I Know You Are, But What Am I?

Non-related visual content: Summer has definitely arrived at the Winkel-Briggs casita. Oliver dove into the strawberry patch and came up with this handful. Brahm is enjoying the first watermelon of the season. It was soooo tasty...

So, I'm posting an email I sent out to some friends asking for help (I've edited the original for brevity sake) along with snippets of the responses I got. I've been surprised at the variance in advice, all of which has been heart-felt and very much appreciated.

"My kids have taken to playing baseball at the park with the neighborhood boys. It’s come to my attention that some of the boys will curs[e] at them, call them mean names and sham[e] them about their performance (they’re pretty new to baseball). The Mama Bear in me wants to go out and pulverize them, of course, but the wiser part of me sees this as a learning opportunity for my kids. We have talked about it at the dinner table with validating phrases like, “I get upset when people are mean to me and call me names, too,” but in the end I would like to offer them more specific tools to defend themselves (i.e., things they can say back or do in response) so they don’t end up feeling walked on... or retaliate with more of the same. I also don’t want to bar them from participating because, among other reasons, it’s a great chance for them to acquire skills that will help them navigate in [difficult] social situations for the rest of their lives.... If all else fails, I guess I’ve got Brooks’ 4th grade BB gun in the attic."

OK, still Jenny here. I want to add a couple of things for clarification:

1) They played only twice with those kids and experienced the bullying both times.

2) I don't compel my boys to play in the name of "getting back on the horse" - I asked them the second time if they wanted to go out and they went without hesitation.

3) Most of the kids are older than Brahm and all are older than Oliver. Only two of the five boys would I consider to be their friends.

The responses is as follows:

• "I guess the only advice that I have is attitude.  Teaching your kids that how they handle something hard with the way they shift their attitude about it. We have experiences in our life when our brain and most likely other people are telling us that we are not good enough and that we can't handle it, but with a positive I can do anything I set out to do attitude anything is possible. You might not be the first or the best but you are the best that you can be and that is the most important thing."

• "That is out of my league. And here I thought magic marker in the carpet was a big deal. Good luck."

• "I was made fun of a lot as a kid, mostly for the way that I looked, and not my lousy sports ability and my parents told me that I ought to defend myself.  It took a few tries but eventually I was always able to come up with some quick-witted remark.  I really think the best way to go when you're lousy at something, like sports or dancing, is to teach your kids to find some humor in it.  Tell them it's great that they keep trying and express that if they really can't stand it, that it's okay to stop."

• "I think kids model other kids' behavior if they hang around it too long.  I think the mama bear instinct is there for a reason and shouldn't be ignored.  I'm sure it's not wise to step in every time your kid is faced with life's bullies, but it sounds like you're allowing them consistent exposure to kids' whose behavior is detrimental.... Protect your kids, Jenny. Teach them that they can have a good time without bullies and to avoid those kinds of people."

• "You might want to go supervise, and make sure they all behave reasonably.  Hard to imagine they’d get away with this stuff with adults present.... I suspect having a parent-referee present could do wonders with behavior that is unacceptable more than throwing your boys to the wolves.  And maybe some quiet lessons on the side, so they are better qualified to join in wouldn’t hurt things.
  
  Too, I worry that you are telling your boys that abuse is fine as long as the end result is desirable.  Playing sports and fitting in... are all good things, but hard to imagine that knowing when to walk away when someone is not behaving well toward you doesn’t trump all those.... I’m leaning toward...“Why put up with this, exactly?”

So, dear readers, if you have additional wisdom you would like to share (whether you know me or not), I welcome it. I will follow up in a couple of weeks.

Here's Some Incendiary Content for Ya

One thing you may not know about me is that I come from a very politically conservative background. I know, I know - I reek of liberal but the truth is I am neither here nor there when it comes to politics. I'm not a Republican but I'm not a Democrat either. In fact, I purposefully avoid politics on this blog for a reason: it alienates people and frankly, I'm a lover, not a fighter.

Weeeell, OK. I'm a fighter. Disguised as a lover. And that is why I am posting en email exchange that circulated through my family (as in parents, siblings and spouses) today.

It may surprise you to know that for as conservatively as my siblings and I were raised, a good half or more of us have turned out to have a definite liberal leaning. This makes for some "lively" exchange. We know better than to bring up controversial topics over Thanksgiving dinner. In fact, we rarely, if ever, discuss them in person at all. I guess that's why the email exchange has become so popular: safety via distance. And it's my mother - a woman who all my life I assumed was non-confrontational and socially accommodating - who has assumed the role of instigator! In the past couple of years she has become very politically involved and this, on top of her lifelong devotion to her religion, has sparked more than one round of cyber-debate amongst the rest of us. It didn't take me long before I started to routinely delete her emails from my inbox (sorry, Mom, but I do) when they hint of religious content, Glen Beck or both. I'm simply triggered way too easily and end up dumping too many hours of my time into a response then needing the rest of the week to diffuse and recover. The last time I engaged was a couple years ago on a round of Prop 8 arguments but have been pretty restrained since then.

Until tonight.

I made the mistake of opening the following email she forwarded:

LET ME SEE IF I GOT THIS RIGHT
IF YOU CROSS THE NORTH KOREAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU GET 12 YEARS HARD LABOR.

IF YOU CROSS THE IRANIAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU ARE DETAINED INDEFINITELY.

IF YOU CROSS THE AFGHAN BORDER ILLEGALLY, YOU GET SHOT.

IF YOU CROSS THE SAUDI ARABIAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU WILL BE JAILED.

IF YOU CROSS THE CHINESE BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU MAY NEVER BE HEARD FROM AGAIN.

IF YOU CROSS THE VENEZUELAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU WILL BE BRANDED A SPY AND YOUR FATE WILL BE SEALED.

IF YOU CROSS THE CUBAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU WILL BE THROWN INTO POLITICAL PRISON TO ROT.

And if you cross the Mexican border illegally you get fined and jailed!

IF YOU CROSS THE U.S. BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU GET:

1 - A JOB,

2 - A DRIVERS LICENSE,

3 - SOCIAL SECURITY CARD,

4 - WELFARE,

5 - FOOD STAMPS,

6 - CREDIT CARDS,

7 - SUBSIDIZED RENT OR A LOAN TO BUY A HOUSE,

8 - FREE EDUCATION,

9 - FREE HEALTH CARE,

10 - A LOBBYIST IN WASHINGTON

11 - BILLIONS OF DOLLARS WORTH OF PUBLIC DOCUMENTS PRINTED IN YOUR LANGUAGE

12 - AND THE RIGHT TO CARRY YOUR COUNTRY S FLAG WHILE YOU PROTEST THAT YOU DON T GET ENOUGH RESPECT IN OUR COUNTRY

I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE I HAD A FIRM GRASP OF THE SITUATION

For the record, I have not come up with an official position on illegal immigration reform. This issue is just far too complex and way too emotionally charged for me to achieve any sort of clarity. Furthermore, there are sound arguments on both sides. What really triggered me here is - well, several things - but mainly the overemphasized sense of entitlement that the author simply reeks of. The older I get, the more I am confronted with the simple truth that there but for the grace of God go I.

And that is why I emailed back the following reply. But before I post it, I acknowledge that I am guilty of the very same crime as the author of the above-posted tortoise caca: my counter-argument is an emotional appeal and way over-simplifies the case, thus doing both sides a disservice. Having said that, I'm human.

OK, I guess that's it.

No, there's one more thing. Isn't there always a little more room for love and compassion for our fellow man, whoever they are? And isn't there enough in our land-of-plenty (yes, even the very land we stole from the original inhabitants) to go around?

OK, now I'm done. My reply:

IF YOU CROSS THE U.S. BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU GET:

1 – SHOT AT/ KILLED WHILE CROSSING. OR MAYBE YOU DIE IN THE FALSE BOTTOM OF A SMUGGLER'S TRUCK BEFORE YOU EVEN MAKE IT TO THE BORDER

2 – A BUNK IN AN OVERCROWDED, SQUALLID MIGRANT CAMP

3 – TO PAY FOR COLLEGE BUT DON’T GET A DIPLOMA

4 –  TO LIVE IN CONSTANT FEAR OF BEING APPREHENDED AND INCARCERATED

5 – OVERWORKED AND UNDERPAID FOR A JOB AN AMERICAN WOULD SCOFF AT

6 – INDEFINITELY SEPARATED FROM YOUR SPOUSE AND CHILDREN

7 – THROWN INTO A CULTURE THAT IS NOT YOUR OWN AND MUST LEARN A LANGUAGE NOT YOUR OWN

8 – TO SUPPORT AN ECONOMY THAT WOULD FAIL WITHOUT YOU

9 – EXPLOITED, DISCRIMINATED AGAINST AND LOOKED DOWN UPON

10 – RACIALLY PROFILED AND HARRASSED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT

11 – TO LIVE AMONG A POPULATION WITH AN EXAGGERATED SENSE OF ENTITLEMENT, MAYBE EVEN CLEAN THEIR MCMANSIONS IF YOU’RE LUCKY

         12 – TO RISK, EMBRACE, AND ENDURE  ALL OF THIS BECAUSE IT IS BETTER THAN THE               POVERTY AND SYSTEMIC CORRUPTION OF THE COUNTRY YOU CAME FROM
 


JENNY


PS PERHAPS NORTH KOREA, IRAN, AFGHANISTAN, SAUDI ARABIA, CHINA, AND VENEZUELA ARE CURRENTLY ACCEPTING APPLICATIONS FOR CITIZENSHIP

Confessions of a Bad Mom

No, this isn't the mom nor the confession. This is the non-related photo interest for this entry. It's a picture Brooks took on his morning commute. It appears to be a woman painting her toenails on the train. Beyond that, we'd have to ask Brooks who it is and why he took it. Or better yet, you can post a comment with your own caption of what's going on here. A free round trip ticket to the person with the most original reply.

OK, so go ahead and disregard that other post about coming around as a mother, blah, blah, blah. This parentis is still incompetis. I think making your kid cry definitely qualifies for that category.

Take Wednesday, for example. I know that a huge trigger for me is operating under the pressure of being on time. It's practically an emotional outburst waiting to happen. I take precautions: meditate (then medicate) for twenty minutes before everyone else wakes up, recruit Brooks' support by delegating morning tasks he is willing to perform, and having the boys create a check list of things they need to do in order to get themselves ready for school.

I also realize that I am the only one that cares. Well, they realize it, too, and they do their best to support me in my punctuality but in the end it's really only my own little sef-imposed deadline. I know the world will not end if we're not in the car at 7:46 am. The world might not end, but I might get a little crazy.

Like Wednesday morning. We're out the door on time (phew!) but then I realize I left my cell phone in my office so I give Oliver the keys and say to both boys, "Please go unlock the car and get buckled in. I'll be out in a few seconds."

Believing that they will do this is my second mistake (believing in the punctuality myth is the first). As I rush back out the door, I'm caught off guard by the sight of Brahm scaling up a ladder to get on to the garage roof while Oliver is disappearing into the garage to fetch him a shovel. A shovel?! I ask you, what is a nine-year-old going to do with a shovel on the roof a garage at 7:51 in the morning and why is his little brother aiding and abetting him in this logic-defying pursuit? And so I posed the same question to them, only phrased slightly different.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Look, I am the first to admit that that phrase is unlikely to be found in any child-rearing manual in the top ten ways of addressing a child (if you 1-want him to listen or 2-love you back) and yet, there it was. As mild as that is compared to other phrases I have uttered in my lifetime, I do admit that I was surprised to hear me say it. In fact, I don't recall ever having said it to either of my boys before (out loud anyway).

Sigh.

So that's what made Brahm cry. I think Oliver was over it in about 3.4 seconds but Brahm put his head down the whole way to school and couldn't look at me for all the disgust he felt at a parent who should know better but doesn't. "You swore, Mom!" And here I was patting myself on the back for blurting out that word instead of all the others at my disposal. Significant, if you think about it, since that's probably where I'll be going for saying it.

Quote of the Day

From a friend of a friend: "I asked for divine intervention and turns out all I needed was a sandwich and a nap."

Roasted Artichokes and Cici Beans

I'm always looking for ways to incorporate more vegetables into my diet, especially since I have fallen into a rut of serving up a steamed green of some sort along side the main course of dinner. I came across this today in the Delicious Living magazine and posted their online version below. It didn't included the photo (which is the best part!) so I scanned the one in the magazine. I made it for lunch and give it five stars because 1) it's very yummy, 2) has a tasty variety of veggies 3) good fiber and nutrition content, and 4) it can be eaten as a side dish (next to a grilled mahi mahi steak is what sounds good to me) or as a one-dish meal, especially if you are a vegan or vegetarian. Click here for more vegetarian recipes like this: http://deliciouslivingmag.com/food/recipes/vegan/3-30-vegan-feast/index.html

Note: I used canned artichokes and bottled tomatoes in the place of fresh and it turned out great. Also, I bet this would work great in a crock pot.

Serves 6 / Ingredient tips: Cici (garbanzo) beans add lean protein and texture to this hearty dish. Baby artichokes can be eaten whole after cooking because they don’t have the fuzzy heart typical of larger artichokes. If you can’t find them, use prepared artichoke hearts (canned in water and well drained); roast until lightly browned for flavor, halve, then stir into cici-bean mixture as directed.

6 baby artichokes (or one 15-ounce can artichoke hearts in water, drained)

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1/2 medium sweet onion, diced

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 medium Roma tomatoes, diced and drained

1 teaspoon whole fennel seed

2 tablespoons chopped sun-dried tomatoes (packed in oil and drained)

1/2 tablespoon agave nectar or other sweetener

1 15-ounce can cici (garbanzo) beans, rinsed and drained

2 tablespoons lightly chopped fresh basil or 1 tablespoon dried basil

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1. Wash artichokes and remove tough outer leaves. With a knife, trim stem and cut off the top ½ inch of each artichoke. As you go, place artichokes in a large bowl of water with 1 teaspoon lemon juice. Let trimmed chokes soak in lemon water for 20 minutes (this helps preserve their color when cooking).

2. Preheat oven to 350˚. Remove chokes from lemon water (turn upside down to drain thoroughly) and place in a lightly oiled, shallow ceramic or glass baking dish (not metal); sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast in oven until tender, 30 minutes for small chokes and 45–60 minutes for medium and larger ones. Remove from oven and cool.

3. Heat oil in a large, nonstick or heavy skillet on medium heat. Add onion and sauté until lightly caramelized, about 10 minutes. Add garlic, tomatoes, fennel seed, sun-dried tomatoes, and agave. Stir. After 1 minute, reduce heat and simmer for 15–20 minutes. Add beans, basil, and olive oil, combining well. Add salt and pepper to taste.

4. Cut cooled artichokes in half and place in a large bowl; add bean-tomato mixture and toss lightly. Serve.

PER SERVING: 156 cal, 33% fat cal, 6g fat, 1g sat fat, 0mg chol, 6g protein, 22g carb, 7g fiber, 114mg sodium

Jeepers Creepers!

I think the hormone and psychotherapy is finally paying off - I'm beginning to experience the delights of being a mom! Now whether or not Brahm and Oliver like being my kids is another question, but for now, things seem to be looking up.

Brooks snapped this shot of Oliver and I on the way to church last Sunday. I love how he digs on these bug-eye glasses I bought at a party supply store, so much so that he asked permission to wear them to Sunday School. I agreed that he could wear them before and after, but not during, and he seemed OK with that.

Oliver is a boy inclined to blurt out random questions when something is really weighing on his mind. Take that Sunday, for example. In testimony meeting during a quiet moment (of course), he turns to Brooks and asks in a fairly loud voice, "Dad, does General Grievous have a human brain?" Or last night before bed he walks into the kitchen wanting to know, "Are throw-ups toxic?" He also enjoys recounting information he has amassed during school. "Mom, starfish aren't really starfish. They are seastars. And did you know that if one of their legs gets cut off, they grow another one? But if they get cut in half, they die because their stomach is in the middle of their body and they need it to survive." He is a boy not unlike most other children, full of questions and wonder. I am grateful that I am beginning to be connected enough with myself that I notice.

Another thing I notice is how big my boys are getting. Brahm turned nine last week! When I tucked him into bed on his birthday eve he reminded me to put the streamers around his room for him to wake up to. I was surprised to hear him say this because I didn't know that ever really mattered to him. When he was very little, maybe two or three, I began the tradition of putting up crepe paper all around his bedroom and in the doorways of the house on the night before his birthday. Brooks and I would also buy a huge bouquet of balloons and set them loose in his room so that he could celebrate his special day from the moment he woke up. That was back in the day when we had hardly two dimes to rub together and I worried that I was spending too much on decorations. This year I almost didn't do it wondering if it would seem to juvenile to him now. That's why I was pleased to hear him remind me, especially since I had already bought all the supplies. Another reason I was pleased is because this (along with a few other birthday traditions) has been my way of showing Brahm I love him. For as handicapped as I've been in this area for both my boys, I decided that if I could make their birthdays memorable, then in this one way they would always remember how unfathomably wonderful they are to me.

Here's a clip of the boys shortly after waking up. Unless you're related, you will most likely find it uninteresting (except for Oliver's butt-scratching sequence). Note how Oliver decides an important part of the celebration will include Brahm getting to choose what color tee-shirt and pants Oliver is to wear that day...

We Did It Again

Meet the new ladies of the house (l-r): Lady Peaches Fondue, a Cornish; Rebecca Lucille, a White Leghorn; Fauxhawk, an Auracana and Licorice/Searchlight, a Silver Lace Wyandotte (Licorice by day, Searchlight by night).



We said good-bye this year to Buffy (because it was a rooster) and Eve (because she kept escaping the pen and eating my garden). I'm making it sound like that was the reason we bought the chicks last month when really it's because we've formed a chicken habit. We agreed on adding three more to the brood but I came home with a fourth because "Silver Lace Wyandotte" sounded so promising.

Oliver with his harem. His chick is Licorice who he will tuck inside his coat and take with us when we run errands (sometimes I am aware of this and sometimes I am not). Normally I would discourage it but he has a gift with birds; they seem to be drawn to him.

Peaches got a bird bath to remove some, uh, "excrement" from her tail feathers that got stuck. You can't just leave a wet chicken hanging, right? Here's Brooks taking care of business.

Brooks and Peaches at the breakfast table.

Second-guessing their birthday gift for Brahm.