So. Many of you seemed to be intrigued by my Mom mom, the 80 year old woman that has aided in the development of Billy's cursing vocabulary. I really should state that Mom mom isn't completely responsible for Billy's cursing, but we do hear a lot more of "you don't know shit from shiola" after one of Mom mom's visits. (seriously, what is a shiola anyway?)
I am not even sure where to begin to tell you about Mom mom. She is definitely one of a kind. She is just like any other nice elderly Catholic woman, except she doesn't attend church regularly, she curses a lot, she loves to "play the slots" and she says "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph" quite often but I assure you she is not praying. She is by far one of my most favorite people in the entire world.
I will be 33 in June, and I know how fortunate I am to still have a living grandparent and even more so to have one that has been such an integral part of my life. When I look back at all the important events, they always include the memory of Mom mom there to support me. She was even in the room when I delivered Billy, looking pretty terrified but I think, none the less, amazed that she was able to witness the birth of one of her great grandchildren. It was actually one of the only times that I have ever encountered her to be speechless, believe me it doesn't happen often.
Although we are separated in age by 48 1/2 years, Mom mom is definitely one of my best friends. We talk on the phone just about everyday, sometimes twice. She gets irritated with me when I call the neighbors if I can't reach her. I explain to her that if she just got one of those life alerts, we wouldn't have this problem but she just tells me "to go shit in my hat". (I have been trying to figure out for years why anyone would be shitting in a hat, but I guess to each his own) We also attempted to encourage her to possibly move into a retirement home last year after she fell and broke her arm but she quickly shot that down and told us that she was not going into any "god damn facility" and that we could "shove that up our ass". The hubby and I have offered her on several occasions to live with us but she refuses to live with anyone. I will hand it to her, she proved us all wrong and went back to her place at the beach after her arm healed and picked up exactly where she left off before the fall. To say she is tough, is an understatement. She tells it like it is and I never have to wonder what she is thinking, although sometimes I would prefer for her to keep a few things inside of her head. At 80 she still takes care of herself, she is never one to make excuses and losing her independence and having someone take care of her is simply not an option. She is kind of my hero.
Our relationship has evolved quite a bit over my 33 years but we have always had an unexplainable bond. When I was a child she was my protector, and as I became older she was one of my biggest supporters but now as as adult I can honestly say she is my great friend. I am so grateful to have had her input and support while I am navigating motherhood. It's one of the things that I have enjoyed the most with her. She understands the demands of being a mother to all boys with a husband who works many hours. She has been there. She understands my want to have a little girl in this family has nothing to do with being unhappy with my sons but more the need to have that different type of dynamic that comes with a daughter. She always tells me "well, maybe you will just have a granddaughter instead". It always warms my heart at the fact that maybe I provided that dynamic for her, even if she had to wait an additional generation.
I used to try to barter with God and ask that if he could just make sure she saw me graduate college and that turned into if she can just see me get married, which turned into if she can just be with me through the birth of my first child and so on and so forth. I realized that it would never be enough because I wanted her here for all of it, for everything. The logical part of me understands that it is not possible for her to be a part of my life forever, but my heart struggles with the fact that there may come a time when I will not be able to share with her a funny story, the days happenings or discuss how much she despises Joe Flacco, who she loving refers to as a "Hayseed". Sorry Joe.
So that is my Mom mom in a nutshell. I am sure she will pop up in future posts because she is such big part of my life but for now I hope you have an understanding of what a pretty awesome lady she is. Now, does anyone know what the hell a "hayseed" is?
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
The Bully
In my last post, I wrote a letter to Spiro to celebrate his birthday. I touched on the fact that the world and the people in it scare me at times... "You are growing up so fast. Sometimes, I get scared about all the crazy
things in the world and that one day soon you will be confronted with
them." I didn't realize that that day would come this week.
Spiro came home from school on Monday very excited about the fact that he had nabbed the highly coveted classroom job of "Teacher's Helper" this week. In all honesty, this job was made for him. Helping is his thing, Responsibility is his thing. As "Teacher's Helper", one of his responsibilities includes holding the door open for the class to go outside for recess. On Tuesday, as the last child filed outside and Spiro was closing the door, a little boy came back and smacked him in the face and walked away.
We were made aware of the situation when the hubby picked Spiro up from school. Spiro had told his substitute what had happened and the boy was sent to the office. We were told that the boy hit our son because he was told to do so by another student. I'm not sure which disturbs me more, the fact that a first grade child thought it was okay to hit my son or the fact that a first grade child had the ability to manipulate another child to hit my son.
I understand that for some people, they would file this away under "kids will be kids". Simply put, I can't, I won't. This is a big deal for us. We made this a big deal to Spiro. We chose the politically incorrect route of telling him next time "hit him back, and tell him never to touch you again". Is this the right way to handle out? I don't know. What I do know is that sometimes you have to fight fire with fire and that we are, at times, forced to play in a game with rules we didn't choose.
Although the hubby wanted to pull "a hand that rocks the cradle" and jack the little boy up and tell him never to place a finger on his son again, I explained to him that despite the fact I did indeed feel the same way, I was pretty sure that jacking up students is "frowned upon" by the school and that maybe we just needed to calm down a little. We took a few deep breaths and explained to Spiro "that no one ever has the right to put their hands on you or hit you. That we think you are pretty freakin' special and wonderful and we think that you are and always will be worth fighting for. We want you to think your worth standing up for also. We never want you to start a fight or be a troublemaker but you always have the right to defend yourself. We don't care if that moves your name on red or places you in the seat of the principals office. We just want you to know that you are one the most important things to us and the thought of someone making you feel sad, hurt or not special... kind of breaks our hearts."
Spiro was nervous to go to school the next day and face the little boy. He asked to stay home from school, which I quickly made him aware was not an option. I explained to him that we don't run from our problems because they will never go away. That he needed to walk into school with his head up and proud that he is Spiro. That he is still the same smart, kind, responsible boy that he was the morning before and that no one can change that unless he allows them to. He went into school and that afternoon when I picked him up from school, he had an apology letter from the little boy.
When I get sad about my boys growing up, it's because of these types of experiences that I know they will continue to be confronted with. I really thought I would have a few more years to prepare Spiro for stuff like this. Seven years just wasn't enough time to help him decipher between being kind and standing up for himself. I'm not even sure if I know how to balance that yet. I'm confused as to how to explain to him to be tough when the going gets tough but not to let that toughness take over the kindness in his heart. How do you teach a child not to become jaded? It's as though I have forgotten to read a book that I am now forced to take a test on and I'm left trying to skim through the cliffs notes in 5 minutes for the answers.
I wrote this post yesterday but with no time to edit, I left it for today and left the house to pick up Spiro from school. Billy and I waited outside, like we always do, for Spiro's class to be dismissed and when we spotted Spiro, who do you think he was walking with side by side, chatting and laughing with? That's right, the little boy who had hit him two days before. I inquired about his new buddy after we all piled back into the car and Spiro told me. "I forgive him Mommy, we're friends. I think he might have just been having a bad day." That's my Spiro.
Spiro came home from school on Monday very excited about the fact that he had nabbed the highly coveted classroom job of "Teacher's Helper" this week. In all honesty, this job was made for him. Helping is his thing, Responsibility is his thing. As "Teacher's Helper", one of his responsibilities includes holding the door open for the class to go outside for recess. On Tuesday, as the last child filed outside and Spiro was closing the door, a little boy came back and smacked him in the face and walked away.
We were made aware of the situation when the hubby picked Spiro up from school. Spiro had told his substitute what had happened and the boy was sent to the office. We were told that the boy hit our son because he was told to do so by another student. I'm not sure which disturbs me more, the fact that a first grade child thought it was okay to hit my son or the fact that a first grade child had the ability to manipulate another child to hit my son.
I understand that for some people, they would file this away under "kids will be kids". Simply put, I can't, I won't. This is a big deal for us. We made this a big deal to Spiro. We chose the politically incorrect route of telling him next time "hit him back, and tell him never to touch you again". Is this the right way to handle out? I don't know. What I do know is that sometimes you have to fight fire with fire and that we are, at times, forced to play in a game with rules we didn't choose.
Although the hubby wanted to pull "a hand that rocks the cradle" and jack the little boy up and tell him never to place a finger on his son again, I explained to him that despite the fact I did indeed feel the same way, I was pretty sure that jacking up students is "frowned upon" by the school and that maybe we just needed to calm down a little. We took a few deep breaths and explained to Spiro "that no one ever has the right to put their hands on you or hit you. That we think you are pretty freakin' special and wonderful and we think that you are and always will be worth fighting for. We want you to think your worth standing up for also. We never want you to start a fight or be a troublemaker but you always have the right to defend yourself. We don't care if that moves your name on red or places you in the seat of the principals office. We just want you to know that you are one the most important things to us and the thought of someone making you feel sad, hurt or not special... kind of breaks our hearts."
Spiro was nervous to go to school the next day and face the little boy. He asked to stay home from school, which I quickly made him aware was not an option. I explained to him that we don't run from our problems because they will never go away. That he needed to walk into school with his head up and proud that he is Spiro. That he is still the same smart, kind, responsible boy that he was the morning before and that no one can change that unless he allows them to. He went into school and that afternoon when I picked him up from school, he had an apology letter from the little boy.
When I get sad about my boys growing up, it's because of these types of experiences that I know they will continue to be confronted with. I really thought I would have a few more years to prepare Spiro for stuff like this. Seven years just wasn't enough time to help him decipher between being kind and standing up for himself. I'm not even sure if I know how to balance that yet. I'm confused as to how to explain to him to be tough when the going gets tough but not to let that toughness take over the kindness in his heart. How do you teach a child not to become jaded? It's as though I have forgotten to read a book that I am now forced to take a test on and I'm left trying to skim through the cliffs notes in 5 minutes for the answers.
I wrote this post yesterday but with no time to edit, I left it for today and left the house to pick up Spiro from school. Billy and I waited outside, like we always do, for Spiro's class to be dismissed and when we spotted Spiro, who do you think he was walking with side by side, chatting and laughing with? That's right, the little boy who had hit him two days before. I inquired about his new buddy after we all piled back into the car and Spiro told me. "I forgive him Mommy, we're friends. I think he might have just been having a bad day." That's my Spiro.
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