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Sex, Drugs & Bullies: Middle School is Keeping Me on my Toes

February 13, 2012 in My Three Cents

The Boys Shoveling the Driveway

 

Kyle and Eli were each doing their homework. I was sitting next to them. Somehow our conversation led us here:

Me: “What do you guys think of bullies and bullying?”

Kyle: “Don’t do it. It is mean. And you know you have a good friend if they will stick up for you.”

Me: “What are bullies like?”

Kyle:  ”Bullies are liked the little deformed guppy (I have no idea what he means by this). They are always mean to you just because they are.”

Eli: “If you win something that you can share, then all of a sudden the bully will be really nice to  you because they want what you have.”

Eli continued to tell me that bullies are people who are not your friends and that they are only nice to you if you are good at sports. Really and more specifically, they are only nice to you when you are playing the sports you are good at, you can make them look even better by helping them win.

“Son. You have figured out humanity. Really. You have.” I responded and then thought to myself because what I was thinking was way too cynical to fill the head of a ten year old boy, “Make people feel good about themselves. Of course the kid only likes you at sports. Thank God you are good at sports or your life would really suck.  You help him look better because it is all about him winning. Yes and tell him how awesome he is. Then he will always pick you on his team and because he always picks you, the other kids will eventually see that you are cool too. Oh and ignore others who are being hurt by him.  You do want to get into that mess. It will only draw unneeded attention to yourself.  Be a Sycophant! Most importantly, only tell the bully what he wants to hear.”

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Applying Evil: Josh Powell & what he can teach us

February 10, 2012 in My Three Cents

Josh Powell.

He is the conversation.

The Powell Family

Here in Utah and I am sure many other places around the world  you cannot turn on the television, log on to Facebook, Twitter or even go to the grocery store without someone bringing up  his name and the horrific way he murdered his sons.

The disappearance of his wife, Susan Cox Powell has been big Utah news since December 2009 and since the moment her story broke, I have continued checking for updates.  Susan disappeared one Wintery Night and her husband Josh has been the only person of interest in the case. I was talking to my friend Marianne today. She lives in Minneapolis. She knew about Josh Powell and his sons. She did not know Susan Cox Powell, Josh’s wife, was living here in Utah when she disappeared.  I was surprised. I thought everyone knew Susan’s story. And now I think people need to know. Maybe by knowing we can take a closer and healthier look at our own lived.

Here in Utah, many of us know who Susan Cox Powell is.  We may know her ourselves or we know someone who knows her or is related to her.  And because of the strong and large Mormon presence, Utah Mormon and Non-Mormon alike understand her world and because we do, I think we feel even closer to her story.

She is a mother of two sons and so am I. I am sure she shopped at Costco and Target, like the rest of us moms do. She worked. She gave birth. She bathed, fed, clothed and loved her sons. From all accounts she was a wonderful mother, daughter, sister and wife.   I have two sons of my own and maybe it is this simple connection which has made me  think about her sons over these past two years. I have wondered if those boys miss her. I have thought about what they have been told and I have wondered how they have been doing without their mom. Every time a new twist or turn was announced in her case, I wondered and wanted to know more. I think we all did. Most of us have been mad at Josh and disappointed that he was never arrested. Who takes their boys camping at 12:30 AM on a cold winter’s night? Who?
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Men & Women: The Great Gift Giving Divide

February 8, 2012 in My Three Cents

Dave in Mexico

Late last night I finished today’s post. I asked Dave to edit it (as he always does) and by the time he finished reading I could tell something was up.  When I asked, he said,

“Well, it is a good read. [insert raises hands up in a swooping motion here] I’m not sure. It just doesn’t feel complete.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted more. I wanted you to go deeper. I wanted to understand.”

“I know. I wanted to convey the fact that many women feel or have felt like I do, especially when it comes to holidays and gift giving, yet I did not want to out anyone else by sharing their personal issues. How do I convey both and make sense?”

“I think it is ok to mention that this topic came up while you were at dinner with a bunch of women and I think you should talk about yourself and how you deal with it.”

We talked a little more and then Dave went upstairs. In an effort improve my writing and to understand what Dave meant, I paused, thought about my post and followed him upstairs and sat right next to him. I asked him to pause the television and said, “I have been thinking. I want to get this right. I am not sure if I can. Tell me what you mean?”

“You imply that women are unsatisfied, but what does that mean?  I just want to know what we men can do?”

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High Centered on a Rock

February 7, 2012 in My Three Cents

I waved. They did not stop. They were laughing and pointing. They were laughing so hard I could hear them from where I stood, about 50 yards away. And maybe because I have repeatedly told my boys to say the same thing when they are confronted with frustrating people, I reflexively raised my voice and said, “Seriously?” With their cellphones aimed at directly me and my car (which really was photo worthy, I might add), they ignored me and kept on snapping. “Really?” I continued. I paused, looked straight at them, waving and yelled (because they were far enough away), “Do you want me to smile for the camera?”

Thinking I was serious, the woman yelled back, “Yes, but wait. Let me get my friend. She will want to get a picture too.”

“I was joking.” I shouted. “Hey, so this is really embarrassing. Will you at least NOT post these photos on Facebook?”

They gave me a halfhearted, “Sure,” and kept on snapping.

My guess is that as I type the photos of my embarrassing moment have already been posted on some Facebook account or some Twitter feed out there. Oh well.

Oh the humanity! Or is it, oh the inhumanity?

As the far away crowd continued taking pictures, two women walked right up to me. “Are you ok? Oh man! How did you do that?”

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Target, Chick-fil-A and a Farty

January 30, 2012 in My Three Cents, People I know

Dave & I at dinner with our lovely friends

After spending a long and most delightful weekend with dear old friends I knew I would be able to handle the very late weekend nights because I would have this Monday morning to catch up on lost sleep. I was giddy with the thought that as soon as my family was out the door, I could go right back to sleep. Decadence!  I kissed Dave, Kyle and Eli good-bye, told them that I loved them and they were on their way. I quickly ate my oatmeal, drank my green tea, sent an email to my fellow room-mom/pal about our upcoming Valentine’s Day Class Party, emptied my bladder and climbed back in bed.

Snuggly and warm I was as I drifted off into my daylight slumber.  Through my sleepy, sleepy haze I heard the buzz buzz buzz of my phone vibrating across my night stand. I thought about ignoring it and then I worried that maybe Dave was having an emergency. It had to be Dave because  I knew the school would not text me. I picked up my phone and looked at my text. It was my good friend.  She wanted to know if I would accompany her on a Salt Lake City Target run. Yes, we have to go to Salt Lake City because Park City is way to lame to have its very own Target. They would rather we risk life and limb driving down Parley’s Canyon than accomodate the locals and tourists alike. And no, The Park City Walmart does not suffice.

I asked her to go without me and turned over.  Then, because she is a very good friend and because I am easily swayed when it comes to a Target run, I texted her again.  She told me she was having a rough morning.  I had a feeling.

“I need to hop in the shower.” I said.

“I will pick you up in a half an hour.” She replied and shortly thereafter we were out the door.

 
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