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Posts Tagged ‘Kids’

I rarely read for fun anymore because I don’t have time. People, Newsweek and Entertainment Weekly are my only sources of reading enjoyment. Sad, I know.

While I was in Barnes & Noble buying a book for research, I decided to buy “Columbine” by Dave Cullen because I had heard so many good things about it. I devoured it in less than 24 hours (kind of a long time for me, actually, but I had two vocal distractions and a “Survivor” finale to watch).

It is an impressively researched and incredibly interesting book. I remember the shootings, but was, like most, misled by erroneous and perpetuated media accounts into believing Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold were outcasts who were being bullied. Instead, Cullen makes clear, they often did the bullying, and they had few close friends by choice. At least that was Eric’s choice. He was a true psychopath, the clinical definition. Dylan was depressed, lonely and incredibly shy.

One of the concepts I teach is crisis communication. The Jefferson County sheriff and his office did almost everything wrong. Repeatedly. But, if nothing else, communicators can learn from their mistakes.

The overall feeling I have after reading the book is sadness — sadness for the victims and their families, of course, but they have long had support in their recovery and grief. I feel the most sadness for Tom and Sue Klebold and Wayne and Kathy Harris. It is easy to point the finger of “bad parenting” at them, but there is no “if/then” manual for parents. You have to do the best you can. It is hard to distinguish the difference between warning signs and normal teenage angst. And no one wants to think his/her child is a psychopath. They also lost their children on April 20, 1999, but their children were killers, which adds another layer of pain. They also lost community support and relationships. They were vilified unjustly.

In general, the book is a solid piece of reporting. I do wonder why he chose to focus on the stories of a few of the victims, but not all. Some are not even mentioned. Also, Cullen could have used a diagram of the building and images of the people he discusses, but perhaps he thought the images would sensationalize the story even more than it has been. But I wanted to be able to visualize whom he was discussing. I turned to the Internet, of course. The bullying myth is still rampant in the comments on the videos. I wanted to respond to all of them. Sigh. Maybe word will get around thanks to Cullen.

Now I’m off to play with the kids, and hope that one of them does not grow up to be infamous.

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Hello Blog. It has been a while.

I’ve been busy — a good kind of busy. I’ve been enjoying my first “birthday week.”

It is a concept that Trish introduced to us. It sounds silly and self-centered until you realize that some people have had historically terrible birthdays, and need to get some make-up action later in life. Trish’s stepmother is a Jehovah’s Witness, which means Trish’s family does not celebrate holidays such as Christmas, Easter and birthdays because of their alleged pagan origins. But Trish is on her own now. Enter the birthday week.

My birthday is 10 days before Christmas, and therefore sucks. I never had a birthday party (waaa!) because my parents were not party people, and because all my friends were always off visiting family or whatever.

So Eddie decided this year to take a cue from Trish and make up for past craptastic birthdays.

The birthday week began Thursday with teasers of the week to come. Friday consisted of beer at the Distillery, a massage, wine tasting at the Shannon Vineyards outpost, dinner at Vic’s, and an overnight stay at AVIA. Fantastic!

Room at the inn (AVIA)

Room with a view

Saturday began with a huge breakfast. Lox, cream cheese and capers on a bagel! Shrimp and grits! Fresh fruit!

Breakfast at AVIA

A morning gorge? Don't mind if I do!

After some Christmas shopping and the movie “Precious,” we came home to Trish, Ed and the boys singing “Happy Birthday” around a cake they made. That was my first cake in years and years (waaa! again). John and Heidi arrived a few minutes later for game night, and there was much rejoicing.

I can’t wait to see what else is in store. Thanks, Eddie. It’s the best birthday ever!

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Can I please whine for a moment? I’m exhausted and my back is killing me. We had 19 people for Thanksgiving yesterday — an interesting mixture of friends, family and acquaintances, and the most we’ve ever hosted for a meal. Every year, Eddie handles the turkey, and I take care of everything else (including my Brussels sprouts!). This year, Trish the Human was kind enough to take over macaroni and cheese duty, along with adding a lovely sweet, sweet potato souffle (others brought an assortment of desserts and drinks — yum!). And Trish the Chicken amused everyone by knocking on the front door during our enjoyment of her fowl-weather friend.

We gave the boys’ bedrooms to some family members spending the night, and I took the boys into our room to sleep. Because I had to work at the station this morning, I went to bed at the same time they did. Gideon is the worst sleeper, though. He made noise, kicked and pushed all night.

So thanks to Gideon and the stress of the feast-making process, I am dragging today. DRAGGING.

However, I am always entertained on my drive in to the station on Black Friday, because I can marvel at the people standing in line at Best Buy. There is nothing in there that would be worth it to me to camp out. It’s not like camping out for KISS concert tickets or something.

Anyway, this is me this morning, doing my thing on the green screen.

The magic of television

And here I am with Lyndy Brannen on The Morning Show set.

With Lyndy on set

With Lyndy on set

When we’re not on the air, Lyndy likes to talk about rednecks and politics, and how he thinks it is stupid to recycle. He’s usually got some cockamamie mantra, such as this one from yesterday: “Reagan saved the world.” I have no idea what he really believes, but I believe he likes to say things that will get people riled up.

And I also believe I need a nap.

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I’m supposed to be working on my dissertation proposal (oh that old thing), but I don’t want to neglect my blog and leave my faithful readers hanging. That’s assuming I have any, of course.

So here is a Trish anecdote for purposes of amusement (and stalling).

I was in the kitchen yesterday when I heard a knock at the front door. I thought it was weird because we have a functioning doorbell. This is what I saw when I walked around the corner:

"Anyone home?"

"I said, is anyone home?"

Apparently, this was not the first time she has come calling. Eddie said she banged on the door Friday too, and the boys cracked up.

I wonder what she would do if I let her inside. Besides poop, that is. And I certainly don’t want THAT in here.

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Setting the record straight

I’ve been called many things in my life, but only one bothers me enough to devote a blog post to it. Certain people have called me “controlling” (not to my face, of course). Anal-retentive? Yes, of course, but I prefer the term “organized.” Perfectionist? Yes, but only about my own work. Obnoxious? Perhaps, but I like to call it being blunt.

Let’s check in with dictionary.com, which defines the word in the following manner:

1. to exercise restraint or direction over; dominate; command.
2. to hold in check; curb.

Calling me “controlling” is offensive to me because it accuses me of being a dictator, a puppeteer. And it is offensive to Eddie and others close to me, because it makes them seem weak and sheep-like. And if you know Eddie, you know he is not weak and sheep-like. He is very much his own person, and makes his own decisions.

It’s silly, really, because you simply can’t control other people. And I’m not interested in trying. What I would like to control is my own life (ie. the ability to get everything done that I need to get done). But other people’s decisions affect my life, Eddie’s life, and the lives of my children.

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If I may quote a fine Paul Newman flick, “What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.” What certain folks call “controlling,” I call, “I just want to know what the heck is going on in advance so that I can make my plans accordingly!” Or you can call it “asking for common courtesy.” Maybe it is the reporter in me. I want to know what’s going on. I like logic.

There are people who go through life living in the moment and making spontaneous decisions. Even though I can’t do that, I am totally fine with other people doing it as long as they recognize I sometimes can’t join in the reindeer games.

mind_control

Must. Remain. Calm.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I submit for your review three scenarios:

1. A special meal: Invited guests ask, “What time should we be there?” I say, “Lunch is at noon.” They are two hours late, and I’m a little put out. Am I controlling?

2. An unexpected visit: The phone rings, and potential guests report they are on their way. I say, “Great, but I have a presentation tomorrow and I won’t be able to spend much time with you.” They are a little put out. Am I controlling?

3. Clothes shopping: I take a 13-year-old relative shopping. I will not buy her the hoochie clothes she wants. Her mother accuses me of treating her like my own Barbie doll. Am I controlling?

Perhaps the real issue is that I am too honest when these things happen. I will admit that I’m honest to a fault. Perhaps I should smile and keep my mouth shut, but I’m not sure I have that in me.

37smile

But the good thing about me is that you can be just as blunt as I am, you can make fun of my need to know, and you can laugh at my obsession with time management. I won’t be offended. Just don’t call me the C word. I command it.

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I haven’t been to the Coastal Empire Fair since Barf-fest 2002. And after all, it is the same every year: rickety rides manned by creepy ex-cons, the scent of corn dogs mixed with bovine remnants, and a wallet raping I wouldn’t soon forget.

I’m willing to do anything for the kids, though, and they’ve never been to a fair. So to the fair we went. All of the above was still true, but we didn’t care. The boys rode their first rides without us, and LOVED it.

The boys go it alone

The boys go it alone

Easy rider

Easy rider

We drifted into the livestock arena and were amazed to see a cow wash — a place where folks give their cattle a bath and blowout. Here’s one after the spa treatment:

Eddie and friend

Eddie and friend

It should come as no shock that I also noticed some sign errors.

A misspelling with cheeseI’m surprised I didn’t find more of that. Perhaps I was distracted by the funnel cake. It was the boys’ first time for that too. Yum … sugary grease …

The first funnel cake

The first funnel cake

The meltdown inevitably occurred shortly thereafter, and it was time to go home. But not before we had to promise we would return next year. And we will.

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The Joker is still at large

Batman, Robin and the Batmobile were a big hit last night. We went to the subdivision across the street, as our neighborhood of six houses is not conducive to a treat sweep.

Batman, Robin and the Batmobile

Batman, Robin and the Batmobile

Batmobile: Even stylin' from the rear

Batmobile: even stylin' from the rear

The kids could not contain their joy. And Eddie was positively glowing with pride when people ooh-ed and aah-ed over the Batmobile.

Batmobile on the move

Superheroes on the lookout for bad guys

At the very last house, the unthinkable happened: Their archenemy, the Joker, appeared (in the form of a 10-year-old in greasepaint).

The evil Joker appears

The evil Joker appears

He sidled up next to the Batmobile and hissed, “Batman.” Batman and Robin were shocked that the Joker would be so bold. They scrambled out of the Batmobile, ready to give chase, with Batman yelling, “Let’s get that Joker!” Batman did have to pause to gently place his bag of loot on the sidewalk, but then took off in hot pursuit. Eddie had to round them back up, much to their dismay.

Batman gives chase

Batman gives chase

Today they woke up with two thoughts, and two thoughts only: We need to find the Joker, and we need to eat all the candy in those bags. (Side note: Gideon ended up with so much more candy than Dominic because of how he completely embraced the candy-gathering: He ran up to each house hollering “Trick or Treat!” and smiling at everyone, charming the pants off folks.)

Eddie took them back over to canvass the neighborhood. He said they are convinced that the Joker was taking candy from children and needs to be in police custody.

Searching for clues

"He ran that way!"

"This might be a clue!"

Though they interviewed many people, they were unable to locate the Joker. (Curses! Foiled again!) The search continues.

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Ode to a bone

I took the kids to the Salt Creek Boat Ramp Park to let them expend some energy. Halfway from the playground to the Port-O-Let, I spotted this lying in the grass:

 

Remains of the day

Remains of the day

From what being did this come? Is it part of a rib cage? How did it arrive at the Salt Creek Boat Ramp Park? So many unanswered questions. I felt a haiku coming on (it’s the only kind of poetry for which I have any zeal).

What once was inside
Delicate curved, bleached-white bone
Highway now for ants

 

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Batman, now with OCD

It is so bizarre to see my personality replicated and squashed into a three-foot-high boy body. Dominic is so much like me. When I decide I want something or want to do something, there is no stopping me. Fine when we are talking life goals. Not so fine when we are talking projects around the house. I know I drive Eddie crazy. And now he has two focused folks on his back.

The Batmobile is not quite done, and Dominic is obsessed with badgering us about finishing it. It needs a little paint touch-up, the cupholders (seriously, but they were Eddie’s idea), and a bat icon on the front. I think I’m supposed to create that out of wood, but I’m not sure. I promised we would finish it today. I know he’ll hold me to it.

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Last year was my year to channel Martha Stewart and create costumes for the kids. Behold Lightning McQueen and Mater:
Lightning McQueen and Mater

Lightning McQueen (Gideon) and Mater (Dominic)

This year it is Eddie’s turn. He’s been outside making the Batmobile all day. While the boys were testing it out, Trish got in on the act. Behold the Bat-hen:

Quick, Trish! To the Batmobile!

Quick, Trish! To the Batmobile!

Dominic must have thought all the Bat-tivity made her tired. He tried to rock her to sleep.

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