother should). I remember the day you came to my rescue like it was yesterday. My mother and Suzanne kidnapped me taking me to Park City to talk me out of getting an abortion. I felt horrible having to tell my mother that I was pregnant. You, with no questions asked drove up to Park City and took me out to dinner. Told me your story of getting pregnant young and how you felt and your fears. It is the greatest feeling in the world when you (a parent) opened up to your child and tell all because you have been there too. You made me feel so much better, so calm. I knew then what I wanted to do. That night you gave me a necklace, of a gold heart. It was your heart, it symbolized how much you loved me and how you would always be there for me. I wore it for years and still have it. Everytime I see it, I think of that night and how much you saved me.

I loved the movie Juno but for at least a week I was a little off. It was all too real for me and when I saw it, I had Abby with me so that made it even more off-putting. It was weird looking at Juno being 16 and pregnant and saying to myself look how young she looks. And then saying to myself oh my gosh, I looked that young. Watching Juno go get the abortion and backing out. Telling her parents.... Then the process of adopting the child out. In the end when everything starts going wrong and she breaks down and cries. I could feel that same ache in my heart it was so strong. Your heart hurts so bad and you feel it breaking and tearing apart. From that moment on you would never be the same.

I love you Mamma Kitty thank you for being such a gift in my life.

Love Amy

Where Have All The Young Girls Gone?

When I was twenty, I became pregnant. Impregnated. With child. This also happened when I was eighteen. I had decided that time to have an abortion, but miscarried before I had to consider it seriously. This time, there was nothing to consider. I was going to have a baby. I thought no further than that. There was no fear. No anxiety or trepidation of any kind. I was at complete peace.

It was simply not bad news to me. I have no idea why. I barely even liked children. In fact, when I walked by children playing, I would shudder. I’m not kidding. I hated babysitting children when I was younger. I had no desire to have a family. No desire to even have a husband. I didn’t really have any plans, but my desire for my life was basically to have a job, a car, an apartment, and lots of freedom!

So why wasn’t this bad news? Again, no fucking idea.

The ONLY bad part was that I would have to tell my parents. My parents would DIE. I was sure of it. They didn’t have any specific plans for me, but as parents, they certainly knew that having a child would set a tone for my future that would probably make for a great hindrance.

From the moment that child was born, my life was changed. That instant. That terrible and hard delivery brought forth a child that created a force in me that has not stopped stirring since.

The delivery was so exhausting, and I had been so ill with toxemia, that the nurses couldn’t even hand him to me. They had to set him on a stand next to me. I feebly reached out my hand to hold his and the energy of that touch was the greatest thing I had ever felt. I was nearly twenty-one. And that will be twenty-seven years ago this July 10.

He is my first born son. And he is amazing. He changed my life. And I have never once… not for one moment… thought of him as a hindrance to anything. Quite the opposite, in fact.

I have a close friend whose daughter became pregnant at sixteen. She was struggling with whether or not to get an abortion. She asked me what I would do if I were her. I said, “You know what I did when I was you!” But I went on to tell her plainly that there is nothing in the world as wonderful as rocking your baby. Nothing as amazing as watching her become a young lady and get ready for her first prom. And nothing as horrifying as finding out she was killed in a car accident that night. I told her there was no one who could tell her what to do, because these were things she herself was going to have to choose, and she herself would have to live through. That whatever she decided to do, I would support her in her decision. She spent a good month talking with friends and relatives about her options. She chose adoption.

The movie JUNO brought all of this back to mind. Very emotional for me to watch. The thing that happened to my little friend was almost identical to what happened with Juno. The people backed out, six weeks before the baby was due. She was devastated. She would not even attempt to try to find another family she felt she could trust to deserve her precious gift. So she decided to keep the little one. And precious she is. Adored by so many.

When my youngest son, at eighteen, told me his girlfriend was pregnant, how could I respond with anything but supportiveness? That baby has changed his life.

All of these children changed lives. And will continue to do so.

Does this mean I encourage teenage pregnancy? That I think the pact that the girls in the news made to have babies en masse is a good idea? Of course not. In fact, if you sat down and talked with me, you would soon discover that I do not encourage pregnancy for anyone at all! I still am not of a mind that everyone should have babies. That every woman should think of herself as incomplete until she’s a mother. That every man should think himself incomplete until he has a family. What wretchedness that sort of thinking brings. I’ve watched people fall to pieces in agony, just hoping for offspring. Children do not complete us. They are the manifestation of creative energy. They are the continuance of life. The outpouring of spirit.

And they are themselves. Not an extension of us.

When Is The Last Time You Felt Like This?

My niece, Becky Jo, has the sweetest boyfriend in the world. For Christmas, he gave her an ipod, with this home-made video loaded onto it. Along with a note that said, "press play."


Honest to God... as it was passed around for all to see, every woman in the family was brought to tears.

And here is another of their shorts that I watch whenever I am down and really need to laugh. That girl has the most contagious laughter! She'll soon be twenty. And I can't believe that I get to be her auntie!