At the risk of being classified by my kids as totally uncool and not with the times…yet again…
I decided to come out of the closet and admit…that I did not vote to legalize pot in California in the last election. Surprised? Me TOO, actually! I’m pretty liberal and I also am a firm believer that people should take responsibility for their own actions and health.
But with my kids still under 21, my little “momism warning antennae” went up, I guess…the idea of sending the message that “pot is ok” to young teens just seemed wrong…what do you think?
Years ago, in my continuing quest to figure out parenting, I actually took a 6 week-long parenting coursefrom an organization called, the “Parent Project”. It was a great program, and if you are having issues with pre-teens or teens, especially related to behavior and attitude, I promise you that you will get at least one extremely helpful thing out of it. After taking the course, I wrote the following poem, which uses some of the terminology specific to the class…but you’ll get the idea…(and no, I still haven’t figured parenting out and probably never will…)
Why are today’s young adults so focused on, “new and improved”? My youngest son just returned home from college for the summer, and I couldn’t believe how many things came home dirty and seemingly broken…a fan, a toaster oven, umbrella, flashlight and more. Even more disturbing was that his attitude seemed to be, just throw it out and start new in the Fall! Hey bud…I grew up with parents who lived through the Depression…and come on, don’t my kids know me by now? I don’t replace something that I can easily repair. I am a re-use kind of gal…but more and more I find I am living in a disposable world…
Linguistics experts will provide one explanation relating to the origins of the word, “menopause”. Their root analysis will have to do with the “end of fertility in a woman” or something equally simplistic. Those linguistics experts must all be men. There is nothing simplistic about the menopausal experience, and I am 100% convinced that the term, “menopause”, really originated from the root term, “Men Pause”… because that is what they do when confronted with their wife (or significant other’s) symptoms…
What do you think?
I’m sure there are a few men out there who actually do have the capacity to sympathize with the middle-aged women in their lives… perhaps running to turn on the air conditioner or providing a cold glass of water at just the right moment.
My husband wasn’t one of them.
His approach in life is more, “What you don’t acknowledge doesn’t really exist, right?” So I could flash away and he wouldn’t flinch. Ever.
Some of my menopausal friends, though, have husbands who really seem to WANT to help or understand, maybe even engage with them when they are “experiencing symptoms”. But something usually stops them from being successful in their intent, because they PAUSE in their tracks. Is it that they fundamentally don’t know WHAT to do? Or is it something more? Is there something just taboo about a man trying to relate to a female issue involving blood, hormones and sexual reproductive organs?
Lately I have been going to a lot of funerals, most are friends’ parents…guess that is to be expected, our parents are definitely at that age…but what is weird to me is that funerals have become the only opportunity some of my friends – especially the out-of-towners – and I seem to have for a “social gathering” these days. Are we really that busy? Or is it just that we are currently stuck in that phase of our “social cycle”?
College Partying → Dining Out With Friends → Careers → The Weddings Begin → Baby Showers → The Second Weddings Begin → The Great Void (Due to Parenthood? Or Becoming the Caregiver of a Parent?) →Parents’ Funerals → Children’s Weddings → Children’s Babies (Grand-kids!) → Friends’ Funerals → Your Own Funeral
I remember the day I lost my cyberspace virginity…do you remember your first time?
Flashback…I had first thought my co-worker had been talking about someone cool that she was hanging out with named “Earl”… She had said something about how she had got to him. It wasn’t until much later that I learned that Earl was not a he, but was an address, a place in cyberspace, and was spelled “U-R-L.”
You see, I was a cyberspace virgin at the time…oh, I had a PC, mind you…but my world had been limited to a hard drive. I still remember that first time…that first involvement with Earl. That first website access: a confusing series of letters, names, punctuation and slashes.
I remember how hard it was for me to remember which slash was which (forward or backward)…position definitely did matter in Earl’s world.
A few years ago I finally signed up for a Facebook accountafter several friends who post their photos online sent me requests to “JOIN!” I felt a bit strong-armed into it, but when I received yet another friend’s, “Either sign up or never see me or my photos again…” (Well, they really didn’t say that exactly), I finally relented and signed up. It only took about a week for me to realize that Facebook might just be some evil sociologist’s grand social etiquette experiment…it is just so prone to social “collisions”…read on.
We’re Friends, Yet Worlds Apart: Contrary Political and/or Religions Beliefs:
Ever Wonder How You Are Friends with So Many People Who Wouldn’t be Friends with Each Other?
It didn’t take me long to regret a Facebook post; because it didn’t take me long to realize that my friends and family on FB were a very diverse collection of folks, especially relating to political and religious views. My friends list consisted of conservatives and liberals, atheists and strict fundamentalists, and everything in between.
I had decided to post a video of a gay-rights speech that a friend of mine had posted on his wall. I thought it was very powerful, moving and right on target so I immediately wanted to “share” it on my own FB wall. It echoed my strong beliefs on the subject, so I ventured out of my privacy zone and posted it. Just like that. Easy…and isn’t that what FB is all about, sharing your life and thoughts with people in your life?
How many of you out there love “Sex and the City”?Well, it’s my favorite show of all time. The other day I saw the episode (again) where Carrie helps get a stuck diaphragm literally “out of” Samantha. Carrie takes a stiff drink and “goes in” to help…
I am proud to say that I have friends who would do that for me.
I am even prouder to say I have never required them to do so.
Forever friends are never obsolete
Lifetime friends. I have many…not a singular core group like in Sex and the City, but unbelievably good friends who I have discovered at different times and in a variety of interest areas of my life.
Some are from my childhood, others are from my wilder college and young single’s days, still others I met early on in my soccer mom transformation; becoming friends while hauling strangers’ kids to yet another field trip and meeting up at fundraising events.
They are actually an incredibly varied group from all walks of life. I trust them. I love them. I laugh with them (and sometimes, at them, as only a great friend can). And there is a huge comfort in knowing they are out there, at the other end of a text message, always willing to be supportive or make just the right joke for a particular crisis or situation.
Technology has evolved dramaticallysince I was in school. My sons have both gone off to college in the past few years…such a mind-trip for me to realize how different their college experience is from a technology and societal perspective. The Internet didn’t exist back then, nor were there Starbucks. No smart phones, either. Back then, the “smarts” were seemingly in the people, not the phones. I actually remember having to memorize all of my friends’ telephone numbers or having to write them down in a telephone directory. Really. And no, the dinosaurs weren’t still roaming…it just may seem like it to today’s kids.
Obsoleted Soccer Moms lived back in tough times, where the “Smarts” were built into people, not devices! (acknowledgement to wronghands1.worpress.com for graphic)
I was reflecting on what a different experience kids have nowadays in college. Keep in mind I was in college in the late 70’s, graduating in 1980.
We didn’t have personal computers back then. I know, hard to believe. If you were nerdy enough to have anything to do with a computer, you were creating punch-cards for the mainframe on campus. And a laptop was simply that…the top of someone’s lap.
We didn’t have cell phones back then. Nor did anyone ever offer anything called wireless access. So if you had told me you had a “hot spot”, I would have kept my distance and suggested you go to the doctor…We didn’t have anything wireless. And besides, there weren’t any Starbucks back then, so there really wasn’t a place to hang out to use the wireless access (that we didn’t have) for the laptops (that didn’t exist) anyway.
The Virtual You. An interesting concept. You die, and leave the bread crumbs of your life in so many places on the Internet….what will happen to those floating remnants of you, when you’re gone?
Your Virtual DNA in the Internet Cloud
I was desperately looking around for an online password earlier today…you know how that goes, you have some scheme whereby you cleverly document all of those pesky passwords, something accessible yet a bit out of the way so midnight ninjas won’t come in and steal them.
I have a folder in a file drawer (oops, now I’ll have to move it elsewhere I guess) that I use for mine. It started out as an organized list, with only a few entries…but fast became a folder full of little sticky notes that provided usernames and passwords to every imaginable site.
Signing up for an account always seems necessary at the time. “Sign up or we won’t help you”, basically…so I do. Today, I counted about 120 sites referenced in my folder. 120 sites that contain the “virtual me”. I don’t use most of them now, but my virtual DNA is still there, sitting in some company’s database up in the internet cloud…and one wonders what info is tagged to that “me” out there…birth-date, maybe a credit card number, some purchase preferences…oh, I shudder to think of it.