Is stubborness inherited?

I have 3 children. They each have unique personalities~ likes, dislikes, habits, quirks, etc. But they each share a healthy dose of STUBBORNESS. I myself am "immovable" about certain things (alone time, don't bug me while I'm working), as is their father (do what I say when I say it). So with that in mind, here's my rant.

DS #1 is almost 11, and in the grips of that mercurial stage know as pre-teen. Both DS's take turns doing the dishes each night. If they don't, they have to do them the next day, which is nice for the DS whose turn it would be. DS #1 didn't do it last night, and last night's dinner generated LOTS of dishes. So now it's 2 PM and he's just getting started. I've had to turn his friends away at the door twice because he hadn't started yet. I hate doing that, because DS needs all the social interaction he can get (introvert like me).

DS #2 has ADHD (another subject for another time) so we can usually blame his behavior on "oh I forgot to give him his medecine." DD is 3 and a girl so she needs no explanation (as anyone with a 3-year-old and/or girl can confirm).

So what do I do with my pre-teen? Well, here's my new mantra: when life hands you a pre-teen, hand him/her a digicam. He's actually a decent photographer and I can delete what sucks. Too bad I can't delete parts of his personality. (above pic was taken by him)

Becoming a Mom

My daughter isn't nearly this old, but I can definitely identify with the mom's point of view.

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."

"We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations..."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years-not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally said. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift... that of being a Mother.
Please share this with a Mom that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be moms.

First Layout for Seebee!

Background paper and Decorator Notepad Set By Seebee (Chris Beasley)http://www.digitalscrapbookpages.com...oducts_id=6321/

Prima flowers by de Marini & Orsati Designs

Brad color (Anodized Aluminum style tool) by ScrapGirls

Harry Potter and Preteens

So I'm a huge Harry Potter fan . . . Thursday night I didn't sleep well, dang anticipation. Friday night I stayed up until my DH and DS got home from the bookstore. I was up til 2 am reading the first chapter. I read most of the day. Sunday I woke up with a nice migraine, and where's my migraine medecine? At the pharmacy where I forgot to pick it up. Of course! Still I read until I finished, shortly after 12 am Monday. I woke up a few short hours later to still have my migraine, a house that hadn't been cleaned in days, unable to eat (ready to vomit), and swimming lessons. I slept half of yesterday, but IT WAS WORTH IT! It's a FABULOUS book!!!!!

I have a 10-year-old (above)~ he'll be 11 in less than 2 months. There are days I could hug him and days I could strangle him. Today is a strangle day. He thinks the world revolves around his TV shows. I unplugged the cable (wicked mom laugh here). He is arguing about every little thing today, and whacking his siblings for no reason. Finds things to complain about.

Other days he willingly does everything he does everythig we ask him to do. Lets his 3-year-old sister climb all over him. Cleans his room for no reason. Those are the days I live for. I know they'll come more frequently as he matures, and I look forward to those days. I just wish school started a little earlier than it does!

My preteen years are a haze, largely because my father died when I was 9 and I was getting used to life without him. So I don't remember being a contrary, whiny brat. It's tough enough having 1 preschooler in the house, now I have one who's almost the same height and weight as me, courtesy of my genes. Will I survive with my sanity intact? My mother managed to make it through 7 preteens, so I guess my odds are good. Still, a course on adolescent psychology would be handy . . .

Mean Moms

Someday when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a parent, I will tell them, as my Mean Mom told me:
I loved you enough . . . to ask where you were going, with whom, and what time you would be home.
I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover that your new best friend was a creep.
I loved you enough to make you go pay for the bubble gum you had taken and tell the clerk, “I stole this yesterday and want to pay for it."
I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your room, a job that should have taken 15 minutes.
I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, and tears in my eyes.
Children must learn that their parents aren't perfect.
I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your actions even when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.
But most of all, I loved you enough to say NO when I knew you would hate me for it.
Those were the most difficult battles of all.
I'm glad I won them, because in the end you won too.

And someday when your children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates parents, they will say...
Was your Mom mean? I know mine was.
We had the meanest mother in the whole world!
While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast.
When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, we had to eat sandwiches.

And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was different from what other kids had, too.
Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times.
You'd think we were convicts in a prison.
She had to know who our friends were, and what we were doing with them.
She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.
We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work.
We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs.
I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do.

She always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds and had eyes in the back of her head!!
Then, life got really tough!

Mother wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up.
They had to come up to the door so she could meet them and ask questions.

While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16 or 17.
Because of our mother, we missed out on lots of things other kids experienced.

None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other's property or ever been arrested for any crime.
It was all her fault.

Now that we have left home, we are all educated, honest adults.
We are doing our Best to be Mean Parents just like Mom was.
I think that is what's wrong with the world today.
It just doesn't have enough mean moms!

Yay! I have blinkies!

It's amazing . . . after searching 2 different sites, I finally figured out how to make blinkies blink! It may not be so amazing to some technogeeks out there, but for someone not knowing very much about HTML this is a major accomplishment! This place will be a work in progress. :D

Now I shall attempt to add a picture. Ha, it worked! This is a mini clipboard I altered using CTMH paper and embellies. Next time I'll add more ribbon I think!

My mission statement

I thought it might be fun to write at the very beginning of my blog what I want to do with it. :)

I'd like to entertain with funny anecdotes I run across on the net or in e-mail. My mom (HI MOM!) has a good source.

I'd like to share pieces of my papercrafting~ I scrapbook, stamp and alter various things (wood, metal, plastic, you name it!).

I also want to share my new obsession, digital scrapbooking! It's so addicting because it combines 2 things I love to do. :D

Wow

I made a blog, woo hoo!