Most of you are probably aware that depression is a thing I've struggled with off and on (mostly on) since high school. Most of you probably aren't aware, however, that I've been going to a Bible-based class on Monday nights at the church in Molalla. We also read from a book called "Happiness is a Choice", which was written by a couple of Christian psychologists whose names escape me at the moment. Don't worry, the prayer stuff I mentioned in the title will happen along in a minute here...
Tonight we were discussing how prayer can aid with alleviating depression. Well, we started out there, anyway... we do tend to wander a bit. A question was raised about praying wrongly, or praying for something you don't actually want... praying insincerely, I guess you might call it. This spiraled into another discussion... why are people so often dishonest in prayer? Do they really think that God doesn't know what's actually in their head and in their heart? Somebody mentioned certain things that they felt they shouldn't tell God about, and my reaction was, "What, you think He doesn't know about that already??"
I was remembering back to something that made a pretty big impression on me as a teenager. I went to a youth rally - I think it was actually in Gold Beach - and the speaker there (I forget who it was, but it may have been Kevin Woods) said something to the effect of, "God is supposed to be like your father, right? So how many of you go up to your dad and say, 'Oh Father who art in the garage, if it be your will please may I have ten dollars?' None of you do that! You walk up to him and say, 'Hey Dad, can I have ten bucks?'" That made a lasting impression on my view of prayer, and perhaps also contributed to my "suburban dad" theory of God (see a previous blog entry for more on this).
Those that know me know that I'm not big on formality. Okay, actually I despise formality. And I REALLY hate it when church people, while in the church, put on a façade of being even more churchy than they actually are. This also applies to prayer. If you're going to speak to God on my behalf in front of the congregation, you'd better be speaking to God, not reciting some prayer you memorized, not using your standard form prayer where the only thing that changes from week to week is the names of the people on the sick list in the bulletin. There are certain people whose prayers I can recite almost word for word along with them, and certain people who I know will use the word 'father' at least 7 times in a 45 second prayer... unnecessarily, at that. Who, in their normal course of speaking to their dad, begins and ends nearly every sentence with the word 'father'? Nobody, that's who.
And don't misinterpret... I'm all for giving God the respect that is due to him, but I'm also all for continuing to speak regular English. And as a language nerd, it absolutely cracks me up that people who get up to do public prayers start inserting "thee" and "thy" and the like, as if it makes them sound all formal and holy. In actual fact, "thee", "thy", "thou", etc. are the informal pronouns (direct object, possessive and personal, respectively) from old English. Back in the 1500s, you would have used those pronouns with your children or your spouse. The pronoun "you" (which was the formal pronoun) was used only with adults who were not your family members or close friends, and other people who somehow merited a great deal of respect. Most Latin-based and even Germanic languages still have the formal/informal second-person pronouns (usted/tú in Spanish, Lei/tu in Italian, Sie/du in German, and many more no doubt). English, somewhere along the line, lost our informal pronoun (thou) and decided to just use the formal one (you) all the time for everyone. So in actuality, people who think they're sounding all formal and respectful when they say "thou" or "thee" to God are actually talking to him as though he is a child or close family member/friend. And if they go into it with that attitude in mind, I'm marginally okay with it (though not completely okay, since that has fallen out of use in modern English), but most of them are not thinking of it in that light I guarantee you.
And what's with people who think they can't be honest with God, anyway!?!? It's not like he doesn't already know what you're thinking. Me personally, I'm very honest with God in my prayers. "Hey God... I'm pretty ticked off right now, and I need you to help me refrain from saying something unfortunate to _______" is a fairly common opener for me. I can be open with God on a wide range of emotions, from ticked off to depressed to horny (particularly heavy on the horny lately too, I must admit) and everything in between, because I operate on the theory that I'm not telling him anything he doesn't already know. So why pray at all, you ask? Well, I don't know about you, but with most of my close friends I already know when they're upset or whatever without them telling me about it. But of course we talk it over anyway, because that's the sort of relationship we have, and this is how relationships grow and stay strong. See where I'm going with this?
And actually, I think complete honesty is healthy in any relationship, not just your relationship with God. Thinking it over in class earlier, I realized that all of my best friendships are with the people I feel I can say anything to... the ones who know the good and the bad of me and still like me. Just recently I met someone who seems to have a similar approach to communication, and we have gone in just under 3 weeks from complete strangers to what I would term very good friends, and I think it works because neither of us feels the need to hold back anything. I really do feel I could say anything I thought or felt to this person (and this individual will probably receive a cool blog alias sooner or later) and we could discuss it like rational adults and it'd be cool. I like that.
Anyway, we need a Song o' the Day.
Song o' the Day: "Fully Alive" by Flyleaf. See/hear it here. I've chosen this one because it sort of sums up how I feel lately.
November 1, 2010
October 31, 2010
ONE YEAR!!!!
By freak of chance, I just happened to notice that the first post on this blog was made exactly one year ago today. So happy birthday to the blog!
That thought led me to need to review mentally the last 12 months. Yes, I'm that sort of sentimental. Who knew? But I decided to compare my mental state right now (which, admittedly, is a bit altered from normal over the last two weeks... probably something to do with not sleeping) with my mental state of 12 months ago.
12 months ago I was still mad at the universe. Things had started to turn around at that point, but I hadn't really noticed it yet. I was tentatively beginning to let the walls down a bit and let a few people in closer than I'd let anyone in years and form some real friendships, but I still wasn't very sure about the idea. One of my earlier entries in this blog was about my discomfort with crying and excessively emotional people, probably because I didn't have very many emotions of my own yet... I was still mostly numb.
Now I'm alive again. I laugh, I cry, I gossip and giggle with my select few best girlfriends (though most women are still more than I can tolerate, and I think that's just a personality quirk rather than actual damage). I have at least three friends outside my family that I'm comfortable telling ANYTHING to. I'm no longer repulsed by emotional displays... I still hate concocted drama, but again, personality quirk. I still don't feel things maybe as deeply as most people do, but I feel things. Sometimes things don't go the way I would want them to, but now I have the faith that everything will eventually work out for good in the end. My broken pieces are coming together, and I'm excited to see what I look like when everything's done.
Also, 12 months ago my Italian wasn't nearly as good as it is now. I pretty much rock! LOL
Now, with that understanding of myself and my progress, I have a few new projects for myself:
#1) Get rid of the little voice in my head (which sounds a lot like my ex-husband) that always tells me how worthless and stupid I am. It (he) is wrong, and was always wrong. My fault for letting it (him) make me believe.
#2) Discover what I'm passionate about... or if I'm even capable of such. I'm not sure yet if I don't feel things deeply because I'm still healing, or if it's because I just don't. But I think somewhere out there, there might me something that makes me light up. I'm curious to know what it is.
#3) Figure out what I want to be if/when I grow up.
#4) (this is the corny-sounding one) "Dance like no one is watching, love like you've never been hurt." I want to do that... I want to not feel so self-conscious and defensive all the time. I just want to be me.
Last December I did a post about some new year's "suggestions". I did pretty well on most of those, actually. So it's a little early, but maybe these are my "suggestions" for 2011.
Song o' the Day: An Apocalyptica triple-header! Song #1 is "End of Me" by Apocalyptica featuring Gavin Rossdale. Hear/see it here. Song #2 is "Broken Pieces" by Apocalyptica featuring Lacey Sturm of Flyleaf. Hear/see it here. And finally we get to song #3, "Not Strong Enough" by Apocalyptica featuring Brent Smith of Shinedown. You can hear it here, but all you'll get to see is some album art because there isn't an official video. Yet. I want there to be. ;)
That thought led me to need to review mentally the last 12 months. Yes, I'm that sort of sentimental. Who knew? But I decided to compare my mental state right now (which, admittedly, is a bit altered from normal over the last two weeks... probably something to do with not sleeping) with my mental state of 12 months ago.
12 months ago I was still mad at the universe. Things had started to turn around at that point, but I hadn't really noticed it yet. I was tentatively beginning to let the walls down a bit and let a few people in closer than I'd let anyone in years and form some real friendships, but I still wasn't very sure about the idea. One of my earlier entries in this blog was about my discomfort with crying and excessively emotional people, probably because I didn't have very many emotions of my own yet... I was still mostly numb.
Now I'm alive again. I laugh, I cry, I gossip and giggle with my select few best girlfriends (though most women are still more than I can tolerate, and I think that's just a personality quirk rather than actual damage). I have at least three friends outside my family that I'm comfortable telling ANYTHING to. I'm no longer repulsed by emotional displays... I still hate concocted drama, but again, personality quirk. I still don't feel things maybe as deeply as most people do, but I feel things. Sometimes things don't go the way I would want them to, but now I have the faith that everything will eventually work out for good in the end. My broken pieces are coming together, and I'm excited to see what I look like when everything's done.
Also, 12 months ago my Italian wasn't nearly as good as it is now. I pretty much rock! LOL
Now, with that understanding of myself and my progress, I have a few new projects for myself:
#1) Get rid of the little voice in my head (which sounds a lot like my ex-husband) that always tells me how worthless and stupid I am. It (he) is wrong, and was always wrong. My fault for letting it (him) make me believe.
#2) Discover what I'm passionate about... or if I'm even capable of such. I'm not sure yet if I don't feel things deeply because I'm still healing, or if it's because I just don't. But I think somewhere out there, there might me something that makes me light up. I'm curious to know what it is.
#3) Figure out what I want to be if/when I grow up.
#4) (this is the corny-sounding one) "Dance like no one is watching, love like you've never been hurt." I want to do that... I want to not feel so self-conscious and defensive all the time. I just want to be me.
Last December I did a post about some new year's "suggestions". I did pretty well on most of those, actually. So it's a little early, but maybe these are my "suggestions" for 2011.
Song o' the Day: An Apocalyptica triple-header! Song #1 is "End of Me" by Apocalyptica featuring Gavin Rossdale. Hear/see it here. Song #2 is "Broken Pieces" by Apocalyptica featuring Lacey Sturm of Flyleaf. Hear/see it here. And finally we get to song #3, "Not Strong Enough" by Apocalyptica featuring Brent Smith of Shinedown. You can hear it here, but all you'll get to see is some album art because there isn't an official video. Yet. I want there to be. ;)
October 28, 2010
Cuando menos piensas, sale el sol....
This is/isn't a review of Shakira's new album, Sale el Sol. I say "is", because I'm going to go ahead and give a quick opinion of the album. I say "isn't" because the meat of the blog post will be after that... skip down a bit, you'll find it. I'll even throw in my usual row of handy-dandy asterisks to help you. But now to the music...
I have to say that the album is much as I thought it would be... closer to old-school Shakira, but with some of the newer elements mixed in. The only track on the album I really don't like is "Lo que más", which is a little too whiny of a love ballad for my sensibilities. "Loca" and "Rabiosa", on the other hand, have been taking turns getting stuck in my head for the nearly a week that I've owned the album. Also the title track, "Sale el sol", but more on that later in the blog.
Overall, this is probably the best album Shakira has put out since Fijación Oral, Vol. 1., and is arguably better than Laundry Service, which had its dodgier moments. Really the last great album from Shakira was Dónde están los ladrones?, and I think we've finally gotten some of that groove back. : )
*********************************************
Semi-permanently lodged in my brain this week has been the title track of the album Sale el Sol. Or more accurately, the first line or two of the chorus. The bit that goes, "Un día después de la tormenta, cuando menos piensas, sale el sol." Translated (and this is not a literal translation, but a translation that matches the spirit of the phrase, for anyone reading who might happen to be bilingual and say to themselves, "Hey! That's not what that middle bit means!"), this means "One day after the storm, when you least expect it, the sun comes out."
There's a lot of truth in that. We humans sometimes get so caught up in life's storms that we forget that no storm lasts forever (unless you live on Jupiter... the Great Red Spot is pretty close to being an eternal storm). And when the storm is over, the sun comes out. Some of us, though, after spending a lot period of time - years, even - in a storm become almost afraid of the sun. I am one of those people.
I am afraid of happiness. I am afraid to acknowledge that things are going well, because whenever things start going well, I wait anxiously for the other shoe to drop and for the storm to start again, because that's where I'm most comfortable... it's what I know. The sun starts shining on me and I'm continually scanning the horizon for the clouds because they've become like old friends.
Well my friends, the sun is shining on me and has been for a bit over a year now. And despite my searchings I'm having a hard time finding any clouds in the sky, and it seems the sun is determined to shine on even brighter, at least into the foreseeable future. So my proposition for myself from now until the end of the year is to enjoy the sun while it lasts... to accept the warmth without keeping one eye on the horizon. El sol ya salió, and I'm gonna soak it up. : )
Song o' the Day: "Sale el sol" by Shakira, naturally. Though to give everyone a break from Shakira and to do something completely different (llama!) I'll also throw in "Here Without You" by Three Doors Down, which is oddly appropriate right now for reasons I don't feel I'm at liberty to explain. : )
I have to say that the album is much as I thought it would be... closer to old-school Shakira, but with some of the newer elements mixed in. The only track on the album I really don't like is "Lo que más", which is a little too whiny of a love ballad for my sensibilities. "Loca" and "Rabiosa", on the other hand, have been taking turns getting stuck in my head for the nearly a week that I've owned the album. Also the title track, "Sale el sol", but more on that later in the blog.
Overall, this is probably the best album Shakira has put out since Fijación Oral, Vol. 1., and is arguably better than Laundry Service, which had its dodgier moments. Really the last great album from Shakira was Dónde están los ladrones?, and I think we've finally gotten some of that groove back. : )
*********************************************
Semi-permanently lodged in my brain this week has been the title track of the album Sale el Sol. Or more accurately, the first line or two of the chorus. The bit that goes, "Un día después de la tormenta, cuando menos piensas, sale el sol." Translated (and this is not a literal translation, but a translation that matches the spirit of the phrase, for anyone reading who might happen to be bilingual and say to themselves, "Hey! That's not what that middle bit means!"), this means "One day after the storm, when you least expect it, the sun comes out."
There's a lot of truth in that. We humans sometimes get so caught up in life's storms that we forget that no storm lasts forever (unless you live on Jupiter... the Great Red Spot is pretty close to being an eternal storm). And when the storm is over, the sun comes out. Some of us, though, after spending a lot period of time - years, even - in a storm become almost afraid of the sun. I am one of those people.
I am afraid of happiness. I am afraid to acknowledge that things are going well, because whenever things start going well, I wait anxiously for the other shoe to drop and for the storm to start again, because that's where I'm most comfortable... it's what I know. The sun starts shining on me and I'm continually scanning the horizon for the clouds because they've become like old friends.
Well my friends, the sun is shining on me and has been for a bit over a year now. And despite my searchings I'm having a hard time finding any clouds in the sky, and it seems the sun is determined to shine on even brighter, at least into the foreseeable future. So my proposition for myself from now until the end of the year is to enjoy the sun while it lasts... to accept the warmth without keeping one eye on the horizon. El sol ya salió, and I'm gonna soak it up. : )
Song o' the Day: "Sale el sol" by Shakira, naturally. Though to give everyone a break from Shakira and to do something completely different (llama!) I'll also throw in "Here Without You" by Three Doors Down, which is oddly appropriate right now for reasons I don't feel I'm at liberty to explain. : )
October 3, 2010
Gypsy/Gitana, Romani/Roma
Both of the first two above mentioned things are Shakira songs. They are, in fact, two different language versions of the same song... oddly, the Spanish version is much less irritating. This is probably why the English version is on the last album, but the Spanish version has to be purchased separately off of iTunes.
Speaking of Shakira, she might be about to come out with a decent album, finally! It's been a while... Fijación Oral, Vol. 1 was the last actually GOOD album I can recall - the English-language counterpart Oral Fixation, Vol. 2 was not nearly as good, and we'll try not to speak ill of She Wolf... though it's difficult. The good news is that the new album, Sale El Sol, is about to drop and judging by the first single, Shakira has finally realized that she is NOT Beyoncé, nor should she try to be. The first single, "Loca", is more old-school Shakira but with her current favorite trick of inviting a rapper to join her. It comes out very reggaetón influenced (kind of "La Tortura", but with a rapper instead of Alejandro Sanz), but I can handle that. The song has been WAY stuck in my head over the last few days.
But I have gotten sidetracked. My original point was to bring up gypsies... or the Roma (or Romani) as they prefer to be called. Turns out, there actually is a thing called "antiziganism", which is to the Roman what anti-semitism is to the Jews. All over Europe (most notably in France, Italy, Serbia and Romania), the Roma are being actively persecuted and even locked in concentration camp type facilities, being denied jobs and housing, and occasionally having their settlements fire-bombed, and for whatever reason this human rights violation seems to be totally cool with the European Union. If you're interested at all in this, check out the website www.mundiromani.com and watch the video "Lashi Vita", for starters. "Lashi Vita" focuses solely on the Roma living in Italy, most of whom are refugees from Yugoslavia. The next vid on that site I plan to watch when I get a chance (the videos seem to run about 30 minutes long, be warned) is "The Last Days of Sulukule", which is about a 1,000 year old Roma settlement in Istanbul that was recently destroyed by the local government of Istanbul. ("Yes, who cares that these people have lived here for a millenium or so? We need a new shopping mall!"... at least that's how I imagine the thinking must have gone.)
Every now and then I get lost in the perilous abyss that is Wikipedia, and end up reading about things like this. In this particular instance, I'm just annoyed with Europe in general for deciding that it's okay to single out one minority, label them criminals, and turn the collective back of the European Union on these people. There are also some pretty good videos about this subject on YouTube... search "I Am a Roma Woman" to see some PSA type things.
Song o' the Day: Today you get two for one! First song is "Loca" by Shakira (see vid here), because it's been in my head a positively wicked amount this week. Second song is "Gitana" by Shakira. The Spanish version wins major points for NOT including the lyric "I might steal your clothes and wear them if they fit me".... I think the Roma might take offense to that. You can see a video for "Gitana" here. I recommend watching "Gitana" first, actually, then watching "Loca". Because then it becomes painfully apparent that Shakira needs a few cheeseburgers. I've never before seen her quite as thin as she is in the "Loca" vid, and I don't think it's a good thing, necessarily.
Speaking of Shakira, she might be about to come out with a decent album, finally! It's been a while... Fijación Oral, Vol. 1 was the last actually GOOD album I can recall - the English-language counterpart Oral Fixation, Vol. 2 was not nearly as good, and we'll try not to speak ill of She Wolf... though it's difficult. The good news is that the new album, Sale El Sol, is about to drop and judging by the first single, Shakira has finally realized that she is NOT Beyoncé, nor should she try to be. The first single, "Loca", is more old-school Shakira but with her current favorite trick of inviting a rapper to join her. It comes out very reggaetón influenced (kind of "La Tortura", but with a rapper instead of Alejandro Sanz), but I can handle that. The song has been WAY stuck in my head over the last few days.
But I have gotten sidetracked. My original point was to bring up gypsies... or the Roma (or Romani) as they prefer to be called. Turns out, there actually is a thing called "antiziganism", which is to the Roman what anti-semitism is to the Jews. All over Europe (most notably in France, Italy, Serbia and Romania), the Roma are being actively persecuted and even locked in concentration camp type facilities, being denied jobs and housing, and occasionally having their settlements fire-bombed, and for whatever reason this human rights violation seems to be totally cool with the European Union. If you're interested at all in this, check out the website www.mundiromani.com and watch the video "Lashi Vita", for starters. "Lashi Vita" focuses solely on the Roma living in Italy, most of whom are refugees from Yugoslavia. The next vid on that site I plan to watch when I get a chance (the videos seem to run about 30 minutes long, be warned) is "The Last Days of Sulukule", which is about a 1,000 year old Roma settlement in Istanbul that was recently destroyed by the local government of Istanbul. ("Yes, who cares that these people have lived here for a millenium or so? We need a new shopping mall!"... at least that's how I imagine the thinking must have gone.)
Every now and then I get lost in the perilous abyss that is Wikipedia, and end up reading about things like this. In this particular instance, I'm just annoyed with Europe in general for deciding that it's okay to single out one minority, label them criminals, and turn the collective back of the European Union on these people. There are also some pretty good videos about this subject on YouTube... search "I Am a Roma Woman" to see some PSA type things.
Song o' the Day: Today you get two for one! First song is "Loca" by Shakira (see vid here), because it's been in my head a positively wicked amount this week. Second song is "Gitana" by Shakira. The Spanish version wins major points for NOT including the lyric "I might steal your clothes and wear them if they fit me".... I think the Roma might take offense to that. You can see a video for "Gitana" here. I recommend watching "Gitana" first, actually, then watching "Loca". Because then it becomes painfully apparent that Shakira needs a few cheeseburgers. I've never before seen her quite as thin as she is in the "Loca" vid, and I don't think it's a good thing, necessarily.
July 11, 2010
Luke 6:38....
It's been an interesting week... I'll see if I can hit some of the highlights.
I've been stressing a good bit over money lately - and I probably shouldn't. God always gets me by in one way or another. But since I got laid off on May 28th and have had absolutely nada de income since then, I have begun restricting my trips to Oregon City and thus to church as well. The first thing I cut was my Saturday voyage to English classes... I offered to hold a class in Molalla for any of my students that wanted to come, only one took me up on it. The Wednesday night church service seemed like the next logical one to go, since I have to go to Oregon City twice on Sundays anyway to pick Damian up from his dad's. I hadn't been to a Wednesday night service since May. But this week I really wanted to go... but I was afraid if I did I wouldn't have enough gasoline to get back to OC on Saturday for skit rehearsal for ASBA and then back to church again twice on Sunday. Yikes! So I decided to practice that "giving it to God" thing. I told him that I was pretty sure if he wanted me to be there, he'd find a way to cover the gas money and I'd just trust him. Did God deliver? Um, yeah, I'd say he definitely made a statement. While I was at church Wednesday night, someone gave me $50 out of the blue. That's TWO tanks of gas. For those who will argue that it was coincidence, let me ask you... how often does someone coincidentally give YOU $50? Yeah, that's what I thought. And God wasn't even done yet.
On Thursday, I found out that the Oregon Unemployment Department had finally pulled its collective head out of its collective backside on and decided that, yes, I am eligible for unemployment benefits... a mere six weeks after I got laid off. And when did this actually happen? Wednesday... the very day I was dithering around worrying about having enough money to drive to church. God had already been all over that one, and I was too busy fretting to pay attention. The money didn't actually get deposited into my account until Friday, but that still would have been in plenty of time to get to skit rehearsal on Saturday. It seems that God was merely reassuring me with the $50... something I'd notice, something I couldn't ignore or overlook. Not the first time God has pulled that particular stunt, actually, but last time it was $5, not $50.
Also one of my students (the one who lives in Molalla and was the only one who had shown up for the Molalla class) critcized me roundly when I told her I wasn't teaching any more for financial reasons. "Why didn't you say something?!" she demanded. "We could have all chipped in a dollar for gas money! Or I could just drive you myself, actually..."
Saturday morning I taught English class at Oregon City. Maria drove me there, and said she would gladly continue to do so for the rest of the term (we're all taking August off). So now not only is God pretty much throwing money at me this week, but he's also lowering my expenses.
And apparently he wasn't even done yet. This evening (Sunday) as I was getting ready to leave to go to evening service, it dawned on me that I had not checked the mail on Saturday. So I meandered over to the office where the mailboxes are and surprise! One thing in my mail box (I usually don't get mail) - a letter from my grandparents. Inside the letter was a check for $150 and a note explaining that they did not want to be paid back... they had just heard (probably via my mom) that money was tight and they "wanted to make sure I was all right".
So tonight after the Chamaco was in bed, I sat down to pay some bills that weren't even overdue yet (I still have 3 days, even), and a verse kept popping into my head. I'm fantastic at remembering general verse content, but I never know where the verses are actually found so I had to look it up...
"Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." - Luke 6:38 (NIV)
Yeah, that sounds about like my week.
I've been stressing a good bit over money lately - and I probably shouldn't. God always gets me by in one way or another. But since I got laid off on May 28th and have had absolutely nada de income since then, I have begun restricting my trips to Oregon City and thus to church as well. The first thing I cut was my Saturday voyage to English classes... I offered to hold a class in Molalla for any of my students that wanted to come, only one took me up on it. The Wednesday night church service seemed like the next logical one to go, since I have to go to Oregon City twice on Sundays anyway to pick Damian up from his dad's. I hadn't been to a Wednesday night service since May. But this week I really wanted to go... but I was afraid if I did I wouldn't have enough gasoline to get back to OC on Saturday for skit rehearsal for ASBA and then back to church again twice on Sunday. Yikes! So I decided to practice that "giving it to God" thing. I told him that I was pretty sure if he wanted me to be there, he'd find a way to cover the gas money and I'd just trust him. Did God deliver? Um, yeah, I'd say he definitely made a statement. While I was at church Wednesday night, someone gave me $50 out of the blue. That's TWO tanks of gas. For those who will argue that it was coincidence, let me ask you... how often does someone coincidentally give YOU $50? Yeah, that's what I thought. And God wasn't even done yet.
On Thursday, I found out that the Oregon Unemployment Department had finally pulled its collective head out of its collective backside on and decided that, yes, I am eligible for unemployment benefits... a mere six weeks after I got laid off. And when did this actually happen? Wednesday... the very day I was dithering around worrying about having enough money to drive to church. God had already been all over that one, and I was too busy fretting to pay attention. The money didn't actually get deposited into my account until Friday, but that still would have been in plenty of time to get to skit rehearsal on Saturday. It seems that God was merely reassuring me with the $50... something I'd notice, something I couldn't ignore or overlook. Not the first time God has pulled that particular stunt, actually, but last time it was $5, not $50.
Also one of my students (the one who lives in Molalla and was the only one who had shown up for the Molalla class) critcized me roundly when I told her I wasn't teaching any more for financial reasons. "Why didn't you say something?!" she demanded. "We could have all chipped in a dollar for gas money! Or I could just drive you myself, actually..."
Saturday morning I taught English class at Oregon City. Maria drove me there, and said she would gladly continue to do so for the rest of the term (we're all taking August off). So now not only is God pretty much throwing money at me this week, but he's also lowering my expenses.
And apparently he wasn't even done yet. This evening (Sunday) as I was getting ready to leave to go to evening service, it dawned on me that I had not checked the mail on Saturday. So I meandered over to the office where the mailboxes are and surprise! One thing in my mail box (I usually don't get mail) - a letter from my grandparents. Inside the letter was a check for $150 and a note explaining that they did not want to be paid back... they had just heard (probably via my mom) that money was tight and they "wanted to make sure I was all right".
So tonight after the Chamaco was in bed, I sat down to pay some bills that weren't even overdue yet (I still have 3 days, even), and a verse kept popping into my head. I'm fantastic at remembering general verse content, but I never know where the verses are actually found so I had to look it up...
"Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." - Luke 6:38 (NIV)
Yeah, that sounds about like my week.
July 4, 2010
Green alien goo...
AVOCADO: (noun, English) A food substance (fruit?) with a dark green, wrinkly exterior and a soft, squishy, paler green interior surrounding a large central seed that makes a rather satisfying *thunk* sound when dropped on the counter.
~NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH...~
AVVOCATO: (noun, Italian) A person who practices the law profession, in altre parole, a lawyer. Also makes a rather satisfying *thunk* sound when dropped on the counter.
Looking a bit fried, no?
As it happens, you can buy avocados with food stamps. And olive oil. I did some digging around on the interwebs for homemade conditioning mixes, and found one involving avocados and olive oil, both of which I already had on hand. The result was this: ---->
Totally looks like something you'd want to cover your head in, right?
But, daring adventurer that I am, I decided to go for it, figuring that if that one didn't help, I'd try the olive oil/egg mix next. Why did I go for avocado first? Well, because I had a surplus of avocados and I was afraid they were going to go bad before I used them all, that's why.
So I got my hair wet and wrung it out a bit, and started putting the goo in my hair with my head hanging over the bathtub. I soon discovered an unfortunate side effect was that it looked like someone had barfed avocados in my bathtub (Speaking of barf, you should have seen the hair clog I pulled out of my drain immediately before I started this process. Looked like the famed Coiled Crap Hound!). I found this vaguely nauseating, because I am actually not fond of avocados as a food product in and of themselves. I like them in their guacamole form, but as far as I'm concerned that's the only thing they're good for at all. I had them on hand to make guacamole out of. I remember when I was in Mexico I complained loudly many times about how I could not get a sandwich from the school cafeteria thing that didn't have avocado slices in it. I don't like the taste of straight avocado, and I'm not particularly fond of the smell either. But I got the stuff in my hair and settled in to wait.
Speaking of other things you can get with food stamps that aren't strictly food - baking soda and vinegar. To you is fun science experiment for kids/papier mache volcano fuel. To me is drain cleaner. I figured since my bathtub was already smelling kind of weird from the avocados (and post hair clog) I'd pour some baking soda down the drain and follow it up with a chaser of vinegar. My mom taught me this trick... poor man's Drano. (My apartment manager also told me that a bottle of bleach poured down the drain once every couple of weeks is a good preventative measure, but you can't get bleach with food stamps.) I just like the hissing noise the drain makes for a while until everything settles down again. It would be good for convincing a little kid that there's a monster living in the drain. :)
By the way, anyone besides me ever notice that there is no generic, cheap brand of baking soda? You can get Arm & Hammer or... you can not buy baking soda. Why does Arm & Hammer have the monopoly on baking soda?!
About 15 minutes in to my half an hour wait time, I discovered something interesting. Apparently after a while the olive oil starts to separate from the avocado and run out from the edges of the shower cap. I just assumed it was good for the skin and rubbed it in, since I was going to take a shower pretty soon anyway. I also rubbed it into my scalp really good, because I could feel the olive oil trickling down there too, and my scalp/hair tends toward dry... can't hurt, right? The recipe I read said to wash the avocado out with "a mild shampoo". I was just hoping I could get the stuff out of my hair. I think that could be rather embarrassing at church in the morning.
SOMEONE: What's that green thing in your hair?
ME: Oh, that's avocado. I guess I missed some.
SOMEONE: (backs away slowly)
It was actually surprisingly easy to get out of my hair... I think I pulverized it well enough before I put it in there. Chunks are the enemy. So far, however, I'm not noticing any appreciable difference in the status of my hair while it's still wet. If something changes after it's dry, I'll let you know.
~NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH...~
AVVOCATO: (noun, Italian) A person who practices the law profession, in altre parole, a lawyer. Also makes a rather satisfying *thunk* sound when dropped on the counter.
So, here's my current predicament. I find myself in my unemployed stretch of the year, this year scheduled to last until September 7th or so. I have dyed my hair back to a more subdued sort of color because I can't afford the upkeep on the red. The water no longer turns pink when I shower. However, my hair kinda damaged, and the only conditioners I can presently afford are the cheap 99 cent Suave things which do pretty much NOTHING for my hair. Oddly, you can't buy conditioner/shampoo with food stamps. Here's a nice shot of my hair:
Looking a bit fried, no?
Totally looks like something you'd want to cover your head in, right?
But, daring adventurer that I am, I decided to go for it, figuring that if that one didn't help, I'd try the olive oil/egg mix next. Why did I go for avocado first? Well, because I had a surplus of avocados and I was afraid they were going to go bad before I used them all, that's why.
So I got my hair wet and wrung it out a bit, and started putting the goo in my hair with my head hanging over the bathtub. I soon discovered an unfortunate side effect was that it looked like someone had barfed avocados in my bathtub (Speaking of barf, you should have seen the hair clog I pulled out of my drain immediately before I started this process. Looked like the famed Coiled Crap Hound!). I found this vaguely nauseating, because I am actually not fond of avocados as a food product in and of themselves. I like them in their guacamole form, but as far as I'm concerned that's the only thing they're good for at all. I had them on hand to make guacamole out of. I remember when I was in Mexico I complained loudly many times about how I could not get a sandwich from the school cafeteria thing that didn't have avocado slices in it. I don't like the taste of straight avocado, and I'm not particularly fond of the smell either. But I got the stuff in my hair and settled in to wait.
Speaking of other things you can get with food stamps that aren't strictly food - baking soda and vinegar. To you is fun science experiment for kids/papier mache volcano fuel. To me is drain cleaner. I figured since my bathtub was already smelling kind of weird from the avocados (and post hair clog) I'd pour some baking soda down the drain and follow it up with a chaser of vinegar. My mom taught me this trick... poor man's Drano. (My apartment manager also told me that a bottle of bleach poured down the drain once every couple of weeks is a good preventative measure, but you can't get bleach with food stamps.) I just like the hissing noise the drain makes for a while until everything settles down again. It would be good for convincing a little kid that there's a monster living in the drain. :)
By the way, anyone besides me ever notice that there is no generic, cheap brand of baking soda? You can get Arm & Hammer or... you can not buy baking soda. Why does Arm & Hammer have the monopoly on baking soda?!
About 15 minutes in to my half an hour wait time, I discovered something interesting. Apparently after a while the olive oil starts to separate from the avocado and run out from the edges of the shower cap. I just assumed it was good for the skin and rubbed it in, since I was going to take a shower pretty soon anyway. I also rubbed it into my scalp really good, because I could feel the olive oil trickling down there too, and my scalp/hair tends toward dry... can't hurt, right? The recipe I read said to wash the avocado out with "a mild shampoo". I was just hoping I could get the stuff out of my hair. I think that could be rather embarrassing at church in the morning.
SOMEONE: What's that green thing in your hair?
ME: Oh, that's avocado. I guess I missed some.
SOMEONE: (backs away slowly)
It was actually surprisingly easy to get out of my hair... I think I pulverized it well enough before I put it in there. Chunks are the enemy. So far, however, I'm not noticing any appreciable difference in the status of my hair while it's still wet. If something changes after it's dry, I'll let you know.
May 2, 2010
Crazy Goats, early 1900s Vacation Spots, and Frisbee Golf
(Resists temptation to write parodied song about "Crazy Goats" to the tune of the song that has been stuck in my head for over a week straight.)
So, Sister Sibling spent the night last night and we were up WAY too late and got up WAY too early, which probably led to this video here being WAY funnier than it should have been. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEmRfxxGGcE
Phrase of the Day established early on: "This is a white man's crazy goat!"
Early in the day it was established that this should be the day in which we play Frisbee Golf. We've been discussing for many long times now about how we need to play frisbee golf one of these days, and today was it, darn it! Who cares if it's horribly windy? Not us! So we set boldly forth to find a second frisbee, since I only have one in my posession. That was easy enough, and we settled upon Clark Park as the place in which we ought to toss frisbees at objects. The wind was pretty crazy, and a few times we had throws that went negative distance... we'd throw a frisbee in the forward direction and it would actually catch in the wind and land several feet behind the position we'd thrown it from. Pars were set ridiculously high and we still managed to go over them more often than not. We did, however, decide that if one under par is a "birdie" and two under par is an "eagle", then 150 or more under par is a "flock of starlings".
Speaking of starlings, I managed to severely startle four of them with a frisbee. I also managed to land my frisbee across a fence and on top of a roof. (Bloody wind!) Fortunately there were some dudes standing around on the ground on that side of the fence, and one of them quite athletically jumped up onto the roof (after climbing on a propane tank) and got it for me and tossed it back.
No squirrels were harmed during our game of frisbee golf.
Having run out of new objects to hit with frisbees, we decided to go ranging about and try to find a new place to play. Ivor Davies Park was too devoid of anything to hit with frisbees except a pond (not an ideal target), Fox and Long parks are both too close to the road and too full of children (and people get mad when you label their child as a par five and then chuck frisbees at him/her), so we decided to go find Wilhoit Springs Park, which was a popular vacation destination in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Check it out here. We found it, and it was cool (pics on Facebook), but not a great place for frisbee golf either.
My left knee has been bothering me for a couple of weeks now... not sure what I did to offend it. But today I banged it into a picnic table at Clark Park in a way it seemed to find most offensive, and then after I made it hike all over Wilhoit Springs it decided to hate my guts. I've been trying to make amends with rest and ice most of the afternoon. So far, so good. And now, my favorite sign of the times...
So, Sister Sibling spent the night last night and we were up WAY too late and got up WAY too early, which probably led to this video here being WAY funnier than it should have been. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEmRfxxGGcE
Phrase of the Day established early on: "This is a white man's crazy goat!"
Early in the day it was established that this should be the day in which we play Frisbee Golf. We've been discussing for many long times now about how we need to play frisbee golf one of these days, and today was it, darn it! Who cares if it's horribly windy? Not us! So we set boldly forth to find a second frisbee, since I only have one in my posession. That was easy enough, and we settled upon Clark Park as the place in which we ought to toss frisbees at objects. The wind was pretty crazy, and a few times we had throws that went negative distance... we'd throw a frisbee in the forward direction and it would actually catch in the wind and land several feet behind the position we'd thrown it from. Pars were set ridiculously high and we still managed to go over them more often than not. We did, however, decide that if one under par is a "birdie" and two under par is an "eagle", then 150 or more under par is a "flock of starlings".
Speaking of starlings, I managed to severely startle four of them with a frisbee. I also managed to land my frisbee across a fence and on top of a roof. (Bloody wind!) Fortunately there were some dudes standing around on the ground on that side of the fence, and one of them quite athletically jumped up onto the roof (after climbing on a propane tank) and got it for me and tossed it back.
No squirrels were harmed during our game of frisbee golf.
Having run out of new objects to hit with frisbees, we decided to go ranging about and try to find a new place to play. Ivor Davies Park was too devoid of anything to hit with frisbees except a pond (not an ideal target), Fox and Long parks are both too close to the road and too full of children (and people get mad when you label their child as a par five and then chuck frisbees at him/her), so we decided to go find Wilhoit Springs Park, which was a popular vacation destination in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Check it out here. We found it, and it was cool (pics on Facebook), but not a great place for frisbee golf either.
My left knee has been bothering me for a couple of weeks now... not sure what I did to offend it. But today I banged it into a picnic table at Clark Park in a way it seemed to find most offensive, and then after I made it hike all over Wilhoit Springs it decided to hate my guts. I've been trying to make amends with rest and ice most of the afternoon. So far, so good. And now, my favorite sign of the times...
Song o' the Day: "Anni Miei" by Laura Pausini. For no particular reason.
March 15, 2010
Chores...
By now it's not news to anyone who knows us that the Chamaco occasionally has moments of startling maturity. The one that stands out most clearly in my mind happened when he was 4. We were in the car (as we usually are when these moments occur) and he was weighing out loud the pros and cons of living at my house versus living at his dad's house. His closing statement to his own argument was this: "I think I like living at your house better, because you have rules. Daddy doesn't have any rules, really, and that just doesn't seem safe to me."
It helps that he's the sort of kid you can talk to with explanations like, "When I make rules, I'm not just trying to spoil your fun. I make rules to keep you safe, to keep you healthy, and to help you grow up to be a good person." And he accepts this. We'll see if he still believes me when he's a teenager...
But as it stands now he's eight years old. Most of the time he's content to run around making machine gun noises, play video games, and spout trivia about things that I have no knowledge of or interest in either one. But every now and then we get in a car and drive a long way, and the Chamaco has inherited his father's non-comprehension of the term "comfortable silence" - any silence occurring when there is at least one other person present must immediately be filled. So Saturday night we were driving home from la casa de mis tíos in the dark and he started talking. I'm pretty sure he thinks out loud.
"I think it's time I had some chores," he announced.
We had touched on this topic before, but I could tell from his tone of voice that this time he meant business. "That's a good idea," I said. "What sort of chores would you like to have?"
"I'm not sure. What are some things I could do?"
He's been helping me fold laundry and receiving basic folding training for a while now, so I said, "You could fold laundry... you could sweep the floor... you could pick up in your room every day..."
"And I could take out the garbage! Probably. If it's not too heavy."
"Yes, you could do that. Anything else?"
"No, I think four is good to start. And you should pay me allowance for doing chores."
I was not at all shocked by this progression in his train of thought, because only the day previous he had spent the last of his birthday/Christmas money and was now down to only $4. Fortunately I was prepared. "How much do you think you should get for doing those chores?"
"A dollar a week. Or maybe two. I don't know. What do you think?"
Much as I love the concept of cheap labor, I am a member of the so-called "Justice Generation" (as Barney puts it) and my sense of fair play won out. Also, because I know the kid, I took a gamble on the notion that after an initial gung-ho period, he'll get tired of doing the chores and opt out or complain about having to do them. Which led me to suggest, "How about we make a chart, and every day when you do a chore you can check the box. At the end of the week we'll add it up, and you can get 25 cents for every check."
My little math whiz was all over this. "Wow, Mom! That's seven dollars a week!"
I'm still older and (hopefully) smarter, though not as fast at crunching the numbers. "Not really, because two of those chores won't need to be done every day. We usually only do laundry once a week, and the garbage only needs to be taken out two or three times a week. So it'll be less than seven dollars, but definitely more than two. You're probably looking at around $4 or $4.50 most weeks."
"Sounds good. Can we start tomorrow?"
So we got home and made the chart and the details were hammered out. Sweeping and picking up his room he can do every day if he chooses to, taking out trash and folding laundry are done when necessary or when I ask. I'm not going to sit on him to pick up his room and sweep every day... I'll give him the option. He can choose not to do it, and thus choose not to earn the money. (Non-Head Start employees have no idea how very Head Start this system sounds... six months ago it probably would not have occurred to me.)
Today was Day One, and of course he very enthusiastically swept the floor. He got to the picking up his room part, worked for about five minutes, then came down and said, "I think I'm going to do that one a little bit at a time because it's a big job."
"Well yeah. It's a big job right now because your room is trashed. But if you get it picked up nice and then you make sure you pick up every day, it'll take you like two minutes."
"Yeah, I know. But I mostly cleared off the table. Does that count?"
I let him count it. Meanwhile, I was fixing dinner. He asked if he could take out the trash, which was almost full. I asked him to wait until after dinner, because I was going to be throwing some more things in there. Seeing he was a little disappointed, I told him he could go in my room and fold the laundry if he wanted. He ran upstairs, excited once more. It took him pretty much the entire time it took me to make dinner, but he folded the entire load of laundry completely without assistance, divvying things out into piles as I have shown him. He asked where he should put away my clothes and I said I'd put them away if he just left the piles in the floor, so he went and put away his own clothes in his dresser.
We ate dinner at the table together. This is a rarity... usually I sort of work through dinner. But I had tidied the kitchen up while cooking, and had finished my translating while he swept and picked up his room (though admittedly I didn't have much today), so we had dinner together. While we were eating, the lightbulb in the fixture at the bottom of the stairs exploded in a blaze of glory. So after we ate, he took out the trash and then we went to buy more lightbulbs, because I was out. And we still had half an hour before bedtime, which is completely unprecedented and largely attributable to the Chamaco doing some of the stuff I normally do so I dídn't have to. So we played Uno. And then Guess Who. Then it was time for him to go to bed.
Now this isn't a perfect system... he's not exactly a professional-level floor sweeper. The floor could probably still stand to be swept in some areas. Also he can't fold towels to my exacting standards. Enter Head Start...
One of the things they're sort of making me do is read a book called "Positive Discipline for Preschoolers". They're very pro-Positive Discipline, and the concept was totally foreign to me when I started working there. Admittedly the Chamaco is not a preschooler, but I have picked up some things from this book that do make sense regardless of his age. There's an example in the book from a child's perspective - a little girl's mother asks her to make her own bed to save Mommy some time in the morning. So the little girl tugs and smoothes and pats the sheets into place and thinks she has done a pretty good job and is well-pleased. Later Mommy comes in and fixes it. Little Girl comes away with the impression that her work was not good enough and is discouraged from even trying it again.
I had this firmly in mind as I watched the Chamaco sweep the floor. Action plan now in place.
Will I re-sweep the floor? No. He'll do it again tomorrow. Maybe he'll hit those places.
Will I criticize his work? No. This is a behavior I want to encourage, not discourage.
Will I praise him for a job well done even though it is somewhat lacking by my adult standards? Yes, definitely.
Will I ask next time as he's sweeping, "Hey, could you make sure you sweep right here? It looks like that place really needs it."? Yes, probably. And if it's still not up to my standards, hey, the kid tried. No one will die if there are a few stray crumbs on the floor for a day.
Same theory applies for folding clothes. Does it, in the long run, even matter if things are folded in a different manner than I would have folded them? No. Do I want him to continue in this behavior? Yes. Will I praise him and thank him for his help? Heck yes... I hate folding laundry. Strangely folded towels are a small price to pay for not having to fold the laundry myself, and he can fold his own clothes however he likes. No, what is more important in this situation is that the job is done and that he feels accomplished, like he contributed something.
So it's the end of Day One of the great chores/allowance experiment. He earned a full dollar today. And hopefully he's in the process of learning something about responsibility and about working for what he wants, and also feeling like a valuable, contributing member of our little broken family. I'll try to remember to update as this project progresses if anything happens that seems relevant.
Song o' the Day: "Better Sorry than Safe" - Halestorm
It helps that he's the sort of kid you can talk to with explanations like, "When I make rules, I'm not just trying to spoil your fun. I make rules to keep you safe, to keep you healthy, and to help you grow up to be a good person." And he accepts this. We'll see if he still believes me when he's a teenager...
But as it stands now he's eight years old. Most of the time he's content to run around making machine gun noises, play video games, and spout trivia about things that I have no knowledge of or interest in either one. But every now and then we get in a car and drive a long way, and the Chamaco has inherited his father's non-comprehension of the term "comfortable silence" - any silence occurring when there is at least one other person present must immediately be filled. So Saturday night we were driving home from la casa de mis tíos in the dark and he started talking. I'm pretty sure he thinks out loud.
"I think it's time I had some chores," he announced.
We had touched on this topic before, but I could tell from his tone of voice that this time he meant business. "That's a good idea," I said. "What sort of chores would you like to have?"
"I'm not sure. What are some things I could do?"
He's been helping me fold laundry and receiving basic folding training for a while now, so I said, "You could fold laundry... you could sweep the floor... you could pick up in your room every day..."
"And I could take out the garbage! Probably. If it's not too heavy."
"Yes, you could do that. Anything else?"
"No, I think four is good to start. And you should pay me allowance for doing chores."
I was not at all shocked by this progression in his train of thought, because only the day previous he had spent the last of his birthday/Christmas money and was now down to only $4. Fortunately I was prepared. "How much do you think you should get for doing those chores?"
"A dollar a week. Or maybe two. I don't know. What do you think?"
Much as I love the concept of cheap labor, I am a member of the so-called "Justice Generation" (as Barney puts it) and my sense of fair play won out. Also, because I know the kid, I took a gamble on the notion that after an initial gung-ho period, he'll get tired of doing the chores and opt out or complain about having to do them. Which led me to suggest, "How about we make a chart, and every day when you do a chore you can check the box. At the end of the week we'll add it up, and you can get 25 cents for every check."
My little math whiz was all over this. "Wow, Mom! That's seven dollars a week!"
I'm still older and (hopefully) smarter, though not as fast at crunching the numbers. "Not really, because two of those chores won't need to be done every day. We usually only do laundry once a week, and the garbage only needs to be taken out two or three times a week. So it'll be less than seven dollars, but definitely more than two. You're probably looking at around $4 or $4.50 most weeks."
"Sounds good. Can we start tomorrow?"
So we got home and made the chart and the details were hammered out. Sweeping and picking up his room he can do every day if he chooses to, taking out trash and folding laundry are done when necessary or when I ask. I'm not going to sit on him to pick up his room and sweep every day... I'll give him the option. He can choose not to do it, and thus choose not to earn the money. (Non-Head Start employees have no idea how very Head Start this system sounds... six months ago it probably would not have occurred to me.)
Today was Day One, and of course he very enthusiastically swept the floor. He got to the picking up his room part, worked for about five minutes, then came down and said, "I think I'm going to do that one a little bit at a time because it's a big job."
"Well yeah. It's a big job right now because your room is trashed. But if you get it picked up nice and then you make sure you pick up every day, it'll take you like two minutes."
"Yeah, I know. But I mostly cleared off the table. Does that count?"
I let him count it. Meanwhile, I was fixing dinner. He asked if he could take out the trash, which was almost full. I asked him to wait until after dinner, because I was going to be throwing some more things in there. Seeing he was a little disappointed, I told him he could go in my room and fold the laundry if he wanted. He ran upstairs, excited once more. It took him pretty much the entire time it took me to make dinner, but he folded the entire load of laundry completely without assistance, divvying things out into piles as I have shown him. He asked where he should put away my clothes and I said I'd put them away if he just left the piles in the floor, so he went and put away his own clothes in his dresser.
We ate dinner at the table together. This is a rarity... usually I sort of work through dinner. But I had tidied the kitchen up while cooking, and had finished my translating while he swept and picked up his room (though admittedly I didn't have much today), so we had dinner together. While we were eating, the lightbulb in the fixture at the bottom of the stairs exploded in a blaze of glory. So after we ate, he took out the trash and then we went to buy more lightbulbs, because I was out. And we still had half an hour before bedtime, which is completely unprecedented and largely attributable to the Chamaco doing some of the stuff I normally do so I dídn't have to. So we played Uno. And then Guess Who. Then it was time for him to go to bed.
Now this isn't a perfect system... he's not exactly a professional-level floor sweeper. The floor could probably still stand to be swept in some areas. Also he can't fold towels to my exacting standards. Enter Head Start...
One of the things they're sort of making me do is read a book called "Positive Discipline for Preschoolers". They're very pro-Positive Discipline, and the concept was totally foreign to me when I started working there. Admittedly the Chamaco is not a preschooler, but I have picked up some things from this book that do make sense regardless of his age. There's an example in the book from a child's perspective - a little girl's mother asks her to make her own bed to save Mommy some time in the morning. So the little girl tugs and smoothes and pats the sheets into place and thinks she has done a pretty good job and is well-pleased. Later Mommy comes in and fixes it. Little Girl comes away with the impression that her work was not good enough and is discouraged from even trying it again.
I had this firmly in mind as I watched the Chamaco sweep the floor. Action plan now in place.
Will I re-sweep the floor? No. He'll do it again tomorrow. Maybe he'll hit those places.
Will I criticize his work? No. This is a behavior I want to encourage, not discourage.
Will I praise him for a job well done even though it is somewhat lacking by my adult standards? Yes, definitely.
Will I ask next time as he's sweeping, "Hey, could you make sure you sweep right here? It looks like that place really needs it."? Yes, probably. And if it's still not up to my standards, hey, the kid tried. No one will die if there are a few stray crumbs on the floor for a day.
Same theory applies for folding clothes. Does it, in the long run, even matter if things are folded in a different manner than I would have folded them? No. Do I want him to continue in this behavior? Yes. Will I praise him and thank him for his help? Heck yes... I hate folding laundry. Strangely folded towels are a small price to pay for not having to fold the laundry myself, and he can fold his own clothes however he likes. No, what is more important in this situation is that the job is done and that he feels accomplished, like he contributed something.
So it's the end of Day One of the great chores/allowance experiment. He earned a full dollar today. And hopefully he's in the process of learning something about responsibility and about working for what he wants, and also feeling like a valuable, contributing member of our little broken family. I'll try to remember to update as this project progresses if anything happens that seems relevant.
Song o' the Day: "Better Sorry than Safe" - Halestorm
February 25, 2010
Surely we didn't get off THAT easily....
Those of you who know me well (all 5 of you) know that every winter I struggle with seasonal depression and the urge to crawl into a hole and not emerge from about November 1st through the beginning of July sometime.
This year hasn't been as bad as I've come to expect, and I'm not sure whether to credit living in a house with heat for the first winter of the last 8 or so years, or the fact that this winter has so far been extremely mild aside from a cold snap shortly before Christmas. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, my recurring thought is, "Surely we didn't get off THAT easily..."
Because this is Oregon, and we've had deceptively mild winters before... you know, the ones where it is rainy and only moderately cold December through February, then it turns around and snows most of March and into early April. And if there's one thing I hate, it's snow. Take one thing I hate extremely (cold) and combine it with another thing I hate extremely (wet rainyness) and you get snow, a.k.a. "the ultimate evil".
And in other hellish events, we had an inservice today. Meetings are probably #1 on my list of things I hate, though snow is a very close #2. And the first speaker of the day was, I hate to say it, rather useless. He had some very good ideas, yes, provided that you're working with wealthy, upper-middle class children from stable, two-parent families (in the case of his center, most of the children were the children of university faculty). Unfortunately, catering to low-income, high-risk families is kind of what we do and a lot of what he was talking about just really isn't workable in our program, so why was this guy speaking anyway? Much less going on about it for 3 hours. On the plus side, he had some lovely books in Italian that I was reading during the 15 minute break in his 3 hours of drivel. I might look up some of the books later... or I might not. But really, a guy who got his master's degree in French Literature but speaks Italian better than French and still needs an interpreter for Italian is not to be trusted. With that admission when I asked him, he lost all credibility as far as I was concerned.
Also, who gets a master's degree in French Literature?! (Also, who gets a master's degree in French Literature, then goes on to get a doctorate in Early Childhood Ed.? Kind of a stretch, don't you think?) Also he was wearing four rings, none of which were wedding rings, and Wendy thought his shirt was tucked in weird. Nancy and I agreed.
No, I despise meetings (especially meetings disguised as "trainings" - call a spade a spade, people!) and I'm afraid I got up at 6:30 a.m. today only to be bored into a stupor for the better part of the day. TGI(my)F.
Song o' the Day: "Get Out Alive" by Three Days Grace. Because I thought I wasn't going to.
This year hasn't been as bad as I've come to expect, and I'm not sure whether to credit living in a house with heat for the first winter of the last 8 or so years, or the fact that this winter has so far been extremely mild aside from a cold snap shortly before Christmas. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, my recurring thought is, "Surely we didn't get off THAT easily..."
Because this is Oregon, and we've had deceptively mild winters before... you know, the ones where it is rainy and only moderately cold December through February, then it turns around and snows most of March and into early April. And if there's one thing I hate, it's snow. Take one thing I hate extremely (cold) and combine it with another thing I hate extremely (wet rainyness) and you get snow, a.k.a. "the ultimate evil".
And in other hellish events, we had an inservice today. Meetings are probably #1 on my list of things I hate, though snow is a very close #2. And the first speaker of the day was, I hate to say it, rather useless. He had some very good ideas, yes, provided that you're working with wealthy, upper-middle class children from stable, two-parent families (in the case of his center, most of the children were the children of university faculty). Unfortunately, catering to low-income, high-risk families is kind of what we do and a lot of what he was talking about just really isn't workable in our program, so why was this guy speaking anyway? Much less going on about it for 3 hours. On the plus side, he had some lovely books in Italian that I was reading during the 15 minute break in his 3 hours of drivel. I might look up some of the books later... or I might not. But really, a guy who got his master's degree in French Literature but speaks Italian better than French and still needs an interpreter for Italian is not to be trusted. With that admission when I asked him, he lost all credibility as far as I was concerned.
Also, who gets a master's degree in French Literature?! (Also, who gets a master's degree in French Literature, then goes on to get a doctorate in Early Childhood Ed.? Kind of a stretch, don't you think?) Also he was wearing four rings, none of which were wedding rings, and Wendy thought his shirt was tucked in weird. Nancy and I agreed.
No, I despise meetings (especially meetings disguised as "trainings" - call a spade a spade, people!) and I'm afraid I got up at 6:30 a.m. today only to be bored into a stupor for the better part of the day. TGI(my)F.
Song o' the Day: "Get Out Alive" by Three Days Grace. Because I thought I wasn't going to.
February 16, 2010
It's one of those days...
... in which I entertain wild fantasies about a job that does not in any way involve children.
I don't like children today.
Back in the days of the ELL department at MES, Vickie and I used to go out for a venting session in the parking lot after work. It was nice because we could talk about it and be done with it and for me at least it was a very effective method of leaving work at work, and then going home and thinking about other stuff. And we would always start these sessions with the question, "So, do you like children today?"
I most emphatically do not like children today, thanks for asking. Today was one of those days that makes me question why the heck I work in education. At least 14 of the children I adore on an individual basis, but put all 18 of them together and I don't like children. This is why I could never be a classroom teacher in a regular school. Being in a room with the same 30 children for a year trying to make them learn stuff that by and large they don't care about would make me homicidal, suicidal, or both.
And even on days like today, I still know why God put me where I'm at. Just since September, in the course of working with these kids and trying to help them vocalize their turbulent preschooler emotions (vocalize rather than haul off and smack someone) I myself have learned a lot about coping with my own emotions. I tend to be very reserved emotionally - someone very close to me told me shortly after my husband left me that I did not have the "luxury" of crying because it made me useless, and it left a lasting impression on me - and I tend to ignore my own emotions and shove them out of the way rather than processing them and dealing with them, and it isn't healthy. In the process of helping them recognize and label their feelings, I've learned to recognize and label my own. While teaching them that their emotions are okay and valid, I've learned that my own are okay and valid as well and I'm even beginning to recognize my breaking point before I reach it, which is a huge step for me. Just today (and Nancy probably didn't realize how significant this was), the kids were being awful, my stress levels were rapidly increasing, and it was getting harder and harder to not scream at the children, and finally I told Nancy, "I'm going to step outside for a few minutes before I snap." I went and sat on the front steps away from the kids in the sun for a few minutes, took some deep breaths, and I went back inside a few minutes later when I felt better. Like I said, Nancy probably didn't think a whole lot of it but for me that's a pretty big thing to recognize, vocalize and then deal with my own emotions.
I told Nancy when I met her that I'm pretty much just an overgrown four year old. But it seems maybe I'm progressing slightly.
So even though I know why I'm in the place I'm in now, there's still the question of "what next?" I don't see me working in my current capacity forever... especially not at only 22 hours a week. I was just telling Nancy today I thought it would be nice to at some point have one job that paid me enough that I didn't need to have three jobs. I don't know where I go from here, but it is abundantly clear to me that God has the plan and he knows what he's doing... I'm just along for the ride.
Song o' the Day: "Check My Brain" by Alice in Chains. Awesome song. Go look it up.
I don't like children today.
Back in the days of the ELL department at MES, Vickie and I used to go out for a venting session in the parking lot after work. It was nice because we could talk about it and be done with it and for me at least it was a very effective method of leaving work at work, and then going home and thinking about other stuff. And we would always start these sessions with the question, "So, do you like children today?"
I most emphatically do not like children today, thanks for asking. Today was one of those days that makes me question why the heck I work in education. At least 14 of the children I adore on an individual basis, but put all 18 of them together and I don't like children. This is why I could never be a classroom teacher in a regular school. Being in a room with the same 30 children for a year trying to make them learn stuff that by and large they don't care about would make me homicidal, suicidal, or both.
And even on days like today, I still know why God put me where I'm at. Just since September, in the course of working with these kids and trying to help them vocalize their turbulent preschooler emotions (vocalize rather than haul off and smack someone) I myself have learned a lot about coping with my own emotions. I tend to be very reserved emotionally - someone very close to me told me shortly after my husband left me that I did not have the "luxury" of crying because it made me useless, and it left a lasting impression on me - and I tend to ignore my own emotions and shove them out of the way rather than processing them and dealing with them, and it isn't healthy. In the process of helping them recognize and label their feelings, I've learned to recognize and label my own. While teaching them that their emotions are okay and valid, I've learned that my own are okay and valid as well and I'm even beginning to recognize my breaking point before I reach it, which is a huge step for me. Just today (and Nancy probably didn't realize how significant this was), the kids were being awful, my stress levels were rapidly increasing, and it was getting harder and harder to not scream at the children, and finally I told Nancy, "I'm going to step outside for a few minutes before I snap." I went and sat on the front steps away from the kids in the sun for a few minutes, took some deep breaths, and I went back inside a few minutes later when I felt better. Like I said, Nancy probably didn't think a whole lot of it but for me that's a pretty big thing to recognize, vocalize and then deal with my own emotions.
I told Nancy when I met her that I'm pretty much just an overgrown four year old. But it seems maybe I'm progressing slightly.
So even though I know why I'm in the place I'm in now, there's still the question of "what next?" I don't see me working in my current capacity forever... especially not at only 22 hours a week. I was just telling Nancy today I thought it would be nice to at some point have one job that paid me enough that I didn't need to have three jobs. I don't know where I go from here, but it is abundantly clear to me that God has the plan and he knows what he's doing... I'm just along for the ride.
Song o' the Day: "Check My Brain" by Alice in Chains. Awesome song. Go look it up.
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