Saving the world...

Well I’m exhausted... what a week! Sorry if I haven’t been around much but by the time I get home, deal with Shark-dog and Dum-Dum and get dinner on the table (on the days when it doesn’t consist of something instant like Chinese take-out), I feel like I’m about ready to collapse. I see to homework, chauffeur my daughter to her theatre class, check a few e-mails (a few hundred... man some of my friends like to let those rip LOL), tuck my sunshine in for the night and then spend some quality time on the phone with the man who owns my heart. Then... I crash. Of course, I usually end up waking up in the middle of the night trying to find a way to get back to the luscious dream I was having, but nooooooo...... *sigh* -LeighAnn I know you relate to this. And then I’m stuck with going over conversations and lists and pondering life’s important questions like: Does a bear really shit in the woods? What use can we find for the indestructible part of corn? Turnbaby and I have already ruled out using it to make the outer shell of the space shuttle as we are concerned it’ll just pop upon re-entry on account of the heat. I’m having difficulty getting my (Damm) ducks in a row, so to speak. My mind has been jumping from one thing to another and this just might be reflected in this post (*snarf*- just this one?) so hopefully you’ll bear with me. So, what was the highlight of my week? I got a cruel glimpse of what’s in store for the next 8 years… My daughter didn’t want me to walk her to the door when she had her second theatre class this week. WAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! I’m cool damnit! You’d think she’d like having me around... I know her new friends would think I’M cool! Right? *sigh* OK… Deep breath. So I have a tween. She’s just shy of her 10th birthday and I’m not ready. I’m not ready for her to grow up like that. I miss the little girl giggles, the baby kisses that smelled like green apples, the soft curls on the nape of her neck, watching Dumbo 3 times in a row (actually, I don’t miss that...) and tricking her into eating meat by coating it in plain yogurt (don’t raise your eyebrow at me! It worked... for a while). Those were the days... I spent a good part of my morning with some Amy Winehouse (what a talent!) as my background music this morning and it’s got me wondering. The world today is taking a far more critical look at artists and celebrities who end up with substance abuse problems. Is it because the paparazzi are ever present and we get to hear more of the misadventures of the rich and famous? Is it because it’s a bigger problem now than in the days of Janis and Jim and Jimi? Have we all turned into hypocrites? Are we holding them up to a standard we never held the rock & rollers of the past to? Was that a mistake? Do we actually think our opinion matters to them in the end? I’m a single mother (for now) of an almost 10 year old girl who loves classic rock, shows a passion for music and will go from Led Zep to Taylor Hicks to The Alternate Routes to Lily Allen in a heart beat. Fortunately, she doesn’t quite get some of the lyrics of some of Lily’s songs... yet... I worry about what’s out there. I worry about the images and videos she’s apt to be bombarded with. I’m concerned about the world she’s growing up in and about the creeps who lurk on the internet. Will I criticize Ms Winehouse for her behaviour? No. Will I throw a stone at the youngest Spears unfortunate soul? No. We’re just far too much in one another’s business if you ask me. “But but... they’re the examples for today’s youth” I hear some say. Shit no, they aren’t. We the parents are! Not Hannah Montana, not the Manning brothers... US. And grownups all need to stop trying to be Oprah or The Donald. Who set the standard for me? Who gave me my morals? My parents! Not actors, sports stars and name-only celebrities... Yes, I admired Nadia’s prowess at the Olympics, I dreamed of kissing Kevin Bacon like Lori Singer in Footloose, and I wanted to be Molly Ringwald. But it’s my mother’s dedication to helping others that guides me... and I’ve finally found a hard-working man who owns up to his responsibilities and doesn’t make excuses, just like my father. When it comes to my daughter, I’m the one whose shoulders it falls upon to be an example of what a woman can accomplish. Who’s responsible for teaching her what a decent human being is. What’s that you ask? A decent human being is someone who believes in giving people a chance to make up for their stupidities, who allows people to learn from their mistakes and better themselves, who doesn’t take advantage of people when they depend on you, who plays Free Rice (you saw that coming folks, admit it), who helps when she can and lends a friend a shoulder to cry on. Yes, my daughter will see things and she’ll hear things that I don’t approve of because I can’t watch her 24/7, and I can’t filter out all the crap out there... But, I can keep the lines of communication open, be ready to listen when she has questions (man does she have those...) and love her. Maybe somehow the world will look perfect to her, no matter what crap is going on around her... or maybe she’ll see the injustices and step up, stand up for what’s right. If I only teach her one thing... I hope and pray that those who have lost their way can learn and change their course, and that a decent human being will give them a hand, a shoulder, the opportunity to better themselves. But I also hope someone will hold them accountable for what they’ve done instead of making excuses for them like some parents I know. Decent? Well, maybe not quite... but entertaining, plus the tune is catchy... Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!