Archive for the ‘nostalgia’ Tag
May 08 2011
When I was a young girl, I locked myself in my parents’ bathroom. There were many times in the future that this would have been done purposefully, but this instance was not. The lock malfunctioned when I happened to be inside, and I couldn’t get out.
I was frantic, my mom was frantic. Being a little kid full of drama, I began to cry, assuming I’d be trapped in the bathroom forever. After trying everything we could, my mom eventually had to call someone to set me free. And she was there, my mom, appearing relieved just as I was when I was able to emerge.
What goes around, comes around.
Yesterday, Jedi was complaining about his door. “It keeps creaking open”, he whined. So when I rose out of bed that morning, I dug around our miscellaneous items drawer when I came away with an unused lock latch. Feeling remarkably useful so early already, I screwed it in place. Then tried to close the door.
It was tight. Very tight. That should have been my first clue to abort mission. I wiggled and finagled the door closed, however, with Jedi still in bed watching Spongebob, though it took a lot of prodding. And it stayed securely closed. And wouldn’t open.
I had flashbacks from that bathroom at that very moment.
He wasn’t in that bedroom nearly as long as I had been trapped with a toilet, but it was still enough for me to panic. Eventually, I did my best roundhouse kick to the door and he was set free. And there I was, Jedi’s mom, seemingly more relieved than he was when he was able to emerge. Because he didn’t. The lazy lump stayed in bed like nothing had happened.
Still, it’s nice to know there are mothers to get their kids out of tricky situations. Even if those mothers may be the ones who get their kid in the tricky situation to begin with.
To all the moms out there, Happy Mother’s Day!
May 02 2011
Forgive me as I veer into one of those “back in my day” posts for a moment.
Back in my day, I was playing outdoors by myself when I was 5, in our large open yard. I’d sit in the grass, watch the clouds, or swing on my metal swingset while my parents went about their own thing. It wasn’t unusual to ride my bike around our village or walk some houses down to see my friend. Because we all knew it was safe. I’d get checked on sporadically, but they let me be for the most part, finally calling me in for dinner after a full day spent in the sun, my mother’s voice ringing for me through the neighborhood.
This was almost 30 years ago, though. Things were different. The area I grew up in was different. Country-like, woods, a lot of nature. It seemed close-knit and closed off from all the problems that come from living someplace larger and busier. Which, while it isn’t a large city we live in now, it’s still a city nonetheless with everything that comes with it.
My oldest son is 7 years old. I’m just beginning to feel comfortable letting him play by himself in the front section of our yard. Where I can award him the semblance of privacy while still keeping an ever watchful eye on him.
I do not want him out of my eyesight.
I trust him. It’s not him I don’t trust. My son knows right from wrong and what he should or should not do. He’s a good kid, a great kid, a safe kid. But there are bad people out there. This is not back in my day or the setting I grew up in. It’s a lot different when I’m on the other side.
So I’m asking you, at what age do you think it’s appropriate to allow a child outside alone? To ride his bike around the neighborhood, if my son rode a bike which is another story? Am I too restricting with my 7 year old? Or should I set him completely free and just buy him a bus pass and send him off with a good luck, kid?
January 11 2011
In younger years, I wanted to grow up to be many things. Most of which were influenced by television. For instance, I never wanted to be president or a doctor. I did, though, think it might be neat to be like Pretty Woman. There was also a stretch of thinking it’d be cool to be a female assassin ala Angelina Jolie in Mr. and Mrs. Smith, way before there ever was an Angelina Jolie. Or that time I wanted to be Madonna.
Of course, I also had a few normal aspirations. Most notably, and the one that stuck, was a veterinarian. Now, however, I just hope to be a halfway-decent writer.
Jedi, however, hasn’t shown much interest in a future career. Unless you count zombie slayer, which could come in handy down the line. Aside from that, though, whenever I’ve tried to gauge his interest, I’ve mostly been met with an aloof “I don’t know”.
We were watching the tail end of some PBS morning show program, about to head out to send Jedi to school, when the woman on television posed the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”.
This time, Jedi answers immediately, “A teacher”.
“You want to be a teacher?”, I asked him, a bit surprised and heartswelled.
“Yeah, I don’t know. I keep changing my mind”, he replied in normal exasperation.
“So what else do you want to be?”, I wondered.
“A contestant on Wipeout!”
November 05 2010
When I was little, I used to love staring at the stars. My parents live in a somewhat secluded area, separated from their neighbors by a large yard, and the sky around there is an open wonderland. The big dipper, constellations, peppered specks like paint; I used to study it in the way of an artistic masterpiece. It was magic.
I can’t say when it happened, but the stars, somehow, stopped shining as bright.
My boys share a small room with their bunkbed placed against a single large window. They like to keep the shade open a notch at night, to see outside. Buzz has recently taken to noticing the stars and the moon before bed.
“Come on, Mommy”, he urges, “I see a star.”
With barely a glance back, I reply, “I see it, too.”
“I see the moon”, he continues.
Sure enough, he does. But do I? It’s been a long day, I don’t have time for this, I think in tired exasperation, and begin an attempt to hush him to sleep. Meanwhile, he’s still reaching and fascinated at the brazen points of twinkling night, brightly flaring up the sky in his confiding brown eyes.
I remember that awe, I remember that wonder, it hasn’t been that long ago. When did I start being so dismissive in the face of innocent admiration? I’ve been so consumed with just getting by, but it takes only a minute to look up.
I need to take a lesson from my son and start appreciating the stars again.
October 11 2010
J brought home a hand-me-down skateboard this past weekend, more for Jedi than anyone else. And with it I realized just how much things have changed.
When I was younger, high school years, I really liked skater boys. I’d watch them flip their boards around, not really paying much attention to the tricks they could do. I do remember never thinking they’d fall and get hurt, or maybe that was part of the attraction. Not once did the phrase “be careful” cross my mind.
As Jedi took his first wobbly attempt at balance on his skateboard, that was ALL I could think about.
Since it was already dark outside by the time J got home, they practiced on the hardwood floors of our hallway. It was a short and unsteady spin around our house. For my oldest son, the cautious one, who still won’t ride his bike for fear of falling, it was enough to feel like Tony Hawk. I, on the other hand, envisioned crushed bones and busted heads or broken windows.
“Shouldn’t he wear a helmet?”, I implored my husband, certain that I never contemplated helmets as a teenager.
“We’re inside,” he said in turn.
“I know you’re inside, that didn’t answer my question.”
Then, when all that was left was the simple task of stepping off, that’s when the skateboard got out from under Jedi’s feet and he fell with a chaotic thud. Thankfully, he got right back up and wanted to go again, but my nerves were already shot. Has anyone invented that bodysuit of bubble wrap yet?
