Honor Thy Mother and Father.... Then What?

Floating through Mother’s Day with 3 out of 4 (kids that is) being dutiful as far as Ma Bell would make available and Father’s Day where the funnier the card is the more appreciated, I started to ponder on the Honor your Mother and Father commandment. That would be, Moses’s Number 4 in the Judeo/Christian world and Number 5 for the R.C’s, for all you heathens out there. But I digress. Now to take this literally, I would have all the boys plus daughter fawning at my feet and washing them with their contrite salty tears but that is another Cecil B DeMille moment I try not to let my psychologist know about. But, to really look at that commandment is to dig deeper.

The word Honor according to Princeton’s Wordnet is as follows:

A tangible symbol signifying approval or distinction; "an award for honor and bravery" . That works for me. All Mother’s at some point or another should be awarded for bravery especially for those late night “Come pick me up from jail calls”. A woman's virtue or chastity. May not work considering the whole honor the parent thing means this is pretty much null and void. The quality of being honorable and having a good name. Hmmm since I change my name a little bit more than most, this might have a hard time catching up with me. Respect: show respect towards; "honor your parents!" Ah BINGO! That is what it is; respect.

Respect thy Mother and Father. Pretty straightforward right? Well there are mitigating circumstances that respecting your Mother and Father may be a little hard to do such as in the case of Mom or Pop is a serial killer, crack addict that abandoned you at two, or you were beat every day of your life. But, to offer simple, decent, respect is fairly easy to a parent that loves you and would like to be a part of your grown-up life. That meaning that you have actually grown-up.

I wasn’t the easiest person to get along with in my terrible teens then my tumultuous twenties, where it could have been textbook to blame my parents for the fact that I couldn’t make a solid decision to save my life. But I don’t blame them; I maintained my rights to screw up. So if you had a difficult life then sort it out and forgive. Easy, right? No, but the benefits outweigh the pain of forgiving.

Simple, decent respect means to call your parents on a regular basis, to stop dwelling on the negative, increase the positives in your life by having a relationship with your parents that at the very least is cordial. And a real important point is if you ask for advice; don’t be pissed off when they give it. Advice from a parent is usually well tried and there is experienced knowledge behind it. And you are never too old to be pulled back out of your whirling dervish self. That is just the parental love shining through.

So to tie this up there is a great verse from Ephesians 6:1-3 that states 1 Honor (esteem and value as precious) your father and your mother 2 this is the first commandment with a promise. 3 That all may be well with you and that you may live long on the earth.

Hey check that out! You can have a long wonderful life if you respect your parents! The alternative of course is your choosing.

I'll Tell Them

And you can tell everybody this is your song

I went to see the Sex and the City movie the other night with my dearest friend and after the movie we strolled a bit in the electrically charged night air of Chicago. This was our city F and me; it was our version of New York. And just like Miranda, Carrie, Samantha and Charlotte, we had many great nights as well as many lonely nights there as well.

At dinner that night, F and I were talking about life, loves and of course children and she said something to me that struck me as the true meaning of friendship. She asked if anything happened to her, who would tell her children who she really was. Not the typical “she was a wonderful person” but the real true meaning of who she was. The effusive giggler, the voracious reader, the rambunctious whirling dervish, the brave daredevil, the creative and poetic night owl; the sides that most people don’t have a chance to see.

I said I would tell. I would tell her son and soon to be second baby F all about the strength that flowed from her that had the power of a raging river. That she had the ability to look pain in the eye and tell it “not now” and soldier on. I would tell them how her childhood may have formed her but never, ever defined her. How she could dance the night away but also spend nights just enjoying the quietness of her surroundings That their Mother practiced the art of forgiveness and never gave up hope. That she knew the true meaning of friendship.

So many of us hide certain aspects of our personality and those secrets are only spilled out in the presence of that one true friend. The friend that you can tell your story to and she will keep it locked away. A friend that never turns their back on you. A friend that knows when to pull you out of your own spinning life circus and also knows when to leave you in it; knowing that she will be there to dry the tears. And a friend that will fight for you to the bitter end because that is what she is; a true friend.

To be a true friend, you must be able to hold her secrets safely for her until the time that you need to let those that loved her know the real woman. I have a wealth of knowledge tucked away about F. My memory runs long and it runs very deep. I have stories that will show her children the real woman their Mother was. The one that I love so very much and will always be there for. I have her memorized in my mind. Even down to the shape of her hands and the serenity of her hugs. So your answer F? I will keep my promise, I’ll tell them

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

What Are We Doing to Our Boys!

What are we doing to our boys!!! We are creating a nation of scared, confused non-men!! Our society is so scared of the dangers lurking in every corner that we helicopter over our sons so much that this new generation is becoming non-confident, scared to touch and generally very, very wimpy! I have shaken more hands with young men that were raised by helicopter parents that personally, I have a stronger handshake then they do and feel I could hurt them – ewww! And when did men start calling a colorfully decorated room or an inanimate object “fun”? We live in a world of hyper-carefulness! What are we creating?

I raised three sons, for most of the time alone as a single mom. They were adventurous and predominately terrorized me, but they are strong men now! I have come in contact with many boys in past few years and after spending time with them, I just shake my head. The new breed of boys are afraid of everything. They don’t venture out away from the nest for fear of meeting Mr. Stranger-Danger! They don’t climb trees for fear of falling. They don’t ride their bikes for fear of falling off. They don’t concoct their little battles blowing up toy battleships in the garden pool for fear that someone would think they are dangerous! And they sure don’t hug each other or put the arm of comrade around their friends for fear they are turning into a pervert. God!! What did we do????

Now, I don’t suggest that we toughen up our little guys to the point of bullyness and I don’t suggest you teach them how shoot an arrow into their brother’s epiglottis (true story, ask my son Steve) or capture their brother and hog tie him to the bed (ummm. Josh??) but I suggest that we wise up. When was the last time any of us saw a gaggle of 8 years olds playing a non-supervised game of pickup baseball! Probably rarely because most of the are playing video games and don’t know how to invent play.

And the most disturbing trend is that in today’s society, grown-ups, especially men are being suspected, villianized and discriminated against because we all think every man with a child is a predator. In a blog that I felt hit the nail on the head is http://baconsrebellion.blogspot.com/2007/09/fear-of-men.html In this blog, the writer accurately portrays how we see men in today’s society. We are losing our “good” and “decent” male role models to the knee-jerk reaction of fear. And in turn we are creating men that are afraid because as parents we are afraid. And that in turn creates scared, non-confident boys!

When I was a child and young girl, I KNEW the difference between a good man and a icky one. I knew how to trust at least to the point I was safe. The unfortunate part of my era was that belief in what a child said was not always taken very seriously. But in today’s society we can blend the knowledge of the difference between the Stranger Danger and a Good Man because we can learn to communicate with our child.

We need to counteract the effects of male bashing by reaffirming our sons masculinity, teaching them good morals and being honest about who is a good role model and who is a bad person. I was lucky enough to have as single Mom strong male role models for my sons. Sure, I thought about predators out in the big, bad world, but I taught my sons to know the difference between good touch and bad, between good men and bad and I feel they grew up just fine.

And I let a little danger in their lives. I have recently been giving as a present to new moms a book called ‘The Dangerous Book for Boys’ by Hal Iggulden. In this book it teaches us not only simple tasks like how to make the greatest airplane in the world but how to treat women with consideration and to know the difference between good and evil.

Realize that there are good men out in today’s society and we need these good strong male role models or we will continue to create fear.

TaTu or Not Tattoo – That is the Question

I have a tattoo. Sweet Mother, I do! Since according to Leviticus, I could get smited, cursed or stoned to death for all kinds of infractions including this one, I am pretty brazen in my attitude towards an uncomfortable situation that could affect my well-being. On a side note, I prefer to be smited for this is a much cooler word than plain old stoned to death with pea rock.

I stand by my tattoo. There I said it. I am neither ashamed nor am I worried that some people would think lower of me. Although, a really super duper scary threat made by someone "unnamed", who is close to me in a "familial" way vowed to kick my butt if I got a tattoo – which by the way Joey, (oops! Named Ya) concerned me for about 20 seconds, I see nothing wrong with getting a tattoo. As long as you think it out thoroughly and choose one that means something deep to you, go for it.

Again with a pesky side note, be careful where you place the tattoo. Trust me, it is hard to be convincing to a Fortune 500 group with Lady Godiva streaming down your forearm while you wear short sleeves. Those bored CEO’s would spend all their time trying to peek through Go-dives hair and not pay attention to your speech. But I digress.

My tattoo, located at my lower back, is a broken heart with wings that in my convoluted artistic mind symbolized my children annoying the beejeebers out of me for 22 years. The heart is well, you know, the boys terrorizing me and my desire to just fly the hell away at times. By the way, don’t you dare call this a tramp stamp. That pleasant description does not apply to me because I gave up low riders and thong underwear years ago in favor of more suitable, comfortable and age appropriate Hanes.

There are pundits in the pulpit that cite everything from rebellion to tattoos being against God’s law. Funny how any time these purveyors of my personal moral clause wants to make a point, they whip out a convenient chapter of Leviticus. In Leviticus, 19:28 nestled comfortably between the sinful beard trimming and prostituting your daughter, states that “Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the LORD” That being said, in my case I am so hell bound.

Anthropologists and Sociologists alike try to dispel the myths of the lure of tattooing as adolescent rebellion. I agree and disagree at the same time with this. Sure if you are under 18 and REALLY want to put a choke hold on Mom and Dad’s psyche, you get a tattoo of Tweetie Bird on your bicep that states Chicks Rule. But in most cases, it really is not about rebellion. It is about self expression. And that is something that today’s society needs and thrives upon. The ability to show the world your uniqueness is priceless and although not understanding at times the message the wearer is trying convey, at least respect the courage and audacity to say “Here I am World – take me or leave me.”

Oxford anthropologist Wilfrid Dyson Hambly said: "These (tattoos) might range from specific ancient symbols to images with complex personal meanings unique to the wearer. A lot of people are eager to link up with 'something beyond,' reaffirm their connections with greater forces beyond this mundane daily life.... if they make us feel better about ourselves, and by extension others around us, the magic works. We are wearing our dreams."

So, I had my tattoo placed in a private area where no one can see it unless I decide to. And I am not about to moon someone to show my self expression. So if you still want to kick my butt, have at it. Besides my butt being a conveniently LARGE target, I will stand up for my right to express myself whichever way I choose.