So the end has come on our week at the beach. Now that we're home and unpacking, I am realizing how fast the week went. When I was younger a week at the beach felt so much longer than a week at home. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because the pace of life at the beach was calmer and more laid back than it ever was at home. But now, as I'm sorting laundry to wash and putting things away, it really feels as if I just packed up for this trip yesterday. Would be nice to feel like we actually spent that time away from home.
Our last day was one of the best of the week. We took Lila back to the beach and tried to get her to go into the ocean. We should have known the problems we were going to have with the attempt by how much she resisted putting on her life jacket. We got about knee deep into the ocean, trying to put her feet in the water the whole time, before we gave up and let her go back to enjoying digging in the sand and playing in her tide pool. At least we got a few pictures. It's been neat watching her experiment with the sand, water and shells. I hope we have a chance to bring her back to the beach soon. Next year will be quite an experience. She will well be running around by that time!
Tim and I even got in a date night that night. Neither one of us were feeling the leftovers that were available for dinner. So, after we put the baby to bed and grammy in charge of the monitor, we went back up to Castaways for dinner. We even got the same table we've sat at each time we've been. There was a saxophone player providing tunes and entertainment to the crowd. He was pretty good though I did find it strange that a one man act referred to himself as "JP and friends". I wonder if his "friends" were just absent this evening..or if they actually exist.
So now all of us are back home. We're even up one person. My sister came back with us and will be visiting for three weeks. I always enjoying having her around. It's nice to have someone to give me a hand here and there. I do hate that the time at the beach went by so quickly, but it will be good to get back into the swing of things around here.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
We're On Vacation! (Part 2) - Things are a Little Quite Around Here
This is the first time my husband has been able to join us at the beach for the whole week. He's usually so busy with work that he can't make it down. This year, he decided no matter what he was coming with us. It's been nice having him here. I would have hated to have him miss Lila's first real trip to the beach. That being said...
It's been a much different trip this year. By the time I've gotten home from the beach in years past, I'm usually full of stories about the "crazy" things that have happened. Tim's heard them all, so he was ready for the madness that typically ensues at some time or another. But this year...nothing. It's a bit of a Catch 22 really. No one is arguing...which is good. The evenings are a little on the boring side...which is bad. The days seem to be taken up with the beach (as they should be) but a typical night consists of everyone on their respective computers/IPODS/Tablets doing whatever. Just more subdued than a typical trip.
Yesterday was a bit of a family day for us. After catching one two many rays (and forgetting to put sunscreen on my face), we decided to stay out of the sun for an afternoon. Tim and I took the baby up to a little open air pub called Castaways for lunch and a beer. Tim tried a very tasty oatmeal stout he hadn't heard of before, and Lila enjoyed snacking on daddy's chips and mommy's crab dip. After lunch, we ventured over the bridge to check out a few of the local shops. They are the typical shops you find in any beach town, full of every type of souvenir imaginable. We found a small strip that, from the looks of it, seemed to be independently owned shops and not the gigantic Wings you see everywhere. We joked about the store front of the first shop we saw. With "open", "closed" and "sale today" signs all hanging in the window, it was difficult to know which one was currently correct. We found it, closed.
The first shop we went into was a cross between a video store and a dollar store (where everything wasn't a dollar but looked like the stock had stayed put for years). It smelled pretty bad inside. I would have to be very hard pressed to actually buy anything from this one. I'm not sure anything in the store could be trusted unless highly sanitized, several times over. We walked through a surf shop next. Typical t-shirts, shorts, flops and bathing suits. Tim reminisced a bit about his Ed Hurley and Billabong band days. It would be interesting to see him wear some of that stuff again. Not a look I've ever seen on him, but I bet he could still pull it off. The last store in the strip was a little "antique" store. There were some neat older things to look at, though it was more reminiscent of a flea market booth than a traditional antique store. Some special treasures could be found, if that were the thing you were looking for. Interesting to look at none-the-less. The owner of the store was very nice. He gave Lila an otter beanie baby named Seaweed. He told us he gives one to all the kids who come in the store. He finds it keeps them occupied and quite while their parents look around. Smart man.
The rest of the evening was like the rest of them have been, pretty quite. My cousin made chili for dinner, which was good if you could get past the tears that would well up in your eyes from the spice. He was also passing around shots of some liquor called Malot (or something like that) which can only be found in Chicago. It looks, smells and tastes like Listerine. Reminded me of hanging out in my dad's dental office as a kid. Unfortunately, the taste seems to linger with you. One was more than enough for me. After dinner, Tim and I watched a movie while most everyone else went to play putt-putt. A bulb in the TV here must be going bad. While watching a movie, the screen will go from light to dark to nothing. I find it curious that it only seems to do it when a DVD is playing. Too bad it can't fade in and out like that when my grandfather is watching FOX news...haha.
So today is our last day here at the beach. Right now, I'm just waiting on Lila to wake up from her nap so we can take her to the beach one last time. Maybe she'll even let us take her in the ocean. We're at least going to try. Stay tuned to see how well that works out...
It's been a much different trip this year. By the time I've gotten home from the beach in years past, I'm usually full of stories about the "crazy" things that have happened. Tim's heard them all, so he was ready for the madness that typically ensues at some time or another. But this year...nothing. It's a bit of a Catch 22 really. No one is arguing...which is good. The evenings are a little on the boring side...which is bad. The days seem to be taken up with the beach (as they should be) but a typical night consists of everyone on their respective computers/IPODS/Tablets doing whatever. Just more subdued than a typical trip.
Yesterday was a bit of a family day for us. After catching one two many rays (and forgetting to put sunscreen on my face), we decided to stay out of the sun for an afternoon. Tim and I took the baby up to a little open air pub called Castaways for lunch and a beer. Tim tried a very tasty oatmeal stout he hadn't heard of before, and Lila enjoyed snacking on daddy's chips and mommy's crab dip. After lunch, we ventured over the bridge to check out a few of the local shops. They are the typical shops you find in any beach town, full of every type of souvenir imaginable. We found a small strip that, from the looks of it, seemed to be independently owned shops and not the gigantic Wings you see everywhere. We joked about the store front of the first shop we saw. With "open", "closed" and "sale today" signs all hanging in the window, it was difficult to know which one was currently correct. We found it, closed.
The first shop we went into was a cross between a video store and a dollar store (where everything wasn't a dollar but looked like the stock had stayed put for years). It smelled pretty bad inside. I would have to be very hard pressed to actually buy anything from this one. I'm not sure anything in the store could be trusted unless highly sanitized, several times over. We walked through a surf shop next. Typical t-shirts, shorts, flops and bathing suits. Tim reminisced a bit about his Ed Hurley and Billabong band days. It would be interesting to see him wear some of that stuff again. Not a look I've ever seen on him, but I bet he could still pull it off. The last store in the strip was a little "antique" store. There were some neat older things to look at, though it was more reminiscent of a flea market booth than a traditional antique store. Some special treasures could be found, if that were the thing you were looking for. Interesting to look at none-the-less. The owner of the store was very nice. He gave Lila an otter beanie baby named Seaweed. He told us he gives one to all the kids who come in the store. He finds it keeps them occupied and quite while their parents look around. Smart man.
The rest of the evening was like the rest of them have been, pretty quite. My cousin made chili for dinner, which was good if you could get past the tears that would well up in your eyes from the spice. He was also passing around shots of some liquor called Malot (or something like that) which can only be found in Chicago. It looks, smells and tastes like Listerine. Reminded me of hanging out in my dad's dental office as a kid. Unfortunately, the taste seems to linger with you. One was more than enough for me. After dinner, Tim and I watched a movie while most everyone else went to play putt-putt. A bulb in the TV here must be going bad. While watching a movie, the screen will go from light to dark to nothing. I find it curious that it only seems to do it when a DVD is playing. Too bad it can't fade in and out like that when my grandfather is watching FOX news...haha.
So today is our last day here at the beach. Right now, I'm just waiting on Lila to wake up from her nap so we can take her to the beach one last time. Maybe she'll even let us take her in the ocean. We're at least going to try. Stay tuned to see how well that works out...
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
We're On Vacation! (Part 1)
For twenty years now, my family has been going to the beach for a week every summer. We spent many years going to Ocean Isle, which almost started to feel like a second home. Every year sometime between June and July, a big group of us would head to the beach to relax for the week. Typically it was my family (four of us plus a friend I always go to bring), my grandparents, my uncle and his family, my two aunts and their families, a few others here and there...and a partrige in a pear tree. We'd go on walks or bike rides in the morning, hang on the beach for the day, play some mini-golf or a game of pool when the beach got too hot, and take the boat or jet skis out for a run before dinner.
Then, a few years back some crazy lady got her panties in a wad about protecting sea turtles and Ocean Isle outlawed tents on the beach. We went there a few times after that, but missing the shade of my uncle's big beach tent, went on the hunt for another family beach spot. A bit of a silly reason to break with tradition over a comfort as small as a tent, but that's what happened. Last year, everyone went to Wrightsville. I wasn't there. I was pregnant. Very pregnant. Too pregnant to even entertain the idea of being in the car for the time it would take to get to the beach...let alone actually want to step foot on the sand. Guess it wasn't exactly what they were looking for because soon after the trip ended, my mom was
already on the hunt for a new beach. One that everyone liked enough to keep coming back. And this year, we've found Holden Beach.
This is the first time I've ever been to Holden Beach. It seems like a nice enough beach, though not the same as the one I grew to love many years over. The island itself is pretty long, and there's not much on it that's not right off the bridge. The house we've rented is on the west side of the island were most of the homes are privately owned and not rented out. The good end of the deal is that the beach itself is not very crowded. The bad end of the deal is that we are almost as far away from everything as we can be. There's been some debate whether the closest form of civilization (an ice cream shop and general store) is 3 or 5 miles away (depending on how big your tires are...haha...yes, that was part of a REAL discussion)...either way...too far to not need a car.
The house we are renting is actually a duplex. It's been nice having two kitchens. With eighteen people under one roof, it's been an added luxury to feel like we can spread out a little more. It will be even nicer come tomorrow when some people start getting on other people's nerves and there's more places to hide. It's not necessarily the nicest house we've ever stayed in, but it serves all the needed purposes. We've spent some time envying the house behind us that has a swimming pool, volleyball court, basketball and shuffle board. I think we've already researched that one for next year.
It's been an interesting vacation so far. Lila's spent a few days at the beach which has been neat to watch. I was worried how she would react to the ocean. She's not a big fan of cooler water. She wasn't a fan at first, but once she figured out how to dig around in the sand, she was right at home. She spent a long time just running her fingers through the sand, chasing small beach toys through the tide pool waters and sampling how the shells tasted. She is still not used to the waves. She was playing in the sand at one point when a wave came in a barely reached her, just up to her bottom a bit. You would have thought a shark crawled up on the beach next to her. She screamed and started crawling up my legs. It was pricelessly funny! The demented side of my personality wants to set her up again, and this time have a video camera rolling. We'll see if that can be arranged. I'm hoping to try out her new life jacket and get her out in the waves before we leave. We'll see how that goes.
Our second night here, we packed up the whole crew and headed to Ocean Isle to have dinner at the Sugar Shack. (My own personal "Frommer's" tip for you: If you ever find yourself in Ocean Isle, you MUST eat at Sugar Shack. You will not be disappointed!) Sugar Shack is a Jamaican restaurant run by two transplanted yankees from New York. We forgive them for that since the food is so good! My dad had a beautiful salad of mozzarella cheese, basil, and tomatoes on steroids. Some years ago her actually got the owner to tell him where she got her tomatoes. Now, every year, he heads to the little farmer's market down the street and asks for the tomatoes "in the back room". The woman in charges usually just smiles and sells him a few. Lila ate most of my lobster bisque and was very displeased when there was no more left in the bowl. Most of the group chowed down on ribs and shrimp for dinner. Tim and my cousin tested out the goat. I found it to be a bit chewy but good all the same. We all participated in an embarrassing display of "Happy Birthday" for a few patrons before heading back. It was bittersweet being so close to the beach we spent so many good years enjoying. Even though Holden is only one beach north of Holden, it feels like a bit of a hike, but was well worth the trip!
Yesterday a few of the ladies took a day shopping trip to Myrtle Beach before meeting the rest of the group for dinner at Pirate Voyage. The show was pretty entertaining...with PLENTY of food for anyone. I was just thankful that Lila was tolerant of the whole show. With cannons going off and lots of flashing lights, there was no shortage of opportunities for her to show her not so pretty side. She seemed to enjoy most of it though, eatting most of my vegetable soup before watching the pirate performers dive into the water and tumble across the floor. It was QUITE a drive back though. If we do make Holden Beach our new beach of choice, I'm not sure I'll be up for making the treck all the way to Mrytle ever year.
Today I got to do something I haven't done in at least ten years. We took a walk down to the end of the island at low tide and dug for sand dollars. We did this at Ocean Isle for many, many years. Used to be that you could go out a little before low tide, walk out until you were knee to waist deep in water, scoop up some sand and come up with two or three sand dollars on your arm. As the years have gone by, there have been less and less sand dollars. The last year we went, no one could find anything. Probably due to the people that would come out and take them back by the hundreds. Today we found three. It wasn't that successful of an adventure, but it sure brought back some memories to do it again. At least we have something to show for the effort.
So there's the highlights of the trip so far. My goal was to write everyday of the trip (like I did when we were in Ireland), but that hasn't happened so far. Hopefully I can keep up with things a bit more now and write every day for the rest of the trip. Maybe then you won't get the Cliff's notes version...but the whole kit and cabootal.
Then, a few years back some crazy lady got her panties in a wad about protecting sea turtles and Ocean Isle outlawed tents on the beach. We went there a few times after that, but missing the shade of my uncle's big beach tent, went on the hunt for another family beach spot. A bit of a silly reason to break with tradition over a comfort as small as a tent, but that's what happened. Last year, everyone went to Wrightsville. I wasn't there. I was pregnant. Very pregnant. Too pregnant to even entertain the idea of being in the car for the time it would take to get to the beach...let alone actually want to step foot on the sand. Guess it wasn't exactly what they were looking for because soon after the trip ended, my mom was
already on the hunt for a new beach. One that everyone liked enough to keep coming back. And this year, we've found Holden Beach.
This is the first time I've ever been to Holden Beach. It seems like a nice enough beach, though not the same as the one I grew to love many years over. The island itself is pretty long, and there's not much on it that's not right off the bridge. The house we've rented is on the west side of the island were most of the homes are privately owned and not rented out. The good end of the deal is that the beach itself is not very crowded. The bad end of the deal is that we are almost as far away from everything as we can be. There's been some debate whether the closest form of civilization (an ice cream shop and general store) is 3 or 5 miles away (depending on how big your tires are...haha...yes, that was part of a REAL discussion)...either way...too far to not need a car.
The house we are renting is actually a duplex. It's been nice having two kitchens. With eighteen people under one roof, it's been an added luxury to feel like we can spread out a little more. It will be even nicer come tomorrow when some people start getting on other people's nerves and there's more places to hide. It's not necessarily the nicest house we've ever stayed in, but it serves all the needed purposes. We've spent some time envying the house behind us that has a swimming pool, volleyball court, basketball and shuffle board. I think we've already researched that one for next year.
It's been an interesting vacation so far. Lila's spent a few days at the beach which has been neat to watch. I was worried how she would react to the ocean. She's not a big fan of cooler water. She wasn't a fan at first, but once she figured out how to dig around in the sand, she was right at home. She spent a long time just running her fingers through the sand, chasing small beach toys through the tide pool waters and sampling how the shells tasted. She is still not used to the waves. She was playing in the sand at one point when a wave came in a barely reached her, just up to her bottom a bit. You would have thought a shark crawled up on the beach next to her. She screamed and started crawling up my legs. It was pricelessly funny! The demented side of my personality wants to set her up again, and this time have a video camera rolling. We'll see if that can be arranged. I'm hoping to try out her new life jacket and get her out in the waves before we leave. We'll see how that goes.
Our second night here, we packed up the whole crew and headed to Ocean Isle to have dinner at the Sugar Shack. (My own personal "Frommer's" tip for you: If you ever find yourself in Ocean Isle, you MUST eat at Sugar Shack. You will not be disappointed!) Sugar Shack is a Jamaican restaurant run by two transplanted yankees from New York. We forgive them for that since the food is so good! My dad had a beautiful salad of mozzarella cheese, basil, and tomatoes on steroids. Some years ago her actually got the owner to tell him where she got her tomatoes. Now, every year, he heads to the little farmer's market down the street and asks for the tomatoes "in the back room". The woman in charges usually just smiles and sells him a few. Lila ate most of my lobster bisque and was very displeased when there was no more left in the bowl. Most of the group chowed down on ribs and shrimp for dinner. Tim and my cousin tested out the goat. I found it to be a bit chewy but good all the same. We all participated in an embarrassing display of "Happy Birthday" for a few patrons before heading back. It was bittersweet being so close to the beach we spent so many good years enjoying. Even though Holden is only one beach north of Holden, it feels like a bit of a hike, but was well worth the trip!
Yesterday a few of the ladies took a day shopping trip to Myrtle Beach before meeting the rest of the group for dinner at Pirate Voyage. The show was pretty entertaining...with PLENTY of food for anyone. I was just thankful that Lila was tolerant of the whole show. With cannons going off and lots of flashing lights, there was no shortage of opportunities for her to show her not so pretty side. She seemed to enjoy most of it though, eatting most of my vegetable soup before watching the pirate performers dive into the water and tumble across the floor. It was QUITE a drive back though. If we do make Holden Beach our new beach of choice, I'm not sure I'll be up for making the treck all the way to Mrytle ever year.
Today I got to do something I haven't done in at least ten years. We took a walk down to the end of the island at low tide and dug for sand dollars. We did this at Ocean Isle for many, many years. Used to be that you could go out a little before low tide, walk out until you were knee to waist deep in water, scoop up some sand and come up with two or three sand dollars on your arm. As the years have gone by, there have been less and less sand dollars. The last year we went, no one could find anything. Probably due to the people that would come out and take them back by the hundreds. Today we found three. It wasn't that successful of an adventure, but it sure brought back some memories to do it again. At least we have something to show for the effort.
So there's the highlights of the trip so far. My goal was to write everyday of the trip (like I did when we were in Ireland), but that hasn't happened so far. Hopefully I can keep up with things a bit more now and write every day for the rest of the trip. Maybe then you won't get the Cliff's notes version...but the whole kit and cabootal.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Dang! Them Little Teeth Hurt!
First of all let me say that I'm a huge supporter of breastfeeding. I'm not one of those moms that looks down on women who choose to formula feed, I say to each his own, but I personally believe in breastfeeding. Before I had my daughter, I always said that come hell or high water, she would be breastfed. Every mom has to make that decision for themselves and I had made my mind up. That was how it was going to be. And that's how it was...I went through hell and high water getting her to breastfeed.
It was very rough at first. She would latch but not eat. Every feeding was an hour and a half of both me and my husband working together to get her fed. Trying to nurse, pumping, feeding her my milk, supplementing with formula...only to have to repeat the whole process an hour and a half later. We went to several lactation consultant visits, anything we could do to get help. I think it was difficult for my husband at first, to see the struggle we were both going through. But I've never been a quitter...and I was determined. I'd always heard that something magical happens at the two week mark and thankfully for us, it did. Two weeks of endlessly long feedings and she figured it out. Finally! Thank goodness!
My sweet baby girl will be 1 in August (which is difficult to believe) and we're still going strong on the breastfeeding train. It's probably very likely that we're still going as well as we are because of all the struggle we went through in the beginning. I figure, if I was going to go through all the pain (literally) to get her to breastfeed...I'm going to milk it for all it's worth (ha...pun intended).
About a month ago my daughter cut her top two teeth. She now has four total, two top and two bottom. If I had one fear about breastfeeding, this was it. Teeth. She'd gotten a little over zealous a time or two pre-teeth, so I knew what it felt like to get "bit". Considering how much that hurt, I had nightmares about how it would be when the choppers actually started coming in. I'd heard both sides of the stories from moms that had continued to breastfeed their children once they had teeth. On one hand were the moms that didn't notice any difference. After all, babies don't (technically) need their teeth to breastfeed. On the other hand were the moms who got bitten every time they tried to feed their teething baby...so it was bye bye breastfeeding or hello bloody nipples. Bet you can guess which path almost all those mommies took. Needless to say, I was on edge about which group I would soon be a part of.
I noticed no difference with her bottom teeth. They barely bothered her coming in and I noticed no difference come feeding time. Wonderful! I get to be in the lucky group. Sure enough, as soon as I started thinking we were home free, her top teeth started to make their appearance. Those two monsters gave her a rough time. They took every bit of a week to finally pop through, and she was miserable the whole time. Now that they are through, feeding time has become a real crap shoot on my end. It's not that she actually bites me. The act of biting, I've heard, can actually be corrected. But that's not what she does. She just, well, rests her top teeth while she eats. That's the only way I can think to describe it. It progressively gets worse the longer she eats or depending on how tired she is at the time. The longer we go, the more those little buggers dig into me. And they are sharp! It's not that it's unbearable, just very uncomfortable. Who knew that something so tiny as two little teeth could hurt so much. It's almost like she's packing baby razor blades in her mouth.
Still, I'm determined to go as long as I can and she wants to (which I know isn't much longer). I know there will be a time very soon that this magical experience will be over, and I know I will miss it. It's incredible to know that I can provide my baby with everything she needs to nourish her body with nothing but myself. So, for now, I can handle gritting my teeth through those tired feedings as those Jaws-like teeth sink deeper and deeper. After all, those two little "vampire" marks she leaves on me after a good feeding are only a reminder that she's getting a nice, healthy meal. For now, it's a small price to pay.
It was very rough at first. She would latch but not eat. Every feeding was an hour and a half of both me and my husband working together to get her fed. Trying to nurse, pumping, feeding her my milk, supplementing with formula...only to have to repeat the whole process an hour and a half later. We went to several lactation consultant visits, anything we could do to get help. I think it was difficult for my husband at first, to see the struggle we were both going through. But I've never been a quitter...and I was determined. I'd always heard that something magical happens at the two week mark and thankfully for us, it did. Two weeks of endlessly long feedings and she figured it out. Finally! Thank goodness!
My sweet baby girl will be 1 in August (which is difficult to believe) and we're still going strong on the breastfeeding train. It's probably very likely that we're still going as well as we are because of all the struggle we went through in the beginning. I figure, if I was going to go through all the pain (literally) to get her to breastfeed...I'm going to milk it for all it's worth (ha...pun intended).
About a month ago my daughter cut her top two teeth. She now has four total, two top and two bottom. If I had one fear about breastfeeding, this was it. Teeth. She'd gotten a little over zealous a time or two pre-teeth, so I knew what it felt like to get "bit". Considering how much that hurt, I had nightmares about how it would be when the choppers actually started coming in. I'd heard both sides of the stories from moms that had continued to breastfeed their children once they had teeth. On one hand were the moms that didn't notice any difference. After all, babies don't (technically) need their teeth to breastfeed. On the other hand were the moms who got bitten every time they tried to feed their teething baby...so it was bye bye breastfeeding or hello bloody nipples. Bet you can guess which path almost all those mommies took. Needless to say, I was on edge about which group I would soon be a part of.
I noticed no difference with her bottom teeth. They barely bothered her coming in and I noticed no difference come feeding time. Wonderful! I get to be in the lucky group. Sure enough, as soon as I started thinking we were home free, her top teeth started to make their appearance. Those two monsters gave her a rough time. They took every bit of a week to finally pop through, and she was miserable the whole time. Now that they are through, feeding time has become a real crap shoot on my end. It's not that she actually bites me. The act of biting, I've heard, can actually be corrected. But that's not what she does. She just, well, rests her top teeth while she eats. That's the only way I can think to describe it. It progressively gets worse the longer she eats or depending on how tired she is at the time. The longer we go, the more those little buggers dig into me. And they are sharp! It's not that it's unbearable, just very uncomfortable. Who knew that something so tiny as two little teeth could hurt so much. It's almost like she's packing baby razor blades in her mouth.
Still, I'm determined to go as long as I can and she wants to (which I know isn't much longer). I know there will be a time very soon that this magical experience will be over, and I know I will miss it. It's incredible to know that I can provide my baby with everything she needs to nourish her body with nothing but myself. So, for now, I can handle gritting my teeth through those tired feedings as those Jaws-like teeth sink deeper and deeper. After all, those two little "vampire" marks she leaves on me after a good feeding are only a reminder that she's getting a nice, healthy meal. For now, it's a small price to pay.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Does Anybody Actually WRITE Anymore?
We live in a world full of technology. There's email, blogging, Facebook, Twitter (among many more I'm sure), which are not only available now from your computer or laptop but (for most people) your phone as well. It seems that quickly we are becoming a society who relies almost entirely on forms of communication in which you don't actually have to "communicate". Sounds a bit contradictory to say as I'm typing this on a blog and not actually writing it in a journal or notebook. But it's gotten me thinking. Does anybody actually write anymore? You know, with paper and pen the way we used to do?
Growing up I used to write a lot. Ironically, most of the stories I've written have been on the computer. Thanks to my mom's job in the IT world, we've had a computer at our house since there was such a thing. Our first one was the big beige box with a black screen and green typing. When you booted up, you saw C:// (and you had to know what to do with it or you weren't getting anywhere). Back then you actually had to know something about computers to navigate them. You still had to be smarter than the computer in order to use it. Looking back, I think the only reason I wrote most of my stories on the computer was because I've always typed faster than I can write. The pen has never been very good at keeping up with the thoughts that go zooming through my head, but my fingers proved to be much more successful. Still...I wrote a lot too!
I had pen pals. Actual pen pals. Several of them. It was always so exciting to be to pull out my pretty stationary and a neat looking pen, maybe a sticker or two, and write a letter to someone. Sometimes it was a friend. Other times it was a family member. Either way, I loved writing down the accounts of my life to share with someone who I knew gave a crap. More exciting though was going to the mailbox every day in anticipation of a return letter. Then the day that a letter for me arrived! WOW! Getting mail used to feel closer to Christmas. Now with the only mail I get coming in the forms of junk or bills...that little flutter of excitement I used to get running to the mailbox has long since disappeared. So much so that checking the mail is one of my least favorite things to do...and a task I try to pawn off on my husband as often as possible.
It saddens me a bit that this is the way the world is turning. Don't get me wrong...I'm ALL about the everyday tasks in which technology makes ten times easier. I love being able to shop in my PJs or watch a movie in my underwear by the glow of my computer screen. But it's also becoming very harmful in a way. It's causing people to become more and more disconnected from others. Used to be if you had a fight or a problem with someone, the only way you could tell them how you felt was to call them or see them in person. Then, of course, you had to work up the nerve to tell them whatever you had to say "directly" to them. Usually during the course of getting up your nerve, you would calm down and either get over it or have a much more civil conversation in the long run. Now, thanks to technology, you can write whatever you want whenever you want and put it out for whoever you want to see it. In fact, I know several people who only confront people they have issues with over email. EMAIL? Of course, when they see them in person they act as if all is well as good. I've even had it happen to me. Angry parents emailing me, my principal, my superintendent over their outrage that I gave little Johnny that particular grade. How I'm not fit to teach...barely fit to be in the same room as a child. Then they wake up the next morning all calm and realize they just over-reacted. Now they expect to go on as if nothing had ever happened. But something did. Those words hurt, and true or not, now I'm under the microscope because you decided to act like a little brat. And unlike a letter that you could rip up, throw away, burn, and never see again...some things on your computer are there forever, whether you like it or not.
Then there's the power technology has given to bullying. When I was growing up, the worst bullying could be was the snotty cheerleaders or football players spreading rumors about you through the hallway. And it hurt too. But you and your friends would just spend your weekends making fun of them behind their backs, trying to ignore it at school, and move on. Now there's hate sites and pages and mass emails where people you don't even know can jump on the "you suck" band wagon. As if high school isn't challenging enough for some kids, let's add all that fuel to an already huge fire. I would not want to be a teenager today. I worry how things like this will be for my daughter when she gets there. Hopefully not like they are now...
So where did that personal connection with people go? What happened to writing? For so many years that was people's main form of communicating...and now...it seems to have vanished. What would the world be like if we went back to that? What would your life be like if you had to shut off the comuter, power down the Blackberry, turn off the IPhone and actually write? Could you even remember how?
Growing up I used to write a lot. Ironically, most of the stories I've written have been on the computer. Thanks to my mom's job in the IT world, we've had a computer at our house since there was such a thing. Our first one was the big beige box with a black screen and green typing. When you booted up, you saw C:// (and you had to know what to do with it or you weren't getting anywhere). Back then you actually had to know something about computers to navigate them. You still had to be smarter than the computer in order to use it. Looking back, I think the only reason I wrote most of my stories on the computer was because I've always typed faster than I can write. The pen has never been very good at keeping up with the thoughts that go zooming through my head, but my fingers proved to be much more successful. Still...I wrote a lot too!
I had pen pals. Actual pen pals. Several of them. It was always so exciting to be to pull out my pretty stationary and a neat looking pen, maybe a sticker or two, and write a letter to someone. Sometimes it was a friend. Other times it was a family member. Either way, I loved writing down the accounts of my life to share with someone who I knew gave a crap. More exciting though was going to the mailbox every day in anticipation of a return letter. Then the day that a letter for me arrived! WOW! Getting mail used to feel closer to Christmas. Now with the only mail I get coming in the forms of junk or bills...that little flutter of excitement I used to get running to the mailbox has long since disappeared. So much so that checking the mail is one of my least favorite things to do...and a task I try to pawn off on my husband as often as possible.
It saddens me a bit that this is the way the world is turning. Don't get me wrong...I'm ALL about the everyday tasks in which technology makes ten times easier. I love being able to shop in my PJs or watch a movie in my underwear by the glow of my computer screen. But it's also becoming very harmful in a way. It's causing people to become more and more disconnected from others. Used to be if you had a fight or a problem with someone, the only way you could tell them how you felt was to call them or see them in person. Then, of course, you had to work up the nerve to tell them whatever you had to say "directly" to them. Usually during the course of getting up your nerve, you would calm down and either get over it or have a much more civil conversation in the long run. Now, thanks to technology, you can write whatever you want whenever you want and put it out for whoever you want to see it. In fact, I know several people who only confront people they have issues with over email. EMAIL? Of course, when they see them in person they act as if all is well as good. I've even had it happen to me. Angry parents emailing me, my principal, my superintendent over their outrage that I gave little Johnny that particular grade. How I'm not fit to teach...barely fit to be in the same room as a child. Then they wake up the next morning all calm and realize they just over-reacted. Now they expect to go on as if nothing had ever happened. But something did. Those words hurt, and true or not, now I'm under the microscope because you decided to act like a little brat. And unlike a letter that you could rip up, throw away, burn, and never see again...some things on your computer are there forever, whether you like it or not.
Then there's the power technology has given to bullying. When I was growing up, the worst bullying could be was the snotty cheerleaders or football players spreading rumors about you through the hallway. And it hurt too. But you and your friends would just spend your weekends making fun of them behind their backs, trying to ignore it at school, and move on. Now there's hate sites and pages and mass emails where people you don't even know can jump on the "you suck" band wagon. As if high school isn't challenging enough for some kids, let's add all that fuel to an already huge fire. I would not want to be a teenager today. I worry how things like this will be for my daughter when she gets there. Hopefully not like they are now...
So where did that personal connection with people go? What happened to writing? For so many years that was people's main form of communicating...and now...it seems to have vanished. What would the world be like if we went back to that? What would your life be like if you had to shut off the comuter, power down the Blackberry, turn off the IPhone and actually write? Could you even remember how?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
I Meet ALL the Crazies!
I've always known there are crazies in this world. Before I had a baby, I would run into them occasionally. I'd met ones like the woman in the grocery store who turns her nose up at your cart when it isn't FULL of organic purchases, the woman in the department store who gives you "the look" when you've tried on something too small or too "young" for you, and and the woman (who is dressed to the nines) that you always see when your out running errands in gym clothes with your hair plastered to your head who just makes you feel like even more of a slob. Jeez...why are all these people women? They were always there, but to be perfectly honest...they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them. We both went about our merry little ways.
Then I got pregnant. All the women in my life that had ever been pregnant before started to bombard me with all the crazies stories. I heard about them all. People rubbing your belly without asking. People asking when you are due and what you are having. People asking personal questions about your pregnancy like your weight gain or how you plan on giving birth. Now these are all semi-normal conversations to have with people in your life that you are closest too...but I was being warned that I would experience this with strangers. One woman I taught with even rehashed her worst horror story where a woman actually crossed a street of traffic to corner her in one of these uncomfortable moments. (Again...why are ALL these people women??) I was mortified by these stories! Every time I left the house I was afraid of running into one of these people and (depending on the content and forcefulness of the conversation) causing a scene in the middle of wherever I was. And I did NOT want to be THAT pregnant lady.
But then a strange thing happened...I didn't meet any of them. Not one crazy my whole pregnancy! I had a few people ask me when I was due as I waited in the checkout line, but even that didn't happen until my last month when it was obvious the bulge in my belly wasn't from one too many cheeseburgers. No strange people rubbing my belly. No crazies telling me about the beauty of childbirth. (Though I did meet all kinds of women who LOVED being pregnant and thought it was the best time in their lives...me not so much.) I'm not sure what it was, but the crazies stayed away and I didn't ask any questions. Of course in the crazies staying away, I also got no nice help from strangers when I needed it...but that's a small price to pay to keep the loonies at bay! I thought I was home free...
That's when Lila was born. And the crazies came out of the woodwork like an army of ants searching for water. Out of nowhere...there they were...everywhere...all the time. Now here's the funny thing. I never meet them when I'm out by myself. My husband never has the pleasure of running into them when he's out with the baby. But when it's me and her out together, it's like a regular feeding frenzy! Here are some of my experiences with the crazies...
I've enrolled Lila in a baby swim class at the Y. It's really more of an introduction to water, but I wanted to get her started as soon as I could. I've been able to swim ever since I can remember and want the same for her. The first few lessons she was NOT a fan of the pool. In fact, she practically screamed the entire time. Since we have our lessons at the indoor pool, there is always some sort of water aerobics class going on at the other end. There was one lady (who looked like your typical uptight grandmother) who felt it was her business to give me the stink eye about my screaming child for two days straight. You could basically read the "what are you doing to that poor child you horrible, horrible mother" judgement all over her face. So I politely gave her the "you don't want to mess with me" look back and was saved from an actual encounter. Thankfully (for many reasons), Lila is starting to warm up to the water and I can avoid this part of her swim lesson...for now. Crazy #1.
The baby swim class is really a lot of fun. There are four kids, with their moms, we meet four days a week for thirty minutes for two weeks. It's been neat watching all of them each day splashing in the water, singing songs, and floating around. One of the things we do every time is to put your baby on the wall and teach them 1...2...3...JUMP! Our instructor says this is the most important thing to keep consistent as they are learning to swim since a crucial step for them to learn is to not jump into the water without you. So I ask what seemed to be a logical question. If consistency is the important key here, how do you translate that concept to an open water area where their is no wall, like the beach? "Good question," she said. "Let's ask the other moms and see what they think." Here's where I got attacked by one of the other moms as to the age of my child and how she was MUCH to young to go to the beach. Her oldest is four and STILL to young to go to the beach. WOW...ok. I recounted this story to my husband later who said..."You should have told her she's right. After all, woman who live at the beach never have children." Haha. Crazy #2.
It was errand day. Lila and I had our list of places to go and things we needed. First stop...Trader Joe's. (Side note: I LOVE Trader Joe's...more and more every time I go!) I got Lila out of the car, slung my purse over my shoulder, and walked up to the store front to get a cart. When I located a cart, the flap you have to push down in order for your child to sit in the cart was giving me trouble. It took three or four quick attempts to get it to click into place. Then, as I lifted my daughter off my hip to put her in the cart, a woman came sprinting out of the store. "Oh my gosh!" she said. "Do you need help? You look like you're going to drop her you're having so much trouble! Is there anything I can do?!?" I was dumbstruck. It felt like I stood there forever with my mouth open and daughter dangling above the cart in pure shock at the abruptness of this woman. I don't remember what I finally said. Probably something like "we're fine" before I got Lila settled and we went on with our shopping. Of course, she kept one eye on me the whole time I was in the store. Crazy #3.
So that was just THIS week. There isn't a day I go out with my daughter somewhere that I don't run into at least one of them. If we ever meet in a coffee shop one day, I'll be glad to entertain you with a few thousand more stories of people who should be in a padded cell. But sure enough, as we're talking, I'm sure one or two coo-coos will come over to tell me my daughter should be dressed differently, sitting differently, eating differently or something. There...that's it...you've been warned!
Then I got pregnant. All the women in my life that had ever been pregnant before started to bombard me with all the crazies stories. I heard about them all. People rubbing your belly without asking. People asking when you are due and what you are having. People asking personal questions about your pregnancy like your weight gain or how you plan on giving birth. Now these are all semi-normal conversations to have with people in your life that you are closest too...but I was being warned that I would experience this with strangers. One woman I taught with even rehashed her worst horror story where a woman actually crossed a street of traffic to corner her in one of these uncomfortable moments. (Again...why are ALL these people women??) I was mortified by these stories! Every time I left the house I was afraid of running into one of these people and (depending on the content and forcefulness of the conversation) causing a scene in the middle of wherever I was. And I did NOT want to be THAT pregnant lady.
But then a strange thing happened...I didn't meet any of them. Not one crazy my whole pregnancy! I had a few people ask me when I was due as I waited in the checkout line, but even that didn't happen until my last month when it was obvious the bulge in my belly wasn't from one too many cheeseburgers. No strange people rubbing my belly. No crazies telling me about the beauty of childbirth. (Though I did meet all kinds of women who LOVED being pregnant and thought it was the best time in their lives...me not so much.) I'm not sure what it was, but the crazies stayed away and I didn't ask any questions. Of course in the crazies staying away, I also got no nice help from strangers when I needed it...but that's a small price to pay to keep the loonies at bay! I thought I was home free...
That's when Lila was born. And the crazies came out of the woodwork like an army of ants searching for water. Out of nowhere...there they were...everywhere...all the time. Now here's the funny thing. I never meet them when I'm out by myself. My husband never has the pleasure of running into them when he's out with the baby. But when it's me and her out together, it's like a regular feeding frenzy! Here are some of my experiences with the crazies...
I've enrolled Lila in a baby swim class at the Y. It's really more of an introduction to water, but I wanted to get her started as soon as I could. I've been able to swim ever since I can remember and want the same for her. The first few lessons she was NOT a fan of the pool. In fact, she practically screamed the entire time. Since we have our lessons at the indoor pool, there is always some sort of water aerobics class going on at the other end. There was one lady (who looked like your typical uptight grandmother) who felt it was her business to give me the stink eye about my screaming child for two days straight. You could basically read the "what are you doing to that poor child you horrible, horrible mother" judgement all over her face. So I politely gave her the "you don't want to mess with me" look back and was saved from an actual encounter. Thankfully (for many reasons), Lila is starting to warm up to the water and I can avoid this part of her swim lesson...for now. Crazy #1.
The baby swim class is really a lot of fun. There are four kids, with their moms, we meet four days a week for thirty minutes for two weeks. It's been neat watching all of them each day splashing in the water, singing songs, and floating around. One of the things we do every time is to put your baby on the wall and teach them 1...2...3...JUMP! Our instructor says this is the most important thing to keep consistent as they are learning to swim since a crucial step for them to learn is to not jump into the water without you. So I ask what seemed to be a logical question. If consistency is the important key here, how do you translate that concept to an open water area where their is no wall, like the beach? "Good question," she said. "Let's ask the other moms and see what they think." Here's where I got attacked by one of the other moms as to the age of my child and how she was MUCH to young to go to the beach. Her oldest is four and STILL to young to go to the beach. WOW...ok. I recounted this story to my husband later who said..."You should have told her she's right. After all, woman who live at the beach never have children." Haha. Crazy #2.
It was errand day. Lila and I had our list of places to go and things we needed. First stop...Trader Joe's. (Side note: I LOVE Trader Joe's...more and more every time I go!) I got Lila out of the car, slung my purse over my shoulder, and walked up to the store front to get a cart. When I located a cart, the flap you have to push down in order for your child to sit in the cart was giving me trouble. It took three or four quick attempts to get it to click into place. Then, as I lifted my daughter off my hip to put her in the cart, a woman came sprinting out of the store. "Oh my gosh!" she said. "Do you need help? You look like you're going to drop her you're having so much trouble! Is there anything I can do?!?" I was dumbstruck. It felt like I stood there forever with my mouth open and daughter dangling above the cart in pure shock at the abruptness of this woman. I don't remember what I finally said. Probably something like "we're fine" before I got Lila settled and we went on with our shopping. Of course, she kept one eye on me the whole time I was in the store. Crazy #3.
So that was just THIS week. There isn't a day I go out with my daughter somewhere that I don't run into at least one of them. If we ever meet in a coffee shop one day, I'll be glad to entertain you with a few thousand more stories of people who should be in a padded cell. But sure enough, as we're talking, I'm sure one or two coo-coos will come over to tell me my daughter should be dressed differently, sitting differently, eating differently or something. There...that's it...you've been warned!
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