Be Like The Coffee

http://www.socialeverythings.com/2016/01/she-tells-her-grandma-that-shes-just.html?m=1

Great analogy because just the other day, I was met with some emotional setbacks and was reminded of the time I was molested when I was 9 years old. Long story short, things happened multiple times. Things finally stopped when I got the courage to threaten to tell my mother.  When I finally told my mother “something” happened and I mentioned that I was “touched”, (She never knew exactly what happened. She refused to hear and or ask for the details) I was told that “nothing” really happened since I was only ‘touched” and to forget it ever happened, never talk about it and never tell anyone about it either.  If I do, I will be forever damned and our family would be ruined.

When I turned 10, I started my period. I thought it was from what happened a year ago. But my mom didn’t say what or why I was bleeding.  She just told me what to do.  I don’t recall if she told me how often it would happen either. When school started in Fall, some girls were talking about getting theirs for the first time. That was when I learned about menstruation but even then I couldn’t help but think about what happened a year ago caused me to bleed and perhaps my friends were getting theirs because they were “touched” too.

At age 11, we had sex education for the first time.  I was horrified. I felt disgusting. I felt dirty.  I felt so unprotected. I was frantically going crazy mentally because I swore I was pregnant from 2 years ago. (sounds funny now but back then it wasn't) Yes PREGNANT. My mother never talked about sex or taught us anything about sex either. It was so taboo. to mention S-E-X. Calling Planned Parenthood from a phone booth didn’t make things better because I had so many unanswered questions and they couldn’t help me.  It didn't help that I didn’t know the right questions to ask either.  I even starved myself to stay as thin as possible so the ‘baby’ would not grow and thrive. I lived a life of secrecy, feeling insecure, and scared to death until age 16.  I don't even remember when I finally realized I wasn't pregnant.

I lived like this through high school when I was able to go and learn as much as possible about what happened to me at age 9.  I went to the library, talked to friends about sex and pregnancy. My one friend knew a lot about sex because her older sister was married and gave her info. I couldn't ask a lot of questions for fear I would be found out.  During my senior year in Physiology,  the teacher taught about male and female reproductive system.  I would finally comprehend what happened to me and learn everything I needed to know about puberty and reproduction.

One would’ve never known what I was feeling or know what I was going through.  At school I was in student council, I was on the volleyball team and was a song girl.  I was “popular” with people but was not in the popular group.  People viewed me as peppy and happy go-lucky.  I would say I was generally well-liked. I knew a lot of people and a lot of people knew me. I had boyfriends in high school, attended proms and formals.  My group of high school friends (7 of us) who I am still friends with made my years in high school a fun and memorable one. They helped me survive my high school years and made me feel safe. I lived vicariously through others who had emotional things I didn’t have. I also found doing good things for others was rewarding. Being someone's friend when no one wanted to be their friend made a difference. When I knew I made someone smile, it made me feel good and gave me some self worth at the same time. It was these little things I did that would help me move on and forget about the negative things. I knew deep down inside my hurt wasn't important but what I could do for others was and it would subside the pain and would help me survive and continue to go on with my life. 

Sometimes, there may seem like there are no solutions when life sucks, but you have a choice on how you live through the bad times. Do you allow the difficulties, bad experiences and heartaches dictate your life and change you or do you take a stand and change it.  Looking back at what I went through, I knew had to take a stand to change things for the better. But I will be honest, it was not easy. I was so resentful. I couldn't trust anyone. I even shut someone out that I fell in love with, walked away from a growing relationship and hurt him.  I couldn't bring myself to tell him why I couldn't be with him. I was humiliated and embarrassed. I didn't feel as if I deserved to be with him. I felt I was never going to be good enough because of my tainted past.   I wanted to throw my hands up and give up. I was at my wits end and an emotional mess.  I let a good one slip away and I knew something had to change and being the mess I was, wasn't going to allow me to have a healthy relationship moving forward.

I found being a friend, giving to others selflessly helped.  And when I became a mother,  I realized I had a purpose in life-  I want to be a good mother to my child.  I want to be there for my child and be the mother I wished my mother could've been to me. I want to teach my child about friendship, how to be there for others and help one another.  I want be a role model to my child, show my child what love is, educate him/her, keep him/her safe and protected. Most importantly, there was no looking back and I knew I had to be the change.  That change was to stop blaming my perpetrator and my mother for my past , stop hating life and being a victim,  be a mother to my child and not let things get in the way of being a good mother. And so I forgave them. It took time but it helped me to be at peace. The dead weight was lifted off of my shoulders.  My first child was born on October 11, 1991 and a new chapter began.

If you look ahead, one day your broken pieces will be put back together. I have had setbacks and I have had times where I still fall apart. (I forgive but I don't forget).  I lash out. I am mad. I feel cheated. I am resentful.  I am hurt -REAL HURT. I find myself asking, "Why me?" I take deep breaths.  I bake. I cook.  I take it out on my boys (poor boys) .  I drop myself on the couch and sulk.  Then I am reminded to ask myself, "Am I a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?"   Neither.  I want to be like the coffee.  

"May we all be like the COFFEE."

 

RHP Prom 2017

It's prom time.  Bryce got to go this year because his school is small.  Sophomore class through Senior class can.  Frosh class cannot attend unless they’re asked/invited as a date.   Since Bryce is a sophomore, he gets to go.  He was asked by 2 girls last year & he declined.   He was asked by a girl this year and he declined.  He asked a friend who attends Redondo High but she couldn’t go.  He decided he’d go stag.  (Gasp!) 

 In the 80s if you didn’t get asked to the prom, you didn’t go.  Going stag wasn’t a thing to do, I think?  I don’t know of anyone or any group of friends who attended the prom without a date.  Someone correct me if I’m wrong.  I asked who was going to take pictures.  Bryce, matter of fact says, “It's called our phones, Mom! How else?!”  I thought, “Phones??!”  You don't get photos to to frame or to pass them out!   I mean what happened to the days where taking pictures and carrying your stack of wallet sized pics around to show off? Back in my days,  It was a big deal to have Sanrio themed picture wallets.

If you were friends with everyone and anyone at school, you didn’t just carry 1 wallet filled with pictures, you had at least 2 or 3 of them, each themed with either Hello Kitty, Little Twin Stars or My Melody. You ordered extra wallet sized pictures so you exchange with others.  Bryce's school contracts with a photographer  who takes the school pictures and formal pictures.  However, the photographer is real expensive.  The kids decided they did not want to pay $12.00 per person to do a group shot  plus the picture package had to be pre-ordered and prepaid. 

We arrived at Paseo Del Mar, scenery is beautiful.  The beach is behind the palm trees,  5 (another  boy went stag) guys looked sharp and groomed, the 3 girls all nervous but glamourous for their dates. The families were there to capture the moments-with their phones.  One of the parents actually  brought his DSLR w/him.  Well, you may as well know by now, I was not about to cherish this moment taking pictures w/my phone.  I brought my DSLR with me.  I wanted to make sure that if I were to capture this day it wasn’t going to be on my phone or on Facebook , it would be photographs I can frame,  photos for the prom goer's families and the prom goers as well.  You could imagine my son’s look of horror when I busted out of the house with the camera.  I didn’t care.  I took charge, had the teenagers pose, took some candid shots and just kept snapping away. 

 

I took close to 100 shots.  It is true that out of  100 different pictures you don’t get a lot of real good pictures.  I was taught that in a photography class a few years back by Stephen Oachs.   Thank God these digital cameras enables you to delete on the spot but at the moment of taking pictures, who’s got time to delete?  Bad enough that these teenagers thought I was taking too much of their time already.  They wanted to get going (limo had arrived early) and it was bad enough that we parents were doting on them, fixing their corsages, critiquing  and criticizing them.  In other words, we were EMBARASSING them.   Needless to say, pictures were finally taken and all the kids bolted to the limo.

After much editing and picking out about 20 of the ‘best’ pictures, I ordered a set of photos for each couple: (2) 5x7s, 2 sets of wallets, some 4x6s.  I took pictures of families w/their sons and moms with their son.  Yes, the boys because being a mom of 4 boys, my boys do not like taking pictures with their mama and or their family.  While I snapped pictures of the boys with their mom and dads, the girls were all taking selfies like it was routine to them.  They proudly took pictures w/their parents and wherever they could go snap happy.  I picked up the pictures from Costco the next day. I had Bryce separated them.  Each guy and girl got a set of pictures.   The picture with the boys carrying their friend was my favorite.  

 One of the parents did not expect to receive any photographs texted me:

     “Thank you for taking the pictures of  (name withheld) and me and the one with (name withheld),  my husband and I.  We have no pictures of us and I truly appreciate what you captured for us. It was totally unexpected,  they turned out GREAT and I am so grateful that I have pictures from this day that I can frame and hang up.  Thank you!”

 It has become so routine to take pictures with your phone nowadays. Invest in a DSLR, learn how to use it, take tons of pictures. Print them out, frame those special moments and hang it with pride.  For $35.00, less than 45 minutes of time, memories captured and pictures to share, pictures are lifetime of memories you can never erase. Better yet, hire a photographer and take annual family pictures.

Humble Basketball Tiger Mom

Bryce attends a few basketball clinics & camps a year. A lot of parents of the campers view their child as exceptional player or player with potential. I have never viewed him as an exceptional player but I’ve viewed him as a player with potential.  What has been amazing to me is, only a handful of these kids attending clinics/camps may or may not play basketball in high school.  For the longest time, I really didn’t know where Bryce’s skill level was and I wasn’t sure if he had enough skills to get him ready for high school ball either.  As I watch Bryce & I watch the other kids he works out with or plays against, Bryce has skills & athleticism.  He has potential.

It’s taken me a long time to acknowledge that.  Part of me didn’t want to because I didn’t want to be disappointed.  Part of me didn’t want to brag and then later on, have it thrown back in my face.  Part of me was also in denial for a long time.  In my heart, I knew but I didn’t know.  I’ve been to enough (club ball) games/tournaments in the last 2 years and have seen parents put their kids on the pedestal. Some of these parents are crazy & obnoxious.  Some of these parents get into it with other parents of the opposite teams and with the refs too. I don’t put Bryce on a pedestal.  I don’t view him as a future NBA player. I don’t have a nickname like Franchise or “Baby-Bryce” (meaning him being biggest kid of the 2019 bunch).  I will admit I am a basketball Tiger Mom.

Yes I yell.  Yes I scream. Yes I’ve gotten warnings from the refs.  Yes I’ve gotten ejected.  In fact, I had very first ejection from a game just last week.  (I found out later it wasn’t supposed to happen. The stupid ref mistakenly thought I was a parent of the opposite team. That team had 3-4 warnings.  Our team had no warnings). I am hard on Bryce and I yell at him from the stands.  I am not afraid to speak my mind when he messes up while playing on the court. My expectation of him on the court is like a Tiger Mom getting on their kids about their grades/school/life, etc. Work hard and put out 1000% (yes 1k) with no mistakes.  Lecture him before or after the games, make him eat, drink & sleep basketball.  Make him practice and work out 24 hours a day/7 days a week. There's no time for video games or doing anything else unless it's basketball related.   Ok ok I'm exaggerating.

Tonight, when I went to watch the last hour of the clinic, I watched Bryce play hard. I watched him catch his own mistake, change his game face, rebound the ball and go up for a basket.  Right after that, he darted out from a screen, cut off a pass from an opponent & picked up the ball.  He cut through the middle and made another basket.  After the clinic was over, the director approached us and advised us that the coach & athletic director from the local prep high school wants to meet & talk with us tomorrow (last day of clinic).  They would like Bryce to attend their high school on a scholarship & offer financial aid. 

I learned I can’t make him a better player if I am a basketball tiger mom. I have retreated to being a lot quieter in the stands. I don’t yell from the stands at as much as I used to.  He plays hard, puts out 150% (I’ll take 150% since it’s at least 100%, right?), makes little mistakes and learns from those mistakes.  He practices and works out 5-6 days a week while maintaining a 3.0 GPA.  (Last year, his grades were horrible.  Every quarter was a nail biter.)  At the same time, I wasn’t enjoying the game. I was stressed, I was constantly looking for imperfections and missing out on great plays.  It’s not to say I don’t yell anymore.  I still do.  Instead of yelling at Bryce, I yell at the refs for bad calls. I yell during the games over turnovers.  I yell from time to time at Bryce when he gets lazy on the court. I yell at him to change his game face when he’s mad or disappointed.  Once a Tiger Mom, always a Tiger Mom. (Someone's gotta put them refs in their place-even if it means to get ejected! )

When parents say positive things about plays that Bryce make,  how fast he is on the court, or when I hear “Wow, that kid looks great!” there is no words I need to say.  It just confirms that Bryce has potential and has athleticism and skills.  And that kid they're talking about?  That's MY kid and I am very proud of him.

Houston! I mean Teacher! We have a problem!

Remember that pink slip? Remember the anger and fire coming out of my eyes? Remember how I wanted to STRANGLE my child? Let's just say I want to STRANGLE the teacher. Ok that's pretty harsh and I shouldn't say write anything like that. However, I must digress!

Bryce has come home with a pink slip 3 times out of 4 weeks. (Gasp!) Noooo, right? In my last blog, you would’ve thought my child was in a dungeon by now or placed in some child labor camp for bringing home that pink slip. After writing about what happened, I calmly sternly asked exactly what happened. (Rage was starting as I was waiting for him to explain) I demanded a FULL explanation from start to finish. (Imagine Jen looking like a communist ruler w/an iron fist, glaring at my child w/the red Chinese fiery eyes).

Yes, he was talking. No he didn’t start the conversation. He was the only one that got in trouble. It was Kristen that was talking too. She instigated the conversation. (Double take) What?! WAIT A MINUTE! STOP! Who? Kristen? She didn’t get in trouble? So I wrote Houston Teacher back and told her she needed to find out what happened and all guilty party should be charged reprimanded. The case was dismissed, a lesser punishment given because it doesn’t change the fact that he was talking. Teacher talked to Bryce and admitted she needed to pay more attention to what was going on and admitted she was in the wrong to single him out. She agrees that he was in the wrong for talking though. I’m ok with that.

The following week, he received ANOTHER pink slip. Reason: Out of Line. OUT OF LINE?! What the heck is Out of Line?! Bryce asked to get up to get his jacket. He didn’t have any tickets (tickets are earned for good behavior so you can use them as a bathroom pass, get things from your bag if you ‘forgot’ something..etc). In other words, tickets are hall passes. It was the day after it rained and it was pretty windy too. He sits near the door so he felt the cold coming in that day. Because he asked to get his jacket and he had no tickets, he was marked for being Out of Line. Fiery eyes and rage starts. It was windy alright. I worked in a symposium that day. We were inside the outdoor tents for registration and we closed and zipped up the tent doors to keep the wind from coming in. I thought, the school is worried about kids’absences and Teacher wouldn’t let him get his jacket?! If he gets sick and is absent, it’s not my fault, it would be hers. Then I thought, there’s no bearing on her! That’s just not right! And so, I wrote on Bryce’s pink slip:

"I do NOT agree with this. Tickets or no tickets. It was cold and windy yesterday. Considering the fact that he sits near the door, you couldn’t make an exception?”

Teacher sends me an email. “My mistake- tally removed. I thought he had to go to the bathroom.” I didn’t even respond. My brain said: “Houston! Teacher?! We have a problem here!!!”

Hello Tuesday-as in today. Yes ANOTHER pink slip from yesterday. Do we have a problem? Yes we do. Jordan was talking yesterday. Bryce looked up but DIDN’T answer. Yes my child actually didn’t talk or respond. Jordan decided to talk to Jack instead. But Teacher, we have a problem! Jordan got in trouble and Bryce did too. Teacher said, “Jordan couldn’t have been talking to himself so Bryce, go get a tally for talking too.” HELLO?! Didn’t Teacher tell Bryce after the incident with Kristen, she needed to pay more attention? Someone isn’t following through and she ASSUMED (we all know what ASSUME means don’t we?). It wasn’t Bryce and Jordan, it was Jordan and Jack. So I wrote her another note telling her what Bryce told me. I won't bother with the details that I wrote. Let's just say it was written like the last note I wrote.  I am waiting for her response as I write this…

Yes, Teacher, we have a problem. I know my child has been guilty and we accept responsibility for his actions WHEN he is at fault. However, assuming to pick on my son for something he didn’t do or wasn’t fully responsible for isn’t ok with me. As a mother of 4 boys and a super busy household, I don’t have time to deal with petty issues. However, when there’s a problem, I STOP, LISTEN and  try to UNDERSTAND. Once I comprehend what the issue is,  I fix it, reprimand if I have to and discuss what needs to be done to prevent the problem from happening again. So Teacher, we have a problem. It’s not Bryce. It is YOU!

Is it Jennifer? Or is it Jenny/Jenni or JenniLee?

After high school, I never went by my high school name. At one point in the last 20 years, I didn't want any association to high school. Calling me Jenny or Jenni was that association and I wanted nothing of it. It's Jennifer, Jen or Jenn. Family and very close friends refer me to Jen. Newer friends refer me to Jenn. At work even my manager knows to make sure everyone calls me Jenn or Jennifer. Even my husband, who I've known since 1997, refers to me as Jennifer when talking to our friends/families. He won’t even call me Jen. 

Why?  It just didn’t sit well with me after high school.  Part of it is was because I was embarrassed of all the naïve things I did.  I didn’t want to think about high school. I wasn’t one of the smart girls, (even though all of my friends were smart) I wasn’t pretty like them. I was just average.  I didn’t date the most drop dead gorgeous guy.  The one guy I particularly liked and shared my locker with was (back then) untouchable and off limits. Our circle of friends weren’t the same. We were both so different. I also felt like I didn’t leave a good impression on people that I wasn’t friends with either. I was not in a good relationship at the end of high school so senior year wasn’t as great as it should’ve been. All in all, I wished things were better in many ways.   So when anyone would call me Jenni/Jenny, I would cringe. It would make me defensive and I was always quick to correct people.

Five years ago, I went back to my 20 year high school reunion. A classmate, Jennie Brown saw me. “Hi, Jenni Lee!” And then another, "Oh my God, It's Jenny!”   The whole evening it was Jenni, Jenny or JenniLee. It was so natural to be called Jenni. Talking to everyone and reminiscing about all the good times; we had was so much fun.  I laughed so hard that night and was reminded of some pretty crazy and memorable times we had. We walked through old classrooms and I even saw the locker I once shared with “that guy”. By the end of the night, I realized how much I’ve missed everyone and how much fun it was to be young again.  The best part of the reunion was being able to just talk with others that you didn’t get to really talk to in high school.  There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

After the reunion, I started to utilize Facebook and found more classmates.  Instantly, it was: "Jenny! How are you?"  I was even writing messages to other classmates by introducing myself as, Yep! You guessed it, JenniLee or Jenny.  Today as I was chatting on Facebook with my sister-in-law’s cousin, Emily, she asked me if I knew an asian girl name Jeanette from high school.  I did and I remember her being a couple years ahead of me.  I also remember looking up to her because she was very pretty, smart, had the cutest boyfriend and was athletic. She was well liked and everyone knew who she was.  Emily asked, “Did you go by Jenny?”  Being a little reseved, I answered,  “Yes.”  After a couple more questions, Emily said, “Jeanette remembers you!   She said you were always smiling, bubbly and laughing…”

Other friends have noticed my classmates referring to me as Jenny/Jenni on Facebook.  They too, cringed at the sight of the name. I’ve had to tell them it’s ok.  I’m over it.  I realized, it wasn’t as bad as I have made it out to be. Mentally I thought Jenni/JenniLee/Jenny was a reflection of my immaturity and stupidity.   I didn’t think to view all the good things that I did in high school. I let the negative outweigh the positive.  Today, I am reminded that my high school years wasn't about the dumb things I did.  It was my smile, my being positive and laughing.

Yes I’m Jennifer.  You can call me Jen/Jenn,  Jenni, JenniLee or Jenny. I’m all the same person.

A Versatile Blogger Award? Who Me?!

Really?  You shouldn't have, Sarah!  Awwe, I am really touched and honored!  Thank you, my friend!  You are truly wonderful! ( Yes, I am doing the happy dance with a beaming smile)

For my non-blogging followers, this is one of several awards that bloggers award to each other as way of showing appreciation for the blogs that they enjoy.

The rules for accepting this award are as follows:
1. Thank the award-givers and link back to them in your post. (see Sarah's name up there?)
2. Share 7 things about yourself. 
3. Pass this award along to 15 other bloggers.
4. Contact your chosen bloggers to let them know about the award.

7 things about me:
1. At one of my first job as a bank teller, I was robbed at my teller window.  I never had to testify against the robber because he died in jail.  To this day, I can tell you exactly what he looked like, what he wore and how the incident occurred from start to finish.

2. Some people think I'm clairvoyant.  I've had premonitious dreams of  people that I am close to and would know ahead of time of an event that will occur. Those events were sometimes good & sometimes bad. Some of the dreams helped to prevent some bad things from really happening!

3. I am not a huge fan of chocolate. If you're going to buy or make me a cake, ice cream or candy, do not get me chocolate. When I'm a little off for whatever reason and all of the sudden chocolate must be consumed, it can only be Hersheys brand of choc, Godiva, Dove, Snickers, Twix and or M&Ms.

4. I used to stuff and fold potstickers at my parents' restaurant.  My older brother used to time how fast I could  fill up a 15x17 pan.  Each posticker had to be neatly folded and presentable. No meat/stuffing was allowed to gush out or bust out of the edges.  Record time:  13 minutes , approximately 60 potstickers

5. I am Rainman.  I can't do math like him but I can remember numbers you won't believe.  All it takes is for me to see somethng with numbers and I'll remember what it is.  Things like license plate, drivers license, social security numbers and phone numbers are the easiest things for me to remember.

6. I am deaf. It is the reason why I talk like I have retainers in my mouth. (I have a retainer too but that's not the culprit)   Not completely deaf,  but enough that I cannot hear whistling, beeping, birds chirping from a distance, someone whispering in my ear and or talking from behind me or in another room. High pitched sounds are not audible from a distance.  I read lips and that helps me to 'hear' what you're saying.  If  you are next to me and in the same room,  I can hear you so don't start yelling like I can't hear you talking. 

7. I am a sore loser.  I hate to lose .  Doesn't matter what it is, I just hate to lose.  I'm not competive though.  I won't challenge anyone to make myself feel better. (ok ok sometimes I will ask for a rematch) Simply said, I just hate to lose. Period.

Passing the Versatile Blogger Award to: 

http://thetaylortree.blogspot.com/ -this is my sister in law's sister in law. Beautiful , adventurous & cool mom of 3 kids.  I wish I was like her but I have no guts (hiking, climbing..jumping into lakes). She's like a tomboy but very girly too.....

http://eileenrambles.blogspot.com/ -Eileen is truly an amazing friend full of scrapbooking, musical and cooking talent.  . She has polycystic kidney disease and she doesn't let her condition stop her from enjoying life and doing things she enjoys

http://thecombskrewe.blogspot.com/ - Traci is a mom of 4 children who homeschools her kids and lives in a Christian seminary community.  She writes about life living in a community with other families. She is an excellet home school teacher too.  One would think she is a teacher with a degree but she's not! That's how good she is!

http://amykissesmike.blogspot.com/ - Amy is truly an amazing cancer survivor.  Her blog was all about her journey with cancer to becoming a mother.

http://asuccorforwriting.blogspot.com/ -Kathleen's blog is all about writing. She loves to write and knows a lot of authors that she mentions in her blog all the time.

http://www.theravenouscouple.com/- A couple who shares their experiences with all kinds of food/recipes and restaurants.  They go to some of the most interesting places to eat!

http://wanderingchopsticks.blogspot.com/ - southeast food blog. This is the place for me to find southeast style food recipes! 

http://www.sniderphotoanddesign.com/- The Sniders take some AWESOME journalist photography. We've had a family session and a session for Kurt. All of their photography come out so beautiful. Their photos of babies, milestone events & weddings are my favorites. 

http://justjennrants.blogspot.com/ -Anyone with the same name as me, has boys , loves to cook & bake and is a geek is cool to me. 

http://foodlibrarian.blogspot.com/ - Food librarian is JustJenn's friend and they are partners in crime.  Love to read about their adventures with food together!  Think Thelma & Louise with a good ending!

http://www.bakerella.com/ -The place to learn all about cake pops.  This is where I learned to make cakepop.  Her ideas are always sooo cute, whimsical and adorable.  Too cute to wanna eat them.

http://www.herboldevents.blogspot.com/ - This blog is also about cakepops. Alot of the cakepops are elegant.  Some cute ones similiar to bakerella but the majority are very sophisticated, involves tags, ribbons and bold colors

http://bestcupcakerecipes.blogspot.com/ - this was the place for awesome cupcake recipes.  it has the best red velvet cupcake recipe!

http://disneyparks.disney.go.com/blog/ -It's Disney! The up to date latest and greatest info on Disney Resorts.It is also my 2nd home. 

http://blogs.sfweekly.com/foodie/ - The place to learn about the newest/latest info with food/restaurants in San Francisco.  I have been in Southern Cal for 20 yrs but

 

Pink Slips Brought Out the Tiger Mom in Me

It's not Kyle's driver's ed permit, it's not the bank releasing itself from being a lienholder after your car is paid off, most importantly, it's not a layoff notice either. The pink slips are being issued to Bryce for misbehaving in class almost every week. It's either for Talking, Being out of line, Monkey-ing Around, Embarassing Behavior or Wasting Time. For every tally, the punishment increases. All of his pink slips have been warnings and all of the slips are for talking or wasting time.

The Tiger Mom in me wants to beat the crap out of him. I want to take everything away from him. I want him to feel some pain. I'm at my wits end with this matter and simply have no answer to how to punish him and make him take responsibility for his actions. While I know these pink slips are simply 'warning' letters, it doesn't change the fact that he’s still getting reprimanded and I have to see one every week for the last month! I can take baseball and basketball away. However, taking those away only means it'll hurt his team. Why should his teams be punished for his mistakes. They don't deserve to play with one less player. What if they lose?  That would really suck.  One parent suggested punishment should occur immediately after a game. This will allow him to play and still support his teams. I've taken away his iPod Shuffle, TV, computer privileges and anything that's 'fun' to him. Along with all that, no going outside to shoot baskets, practicing and baseball hitting lessons. Well? We're STILL getting pink slips. In fact, he brought one home today. (sigh)

I was livid. I cussed, yelled and lost it. I promised that I would take away baseball and basketball COMPLETELY. What the heck was I thinking? Why did I have to be so ugly about it? Now I feel like I've got to comply on the promise I made. It wasn't a threat, I promised I'd take all of that away from him. To the point of quitting the Jags, Rockfish, TABB (baseball) , Sansei Little League and summer league baseball. I went off about how his 5th grade life was going to be all about studying and nothing else. I also told him he HAS to get all straight A's. Anything lower will be unacceptable and grounds for even MORE studying and a far greater punishment.

I sound just like my mother when she used to scold me.  What am I supposed to do now that I’ve made a promise? My mother would have no problems following through. Sports meant nothing to her. Studying always came first even if I was sick as a dog and puking in the toilet. It had to be life and death to be off the hook from studying. Now I’ve gotten myself in my own sticky mess. I made a promise. (SMH) I can only hope my yelling, screaming and cussing woke him up and made him realize he has to shape up. I don’t want to go to that extreme.  Yes I am reminded they're only warnings.  Ugh. PINK SLIPS GO AWAY!

Living through your child and when it ends...

Watching Bryce hula dance, I admire.  I swoon through the sharpness in a move, the grace and the chanting. For every move, I feel the move. For every mele (song), my heart sings and dances. It is through him, I am dancing, through him I'm singing and chanting. For every wrong move, I get worked up and disappointed because it should’ve been done better or correctly. During performances, I am the one that's nervous. I am the one hoping and praying in dancing Auana or Kahiko, that there be no mistakes.

And there is basketball.  I scream with excitement, when he makes a basket or blocks a shot.  I holler when there's a mistake.  I yell out encouragement not only to him but to the rest of the team for a good defense, shot or rebound.  Do I feel the spirit of aloha in basketball? No.  Do I swoon at the sight of his reverse shot?No, but I get blown away instead. Do I feel disappointed when he doesn't rebound the ball?  Yes I do, but it's not the same.

His love for sports (especially basketball)  made it harder for me to get him to go to hula class.  It was getting tougher to get him to practice his dances. He'd rather be outside throwing free throws.  What used to be practicing the moves to a chant  or a mele was now the flick and roll of a ball off his hands or dribbling a ball around the house.  At age 4 1/2, dancing hula to him was new and exciting. He loved dancing!   It was never an issue to go to class.  At age 11, all the sudden,  hula became a difficult activity to attend. He didn't want to go as much.  Once he got to class, the mood usually changed.

It was Kumu who could tell for awhile now that he wasn't dancing his heart out. It was one evening when Kumu pointed it out.  "Do you want to dance or not dance?"  Truthfully,  it wasn't pointed out that 'nicely'.  Some things that were said stung like salt in the wound.    The look on Bryce's face told me clearly how he felt. How can he not want to dance anymore?  Six years of hula dancing taught me the appreciation of the dance and oli (chant). Six years of it taught me the culture, the language and the art. I learned that many things created in hawaiian culture were originally handmade and we were taught by Kumu (teacher) to learn the same way. I learned to make Bryce's costumes that included (but not limited to) ti leaves skirts, different types of kupe’e (wristlets) with ti leaves, fresh plumeria leis and different ti leaf leis. With every twist, or every flower inserted and or every knot, the attention to detail was necessary to make beautiful implements/costumes. It reflected the hard work and effort when you proudly got to wear what you made. Most importantly, it represented the hula halau (school) that you belonged to. Didn't he feel that way? I looked at him and that look told me he was done.

It was heartbreaking.  A part of me wanted to hang on and hope it was just temporary. I actually understood how he truly felt.  Part of me was so torn but part of me told me to let go. We haven't been back to say goodbye and to thank Kumu formally. He hasn't said anything since that night he told Kumu he doesn't think he could dance anymore.  When I asked Bryce about stopping by for a visit and to thank Kumu, his answer, "Not yet."  I don't know exactly what he's thinking but, when I brought it up, his facial expression tells me what happened the last night of hula is still mentally painful. All I can do is step back and not push it on him. Sooner or later, he'll get over it, right?  It's all part of growing up.

For now, I cheer him on during the games. As I watch those muscular legs lift him up during a jump ball, I know it's from doing hela, ku'i, and kaholos that helped make them strong.  And when there's 5 seconds left on the clock, he takes the ball out, throws the ball pass half court, his teammate gets the ball and makes a basket, those arms of  Bryce have great strength because of all those kaholos, uwehe and from using implements in oli (chanting).  There may not be anymore meles to sing or chant to, no more dancing to kahiko or auana, no more making of leis, kupe'e, or ti leaf skirts, but there's Bryce with 6 years of hula dancing that has helped him develop strong legs, arms and muscles.  It's has helped him become the basketball player that he is today. Although I miss my hula ohana, watching everyone dance, seeing Kumu and hearing him sing, I know we'll meet again someday. For now,  Mahalo Kumu for 6 years of your inspiration and teaching Bryce how to dance.  A hui hou!

pictures says a thousand things...

If I wrote it all out, I'd be writing forever...but in the past year...These pictures should tell you pretty much what i've been up to......Enjoy!

If it's not family time and doing things w/the kids...it's often time that I'm baking something or creating something....