No party and no costumes make Fae a very sad mom

I’m envious of a lot of you today.   I know why the internet was silent this morning, why my Storm wasn’t binging at outrageously early hour (since AZ is still on Western time), why so many haven’t been by.  Today the schools are celebrating Halloween, and you all spent the morning running around like chickens with their heads cut off.  Evan’s school has a no Halloween costume policy, which I should have asked about when I was looking for a school.

I love Halloween.  But I wonder if my mom began to hate it.  The day the school celebrated Halloween (usually on Halloween if it wasn’t on some glorious weekend) was the day we ran close to being late.  My mom hates being late or even on time; she likes to be early.  We were always early to school.  But Halloween morning found our house in seven kinds of chaos.  Mom!  Where’s my hat?!  Mom! I need your help with my make-up!  Mom!  I need you to do my hair!  Mom! Where’s my bow?  Mom!  I can’t go without my dress and hair sprayed with glitter!  Mom!  Where are my shoes?!  After a few years of chaos, my mom set down the law that if you wanted to dress up, you had to be up a half an hour earlier.  It didn’t help matters at all.  Since my mom was a super stay-at-home mom, I assume this scene is somewhat playing at your houses this morning.

But alas we didn’t have such moments.  Evan didn’t get to torture me by changing his mind.  I didn’t get to forbid him bring any weapon props.  We didn’t scramble to get treats ready for a class Halloween party.  I didn’t get to yell at Sean for sneaking the treats.  (Oh, wait I did because the little stinker was eating the Rice Krispie Treat ghosts before I iced them.)  I feel rather depressed by this.  Not that I blame the school . . . much.

Several years ago, before the boys, I was a teacher assistant at a private school.  The moms were ultra-competitive.  The first birthday rolled around, and the child brought delicious cupcakes.  The next birthday hit, and the cupcakes had sprinkles.  The next birthday came, and the cupcakes had candy.  The next birthday, it was cupcakes with rings on top.  The next birthday, toys on top of the cupcakes.  At the end of the year, a mom brought pizza, cake, and ice cream for the class.  A little ridiculous, even if I got to snag a piece of pizza.  The parties were worse as each mom brought something to outdo the other.  Instead of regular cookies and punch, it was gourmet cookies, sparkling punch, toys, full sized candy bars, and so on.

At the time I was pulling a second job with the Girl Scouts trying to start new troops in schools around OC.  We were at a school for three months, and at the end of the session, we would throw a party and induct each girl into the Girl Scouts.  We had a handle on the parties because we were working in middle class and lower neighborhoods, knowing moms worked or there wasn’t much money in the families.  We asked the girls to volunteer to bring chips/pretzels, punch/soda, and cookies/cupcakes.  If it was a huge session, we would add candy and break up the subcategories.  We insisted on economy bags of chips and liters of drink.  The girls were told to tell their parents that day and not the night before the party. 

Even with us monitoring the discussion, it was funny to have girls volunteer to bring cakes, pies, and even try to bring more than one thing.  We would gently persuade the girls to go along with our plans, trying to convince them that they didn’t sell Fire Cheetohs in big enough bags.  Of course, some crazy mother sent her daughter with a huge pack of Pixy Stix which we confiscated before the girls opened it.  Though I was evil enough, to send all the girls home with some and twice as many to the girl who brought it.

So if the school is trying to keep things low-key, I get it.  If they’re trying to protect the kids with food allergies, I’m on their side.  We wouldn’t want to a parent to mistakenly give a kid something he or she couldn’t eat.  But really, I wish we could throw a class party.   Or at least see the creative choices of the class.

George Washington: The Loss of All Things

George Washington: The Loss of All Things

George Washington is David Gordon Green’s impressionistic Southern Gothic debut film, which one reviewer described as within a heart-shot of William Faulkner.  Green won the Best First Film prize from the New York Film Critics, the Discovery Award at Toronto and the Best Director Prize at Newport.

David Gordon Green’s feature debut is a seamless blend of subjectivity, pseudo-documentary, evocation of childhood and mythopoeia.  In an impoverished small town in North Carolina, various misfit and poor children converse.  “Look at this place,” one boy says to another. “It looks like two tornadoes came through here.”  The town is dilapidated; one of the “tornadoes” may have been the Great Depression.  Shots of railroad tracks suggest dreams of getting out.  But during the course of the film, death hovers: a boy dies; as a result, another boy feels that God’s judgment is close; another boy almost dies; a boy’s dog dies.  The underlying theme of George Washington is clearly “the loss of all things.”

The videos presented here include the hypnotic opening sequence of David Gordon Green’s auspicious debut film George Washington, another video from the film described as an influential scene in modern cinema and an interview with Charlie Rose, where Green talks about his film George Washington.

George Washington: The Loss of All Things

George Washington: An Influential Scene in Modern Cinema

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Charlie Rose: David Gordon Green Talks About “George Washington”

(Charlie Rose Interview: March 8, 2001)

A detailed review of George Washington can be read in The New York Times here.

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what did you think subjugating children would lead to?

American culture inhibits our children’s ability to grow up simply by constantly reinforcing the belief in our children that they’re not grown up.

In Europe you can buy cigarettes when you’re 16 years old. You can buy alcohol when you’re 18, but neither of these laws are strictly enforced. So by the age of 18 Europeans are legally adults. Two things happen when you tell a person they’re an adult (even if you do it indirectly such as the laws in Europe have done). One, you stop feeling inferior, and your confidence goes up. Two, you cease to adhere to the self fulfilling prophecy that you are a child and should act like a child and start adhering to the self fulfilling prophecy that you are mature and should act mature.

In America you can’t buy cigarettes until you’re 18. You can’t buy alcohol until you’re 21. You can’t get a job until you’re 16. Technically it’s illegal to get fucked until you’re 18 (or was it 17?), and you can’t vote until you’re 18. American’s tell their children that they are children (and thus should act like children) until they’re 21.

In some ancient Native American cultures kids would go through a coming of age ceremony as early as 12 or 14, after which they were considered adults. They were treated like adults, and they lived up to the expectation that they were adults. 100 years ago white American culture was similar, though a little vaguer. One of my grandma’s told me about how she was working on her family’s farm from the time she was a little girl. She was actively playing a role in the ensuring the survival of her family from the time she was little. She was playing an adult role, and as a result I’m sure she developed an inner sense of maturity from an earlier age than kids today. Kids in America today can’t get a legal job until they’re 16. Even then, that’s not a real job. If you do help support your family at 16 you’ll undoubtedly grow more as a result of that job than if you’re just working for extra play money while your parents pay for your living expenses.

How much playing do you think my grandmother did at 14 or a Native American (several hundred years ago) did? Probably not much. Today parents buy their children video games, skateboards, swimming pools, televisions, dvd players, and a bazillion other forms of entertainment. And in buying your 14 year old all these toys you are telling him/her that he/she is still a child, because everyone knows only children play with toys. Even Jesus said something to the effect of “When I grew up I put away childish things.” And that’s what we teach our kids, but we still shower them with “childish things” all the way into adulthood. Guess what the consequence of this is. You will be what you’re raised to be. If you’ve been raised to be a child until you’re 21 (if that’s all you’ve even known) then guess what? That’s who you’re going to be. If you’ve been raised to be a child all the way up until adulthood then you’re going to be a child in adulthood. If you’ve been raised to be an adult since childhood then you’ll be an adult in adulthood.

The point of the story isn’t to say that American children are spoiled, whiney bitches. There are actually two other points to all this, or rather two messages: one for children and one for the older generations.

To any Americans under 21: The limits your elders place on you hinders your ability to believe you are mature and thus your ability to act that way, and your elders are being hypocritical when they tell you to grow up. However, despite the fact that you’re a victim of this self fulfilling prophecy of inadequacy, you might be able to overcome it as long as you know that it’s happening…but probably not.

To the older generation: Don’t be surprised when you’re children grow up to be adults and still seem to act like children. That’s how you raised them. But don’t feel too bad about it, because the corruption of the youth isn’t entirely you’re fault. That’s the way the post industrial era world we live in works. Your children can’t work when they’re young, because they have to go to school to get decent jobs later. The system is designed to spoil them (while at the same time giving them low self-esteem). But that’s not the only side effect of raising your children in La La Land. Your parents lived by the sweat of their brows their entire lives, and their personalities probably reflect that. They’re probably not all that animated or happy-go-lucky. You might even use the word, “stuffy.” Or in some cases, “cantankerous old douche bag.” Your children probably are animated. We tend to equate a stifling lack of exuberance with maturity and visible happiness and energy with immaturity. That’s fucking stupid. Just because your kids are animate and happy-go-lucky doesn’t mean they’re immature. In fact, they’re attitude probably stems from a set of life skills that allows them to enjoy life more than your parents did and maybe even you. Is that so immature?

Media Ignores Assassination Comitted by Homosexuals

Published on NewsBusters.org (http://newsbusters.org) On ‘Hate Crimes Day,’ Remembering Media Blackout of Jesse Dirkhising’s Death By Tim Graham Created 2009-10-27 14:33

On a day in which media liberals will celebrate President Obama for signing a bill against “hate crimes” against gays and lesbians, a bill named for Matthew Shepard, it might be time again to remember the name of Jesse Dirkhising, who died ten years ago this fall to a national media blackout. Here’s Brent Bozell [1] from 1999:

When Matthew Shepard died on October 12, 1998 at the age of 21, five days after getting into a pickup truck with two goons who beat him mercilessly, he had already become a huge national news story that continues today. It made the cover of Time magazine with the headline “The War Over Gays,” with reporters predictably using the occasion to blame religious conservatives and call for hate-crime laws and other gay-left agenda items.

But when Jesse Dirkhising died on September 26 at the age of 13 from suffocation after being bound, gagged with underwear in his mouth, blindfolded, taped to the bed, and sodomized by one gay man while another gay man watched, the national media said nothing, even after The Washington Times exposed the untold story.

In this modern media age, when lurid murders, especially of children, dance in the dreams of ratings-obsessed network producers (can you say JonBenet?), why would this story go untold? Had Jesse Dirkhising been shot inside his Arkansas school, he would have been an immediate national news story. Had he been openly gay and his attackers heterosexual, the crime would have led all the networks. But no liberal media outlet would dare be the first to tell a grisly murder story which has as its villains two gay men.

The primary offender in this tale of politically correct self-censorship is the Associated Press, which waved the flag of the Shepard beating on its national wire for everyone to see. By contrast, the Dirkhising murder was never put on the national wire, and its local dispatches were 200-word puddles of colorless court reporting that suggested to editors this story was bound for Page B-17. Despite Dirkhising’s death from what his killers implied was a “sex game” gone bad, AP never described them as gay men.

But you can bet that nearly every national media outlet that has now seen this story and tossed it in the garbage pail has in its newsroom a vocal caucus of gay and lesbian employees. Nearly every national media outlet sets up recruiting booths at the National Gay and Lesbian Journalists Association convention each year, and helps pay for the convention by placing cheerleading ads in the program. The NLGJA web site has boasted of events with network anchors like Dan Rather.

You can bet that nearly every national media outlet hears the footsteps of a gay-left activist like Cathy Renna of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, who told an early October gathering, “One of the most important things you can do is have those tough conversations with journalists about when it is completely inappropriate to run to some radical group like the Family Research Council because of misguided notions of ‘balance.’ We have to offer them some more moderate voices, or convince them that there is no other side to these issues….We are now in the position of being able to say, we have the high ground, we have the facts, and we don’t have to go one-on-one with these people.”

Clearly her censorious message is winning.

But the double standard here is much more than matching the hundreds of Shepard stories with the gaping silence on Dirkhising. The other ignored story here is exposed right in the first paragraphs of Joyce Howard Price’s Washington Times story. David Smith, a spokesman for the gay group calling itself the “Human Rights Campaign,” seemed to care little about the human rights of Jesse Dirkhising. “This has nothing to do with gay people,” he claimed, in complete disregard of the facts.

This is the same “Human Rights Campaign” that milks the Matthew Shepard murder as its most powerful fundraising tool, and which featured Shepard’s family in its recent annual fundraising dinner. More importantly, this is the same “Human Rights Campaign” that led the national media by the nose to the ridiculous charge that Shepard was killed not by the two strangers he followed out of a bar, but by Christian conservatives who bought newspaper ads urging gays to return to Christ.

Whatever becomes of the Jesse Dirkhising story — and it looks like it’s headed right for Juanita Broaddrick limbo — you can bet that conservatives will not climb on any national platform making absurd claims that he was killed by Ellen DeGeneres. Conservatives won’t indict the “Human Rights Campaign” for murder for taking out newspaper ads for National Coming Out Day. But the burial of Jesse Dirkhising’s story also buries the fact that the right cannot match the left for poisonous incivility, reckless guilt by association, and ugly rhetorical excess.

The Dirkhising story never caught on with the major media, which claimed it was not news because it was not a “hate crime.” As Jonathan Gregg wrote then for Time.com:

“The most salient difference between the Shepard case and this one, however, is that while Shepard’s murderers were driven to kill by hate, the boy’s rape and death was a sex crime. ” He continued: “It was the kind of depraved act that happens with even more regularity against young females, and, indeed, if the victim had been a 13-year-old girl, the story would probably never have gotten beyond Benton County, much less Arkansas.

That came in the second Bozell column [2] on this matter.

Source URL:
http://newsbusters.org/blogs/tim-graham/2009/10/27/hate-crimes-day-remembering-media-blackout-jesse-dirkhisings-death

Links:
[1] http://www.mrc.org/bozellcolumns/newscolumn/1999/col19991029.asp
[2] http://www.mrc.org/bozellcolumns/newscolumn/1999/col19991115.asp

On Fresh Beats and Jump Arounds and the parenting in between

Some of you might remember a little post I did back at the end of May about how annoying The Jump Arounds, aka The Fresh Beat Band, are.  Since then I’ve received several endorsements and complaints.  Today I laugh because I got another complaint on the post just this weekend. 

I’ve been meaning to write a post addressing all the people that are upset with me not enjoying a children’s show.  Lighten up.

At first I was excited that The Jump Arounds went off the air because I noticed a lot of people felt the same way I did.  The show was engineered around four non-sings, non-dancers.  The songs were so very annoying.  But then Nickelodeon made a name change to deal with all the negative responses.  The Fresh Beat Band was born, but it was the Exact. Same. Thing.  Nothing changed.  I bowed my head in defeat, realizing that there must be lots of other parents who allowed their kids to watch the show.  My main problem is still that the advertise ALL THE F-ING TIME!  They advertise more than Olivia or Ni Hao Kai-Lan, more than any other show in the Nick Jr.  line.  I wonder if they actually believe that we would start watching it if they played it enough.  If you play it, they will come.  Maybe it’s more sinister, and this is a plot to hold us ransom.  I’m sure I can raise a million to get them to stop advertising, but I would rather that money go to somewhere important like autism research or making sure no child goes hungry again.

The Husband is begging me to make this post into an anti-capitalism speech.  He believes that The Fresh Beat Band is a symptom of a much larger problem, the desire to hook children in a pop culture that demands their money, starves their soul.  You’ll have to forgive The Husband; he recently watched Michael Moore’s new movie so he’s a bit obsessed with anti-capitalism theme, which is ironic because he’s a small business owner and I remember when he read Ayn Rand.  Don’t worry.  He’ll swing back in the middle in a month or two.

While I agree with my husband, I’m totally fine with other parents letting their kids watch it.  I just won’t let my kids watch it.  That’s my choice.  I’m the parent.

I’m upset because so many people think they have the right to judge me on my parenting over one little post, over one little opinion about some silly kid show.  And yes, it is silly because it’s only about entertainment.  Just like The Office is a silly show.  Just like The Simpsons is a silly show.  Just like Desperate Housewives is a silly show.

It frustrates me that parents out there don’t think it’s their place to monitor their children’s television shows.  Are you kidding me?  We’re talking about preschoolers and toddlers, not teenagers.  We’re talking about the most impressionable years of a person’s life.  Are they going to tell me I’m a bad parent because I won’t let my son pick out his own sugar-filled cereal that was advertised to him?  Am I a bad parent because I didn’t buy the toy my son wanted in the store?  It’s my job to monitor him!

I’m sure we’re going to have talks over the video games, movies, music, clothes he likes and wants.  I’m sure I’m not going to like everything he likes. But you know what.  That battle is years away.  I’d like to keep it there.

I like having a place where parents can complain about random kid stuff that we don’t like because we parents are subjected to a lot of stuff we don’t like.  If you’re like me, you have quite a few toys loving relatives and friends gave your children, toys that make you want to roll your car over or, at the very least, make disappear one night, but we don’t because the kids LOVE them.  We subject ourselves to a lot of shows that have annoying characters.  I’m not a big fan of Elmo, but I deal because it’s Sesame Street.  I think Donald is a loser, but the boys love The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  Some days I wish Dora would just go away and not have such silly adventures (though I totally want a chocolate tree), but the boys are actually using Spanish that I obviously didn’t teach them.  I’m willing to eat a lot more vegetables because I’m setting a good example.  I’m willing to eat a lot more “kid food” if that means they’ll eat, especially if they eat the vegetable side dishes.  We’re willing to give up our television programming so that our kids watch something age-appropriate, and we’re willing to watch shows we don’t like because we don’t want our kids sold to by advertisers.  We do these things because we love our kids and want to be the best parents we can be.

But in the end, my opinion doesn’t matter.  I’m just a mom, living in Arizona, doing the best I can.  I get to be the loving, imperfect mom to two boys, and they are the ones who should care how I parent.  My opinion shouldn’t affect any you because you are the parents of other kids.  If I mess up, then I’ll just pull money out of the therapy fund for my kids.  And if you mess up, then hopefully you have a therapy fund.  Because I’ve learned one thing about this parenting business, we’re all doing the best we can with what we’ve got.  So don’t judge.

Trick Or TREAT?!

 

It’s that fun time a year where everyone gets to dress up as their favorite princess, superhero, scary monster or outrageous character – whatever their heart’s desire!   For the 3rd year in a row in Sicily- E-n-E Photography will be giving you a TREAT- No tricks here!   Stop by between 4pm and 8pm to get your portrait taken- Come early to avoid the wait-   Leave your email address and we’ll send you your web copy for posting online and You’ll automatically be added to E-n-E Photography’s Halloween Costume Contest! WHEN: HALLOWEEN NIGHT- October 31st TIME: 4pm-8pm WHERE: 2133-C Dei Fiori- Maranai All portraits will be entered in a Halloween Costume Contest posted online for all your friends and family to vote on!  1st Prize:  Deluxe Indoor Portrait Session in November and a framed 11×14 wall portrait!   2nd Prize: Deluxe Indoor Portrait Session in November includes one 8×10 print 3rd Prize: $25 Print Credit towards your next Session with E-n-E Photography      

Busy, Busy, Busy!

Boy have I been a very busy little bee!  I had five photo shoots in four days.  I am sore all over from all the bending and laying down on the ground and weird positions to get that perfect shot!  I will all be worth it in the end!!!There will be a lot of posting going on in the next week so keep checking back to see all the new faces!  Meanwhile here are a few of Trystin that I took almost a month ago and neer got around to posting.  She is quite the little character and has a personality all of her own!  She really cracks me up!

Same-same, but different

I look at my kids and see the same beautiful, funny, smart kids every day. I record new milestones, I weigh them, measure them, buy new clothes. Of course – of course – I know that they grow, get bigger, older, smarter and more beautiful every day. But it’s one thing to know and an entirely another to actually see it.

And then one day I happened to see these pictures and somewhere in the foggy corners of my memory I knew I had seen these same photos before. But different.

The pics to the left were taken on the first of October this year and the pics on the right were taken on the 12th of October 2008.

Same kids, same fountain, but oh my, what a difference a year makes.

My babies are growing up.

Stamina

1.  Orienteering

2.  Endurance

3.  Deliverance

A rubbish night’s sleep. Son 1 aged 5y arrived at about 0230 and then couldn’t/wouldn’t go back to sleep. The Man, on his first night back from his Business Trip, gave up on us and de-camped to the Double Bed.   In the end, secret co-sleeping advocate that I am,  I put Son 1 back in his own bed, put the fan on, lay down with him till he went to sleep and trudged off back to the Big Bed.  I still couldn’t sleep.  I was Tetchy and Touchy in the morning. But managed a sudden and sustained Cheer Up when I got into a pair of size 14 trousers.

We went swimming at the Hotel Pool with the Wednesday Friends. The older brothers were still in school.  I forgot Son 1’s rash vest, and was uber anxious about his bright red spotty chest.  Molluscum and eczema.  Great combo.  He couldn’t have cared less. Jumped in, splashed round, dived for sea horses and swam and swam.  He did one width, and then when I wa-hayed and clapped… swam back across the other one. And turned round and swam back again to get me to do it again. A little lesson in how much he’ll do for approval.  So I put him on my back and swam across with him giggling all the way.  Son 2 was great, his fists full of toys he wouldn’t let go of.. and still managing to kick his legs like mad to keep afloat.   At one point when he was getting tired he just hung in the water, watching the others.  I used to take Son 1 to swimming classes every week, and he started swimming in armbands at around 2. And Son 2 has never had a swimming lesson, and has started swimming in armbands at… er… 2.  

We met Granny and Grandad and The Man for lunch. The boys were so tired they only just hung in there, but we made allowances and got away with it. Back home they watched telly, I slumped on the sofa. Having Son 1 back on Wednesday was a Good Thing, and it made me realise how much I miss him.  Son 2 was remarkable. Didn’t sleep in the car after swimming, didn’t sleep in the car after lunch. Didn’t sleep or lie down in the afternoon. And this was after an hour of intense exercise in the pool. By tea he was collapsed against me, picking out the brocolli from the pasta shells. But by pre-bath reading, he had six books and was still trying to get me to do a seventh. He passed out pretty quickly at bedtime, but has just, as I write this at gone 10pm, wailed and wailed and wailed for me. We left him. We are neither of us capable of walking up a flight of stairs to go and see him.

turns out my arm doesn't like mercury or eggs.

Yesterday, previously thought to be a perfectly okay sort of day, actually turned on me and revealed it’s true evil. There I was writing my assignment, copious amounts of well phrased words pouring from my little fingertips, the dishes were washed, i had even (against doctors orders) hung a couple loads of laundry and, if you must know, was engaging in some textual flirtation with the trusty sidekick to boot. Ok, so it wasn’t a perfect day nor an excitement filled day, but i was enjoying it and apart from feeling  lethargic and my sore neck still being, well, sore, I was having a  good day.

Bam! outta nowhere it all went downhill. First my brain packed up its little tiny suitcase and decided an impromptu vacation was in order. My writing went from well-phrased to basic point form note-making in a matter of minutes. My brain-to-mouth communication highway shut down as discovered during an important phone call, and amongst this sudden brain fog, my post-swine-flu-jab headache flared up again, my sore neck decided to join in, both my needle sites started to ache and I felt, well, rather ordinary.

By 5:30 I felt exhausted and overwhelmed. I couldn’t think what or how to cook dinner so the children’s meal consisted of:

• peanut butter sandwich
• slice of banana bread
• plain yoghurt
• diced peaches

That’s a balanced meal, right? I commend myself for performing so well under such conditions.

By 7pm i was on my bed, half asleep, half listening to the girls getting ready for bedtime. It felt like pain of one kind or another had invaded every inch of my body and I was shivering uncontrollably. At 7:30 I got up long enough to kiss the girls goodnight and implant myself into a very very hot shower in the dark. By 8, I was back in bed, my headache really intense, my eyes not able to tolerate any light, my neck and shoulder cramping badly, muscle pains all over my body, feeling feverish and flu-ish, my jabbed arm burning and itching and my head and stomach swirling uncontrollably.  I tried to sleep, all i wanted to do was sleep but i felt as though i couldn’t breathe properly, kept waking as though startled every time i started to nod off and my mind would not stop racing. I was thinking scary thoughts and worrying, my heart palpitating and mini panic-attacks hitting me every few minutes.  I was very nauseas and felt like i was coming down with the flu as well as like i’d been run over by a steamroller. I felt like a complete nutcase- a really sick and sore one. I would have panicked that it was an inoculation reaction, but no, i’ve encountered these feeling before. just never so intense.

I think i have definitely had a minor reaction to the H1N1 jab, my arm is very sore with a burning feeling and is extremely itchy with a big lump in my muscle which my doctor told me would. not. happen. Turns out my arm doesn’t like mercury or eggs. I have had the very intense headache since the jab too.

I get blood test results tomorrow and will know then if I have something new, or am stuck with the spooty fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue diagnosis. My thyroid levels are being checked too to see if Hashi’s has a hand in making me feel so junk.

Today i woke feeling revolting but, proud to report, got through an entire day’s work in the classroom. Yes there were times i couldn’t think straight, said the slightly wrong thing, had to sit because my legs wouldn’t hold me and wanted to shake certain children, but i did it! The other teacher aides were in bee-yat-ch mode today too, and I managed to restrain myself very well and not start any fights in the playground / staff room. One told me how to go up stairs correctly and the other told me how to hang a towel to dry, Yes, they truly think I am a dumbass and they need to feel superior in any small way they can find. I did not thank them for my new found knowledge of the mundane.

WEll, off now. I can feel another early night coming on. m:)

ps. btw, sidekick showed up on my door step on his trusty steed phoned last night in my hour of need. I made him play a game that he hates : tell me a story. He told me about sunsets and twilights on the river as he walks home which calmed me down and made me feel better-ish,  still hurty but loved. The only thing worse than feeling sick is feeling sick and alone. Luv ya guts trusty;)

Reality TV & Kids: A Big No-No

This past Friday, it seemed like everyone was fixated on the “balloon boy,” the little boy who supposedly took off in his father’s giant weather balloon but was found hiding in the family’s attic. Come Sunday, and we find out the entire thing was a hoax perpetrated by a fame-hungry father, Richard Heene, who was hoping to use the incident as a springboard to their own reality show.

Did somebody say, “Ugh?”

The Heene family was already seen on one reality television series, the trashy Wife Swap, where Richard claimed to be descended from aliens and saw domestic chores as “women’s work.” His children were shown swearing, being rude, and flatulating on national TV. After the show was over, he even had them record a “music video” called (I kid you not) “Not Pussified.” I’ll give you a second to watch it, possibly through your fingers while cringing…

Read the rest about reality TV kids at Momversation.com.

Babies!

Yes! BUT not ME…

Within the next few weeks, Sam’s girl and Serene’s boy will be due. Next up would be Susan’s ??? I’m not sure, she din mention

AND not forgetting my prince!

His birthday is coming soon.. but mummy dearest have yet to find an ideal location to hold his party… I’m starting to panic too! *pray* worst come to worst, I’ll just have it at home… :S

bedtime music

Early this past summer, I began having my two daughters share a bedroom at night.  Curious J still sleeps in a crib, and Lyd sleeps in the twin bed that’s always been in the same room.  Lyd has always hated to sleep alone.  When she was relegated to the guest room for that year and a half after her little sister was born, she asked every night for either JJ or myself to sleep with her.  She was delighted when an opportunity came up for one of us, usually me, to share her bed with her.  So when I asked her if she’d like to move back into her old room with her sister, her answer was a completely joyful ”Yes!”

So far, the girls seem to like sharing a room; I’m glad, because I plan on having them share a room for quite some time.  They like to make each other giggle in the morning when they wake up, and I am pretty sure they are comforted by each other’s presence in the room at night.  But lately, something new has been happening at nighttime…

Curious J has been talking now for about two months.  In that time, she has also begun to sing.  So now, after we read a story, say/sing our prayers, give final hugs and kisses, and turn out the lights, I often hear singing coming from the nursery via the baby monitor.  It’s J, singing Music Together songs to herself.  Usually it ends after a few minutes, but sometimes J can sing for over half an hour.

It’s happened a few times where I’ve decided that her singing has gone on long enough, and I head back up the stairs to tell J to be quiet and go to sleep.  When I’ve entered the room, I’ve usually found a sleeping Lyd, and an awake J.  Lyd has fallen asleep (or mostly fallen asleep) despite her sister’s singing and noise.  If Lyd was awake when I came upstairs, I would ask her if she’d rather sleep in the guest room.  “No,” she’d sleepily reply.  “I want to stay here.”

A few nights ago I asked Lyd, “Doesn’t J’s singing keep you awake at night?”

She replied, “No, I like it.”

I thought for a bit and asked, “Is it sort of like J is singing you a lullaby, just like Momma used to sing you lullabies as you fell asleep?”

“Yes, it’s like a lullaby,” Lyd replied.

So, the girls continue to room together, and they continue to be the best of friends (most of the time.)  And I’m just not going to worry about the bedtime singing anymore.  It’s not keeping Lyd awake, and if J wants to sing at bedtime, so be it.  They’re happy, and it’s working, so why change it?

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(I figure that being able to fall asleep with noise happening is a good skill for Lyd to learn, especially considering that I have always been one who has required complete quiet to fall asleep.  Once I’m asleep, I can handle a little noise (ie. I can sleep through JJ’s gentle snoring).  But when I’m trying to fall asleep, I can’t handle non-ambient noise.  Ambient noise, such as nature sounds or cars driving by, is actually quite relaxing to me, as is the ticking of a clock or whirring of a fan.  But I cannot fall asleep with talking going on, music playing, the TV on, or, sadly for my husband, any kind of snoring.  It seems that Lyd won’t have the same problem as me, and that’s probably a good thing.)

This is mummy

The children have risen to the challenge set by Tara Cain to draw a pic of mum.

I’m rather delighted that I am smiling on both, seeing as I’m a sour old so and so most of the time!

The drawing on the left is by my soon-to-be 8-year-old; the one on the right by my 10-year-old. I couldn’t resist adding the one below, which was done by my son when he was 4 or 5 – far more realistic!

Random Thoughts

Things that crossed my mind today:

- When I am not in the mood to deal with people, it happens quite suddenly, and you can tell because I am deathly quiet and you just know I am thinking humanity is on my shit list at that precise moment.

- I can’t even pretend to enjoy or want to be a part of a conversation about weddings and children. Such a conversation would require me having had a few drinks. This is null and void if you are one of those few people who is getting married or having a child and doesn’t feel the need to overshare, and I actually ask you about your wedding or child.

- People will go a long way to try to pretend they are enjoying your company while they are really thinking they can’t wait to escape your presence. If you pay attention, you’ll actually learn to recognize the look.

- Some people need to listen before they answer. Example: Question: Have the cats been inside at all today? Answer: We can’t let them in right now because there are people coming. My thought: Did you ear the question? How does that answer the actual question?

- I felt comfort and smiled widely when a friend said over the phone, “I hope the place is not filled with kids. I hate children.” He knows he can say it to me without me thinking he is a monster. I am sorry more people can’t understand that not liking children is not equal to being a heartless person. Really.

I’ve had plenty more thoughts today, but those are the ones that lingered. That an idea for a new book. Alas, I have little time to really consider writing anything right now.

Love,

Natalia

Today, I am grateful for: A flexible work schedule.

Say "Yes" to your children

Say “Yes” to your children. How often do you find yourself saying “no” to your children? “a lot” you say. Could it be that all these “Nos’ are making life tougher on the kid/s? Do they respond to “no” in a happy way? Probably not. If you want your kids to be positive about all sorts of things from homework to chores & rules, then try saying yes to their requests more often. Ask yourself “why do I say No, so often?” Is it that you’re afraid of losing control, or just cant be bothered with your part in it if you say “yes”? There are many ways of saying “yes” whilst still maintaining control & not having to be fully involved. The answer is to  put the onus back on the child, eg: Q. Can Billy have a sleep over tonight? A. Yes that should be alright  as long as you stick with the rules we made last time. You’ll need to ask his parents & ask them to get his sleeping bag & things he’ll need together. If they complain about this, you can stress that you have said “yes” but they need to make it happen? If they cant cope with the rules or the organisation involved ask them what they can do to help. Or offer something similar that is within their reach. If you still feel you cant say “yes” then you need to ask yourself “why?”  Saying yes can be a real opportunity for children to grow & accept extra responsibilities & test their existing capabilities. It will also put you in a positive  position in your relationship. Think of all the other things you say “No” to & see if there are ways to turn that into a” yes”. You’ll be surprised how quickly things will improve in your household both for you as the parent & for your children’s self esteem.

Happy Birthday Bella

When you’re six years old, nothing seems to be more fun than helping a friend celebrate her birthday.  Watching this small pack of girls run around the pumpkin patch from one activity to the next, was exhausting, but exciting too!  It’s truly heartwarming when you can observe the genuine joy and excitement in the faces of young children.

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Scary Statistic!!

Within the developed world (which includes the developed bits of the developing world!!), a child, on average, spends approximately 50 hours a year talking alone with his/ her parents and 1,500 hours a year in front of a screen (PC, TV, movies etc.)

And some of us wonder why media material has more impact on them than we do? The other thought that went through my mind was if our interaction with our children is really only 50 hours per year (barely an hour a week!) we had better make sure it’s good interaction! Because, if half of it is nagging, criticizing and battles then we need to be ready for all the consequences.

Slices of Sweetness

As I write this morning, Alex is sitting beside me playing the electronic keyboard. All music is about something to him—I cannot convince him that some music is “music for the sake of music”—so as I type I’m receiving a narration, which I hope you’ll forgive.

          (Down in the bass range): “Mommy, this song is about a superhero.
          And when I play down here, it’s because he got tied up by the bad
          guys.”

On Monday we went to the Cathedral, where I played piano for Mass for the diocesan teachers. As we were walking out, we passed a series of picture boards with photos of fetal development.

            (Upper range of the keyboard): “And now he’s got the key.”

They were beautiful pictures, displayed for Respect Life Month. All things about babies in mommies’ tummies are very interesting to Alex, so I walked him through them from start to finish.

            (Around Middle C): “And now he’s got himself out.”

“Mommy, why are there pictures of babies in mommies tummies in the church?” he asked as we walked across the parking lot, headed for the playground across the street. Oh, dear, I thought. “Well, hmm,” I said. “Let me think how to explain this.” One of my earliest memories is of my mom trying to explain abortion to me. It was slightly traumatic—there is no way to make it even remotely comprehensible to a child that someone would deliberately kill a baby—so I want to attempt to ease him into understanding over the course of a few years.

           (Lots of banging): “And now he’s locked the BAD GUYS up, because he
           still had the key!”

But Alex saved me the trouble. “Wait, don’t tell me, I know!” he said.

“Oh, you do?”

“Yes.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to gather his thoughts, and then he said, “It’s because this is a church for babies in their mommies’ tummies, too.”

It was one of those moments when a mother truly understands that we must be like a child to enter the Kingdom.

            “And everybody’s cheering because he defeated the bad guys!”

How did my baby get to be such a little boy?

***

Julianna’s news is that she is digging in her heels and fighting with her speech therapist, who thinks that if we accomplish nothing else between now and the age of three, our time will be well spent in fighting the battle to teach her structure. In other words: we will do this now, whether you want to or not. A lesson that a three-year-old will need to have to succeed in Early Childhood Special Ed.

It’s hard to chide her, because there’s still so much of the sweet baby in her. We know we need to scold, to put our foot down, to make her behave as we made Alex behave, but one goofy grin from her, and we’re turning away to hide our smiles.  It happened with Alex, too, but it’s harder because this stage is lasting so much longer. She’s even funny when she’s in trouble. She puts her chin down, and her lower lip pulses in and out. Then she flutters her long lashes as she steals glances to see how her adorable-ness is playing with the crowd. Sigh.

In other news, she is teaching us, by way of varied and escalating nastiness, that we cannot leave her unattended on the toilet—even for a couple of minutes to deal with some other child. (Christian hates it when I include details like that, but this blog is also a family history, and such things are important for parents to remember. But I’ll leave it at that.)

Mirror images of sweetness

You’d never guess it, looking at her, would you? It must be instinctive to small children: subversive behavior that we don’t expect, because on the surface, they look so sweet.

Childhood Role Play

A kindergarten teacher speaks to a boy and a girl at a small table in the corner of the classroom.

Hitting is not okay. Now apologize to Cindi.

But Zack and me were playing a game.

Oh really? And what game would that be.

We were playing Chris Brown and Rihanna.

Yeah. It was fun.

Have kids always been this weird?

Now it’s my turn to be Chris. *slap*

Ow.

Heeehaha.

And the tears begin to flow.

Well look who's back in blogland...

Apparently I took the summer off.

It was not an intended vacation… and several times I came and stared at the screen thinking of things to write – but alas, nothing came out.  There are tons of pictures – but none of them got posted.  Lots of silly, crafty, happy & sad things happened (like summer vacation and sewing monk robes and the loss of our two beloved bunnies) – but I just didn’t have words.

But today I have a long awaited life changing moment to document… so I’m back.

Last night I had the privilege of taking the boy (who turned 13 today!) to see his first stadium concert.  The boy had a fantastic time and I’m really glad we got to go together… it was as much a present for me as him.

You see, my darling husband happened upon a couple of tickets to see a band that’s eluded my concert list for roughly 26  years (yes, you’ve read that right).

Backstory:

Daddy Linke (of super-spy-mandolin-making fame) comes home from work with a couple cassette tapes of this band called ‘U2′.  I proceed to listen to it with him, learn all about who’s playing what instrument for the regular ‘who plays what in the band quiz in the car.’   We also watched the ensuing borrowed video of Sunday Bloody Sunday, and I decided that someday, somehow I must see this band.

Last night I fulfilled a childhood dream.  They played the song… and yes, I cried.

And it’s true we are immune
When fact is fiction and TV reality.
And today the millions cry
We eat and drink while tomorrow they die.
The real battle just begun
To claim the victory Jesus won…

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I was born
I was born to sing for you
I didn’t have a choice but to lift you up
And sing whatever song you wanted me to
I give you back my voice
From the womb my first cry, it was a joyful noise …
Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love can heal such a scar.

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It’s a beautiful day
Don’t let it get away
It’s a beautiful day
Don’t let it get away
Touch me, take me to that other place
Teach me, I know I’m not a hopeless case

Stress Busting... 5 Tips To A Happier Life

Continuous stress can bring on brain fog: it can drain energy, bring on dis-ease, irritability, poor judgment to name a few outcomes. To gain peace of mind, and stress-proof to a happier life, Merrie Lynn Ross on her “MerrieWay Day” offers some real-life actions…

1. I cover my head with a blanket and wait for the sunrise, and the birds chirping. There’s a natural rhythm in nature; my puppies licking my nose, that reduces the racing heart and mind.
2. Meditation is great, the stillness and knowing that comes. Taking it into life’s day is a rhythm, a natural way to be. Breathing deep, exhaling long helps in a trigger moment.
3. A good cry, a hearty laugh, dancing or jogging can bust out the stress…and make room for a giggle.
4. In grid-lock, I listen to kirtans, happy music-makers.
5. I boycotted bad news and choose to hang out with positive folks. I eat healthily, and that includes dark yummy chocolate.

If I sound like Pollyanna, so be it. I have been flat out, beyond stress at the loss of my only son, and I am committed that nothing will stop me (including a pity party) from living fully in his memory and honoring my own purpose. It’s a shift in perception, an energy shift to what counts most. We can decide not to sweat over transient stuff and grab a good piece of life, in gratitude, one moment at a time…stress free.                                                                            www.merrieway.com

Birthdays & Broken Toys

My birthday is this week. One of the little girls in our church turns four today and is having a big birthday celebration. As a result, I’ve been thinking about gifts and children’s toys. Considering I’m twenty years older than my little friend, I don’t anticipate receiving the party and gifts like she will be.

The only gift I’ve received this year was a cute little notebook in the shape of a purse and two cute candle holders from my secret sister. Being the youngest in the whole thing, I tend to get gifts that, well, clearly point out that age difference. But that’s okay, it makes me smile inside every time, knowing that whoever my secret sister is understands I’m still just a kid in many ways.

Thinking about kids’ gifts, though, I came to realize that there are two days in every typical child’s year that tend to be much more tragic than any other day: the day after Christmas and the day after their birthday. Those are the days that most of their toys tend to break. That is, unless you have an extremely particular child who never breaks anything. (If you do, I’d like to meet your child because that’s not normal.) Many even consider the day after Christmas National Whiner’s Day due to this.

Last month, I had the privilege of watching two birthday children the day after their birthday party. By lunch time, a crown, a drumstick and a drum had busted. Who knows what other new toys I missed as they were dismembered while I was off making pb & j sandwiches for lunch? The mother of these kids likes to claim that they are “curiously destructive”. I like that term.

That brings me to ask a few questions about children’s toys:

(1) Why is it that the annoying ones are the ones that never seem to die and the other toys just fall apart within a day’s time? I think toy makers intentionally do this to parents and childcare providers. Batteries seem to last longer on the obnoxious toys (and, thankfully, we can never seem to find replacements once they do).  As for the trinket-type toys, they break by the end of the day from either being stepped on or torn apart by children who wonder why they don’t make the same obnoxious noises as their other toys. I’ve decided that someone needs to make sturdy, non-obnoxious toys before I have kids.

(2) Why is it that people always think that they’re giving kids something fun when they give them a cheap $.25 toy that’s going to make them cry when they break it the next day? I have to confess, it’s easy to do. You think to yourself, “Oh, little Johnny will like this” even though you’re simultaneously thinking, “This toy is a piece of crap with a price tag.” Sadly, it’s too easy to let that sentimental side convince you that, while you know the toy is going to break soon after the child receives it, the smile on his or her face is worth that measly $.25. But is it really? Maybe, if you’re not the one who has to deal with the broken toy later.

What do you think? Are toys made sturdy enough for kids? Or do we just buy the cheap ones because they’re inexpensive?

Did you have a favorite toy when you were a kid? Was it prone to breakage, or did you know to keep it out of harm’s way?

The advantages of children’s book clubs

Image via Wikipedia

Children are very sensitive and keen to learn new things. Therefore we should keep a watch on what they learn and try to give them the best education. Most children love reading from an early age. What they read is also a deciding factor in their education.

The children’s book clubs are a good way to really keep kids exciting about reading. I say keep, because a love of reading starts in the home, not in the school or the children’s book club. The fact is that if you do not read to your child every single night, or nearly every single night, you are simply not doing your job and being a good parent. Joining children’s book clubs can help your child to stay interested in reading, but it can not start his or her lifelong passion for the written word. That has to come from you.

Nonetheless, a parent can not hold all of the responsibility for their child’s reading. That is where children’s book clubs come in. The cool thing about children’s book clubs is that they give the kids neat new books in shiny packaging every month. For the child, it feels like they are getting a neat new present, and they are likely to go ahead and dive straight into that book without even being prompted to. As a parent, that is something that will make your job a whole lot easier. Parents can start kids reading, but children’s book clubs can take another step. They can take that love of reading to the next level, encouraging the kid to take off with it and dive into reading by his or herself. That is the next step towards being an adult reader, and is an important step for him or her to take. And the earlier, the better.

Of course, not all of the children’s book clubs out there are the same. What they are reading is important, but a  lot of the time it is not as important what they read, as simply that they are reading what their friends are reading. This will allow your kids to use the children’s book clubs as a way to start interacting with the text, becoming better readers through sharing what they have read, as well as their likes and dislikes, with all of their little friends. This can be a huge help for any young reader, and is really the secret to becoming a fluent reader. This is why, even in this age of the digital computer with its speed of light communication, children’s book clubs still have a place in every home. Make sure that your kid joins a children’s book club today.

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Muscle Relaxant & Airport Wine

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

or

Rocketing Through Space and Time in a Most Peculiar Manner

Perception changed the day the drala blew in. Multiple universes unfurl about me. Random noise becomes music—listen to the 737 choir, voices, a baby cries, the bass note thrum of the engines. Indonesians in the last row chirp like crickets.
 
Diet Dr. Pepper is a saccharine-sweet chemical demi-tone. Stalactite monitors, pendulous, drip from the bulkhead, infinite, extending into the distance.
Soma, a muscle relaxant, alters perceptions in a subtle and sometimes horrible way. There is a disconnect here somewhere but is it me, was it the drala, or is it the drugs? Muscle-relaxers and anti-inflammatories mix with airport bar wine.

A dark-haired waif stares at me. All is new, all is god. She is so young to have that little gold earring. Her eyes burn like black holes. She is the most important creature at 30,000 feet as we plow through the atmosphere—children are our purpose, we procreate, expand, learn, conquer, destroy. Go in Jane’s right side and find the baby.

Where has Barry Bayley gone? I have misplaced my antronoscope, and if not for the drala I would be blind. Now I know what the bees know and the flies calculate. Ha that is why I love sleep, furling myself into another universe oh so sweet and terrible.

Time caresses the blunt snout of the aeroplane, scratching an old itch and portending company, methinks. All-dark waits outside the skin. Where now is a pocket of light? Am I growing younger back here?

The child kneels, dutifully, awaiting the rod of change.

 

 

 

Gai—Change, Alter, Correct-Depicts a boy kneeling before a man holding a stick.

All together now - École John W. MacLeod Fleming Tower School Playground

There is a Seussian aura here. Bright, bold blues, reds and yellows breathe life into the surrounding landscape. Curlicues, spirals and undulating curves are the order of the day. Even the font of the welcoming sign is whimsical and light. This is the École John W. MacLeod Fleming Tower School Playground (map). It’s all new and driven by the community with support from a variety of partners (photos).

It must have been like Whoville that day in June when over 200 volunteers came together to build the playground. I can hear the echo of the bezangers and kisplitzers, their brizzling and fesklanking down the Purcells Cove Road. After the dust settled and the sweat subsided – behold a beautiful play area that will fuel laughter, discovery and friendships for years to come.

A boy of 10 or 11 is the sole occupant when we arrive. He’s climbing to a high point and sliding down a pole – repeat – climbing, sliding down pole. I lift and place Nellie into an accessible swing. After a couple of attempts trying to lock the clasp, the boy shouts over, “That part’s broken”. I ask if this is his local playground. It’s not. He likes it though because of the pole sliding. It’s his favourite activity.

Noah and Nellie haven’t advanced to pole sliding yet but there’s plenty to keep them busy here. A favourite for both of them is accessing the bridge by the spiralling platter steps. Noah is able to manage this on his own. He has the necessary motor skills, depth of vision and balance. With no guardrails there is a sense of derring-do and accomplishment for him. Though not yet two, Nellie already has a well developed sense of adventure. She sees Noah one time on the spiral ascent and she’s next. She requires close supervision climbing up to ensure that she stays on the platforms and there are no tumbles off into space. I help her manoeuvre from the last step onto the safety of the bridge. It’s whoosh down the slide and back to the spiral climb – again and again and again.

The main access point onto the modular equipment is a wide-based metal staircase with four steps. At the top on the right is a slide for wee ones. The incline is gentle and the positioning is well designed to allow for hand holding or providing back support for babies from either side of the slide.

The platform at the top of this staircase leads directly into the yawning galoomph. The interior of this upward sloping and narrowing tunnel leads to the bridge. The ridged floor presents a challenge for Nellie and try as she might, she’s not able to get the hang of it. She just can’t navigate the galoomph tunnel. The close quarters make it impractical for me to try and give her a hand. It’s too bad because there are five portholes on either side of the tunnel for little faces to peek out. At the top, a plexiglass bubble hangs into nothing – a great venue for public clowning which Noah discovers much to his delight. It’s a little Seuss-like, see-through nest to cozy, goof, or wide-eye in.

There are multiple climbing and swinging opportunities here. Some are linked to accessing the bridge and slides. There is also a climbing wall – composite plastic with metal frames – that can accommodate two kids at a time. There’s a zipper and corkscrew monkey bars for skin the cats, or hand over hand with the greatest of ease swinging.

Underneath the elevated components, there is a storefront counter, a scavenger hunt (we didn’t try it this time out) and a couple of plastic drums that would be a perfect fit in any Whoville marching band. We take a break and set up our snacks on one of the benches. The kids are red-cheeked, out of breath, thirsty and in need of some healthy food to keep them going. They’re not still for long. Now it’s off into the schoolyard buzzing around the hopscotch and other sidewalk games. The snack is burned off is less than a quarter of an hour.

It’s time for a last pass before we pack up for home. It’s the swings then a last scoosh down the big slide with the bend at the top. There are more slides at the back of the school set off a piece from the playground. Up in the woods there seems to be ‘play’ outdoor classroom – some benches and an old blackboard. Something to explore our next visit.

It’s been an enjoyable morning. Both Noah and Nellie say they want to come back. So do I.

Other places of interest in the area include The Dingle Playground and Sir Sandford Fleming Park.

There is ample parking at the school on weekends. Check the school website for recess schedules during the school year.

If you’re taking public transit, the number 15 bus, in either direction, will drop you very close to the playground.

Note – the playground abuts Purcell’s Cove Road. There is only a small copse of trees separating the two. It’s a very busy road – exercise caution.

And the luckiest children are ...

We’ve been voting for our favourite children’s rooms in the office. Don’t worry, there’s been no hair pulling or name calling, but the real difficulty has been cutting them down to 10 best girls’ bedrooms and 10 best boys’ bedrooms (phew – and I thought choosing my outfit for this evening was tough!)

So here are my winners. I just don’t know whether to congratulate the parents or the children??

This girl’s bedroom is just magical – i’d happily sleep here at my age (minus the cuddly toys though … maybe)

roomenvy - girl's bedroom

I love this playful boy’s bedroom – now how many of you can say that you grew up with a giant WIGWAM in your bedroom.

roomenvy - boy's bedroom

…. and if you’re suddenly feeling a bit miffed about your childhood room, just be thankful you didn’t grow up in this children’s room …. BE AFRAID, BE VERY AFRAID

Feel free to send me any worthy competitors (jennifer_drew@ipcmedia.com)