Velveteen Mind

A Garage to Grow Men In

Two weekends ago, we fulfilled every man's dream at our house:  We cleaned out our garage.  Our lives will never be the same.

Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but not by much.  When we moved into this house, we did it very quickly, more or less just bringing into the house the essentials and stacking the rest in the garage to unpack at a later date.

For instance, maybe next year.

Fortunately for us, my dad knows me better than I know myself, so he called us up and said that the garage was getting cleaned come hell or high water, so get on our wading boots.  No one can focus with half of their life piled up on the other side of the wall.

I agreed to this Mississippi-heat-endurance-test because he also mentioned the two most beautiful words in the English language:  pressure washer.   Aaaah, he would be bringing over his pressure washer, which meant I could blow the old-lady stink in the garage to high heaven and enjoy the endless satisfaction of blasting years of ground-in muck off of our driveway, one slice of the water wand at a time.

Five paragraphs later, I have now told you that we cleaned out our garage.  Look, when you bring gas-powered water blasters into the picture, my prose gets a little flowery, so bear with me.

An unexpected result of cleaning out our garage, other than eliminating the constant noise in the back of my mind, was that we started spending more time outside.  Much more time.  As a family.

It started when the boys realized that they could ride their bikes on their own again, alternating the heat of the driveway and the cool of the garage.  This clearly meant I would benefit from two exhausted boys ready to crash at naptime, so I grabbed the book I am currently reading, an Adirondack chair from the yard, a glass of ice cold Coke with crushed ice (dear God, I love having an ice maker again), and set up a little space of my own in our blindingly clean garage so that I could keep an eye on the boys.

Because no matter how many times you say, "Do not drive beyond the car in the driveway, boys!" all they hear is, "Feel free to ride your bikes in the street because you are magic and no cars will splatter you on the road."

This is how I want our summer to be:  all of us outside, sweating, enjoying the fruits of our labor, me reading books, enjoying our sons beat the tar out of each other, and my scaring the daylights out of them with threats of Blood on the Highway.

I'm trying to raise men here.  As far as I can tell, that begins by raising boys.  Boys who play outside, dig in the dirt, climb trees, hit balls over fences, destroy the grass with sprinkler-produced mud puddles, and fight off the mosquitoes until the light has finally failed for the day.  Boys who get cuts and scrapes  and bruises, but are too busy playing to report them to their mother, let alone whine over them.

The book I am reading right now is Boys Should Be Boys by Meg Meeker, MD.  This will, quite frankly, be the theme of our summer.  Walking away from anything that requires electricity and embracing everything that eventually requires bandages.

I want to raise men.  Real men.  True men.  Strong men.  It starts now.  It starts in this garage, extends to the make-shift ball diamond in our backyard, drifts to the creek full of crawfish behind our house, and hopefully takes root in the core of our sons.

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Sprout Saves Father's Day for us Slacker Moms

Come to find out, Father's Day is tomorrow.  As in this Sunday.  As in, "When did that happen?"

Need last minute ideas?  I have a great one for you and it is free!  Did you catch that last part?  It's FREE!

The best part is that it will also give ole dad exactly what every man really wants:  an ego stroke, a shot of pride, and a little coveted spotlight attention!

Sprout, one of the awesome sponsors of The People's Party (a pre-BlogHer party I am co-hosting along with some much hipper bloggers), is celebrating dads this weekend with a special Father's Day event taking place on The Sprout Sharing Show being broadcast LIVE from 3pm - 6pm ET on Saturday, June 14 and Sunday, June 15.

This is your chance to make Dad feel famous!  You know, just like you.  ;) 

Children, with help from an adult, can submit a Father's Day greeting to their dad, grandfather, uncle, or male dad-like person and have it appear live during the show.  Viewers can also call-in during the live show and share their wishes and fun stories about dad by calling 877-242-DADS. 

To submit a text greeting or find out more visit:
http://www.sproutonline.com/sprout/stunt/fathersday.aspx 

If you don't have Sprout, you can call 866-9-SPROUT to request it.  Which is what I'll be doing just as soon as I sign up for cable again.

Seriously, I want to be on TV.  So you know your husband wants to be, too!  Make it happen with Sprout!

<This ends my desperate attempt to make up for the fact that I could have sworn that Father's Day was later this month...  or maybe in the winter?  Happy Father's Day, Maguire!  If we had Sprout, you would so be on TV, along with pictures of your massive muscles and hot mug!>

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Happy Mother's Day, ya'll!

Boats and Birds
Gregory and the Hawk
video with lyrics, in case you want to learn it for a tearjerker lullaby...

I'd love to know...  What do you sing to your babies?

 

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What do you have on *your* plate?

I received no less than three emails today from unrelated people saying more or less the same thing:

"You know the [fill in the name of project here] we discussed?  We need to move forward on that soon.  Hello?"

Look people, in case you haven't caught on, yet, I will say "yes" to anything.  Want me to write for your site?  Sure, send me the access code!  Want me to help you redesign your blog even though I have no design skills?  Absolutely, let's brainstorm!  Want me to give birth to your baby?  No problem, I shoot 'em out like a bazooka.

Okay, I'm actually a little more picky than that, but you get the idea.

Inevitably, however, some things slip through the cracks.  Conference calls, for instance.  Um, could you all just call me?  Yeah, the entire conference.  You call me as a group.  No?  That's not the way it works?  Humpf.

Wait, you wanted that contract signed?  I still haven't unpacked my printer.  Could you just sort of forge my signature?  This email can serve as my permission for you to do so.  What?  Legal who?  Grrrrr.

Who is supposed to pay taxes again?  I think I paid those last year.  What?  Every year?  Um, let me get back to you on that one.

What do you mean you haven't eaten lunch today?  Didn't your 20 month old brother prepare a nutritious meal for you from the one cabinet he can reach?  What?  It only had an empty box of cereal in it and an old cereal bar wrapper?  Didn't you go grocery shopping, my dear sweet 3 year old?  What exactly do you think that tricycle is for, kid?

Maybe I am exaggerating a bit.  But that's how it feels sometimes.

...Good God... (rereading this post so far...)

I think I've just written a textbook mommyblog post.

I am Mommyblogger.  Hear me snore!

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

A post about overextending myself.  Huh.  That's original.

Did I mention I've only been sleeping three hours a night?  Not for lack of trying, either.  And I was actually entertaining the idea of having a third child.  I am one cah-ray-zee lady.

So, consider this my open letter to all of you to whom I have made promises since signing back online in March.  I have received your emails.  I have received your calls.  I have received your contracts.  I have received your psychic messages wishing me focus and drive and the ability to follow-through.  I hear you.

I'm on it.  And I really do mean that.  I meant it when I said I wanted to [fill in whatever it is that I said I wanted to do].  I've just gotten a little distracted. 

But now?  I'm on it.

Right after I take a nap.
Love,
Megan

PS-- This whole over-extending ourselves thing?  That is precisely why I have begun the launch of Blog Nosh Magazine.  I want to reward all of us for keeping something of value on our own blogs.   Even if that means writing something brilliant that only your audience of 20 will read.

That's where Blog Nosh Magazine will come in.  Make it good.  Make it solid.  Make it for yourself.  We'll help you find the audience.  Just do it for you, first and foremost.

That's why I overextend myself.  At the end of the day, I get something of great value out of every single project to which I commit, even if that something is helping others. 

It is just that today was one of those really long days.

And I could have sworn it was Friday.

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Glenn Beck's Responsibility Beat-Down. I'm in.

I have a secret.  I am a huge fan of Glenn Beck.  I don't care if you are a conservative or a liberal, his talk radio show is one of the most common sense programs on the air.  Good, old-fashioned, small town common sense.

I listen to him on the way to Pants's school and often find myself just driving around while Goose naps in the backseat and I finish listening to the show in the car.  And you know I'm not a political wonk. 
Rather, all politics aside, I think his radio show is a must-listen for today's parents.

Now I'll tell you why.

Glenn Beck advocates personal responsibility.

[insert half of America falling off of their chairs at the horror.]

Imagine accepting consequences for our own actions and choices.  Not expecting anyone to bail us out or smooth things over.  Not getting an endless number of second chances.  Not exploiting every opportunity to place the blame anywhere other than on our own shoulders.

Imagine.  All the people.  Taking responsibility.

It's not easy, Mr. Lennon, even if you try.

Did you hear about the teen girl beating in Lakeland, Florida?  I hadn't until I turned on the radio this morning, as we have opted to not turn the cable on in our new house.  Call it an experiment.

I felt literally sick listening to excerpts of Matt Lauer's interview on the TODAY Show with the mother of one of the attackers.   The excuses.  The explanations.  The justifications.  I was honestly just sick.

I wanted to smack her.  How do you like that for irony?

From the TODAY show site:

For 30 minutes, six girls ganged up on a classmate, slamming her head into a wall and taking turns pummeling her and videotaping it all to post on the Internet. And when they were arrested and were being booked into juvenile detention, they joked about not being able to go to the beach, a Florida sheriff said Tuesday on TODAY.

The emphasis above is mine.  Because, seriously.

At one point in the video, you can hear the girl holding the video camera say, "There's only 17 seconds left. Make it good."

Good God, people. 

And these were not completely trashy girls.  I mean, yes, they are clearly trashy, but they are not "not my daughter."  These are seemingly average teenage girls, aside from the fact that they are demented animals.

What the hell is going on?

Our children are becoming desensitized.  Their understanding of the difference between right and wrong, or worse, their accountability for the difference between right and wrong, has become skewed.  I, for one, want to fight this , but I feel like I'm punching at air.

No, I'm not one of those moms that won't let her little boys play with guns, but I don't allow them to watch violent movies or video games. 

That is, not anymore.

When Pants was younger (and he's 3 and a half, so we are talking very young here), I let him watch Spider-Man and Superman and only peripherally explained that the violence was "pretend fighting" and that "you know never to hit anyone," blah blah blah.

Because at the end of the day, what part of his tiny little developing brain was getting all of the anti-violence language with which I was dowsing him?  Was he hearing anything other than "blah blah blah" as his little eyes took in the flashy costumes and exciting music?

I realized I had made a mistake when my family allowed him to watch something that I considered far too violent.  They explained that they went through the whole "never hit/ this isn't real/ this is all pretend" routine, but I knew that it was just too much. 

My family was visibly and vocally irritated with me because they felt I was arbitrarily drawing lines. What was the difference between Spider-Man and X-Men?  What was the difference between Spider-Man getting thrown against a wall in a bloody mess and Wolverine slicing someone up with knives that you can see break through his skin?

I realized that regardless of how fine the distinctions were in my own mind, I needn't make it the responsibility of anyone else to make that call.  So we began stepping back from the seemingly kid-friendly action movies.

Because I can't even find where that damn line is that is dissolving in our children's minds.

I took responsibility for a mistake that I made.  I shouldn't have let my toddler watch these comic book action movies.  It just made everything too confusing for everyone involved.

I am asking you, where does it begin?  Where does the desensitization begin where our kids start to muddle the line between reality and surreality?   Where they go beyond playing Spider-Man vs. Green Goblin in the living room and begin playing Fight Club in their basements?

And then they post it on the Internet.  On YouTube.  On MySpace.  As entertainment.

And the cycle continues.

The worst part of all of this is that the parents of the kids that took part in the beating in Florida will most likely be fighting tooth and nail to bail their kids out of this.

What I wouldn't give to see one of those parents say, "You have got to be kidding me.  You can sit your butt in jail.  I'm not fixing this for you."

Glenn Beck said that he would love to see these kids serve real time as adults for this.  Count me in.

Because when I was the age of these kids, which is approximately 16, I knew damn well what I was doing.  And I would have deserved to go to jail.

And my parents would have probably bailed me out.

The easiest way to make life hard for your kids is to make it soft for them.

Look, I know that this post is muddled in itself.  I am blaming the parents, I am blaming the media, I am blaming the kids.  I am all over the place.  Because I am confused.  And angry.  And disconcerted.

I need to boil this down:

A lack of parental guidance combined with a lack of the teaching and exemplification of personal responsibility and accountability are, in my opinion, at the root of this.

Am I wrong?

What do we do now?

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