Tag Archives: family

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It’s so cute… and cuddly.. and murderous?

In time for Christmas, I look at my son’s Christmas list and see a game entitled “Naughty Bear” on it. I chuckled, not knowing what the game was and assuming that with a name like that it couldn’t be that bad. Then, my husband walks in and starts getting upset over it. Apparently the game was far from what I thought it was, and immediately we both crossed it off his list.

In researching it, we find out it’s a video game that has a serial killing teddy bear. There’s over the top violence, which it’s a cartoon we see it in cartoons all the time. I think even cartoons have a line. That’s not what really upsets me about the game, and the main reason we disallowed it in our household. In the game, you’re supposed to torture fellow teddy bears into killing themselves. There’s not much that offends me but that definitely brings me close, especially considering the state of affairs today with teens being bullied to a point of suicide. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that this sickened me a little, especially for a game that’s rated Teen. We spoke to him about it, and he nodded in understanding and went on his way like nothing happened.

This isn’t talking about how video games are too violent and shouldn’t be made. I appreciate video games as an art form, and think that they can create as they want. It’s not the video game companies’ responsibility for what they produce; it’s the parents’ responsibility to make decisions on games that are appropriate or not to play. As avid gamers ourselves, we watch what we play in his presence as well.  I don’t look at ratings when I pick games for my son, I look at content. Parents should research the games and be vigilant in what they allow them to play. Those same parents that refuse to educate themselves try to pass of blame on the companies. It’s not right. We have the same problem with television shows and movies. Parents want things censored so they can ignore their kid and let electronics babysit them, and when something goes wrong they look back and refuse to blame themselves. If you don’t want your 9-year-old to play Modern Warfare 3, don’t buy it for them. Last I checked, as parents you should have control not the kids.

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It’s a turkey!

Thanksgiving is around the corner and by that I mean, it’s tomorrow. All the food and family your stomach can handle. I have my cranberry sauce made, the turkey is brined (dry brined, à la Alton) and my cold is still looming telling me I should forget this holiday. However, that’s my general feeling of most holidays but Halloween. My husband is a fan of holidays, for some odd reason he enjoys being at home with me.

I have a problem with holidays, not just because I hate them. I hate what they stand for. They tell you that you have this one day to tell your family you love them and doing good things for your fellow human. Why do you need one day for charity and love? Shouldn’t you be living by those principles on a daily basis, not just for these holidays? It annoys me. Be in the holiday spirit! If you want spirit, I’ll give you some booze.

I know that holidays give a push of charity and acknowledgement of your loved ones, but why not carry that ideal all year round? I find it hypocritical to preach it for a day, only to ignore it the rest of the year. Not saying this idea is what ruins holidays for me, but it’s an important ideal that does a lot of damage for my “holiday spirit”. That and I hate turkey. Why must you taste so awful! The same goes to ham, holidays make you eat the worst of meats.

With all that said, carry on this holiday spirit all year-long. I’m certain that local food kitchens would love at least donations or help every so often, though they would definitely appreciate the support this time of year. Keep this holiday spirit of giving and love every day of the year, and maybe next year I won’t have to write a spiteful blog about holidays. I’d also like to ask that I don’t want Christmas  in my face when I want to celebrate Halloween; you’re 2 months off stores. And to my husband? Yes, I do think decorating a week before Thanksgiving for Christmas is too soon, you’re insane. Love, me.

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I Did It All For the Insurance

Yesterday was my one year wedding anniversary. We’re not very interesting people collectively; our celebration involved watching the Patriots game together. I joke with everyone that I only married him for the insurance, saving $500 was a worthy reason, no? That’s not it though, I’m certain he’d be stuck with me forever either way. I needed a logical reason to get married; I don’t buy into romantic ideals. When marriage became a thing of humanity, it was a business transaction. A man buys a daughter from her father, she becomes his property and that is a marriage. With pre-nuptial agreements, that’s further proof that today marriage is still little more than a simple business transaction. Plus, what makes me so special that I can get marriage and a gay couple can’t? Not only do we need a piece of paper to express love, in most places only straight people can get it.

I don’t believe in marriage. For as long as I can remember I didn’t believe in marriage. I need a piece of paper to tell me I’ve dedicated my life to someone? I didn’t understand it; I still don’t if we’re being honest. I find the ritual and yes I mean ritual is tedious. So not only do I need a piece of paper to tell me I’m in love with someone, I need to spend an obscene amount of money to do it in front of hundreds of people? I think I’ll pass. I was never the little girl who dressed her dolls and planned her wedding since the day she was born. I was lucky I planned one when I actually needed to.

Then at some point I realized that this wedding business has nothing to do with me, or my husband for that matter. Our families, well more specifically my mother, needed it. It was a way to show off how wonderful their children grew up to be. I paraded around in a dress to prove a point that love is in the air, and I grew into a beautiful adult. Our big family with a handful of friends got together to celebrate whatever it means to celebrate a wedding, though it probably just means to get dressed up and eat fancy food and getting drunk. Yes, that’s a way we celebrate romance.

I don’t regret it; I gained a wonderful addition to my family. We couldn’t be more perfect for each other. Every day is a fantastic one, and it’s because I have my boys in my life. It doesn’t matter that I still don’t understand why people get married, and that I’m still morally opposed to marriage. I couldn’t have given up my morals to a better person. I love that our wedding wasn’t boring, especially having a fire alarm stall it. I’d also like to thank the Holyoke Fire Department for not complaining for taking my picture in front of your truck, you rock. I married someone who understands I don’t have a romantic view on life and someone who balances me out. Everyone should be that lucky, no matter who you love.

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His Kneecaps Would Be Gone

The whole Penn State controversy made me think. My son will be 10 next year. 10 years old, the same age as the victims of these crimes and I can’t help but to think what would happen if this was my kid. It could’ve easily been him. Hell, it could easily be anyone’s kid. As parents, you can’t help but to worry about things like this. It’s our job to protect them, and it’s the job of whoever we entrust them to as well.

So what if this did happen to my son? I can’t say I’d be very forgiving. In some cases, I have difficulty forgiving anyways and this would probably need no exception. He’d be lucky if he had his kneecaps still, that’s at best. I can’t say I wouldn’t want to physically injure someone who did something so abhorrent to my son. I can’t say that any parent wouldn’t want to. Our instincts tell us that we need to protect and even be vengeful when you couldn’t protect, mostly out of a need to clear your conscience because you thought you should’ve been there.

The statistics of sexually abused children are horrific. 44% of sexual assault victims are under the age of 18, and 15% of those are under the age of 12. Even more distressingly, it’s estimated that 60% of these assaults are left unreported.* Crimes like these aren’t just awful because of who the targets are, but the nature of them. The victims are too embarrassed and ashamed so they never come forward. With the statistic estimating that 5 of 6 offenders won’t even spend a day in jail, who can blame them? Even if they are strong enough to come forward, who’s to say anything will happen?  The idea that someone could assault my child that way could go free, but if I roughed him up for it I could go to jail.  This fact doesn’t upset me; it pisses me off.

Women learn about rape and how to ward off attackers and what to do when you’re assaulted. We read about it in our magazines, all over the internet, and we’re taught it when we’re older. Children don’t have the resources we do. Children don’t have the lessons the adults know. They don’t know that there are people and organizations willing to help them. They know what the adults they have in their life tell them, which isn’t good since statistically 34.2% of their attackers are family members.* Our children learn silence when they need to learn they can speak up for themselves.

For more information, please visit www.rainn.org. They have loads of information to help if you’re in need or ways to education yourself in prevention. *I would also like to thank the RAINN site for providing the statistics used in this post.

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Differences

For a couple of years now, there have been “eggings” on my husband’s car. The occurred when no one was around to pay attention and the next morning we get an eggy surprise, which by that point was an incredible hassle to clean up. My husband gets angry for a few moments, and then realizes there’s nothing he can do but suck it up and clean up the mess. He doesn’t hold that anger, and repeats the process over again the next time.

This all changed the other night, and with that changed I learned a valuable lesson. I go inside to clean, while he wanted to clean up his car outside in the dark. Next thing I know, he comes charging into the house with a gleeful “I got those bastards”. Then he calls the police and stands by the window waiting, cheerful he did in fact, get those bastards. He begins to tell me what happened.

“I was cleaning out the car, and I see these 4 kids at the end of the driveway with their cell phones out taking pictures and laughing. Then I stood up and they saw me and rode off on their bikes. I walk over to your brother’s car, and saw the paint on there. So I ran in and called the cops.”

The police did come, and they did catch the teens. By catch I mean they saw the kids, and they didn’t confess anything and assured us they scared the kids so they won’t be back. I laughed, knowing the kids will be back, but I didn’t want to ruin my husband’s moment of glory. In reality, I knew the police couldn’t do anything to these kids, just make them clean it off and put the fear of God in them. I also know, teen boys are stubborn and defiant so it was pointless.

It did make me remember the biggest difference between us though. I wouldn’t have come in and called the police. I would sit for a moment and plot a way to get even with them. I would sit by a window watching anxiously for them to return to the scene of the crime to get their revenge on my husband’s “ratting them out”, so I could scare them. In my more youthful and stupid years, I would probably have grabbed the closest object to me, and chase after them. Then find their house and take it from there.

The point is, he’s a good guy. He’s generally on the right of the moral track. Me, I like to toe the line and end up where ever I end up. Which generally takes me on a line very dimly lit or across to the other side, depending on what I filter in my mind. We work though, because he stays on one side, and I like to pretend I’m a better person than I am. I think that he makes me better though. But I cannot lie and say I’m not considering a bb gun to go sniper on them when they show up again.

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Family, Pt. 2 “Family Duty”

All joking aside from yesterday’s post, the main point I was trying to make was simple: no matter what, your family is yours. Sometimes you want to hit them, or close your eyes and pretend they aren’t there. Even still, you know when it comes down to it, you’ll help your family out anyway you can. That is the point of family.

I learned growing up that whatever happens you help your family out however you can. My father would always say “that’s what family is for. When everyone else seems to turn their backs on you, your family will be there by your side”. Despite normal sibling disputes, if you’re lucky to come from a good family, your siblings will always be there for you. I know that I can count on mine if I need something. Hopefully mine would do the same.

When it boils down to it, I can’t even count how often my parents or brothers have helped me out without judging whatever stupid mistake I’ve done. I can’t count how many times I roll my eyes and wonder what they were thinking, but I still stand by them. The best part about family is that you know that you’ll get an honest lecture about your mistakes, but it won’t be cruel and they’ll do what they can to make sure you make it out ok.

The same goes for your spouse’s family. When you said your vows, you also vowed to take in their family as yours. I love my in-laws as much as my blood. His family was mine, and I will stand by him and his family through whatever needs handling. My husband grew up with the same ideals, when your family needs help, you help them. That’s one main reason I married him. Family is the most important thing.

If nothing else, take away the idea that your family will support you the best they can. It’s always ok as long as you know you have the love and support of your family. No matter how strange or dysfunctional they are, somehow they make it work out well. That’s how it’s supposed work. Pride shouldn’t matter; they’ll help and not judge you or look down on you for it. In the end, you should know that they realize you would do the same for you. That’s the point of family. Even if they are a lovable bunch of crazies.

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Family, pt. 1: “Please Tell me I’m Adopted”

This is a first part in a 2 part blog. This is my comical entry into a more serious one tomorrow. Enjoy.

How many times have you said that statement during a family dinner or any family gathering? Ok, so your family probably isn’t the Cleavers, but maybe on more than one occasion you have almost dreamt of using one on any one of them at any given moment. Perhaps that is a bit extreme, but certainly we an all relate to mocking those picturesque families saying “not in this lifetime”.

For many “normal” families, we relate better to those sitcoms with outrageous families. I know I look at a nephew of mine wondering if he was the real-life Stewie. Yes, I have compared my family to a cartoon, if you met him I assure you that you would feel the same way. Many students on campus probably have the same realization of their families, and appreciate the well deserved vacation living in their dorms as opposed to being at home.

When I first moved out, the near silence killed me. Naturally I refused to call home and admit I missed them, but I’m sure someplace deep inside I did. At least I can comfort myself by saying it anyways. Soon, I realized I would end up back home, and realized that maybe the “missing” I felt was more dread of being a 40-year-old living in my parent’s basement. At least I could look around and remember that I was given a sense of humor for a reason, and that this was just a latest addition to a series of obviously hysterical jokes.

However, how boring is life away from that dysfunction you hate to admit that is your family. Admit it, you miss the 40-year-old brother that moved back home again and left, or the brother that reminds you of Chris Griffin. That lovable bunch of crazies makes you pray that you are in fact adopted, but also makes you feel normal. Besides, we can always take comfort in the fact that there is always a family more bizarre than your own. *gasp* If not, you can always pop on your headset and blast your choice MP3 player and imagine yourself far away or in a really weird dream you are bound to wake up from eventually.

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Chosen Adventure

It fascinates me the way one little thing affects everything in the scheme of things. Some people believe that we are all one speck, insignificant to what happens elsewhere. But really, it seems more “insignificant” events shape the more significant ones. (Also, typing “insignificant” is really annoying me, so I’m done with it.) Really, you just have to think about it.

Life is just like one of those Choose Your Adventure books most of us read as children. Well, except for the fact that you can’t go back in pages because you didn’t like the outcome. I don’t mean that having a bagel for breakfast over cereal will alter your life. I do mean maybe seemingly meaningless events add up. Who knows if waking up late that day will save your life? Sometimes that thought is depressing enough, but it’s really distressing to know you don’t know the answer to that.

Sitting around, I think about the truth of it. How different minor decisions ended up making a huge impact on my life, and how I didn’t realize it could. When you’re a teenager, you know that dating different people is how things are. So when a break up happens, you don’t realize that maybe that breakup would in a way, change your life forever. Sometimes you never even bother to consider what would happen if you chose another path. Unfortunately you can’t read each scenario until you find the best one, and settle for it.

I don’t regret it. I don’t regret anything really. Anything that has occurred made me the person I am today. Sure, by most people’s standards, I’ve accomplished nothing or very little. I don’t agree, and I don’t care. I realize that I can’t change what has happened, and I realize I cannot control what will happen. I like to roll with it. Why bother wasting effort and time in a short life only to question everything you’ve done?

I don’t think I would change anything. So what if I had rough moments as a single mom, I don’t believe without my son I would be where I am today. I probably wouldn’t have gone to school, and stayed in a job I really hated. I probably wouldn’t have found the nicest man on the planet to love us both, and eventually marrying us. And without my husband, I wouldn’t have even gone back to school without his urging. I’m happy with my life, though most people in my place would complain. I’ve lived through enough to appreciate everything, and I don’t care what has happened in the past. I know that I have a fantastic son everyone compliments on and a fantastic husband that I’m more grateful for than he will ever understand. Mostly, I’m grateful that I have all the strength I do as a result of my chosen adventures.

Also end note of: gratitude for the ever bizarre family I have, because no matter what, they are them. And if they read this, they’d be mad I didn’t say thanks.