Being a parent is privilege, not a right. You take that privilege for granted and your privilege could be taken away. Not by an outsider, but by your own children. So parent wisely, love them with all your might, and for God sakes protect them and make them your number one priority. If you don't someone else will.
I have seen and know of several children whose parents take them for granted.They come and go as they please, not really caring if they spend time with them or not. Maybe they call maybe they dont. Maybe they see them every few months, maybe they dont. And when these estranged parents do show up they expect the ones caring for the kids to drop everything and go running to let them in. That's hard to do when the estranged parents are always putting them off to go party, spend time with their next trick, or even hang out with their buddys at the bar.
Maybe its not the parent keeping the estranged parent away. Maybe its the children. Once the children have grown up, or even matured, they will understand who took care of them, helped with homework, took them to the park, had a family night and watched movies all evening. Children will know who loves them, who sacraficed for them, feeds them, and dried their tears. The person who did those things could be anyone. A maternal and paternal parent, a foster parent, parents who have adopted them, grandparents, aunts, uncles, brothers or sisters, the next door neighbor, pastor at church, and yes, even a teacher. The kids know. The older they get the less they will care about those who didnt have an honest hand in raising them. That's when uninvolved parents will loose their privileges within a child's heart. I will keep my privileges. And I wi work hard, and sacrifice any all things to stay in my children's hearts, to raise them properly, love them unconditionally, hold them, play with them and teach them. I know full and well I don't have a right to them. I'm privileged to have them.
#Parenting101
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Parenting 101
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Social Media Parenting
Social Media Parenting; posting pictures of kid(s) you rarely see-on days you haven't- thus creating the illusion you see them/care for them and socialize with your children often. Obviously social media parenting is the exact same as the actual term "parenting". Reference your favorite dictionary or thesaurus- even Wikipedia will back up my theory as shown here- "Parenting (or child rearing) is the process of promoting and supporting the physical, emotional,**social**, and intellectual development of a child from infancy to adulthood. Parenting refers to the aspects of raising a child aside from the biological relationship."
See? It says "social" right there. I can't make this shit up. Being social with your child(ren) obviously means via social media. I mean its 2013 for gawsh sakes. Get with the program people!
Social Media Parenting is Bull Shit. Plain and simple. Here's a thought: get up off your arse, get active, call your child(ren) set up a play date, and go! That does not mean cancel because the Steelers are playing the Raiders tonight, it's a Football game- ever heard of Tivo?!
Once you break a promise with your child, they will not trust you. So don't promise them your coming to spend the day them, then cancel because you're going to watch the game with the guys, while posting pictures of your child(ren) like plans never got canceled. I'll bet you got tons of Likes and comments on that picture didn't you? Truth is?? Just because you posted that picture from 3 months ago you took on your cellphone, after you canceled plans yet once again, your child will not "Like" it. What's more important, Social Media Parenting? Getting Atta boys and "Likes"? Or hands on Parenting resulting in a lifetime of unconditional love, while being the Super hero in that little ones eyes. Hmmm.
Could be a tough decision for some.
It's a no contest for me. Screw using Social Media to act like a parent. I am a hands on parent ALL the time.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Get your Avon look!
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Butt-Cooties
I'm one to always complain about womens restrooms in public places- restaurants, grocery stores, convenience stores, the seats are ALWAYS wet- yep. WET. Being in EMS we have a saying- If it's wet and sticky, and it don't belong to you, don't touch it. I'm guessing this is an actual standard for most people- or at least I hope so. I try not to use public restrooms because I'm not a good squatter, and I HATE rolling up a huge hand of paper towels and dousing them in soap to smear across the toilet seat while I do the pee pee dance... Come on people! Ive had 2 kids- I can't hold it quite as long any more! I came across this brilliantly written essay of sorts, and she states exactly, well its close enough, what I curse about under my breath while soaping up the pee drenched public toilet. Did I mention concerts are the absolute worst for this? And the looks I get from young girls waiting in the line of 70+ girls doing their own renditions of a pee pee dance, as they watch me roll up that paper towel and use half a canister of that ridiculously meager amout of automatically dispensed soap, before walking into the stall a 17 year old girl comes rushing out of in her butt cheek showing mini skirt and cowboy boots. I get looked at like I have 3 heads and 2 arses. I know its dirty, so now I have to clean it before I can pee- probably a mom thing. I could be like the general population, squat and add more bodily fluids to toilet seat for the next person. Anyhow, I'll let you get to the story I was originally posting before I got lost in this introduction.
~A BRIEF DISQUISITION ON THE EXISTENCE OF BUTT-COOTIES (Gentlemen, kindly avert your eyes)Having lived to my present advanced age, I've spent a lot of time in public restrooms. And, having been a scientist in my previous professional incarnation, I can't help observing things, and drawing statistical inferences. Which is why I am in a position to inform you that roughly half the female population of the US suffer from the twin delusions that 1) butt-cooties exist, and 2) they will, given half a chance, leap several inches from a toilet seat and burrow into the skin of an unsuspecting buttock, resulting in scrofula, assorted STD's, herpes, and probably leprosy.I draw these conclusions from the fact that roughly half the time I enter a public restroom cubicle, I observe that the previous user has peed on the seat. Ladies…I can only guess that at some point in an impressionable youth, these women were told by some female authority figure that One Must Never SIT On A Public Toilet, "because you might catch something." Firmly indoctrinated with this policy, they do not sit on public toilets. They hover. Ladies, ladies…Look. The skin of the buttocks is actually pretty germ-free, owing to the fact that we normally keep them covered and don't (usually) touch other people, animals, etc. with them. Your butt is much cleaner—microbially-speaking—than are your hands.Various studies of the bacterial content of public restrooms indicate that there are a LOT more germs on the door of said restroom than there are on any toilet seat therein. You acquire millions more microbes by shaking hands with someone than you would if our social system involved mutual butt-rubbing. (To say nothing of the teeming worlds of microorganisms you acquire every time you accept change from the counter-guy at Burger King. How many of you race to the bathroom and scrub your hands after ordering the meal, but before eating it? )In order actually to catch one of the communicable diseases with which excrement or other bodily fluids are associated, two things would have to occur: 1) the bodily fluid of an infected person would have to be applied to the toilet seat (which would not happen, if said person would sit her bottom on the potty where it belongs and not spray the thing like a hippopotamus), and 2) an uninfected person's mucous membranes must come in contact with said fluids, within the few seconds that most bacteria and virii can survive outside the human body. You don’t have mucous membranes on your buttocks.Now, by and large, urine really doesn't contain all that many bacteria (Male urine contains almost none, owing to the fact that its exit is, um, less impeded by surrounding tissue. A good many alchemical and medical recipes up through the early 19th century require "urine of a newborn male child" as an ingredient—this being the most sterile water available). Feces…well, yes. And I have in fact encountered the Really Nasty evidence that there are not only seat-pee-ers, but also seat-poopers (to say nothing of the occasional person who is so afraid of physically encountering a public toilet that they actually don't hit it at all, and leave the evidence of their mental derangement on the floor of the facility), but this is fortunately rare.All right. In periods of heavy traffic, one _might_ possibly encounter a live bacterium or virus present in the urine that some inconsiderate idiot has left on a toilet seat. Not likely, but faintly possible. Are you going to encounter it with your mucous membranes? Not unless your excretory habits are both Highly Athletic and Dang Unusual.OK. So if the risk of catching a bacterial or viral disease by sitting on a dry toilet seat is negligible, then plainly, the Thing to Fear must be…Butt-cooties!Traveling as much as I do, I am in a position to collect international data, albeit in an anecdotal and unstandardized manner. On the basis of such casual observation, though, I hypothesize that while butt-cooties presently have a fairly wide global distribution, they probably originated in the United States. Speaking generally, at least fifty percent of all public toilets in US airports, convenience stores, museums, and restaurants indicate evidence of infestation (judging from the aversive techniques employed by the patrons). European toilets have a much lower incidence—perhaps 10-15%.(Point of etiquette: ought one to meet the eyes of, and/or nod to, a person emerging from a toilet cubicle that one proposes to enter? Common politeness would argue for such cordial acknowledgement—but if the next few seconds reveal that the departing patron was possessed of butt-cooties, this might lead one to think harsh and unchristian thoughts of said person, and surely it's worse to think unchristian thoughts (WWJD? I'm pretty sure He wouldn't pee on a public toilet seat, and if He did, He would certainly wipe it off. Ditto the Buddha, and doubtless any other religious figure you care to name) about someone whose face is imprinted in your short-term memory, than of an unknown quantity.)In fact, we might hypothesize the geographical origin of butt-cooties as having occurred in or near Chicago. On what basis? Well, of all the airports I've been in (and I've been in a lot of airports, from New Zealand to Saskatchewan), only O'Hare International has public toilets equipped with a sliding cylinder of plastic sheeting that encases the seats; you wave your hand in front of a magic button, and voila! The plastic slides round the seat, and you are presented with a pristine surface on which to park your booty. Such is the prevailing fear of butt-cooties, though, that people pee on these toilet seats, too.Well, there's no arguing with psychological aberration, and thus I make no attempt to persuade Those Who See Butt-Cooties away from their convictions. I would, though, urge them—in the most kindly manner—to address the results of their antisocial psychosis, and thus leave them with this classic advice:"If you sprinkle when you tinkle—Please be neat, and wipe the seat."
Copyright 2013 Diana Gabaldon (contents may be freely reproduced, as long as copyright notice is attached)~
I find this positively BRILLIANT. -Candi
#Toilets #Public #Butt-cooties
Saturday, September 14, 2013
I'm not young enough to know everything.
#MyThoughts