My Kid IS That Special

A few days ago, I read this article, erm opinion, titled "You're Kids Aren't That Special" on CNN. In it, a gentleman of mature age describes how he was never the greatest of parents, and was also an alcoholic, but he'd like to give his two cents about parents these days.

I've been mulling his opinion for a few days now, trying to decide if I agree, and I've decided: I'm pretty sure I'd like to punch him in the face (metaphorically speaking, of course).

To be clear, I've certainly encountered my share of parents that I'd like to grab by the shoulders and ask, "What the hell are you doing?" Children running amok in a department store, pushing and shoving other kids at the playground, generally raising havoc. It is true that some parents really do need a reality check.

However, raising kids today is nothing like raising kids 20, 30, 40+ years ago. Parents are absolutely bombarded with often conflicting messages about the best way to raise our children. Let them cry it out, don't let them cry it out, give them free expression, don't give them free expression, buy intelligence-enhancing toys, NO blocks are the way to go!

Along the way, more than a few of us have gotten confused. We all just want to do what is best, we're just not all sure what that is. One thing many of us cling to is the notion that our children should know that we think they are special. It gives them confidence in a scary world, something some of us wish we had more of.

And, by the way, my kid is that special. That's way he calls me Mom, it's my job to think he's that special. No, that doesn't give him license to act poorly in public, but young children can't be reasoned with and I don't know of a single parent who hasn't dealt with less-than-perfect children while glaring faces look on. There is nothing we fear more than a miserly old man scowling down our back when our child is throwing a fit at a restaurant, or on an airplane, or in print on CNN.

Maybe Mr. Cafferty forgot about the time his young children flung spaghetti at Grandma's or had a meltdown at Woolworth's. Or maybe, he's stuck on his own childhood memories, "I remember as a kid I was expected to behave myself out in public or suffer the wrath of one very angry father."

Perhaps that's why he's become an abject old man with a stick up his ass. Just sayin'.

I Hate Dell

I’m furious. Fuming with anger.

Because my new computer from DELL has been delayed five times now. Let me repeat that, FIVE TIMES!

At this point, we have no realistic idea when it might actually arrive. Customer service tells us, over and over, that it should ship “within a couple of days.” But, clearly, they’re lying. We ask what is holding up the order, and customer service doesn’t have that information. Okay, so we ask to be transferred to someone who does. Response, “there’s no such department.”

What? Then which department is it exactly that updates the ship date, out of curiosity? Because it happens like clock work: the ship date arrives, I check the status, and it’s been delayed again.

So, some component or another is holding up our computer, but no one at Dell knows what that is. Some where in oblivion someone is diabolically delaying our order, it’s the only explanation I can come up with. Realistically, I don’t expect to see my computer until August. And also, they can’t even cancel our order for us.

So, I’m taking the only recourse I can. I’m blogging about it. I will never do business with this company again, and if I can convince just one other person to join me in my Dell boycott, my work here has been accomplished.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading.

http://www.ihatedell.org/

Confession Session Wednesday

Aside from the radio contest for the best “I Spied” kind of story, I’ve never considered talking about it. And, I never called the radio station either. It was just too much. But my story is a cautionary tale, and I’m ready to spill the beans.

Nathan and I had been together for about a year and had decided that though we were young, we wanted to get married. He came to bed one night as asked me questions like, “If you got a ring, what would you want it to look like?” I tried to set up a “wish list” online, you know the kind where you can design your dream ring and share the design with that certain someone? He would have none of that.

That’s when I did the unthinkable. With my knowledge that he’d most likely been looking at rings on the computer, I accessed the internet files folder. Yes, the folder that, with a little finesse, will allow a person to track the browsing history on that computer. Shame, shame.

Turns out, he had most definitely been looking at rings. One ring in particular.

And, I didn’t like it.

I mulled my dilemma for several days. I tried to do this ring thing together, but he wanted to do it on his own. How could I blame him for that? On the other hand, if I caught him early enough, wouldn’t he rather get a ring he knew I loved? I talked to a few people; I can’t recall what their advice was. In the end, I decided that we were honest with each other about everything else, this should be no different.

I waited until he came home from work one night. And then, I tried to bring it up gently. Yes, I’d been spying. Yes, I’m a horrible person. But, maybe we should look together, I’m not sure I’m in love with the ring you picked.

I, however, was much too late. He’d bought the ring that very afternoon; it was sitting in the (locked!) console of his car.

I was more ashamed than I have ever been in my life. I tried to smooth it over, but it was just too late. Not only had I just told my future fiancé that I didn’t like the ring he bought (before he even had a chance to give it to me!), I’d also just ruined the surprise. I felt horrible. And more than six years later, I still feel horrible.

He proposed a couple of weeks later, and I obviously wasn’t surprised, but I was thrilled just the same. Elated, to be sure. The best part of the proposal was when he opened the ring box, and displayed a beautiful 3-stone diamond ring. It was more brilliant than any piece of jewelry I’d ever seen, and it was just for me. I instantly fell in love with the ring. Not just because it was beautiful (much more beautiful than displayed on a computer screen), but also because it came directly from his heart. That is really all that mattered.

Today, I’m just as in love with my ring as I was that day. And, my love for my husband has only grown since the day we met. I love him for everything about him, and he loves me for me, stalker tendencies and all.

***

I invite my blogger buddies to start their own Confession Sessions. I won't give out prizes for the best one, but I will have an awful lot of fun reading them!