Saturday, January 22, 2011

Three Girls and a Bathroom

This morning, I got up to take a shower and decided to turn on the Pandora app on my phone. I was listening to music and belting it out. I don't normally listen to music when I am in the shower because everyone else is usually asleep. While I was showering, I had a thought. I was thinking about how convenient Pandora is and how much better than the old radio with an antenna that you had to make sure was in the right spot or you didn't get music.

Then, I started to reminisce. I started remembering being in high school, living at home with my parents. I remembered those mornings with that radio playing. I remembered one bathroom and three girls. The bathroom had the best light. That was the best place to put on the makeup. It was also where the washer and dryer were. It was barely big enough for three girls, but, we managed.

There was a mirror over the sink and a larger one over a vanity type table in the bathroom. There were the usual fights over who was using which mirror and who was using which hair implement. Keep in mind...this was during the "big hair" days. We HAD to use the hair dryer, curling iron, hair spray, hair picks, mousse, and whatever else was handy! All the electrical hair stuff was by the small mirror, so, we had to play musical mirrors. One would be working on hair while two worked on makeup and then we would switch out. We somehow managed to work out a system that caused less fighting. All the while, we were listening to that radio.

Poor Daddy. We girls had to be up by 6:00 to catch the bus by 7:00 for school that started at 8:00. How was a lone man ever to manage with all those girls?! Heaven forbid he should need to use the bathroom! He came up with his own solution to that one. He would get up at 5:00 when he didn't have to be at work until 7:00 just to make sure he got to use the bathroom!

Ah, that radio. It had the big silver antenna off the top of it. It had to be set just right. If it ever fell over, there was a mad scramble to fix it. It had to be turned just the right way and sometimes needed a little boost from a wire hanger to get the best reception. That poor radio went through so much. It became caked and coated. It got covered in hairspray, makeup, perfume, and whatever else floated around in that bathroom. It's funny. Nowadays, the only time I see a radio like that is on a TV show from the 80's...makes me feel old. Nevermind, I will say it makes me feel nostalgic :)


Thursday, January 20, 2011

A Fire

My husband and my mother accuse me of being a fire bug. I will get a fire started in the fireplace and keep it going. I have to make myself leave it alone sometimes because of how much I enjoy it. I absolutely love a wood fire in a fireplace. I have loved wood fire for a very long time.

My first experience with a wood fire was as a very young girl. I was probably three or four years old. My grandparents had a wood heater. I loved watching my Papaw build a fire in his wood heater. I just thought it was amazing to watch the wood catch and burn. After that, Daddy went back into the military and we started moving around again. I missed that fire.

Jump ahead about 12 years. My parents decided they didn't like paying high gas bills and so they bought a wood heater for our house in Georgia. I was an older teenager and still loved a fire. I would play with candles and make wax figures. I would light three or four of them and mess with them while they burned, so a wood heater was just another excuse for me to play with fire some more.

I would chop wood, stack wood, and build fires. I learned how to start a fire with a little kindling and stack the wood just right. I learned how to make it so that the fire would burn all night and give off heat for the whole house. I learned how to stack the dryer wood on bottom so the green wood could burn longer.

I now have a wood burning fireplace. This is the second house we have lived in with a fireplace. A fireplace makes me happy. I don't know why. It just does. There is something homey and cozy and earthy about having a fire in the fireplace. I think the real thing going on with me and fire is that I was born in the wrong era. I may have to write a blog on that...

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Whose Job is it to Parent?

I am going to have to go on a rant here. I am so frustrated with some of the things I am seeing lately. I posted on my facebook about some students at a high school. Some 90 girls were pregnant or had had a child in the last month. And, the SCHOOL was scrambling to fix the problem. They were the ones looking into things to do to help these girls out or help prevent the teen pregnancies. Whose job is it to parent?

I sat in a meeting today with a student, two other teachers and the parent. The student has been sleepy in class. When questioned about it, he admitted to not getting much sleep. Mom chimes in (like she is proud of herself) stating he has a bedtime. 11:00. 11:00???!!! At 13 years of age, he needs as much sleep as a toddler! AND she talked about how he liked to stay up playing Modern Warfare. REALLY??? So, you let him stay up, and you let him play violent video games. When WE presented her with the things happening in school and the facts about how much sleep he needs, she decided to change his bedtime. Whose job is it to parent?

My experience with students has been wide and varied. I have had pre-teens who have to leave school to go straight home and take care of younger siblings. I have had students with children who leave those children with their parents while they go off and do their thing. I have had students being raised by grandparents. I have had students whose "job" it is to take their younger siblings to ball games and practices. Whose job is it to parent?

I am by no means trying to say I am perfect, nor a perfect parent. I make mistakes. I yell when I shouldn't. I lose my temper. I don't ALWAYS make sure my kids have a fruit or vegetable at every meal. We have sugar in the house. But, I also limit their sweets, don't allow my kids to have soda very often, and monitor their TV and internet use. I spend time with my kids. I read what they read, I watch what they watch. I talk to them, I listen to them. Why do I do this? I do it in the hopes that one day, they will NEVER have to ask me, "Whose job was it to parent?"