There needs to be a ban on the word “card” until this election is over. “Race card,” “Gender card,” “Class card,” “Age card,” “Experience card” - it goes on and on and on… The people reporting politics need to completely erase that word from their vocabulary.
I completely lost my temper today. Not with my kids, though, amazingly enough. It was with my neighbor.
Anyone who has read Mommy Brain for long knows of our long and tortured history with our neighbors, culminating in this rant last fall. Then, on my New Year’s post, I mentioned I was grateful we had reached some sort of tentative peace with them. Well, the peace is over.
Today, the boys were playing outside after we finished homeschooling for the day. They were playing in our back yard, and they were playing pretty rough, as boys usually do. Not mean, just wrestling around a lot. The neighbor’s four-year-old asked if he could play, to which Noah replied, “No, you can’t, because you have candy in your mouth and if you got pushed down you might choke.”
Now, obviously his mother only heard one phrase of that sentence, because she yelled over the fence into our yard, “You will NOT push him down, or I’ll come over there and push YOU down!” Yes, she’s mature like that.
When Noah tried to explain what he meant, she ignored him and yelled to her son right in front of my kids, “Just come in the house. They’re just mean little kids who don’t have any friends, so you don’t need to play with them anyway.”
Deep breath - I can feel my blood pressure shooting up again just typing those words. I’m sure the “no friends” thing came from the fact that we’re homeschoolers and are completely isolated from society with no social skills, unlike her social skills which seem to include bullying children.
The kids came in, feelings hurt (of course). She had gone into her house, so I called her on the phone. Her 12-year-old daughter (who is a whole other story, let me tell you) answered the phone, and when I asked to speak to her mother, she said, “Umm, she’s in the bathroom.” I asked her to please have her mom call me back. And I waited. And stewed.
About a half hour went by, during which time the mother had gone back out to her front yard. Now, I suppose I could have gone outside to talk to her, but many of the other neighbors were out since it was a fairly nice day, and she’s the type who is perfectly willing to have a screaming match in front of the entire street. (Or to stagger over to our yard, drunk, and yell at my husband for something he didn’t do. But, again, whole other story.) I’m not so thrilled with public (or private, to be honest) confrontation, so I chose to call again.
She would not answer the phone, so I left this message on her machine: “This is Carrie. First of all, I think there was a misunderstanding. No one was pushing Adam down. Noah told him that he couldn’t wrestle around with them because he had candy in his mouth and might choke. Second of all, if you have a problem with my kids, please have the courtesy to come and talk to me about it. Don’t yell in front of them that they are mean kids who don’t have any friends. And if that’s really the way you feel about them, then please stop your son from ringing our doorbell five times every weekday and asking to play when I’m in the middle of teaching my children.” Then I hung up.
I know why southerners call losing your temper “losing your religion.” I’m sure I’ve given her plenty of fodder for one of those, “And she says she’s a Christian…” statements. But, honestly, how do you put up with a person like this - especially when she repeatedly hurts my kids’ feelings?
I cannot wait until we can sell this house and move to another neighborhood. She has made this neighborhood a horrible place to live.
…is telling a flat-out lie considered a “mistake?”
But during a speech last week on Iraq, Clinton stretched the truth to the breaking point. “I certainly do remember that trip to Bosnia and … there was a saying around the White House that if a place was too small, too poor, or too dangerous, the president couldn’t go, so send the first lady. That’s where we went. I remember landing under sniper fire. There was supposed to be some kind of greeting ceremony at the airport, but instead we just ran with our heads down to get into the vehicles to get to our base.”
Hogwash. The truth is:
� There was no sniper fire.
� Nobody ducked for cover.
� Bad weather, not security concerns, kept her husband from making the same trip a few months earlier.
Clinton and her aides stood behind the story � which she has told more than once � until video surfaced showing the former first lady, her daughter, Chelsea, and their entourage strolling off the plane and walking calmly across the tarmac.
“I made a mistake,” she said Tuesday. “That happens. It proves I’m human, which you know, for some people, is a revelation.”
Around our house, that’s called telling a lie, not “Oops, I goofed.” Sheesh.
(Originally posted December 23, 2005)
Do toy company executives hate parents? Would it really kill them to package their toys in square boxes? These were the thoughts I was mulling as I wrapped gifts for two hours last night. I love buying my kids gifts, and I love watching them open them. Wrapping - not so much.
I detest the boxes that have three square sides, but the fourth is - not. It’s especially frustrating when you know darn well the toy inside isn’t oddly shaped. Maybe the toy companies have a deal with the wrapping paper companies. Kickbacks on all the times you have to re-wrap because your measurements didn’t come out right?
One of the gifts I got Noah is a remote control flying saucer. The box is square on three sides, and slanted on the fourth. I got Josiah the same thing, only a different brand (so they look slightly different and there won’t be any, “No, that one’s mine!” fights). Same toy, same shape, and yet this one was packaged in a beautiful, perfectly square box. My husband walked into the room (He had been downstairs blissfully playing a computer game while I wrestled with scotch tape and ribbon.) and found me clutching this box with tears of joy running down my face. When he asked, “What on earth is wrong?”, I simply sobbed, “It’s square, it’s square!”
Then we have the hunting game for Jonathan that plugs into the VCR. It has three nicely square sides. The fourth is completely open. I suppose this is to give a better view of the toy inside, and therefore my assumption that it’s packaged that way to give moms fits is a little paranoid. I managed to get the thing wrapped, but when I picked it up to move it, I put my finger right through the paper on that fourth side. My Christmas cheer flew out the window as I muttered, “Son of a nutcracker!” a la Buddy in Elf.
I had just finished wrapping the last misshapen hulk of a present and belted out a rousing Hallelujah Chorus, when the phone rang. It was my friend calling to tell me about her day. Seems her car had caught fire on the side of the road and completely melted the engine and dashboard. (She had her three sons with her, but they all made it out safely.) She told me her story of the 911 operator who insisted on an exact street address in order to send the fire department, to which she replied, “I’m on the side of the road, in the middle nowhere, just tell them to drive down Graham Road until they see the flaming Suburban!”; and the oh-so-helpful gentleman who stopped and told her she should really get back in the car and turn the hazards on to prevent an accident (I’m not kidding); and the man driving the medical supply truck full of oxygen who parked right next to her vehicle to see if he could help, to which she said, “Well, you could move that van full of flammable material away from my burning car!” As I laughed with her until my sides hurt, I realized there are (many) worse things than wrapping asymmetrical boxes. We praised God that it had happened a few miles from home, and not the next day when they would have been driving over a mountain pass to Grandma’s house with no cell phone reception and a vehicle full of Christmas gifts. God is good.
Now if only my friend will call and remind me of this next year when I’m tackling the mountain of unwrapped gifts.
Since we got rid of our DirecTV, I asked my mom to record Shrek the Halls on ABC last night. We watched it this evening. In the beginning, Shrek has no interest in Christmas. When he discovers that it is important to Fiona, he storms into town to find out how to give her a Christmas. He’s given a book called “Christmas for the Village Idiot” that explains, step-by-step, how to have Christmas. The last step is “tell the Christmas story.” I thought, Wow! A modern holiday special that actually includes the Christmas story? Cool! I should have known better.
You want to know what the Christmas story was? ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. Now, I love the classic Christmas poem as well as the next person, but calling this the Christmas story? Later, when Shrek admits that he has never had a Christmas before and he doesn’t know what it is all about, his friends tell him it’s about celebrating with your family, no matter how chaotic. Celebrating what, for goodness sake? Christmas trees and Santa Claus and marshmallows on sweet potatoes. That’s what.
I suppose I was being naive in today’s politically correct world of “Happy Holidays” and “Winter Holiday Celebrations” to expect anything else.
I’m supposed to sing tomorrow night at the funeral home. Nobody I know has died recently - thank God. Our local funeral home has a community-wide memorial service every year around Veteran’s Day. It’s not just to remember veterans, though; it’s a time when anyone who has lost someone can come together and remember. For the past five years, the director of the funeral home has asked me to sing. I really enjoy it - though I don’t know how I will do it if I am ever grieving someone close to me. So far, I have been blessed.
Anyway, I have been singing in churches for a long time, so I don’t need a ton of practice time. Mostly, I have to run through the hymns I play during the prelude and postlude time, because it’s been a long time since I regularly played anything besides chords for worship choruses.
So, tonight I was running through the songs. They always ask me to do one contemporary - I chose Homesick by Bart Millard from Mercy Me - and one hymn. I chose Amazing Grace. This is how my practice time went:
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…”
“MOM! MOM!”
“That saved a wretch like me — WHAT?”
“Can I play on the computer?”
“No, you know you’re grounded for the rest of the week! I once was lost, but now I’m found…”
“MOM! Please, please, please?”
Slamming hands down on the keys: “I said NO! Now be quiet and let me practice or you’ll be grounded for two weeks! Was blind but now I see. Twas grace that taught me heart to fear…”
Huge scream from above, followed by thundering footsteps running down the stairs. “MOM! Jonathan’s making that face at me again.”
Etc., etc., etc.
And then Kevin asks why I need to leave 45 minutes early to practice at the funeral home. “Haven’t you been practicing all week?”
I AM NOT A LESBIAN, AND I WILL CONTINUE TO PROTEST AND RESIST THE PEARLS AND THEIR TEACHINGS.
Meg linked to this news article in which Michael Pearl dismissed the opposition to his child-rearing techniques by saying this:
“There is a group of lesbian home-schoolers that always try to protest our seminars,” Pearl said.
Well, like Meg, I wanted to give the people searching on this topic something to talk about.
I’m tired.
I’m tired of turning the other cheek, knowing that’s what I’m supposed to do.
I’m tired of my face cracking with a plastic smile.
I can’t anymore.
When your mouth smiles, my mind rehearses the barbs that same mouth spilled forth.
Am I supposed to forget?
At what point does kindness become hypocrisy?
When is it acceptable to say “enough?”
You will not hurt my children’s hearts.
Your children can not spread their poison without consequence.
God, I don’t want to forgive.
I don’t even want to want to forgive.
I’m done.
I will pray for the grace to forgive you.
I will not, however, make my family vulnerable to you or your children.
Ever again.
It is enough.
Dear nameless customer service guy:
When I call my credit card company to ask for a different due date for my payment, don’t tell me that it’s not possible to change the date. Especially when the web site says I can change the date by sending a secure message listing the time of month I would like my payment to be due. Don’t act surprised when I use a terse voice to inform you of that fact and then say, “Oh, I guess I can do that for you,” - unless you want to sound like a lazy jerk who just didn’t want to help me.
Another helpful hint. When I inform you that, “No, I don’t have a work number to add to this account,” - don’t say, ‘Why aren’t you working when you sound like such a young woman?” unless you want this 24/7 stay-at-home, homeschooling mom of four to come completely unglued, and inform you that, while this is none of your business, I do work - taking care of my family!
Just thought you might want to remember this for the next customer service call.
Sincerely, blah, blah, blah…
Note to self: don’t call customer service guy when you haven’t eaten in over three hours - and breakfast was only toast - and thought you’d just get this “little thing” taken care of before you eat.
The kids and I finished reading Eragon a couple weeks ago, and we loved it. We devoured the last few chapters, skipping history and science for the morning and reading straight through for two hours. Noah was bouncing on the edge of the couch during the final battle scene, waiting to find out what happened.
Of course, they wanted to watch the movie, so we rented it last Sunday evening. Now, if we had not read the book, we might have enjoyed the film. But since we had, the film was a huge disappointment.
I don’t expect film adaptations of books to be perfect. I know that film-makers are under time constraints and other issues that make cutting things necessary. But I’ve also seen films where the producers/writers/directors have managed to cut the book down to film size without losing much of the character development or major plot points. The Harry Potter movies, for example.
(If you haven’t read Eragon or seen the film and don’t want anything spoiled for you, stop reading. I’m about to go on a rant about how the film managed to take a brilliant book and utterly destroy it.)
The book is a coming-of-age story before it is anything else. Yes, there is a dragon, there is magic, there are elves and dwarves, and the evil Shade. But through the plot, Paolini shows Eragon grow and change. He comes to accept the responsibility that has been placed on him by being a dragon rider. He would much rather go home to the farm and live a normal life, but that path has been closed to him. He has to decide to either run from the evil king Galbatorix - probably for the rest of his life - or join the Varden, the rebellion, and fight for what’s right.
He is guided in this by Brom, an old rider who was chosen by the Elves to train the next dragon-rider. Brom becomes a father-figure to Eragon, training him in sword-fighting, teaching him the ancient language, helping him develop his magic, modelling maturity and wisdom. When Brom dies, it is a devastating event that helps form Eragon’s decision to join the Varden.
Okay, here comes the book vs. movie part.
~When the dragon egg hatches, Eragon feeds her, cares for her, hides her, and peppers Brom with questions about the ancient Riders. He hears about the ancient dragon Sapphira, and decides on this name for his new companion. As she grows she begins to be able to communicate with him through his thoughts. This process takes weeks and weeks. In the movie, when the baby dragon flies for the first time, she is hit by some magical lights and suddenly becomes full-grown. She lands at Eragon’s feet, and announces that her name is Sapphira. At this point, while watching the movie, Noah is looking at me in disbelief, unable to comprehend what they have done to his precious book.
~Brom is a major character - the man who guides Eragon - and he appears through 3/4 of the book. When he dies, it is heart-breaking. In the movie, Brom is only with Eragon for a couple of weeks, so when he dies, it was a major “who-cares?” moment. I was left wondering why they would hire a brilliant actor like Jeremy Irons only to kill him off a half-hour into the movie. There is no character development, no growth in the relationship between Brom and Eragon. Blech.
I could go on and on - Arya, the elf, who in the movie didn’t even have elven ears and who was conscious through her role in the movie even though she was unconscious in most of the book, Murtagh and his desire to avoid the Varden at all costs in the book as opposed to his eagerness to get to the Varden in the movie, etc., etc., etc. Noah, my eight-year-old, who loves all things dragon and fantasy, summed it up, “They really messed it up, Mom.”
I guess what I’m saying is, you should read the book. But if you want to see the movie, then don’t read the book or you’ll be vastly disappointed.
About this past Friday’s women’s overnighter. All in all, I would say I had a good time. There was good teaching, good fellowship, and oh, the food… I also enjoyed leading worship, although doing three complete worship services in less than 24 hours is absolutely exhausting. I came home completely wiped out Saturday afternoon.
Before I can explain the mixed feelings, I have to back up and vent a little bit about this year’s women’s Bible study. Weekly Bible study has been my refuge since we moved here 9 years ago. When I had four under 5-years, I especially relished the time spent with other women and my children safely in the nursery being looked after. I did everything I could to make sure we were there most weeks, in spite of the challenges of getting four little ones ready and out the door by 8:45 a.m.
When we made our decision to leave our old church, I knew I would continue to attend the women’s study. It meets in a woman’s home - not at the church - and there are other ladies from different churches who also attend. It was a comfort to know that, in the midst of all these changes, I could keep this support group. There were some awkward questions about why we had left the church, but those had all passed by the time we broke for the summer. I spent the summer missing the ladies from study and looking forward to starting up again.
Then we started study this fall. The group of women tends to change some each year, as there are usually two studies offered, meeting in different homes. This year the choices were a study on being a godly wife, and a study on the book of Matthew. I chose the Matthew study - cause I’m already a perfect wife, right? Just kidding. Even though the marriage study was a repeat from five years ago, I figured I could use a refresher course. Plus, the teacher happens to be one of my best friends from that church, and this way I can actually see her in person once a week instead of relying on the weekly phone calls that we cram into our schedules.
This year, we have a few new ladies. They are not new to the church, but this is the first year they have committed to Bible study. And for some reason, they have no idea how to behave in a group study. I am not exaggerating! Let me give you a brief play-by-play of last week, and you’ll see what I mean:
I dropped the kids off at the nursery (we have two lovely girls - one currently homeschooled and one a homeschool graduate - who watch our children) at 8:45. Two of these ladies were dropping their kids off at the same time. I headed to the house where study was held. I got there at ten to 9, plenty of time to set up my keyboard and visit for a few minutes. I fully expected these ladies to be right behind me, but when their friend arrived she announced that they had decided to make a latte run before heading to study.
At 9, study begins. At 9:10, the two latte ladies arrive. Now, if they would quietly slip into seats so as not to disturb what was going on, everything would be fine. But, no, they have to make an entrance.
“Ooo, your baby’s getting so big - and where did you get that adorable purse? I need one of those!”
“Sorry we’re late! Had to have our caffeine fix, you know!”
At this point, Terry (my friend and the teacher) tried to get everyone back on task. She continued on with announcements, prayer, and discussion of last weeks’ homework. During this time, not one, not two, but three different cell phones ring. And none of the cell phones have typical rings - one actually tweets like a bird. And do you think they turned them off quickly and ignored them? Oh, no, they answered them! There was even a phone conversation going on while Terry prayed.
Study continued, interrupted often by the ring-leader of this group of ladies, who likes to be the center of attention. Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t the kind of study where Terry talks and the rest of us just sit quietly and listen. Interaction is encouraged and everyone feels free to give input. But this particular woman’s comments are almost always completely off topic. At one point, in the middle of the study, she actually asked the hostess about her curtains!
Before study was over, we had several more phone calls, all of them answered. Now, I understand the need for mothers to be reachable when their children are somewhere else. The ladies in the nursery have the phone number at the home we meet in and they have a phone right in the nursery. So it’s not like there’s no way we can be reached in case of emergency. So why can’t these ladies turn their phones off for the two hours of study? They’re not doctors or surgeons or police officers. They don’t have jobs outside the home that require them to be “on call”.
I went home from study feeling like my place of refuge had been completely violated. I talked to Terry afterwards, and she mentioned that she had specifically prayed for there to be no distractions this morning. The lesson was on truly leaving all - including our self-centered-ness - to cleave to our husbands. A necessary teaching - one that impacted our marriage in huge ways last time we did this study. (Another story for another day, if you’re interested.) But no one got much out of study, because it was interrupted at least a dozen times by either cell phones or off-topic remarks or side conversations.
Fast-forward to Friday afternoon. Terry and I and the two other ladies in charge of the women’s overnighter are praying. Terry mentions that the same group of ladies will be attending, and that she plans to make a request at the beginning of the first session that all cell phones be either turned off or turned to vibrate, and that there be no side conversations going on that would distract from what was going on. During free time and craft time and at night, cell phones were fine - just not during the session time.
There was some good-natured complaining, but all of the ladies turned their phones to vibrate, and I thought we were off to a good start. But the center-of-attention lady still manages to be loud and make lots of comments that keep people from concentrating. We had lots of visiting time and some fun ice-breakers, but every time we tried to come back to the more serious teaching and testimony time, she could not get settled down. I seriously felt like we were dealing with my 7-year-old. Then, in the middle of one woman’s beautiful testimony of how her life changed because of grace (our theme was Grace-filled Living), center-of-attention jumped up and announced that she had to leave. Apparently her husband had been calling her over and over again (she had left the room to answer her vibrating phone a couple times) and that he was having trouble getting their youngest to bed and he wanted her to come home. I felt sorry for her (and very grateful for my husband, who has never asked me to come home early from a women’s retreat, even when the kids were sick), but she basically threw a fit, disrupting the entire time. She threw her notebook down on a table, and stomped into the kitchen, gathering her things. Her phone again rang, and she answered it in the hallway right next to where we were meeting. We could hear the entire conversation as she basically yelled at her husband. She then stomped back into the room announcing that she couldn’t find her keys. After about 20 minutes of this, she finally left.
I am trying so hard not to be judgmental about her, but this woman is a Christian. She has been for several years. Last week at Bible study she announced that she and her husband will be going into full-time missions work in Quito, Ecuador next year. And all I can think is, “Oh. my. gosh.” Am I just being critical? Am I too picky - do I need to just let things go? Cause I am beginning to dread Bible study and get resentful.
I feel so sorry for Terry, as she has tried the whole “subtle cues” route to let this woman know that she is disrupting things, but she is just not picking up these cues. This leaves Terry having to address the situation head-on, which is not her favorite thing to do. (I don’t know anyone who truly loves confrontation, do you?)
Every week I have prayed for forgiveness over my attitude about these women, and the one in particular, but every week the same things keep happening and my resentment comes back. I don’t want to give up Bible study, but I also don’t want to keep going somewhere that makes me so angry.
I have to say the rest of the overnighter was much more pleasant. Without their “ring-leader,” the rest of these women are pleasant and fun to be around. I think many ladies were ministered to by the testimonies given and the teaching that Terry prepared. I know that is what counts. But what do I do with these feelings of resentment? Any advice would be appreciated.
…to the two women coming out of the 3 p.m. showing of The Illusionist Sunday afternoon:
When exiting a movie, please do not chat loudly about the surprise ending. Those of us waiting in line for the 5:50 p.m. showing would prefer to see the film without the ending spoiled for us.
Sincerely and so forth…
(By the way, the movie was really good, even if I knew what was going to happen.)
Here are a few links before I’m off to make cookies and get ready for company.
~Here’s another news article about how colleges are seeking out homeschooled students.
~The comedy duo Barats and Bereta that were responsible for the So Smooth video and Completely Uncalled For video I shared with you last week have now signed a development deal with NBC. I checked out their web site and found that they are Gonzaga grads from Spokane. Didn’t realize they were local boys. (Please note: I did not check out every video on their site, so surf at your own risk.)
~For all of you Lost fans, Sherry at Semicolon has the most plausible theory I’ve seen so far.
~So, we want the first things people see when they walk into our church to be a cash machine? Am I the only one who thinks this is ridiculous?
~John Mark Karr has now been cleared of child pornography charges in California. So the Colorado prosecuting attorney’s office extradited a man who is seriously disturbed and a pedophile into the United States - despite the fact that his story did not line up with the JonBenet Ramsey murder facts - and the US has not been able to convict him of anything. Do you think Thailand will welcome him back? I think not. So he will be free in the United States. This terrifies me.
~Christianity Today has come up with a list called The Top 50 Books That Have Shaped Evangelicals. What do you think? Did they get it right? Did they miss any? I have to admit that I haven’t read more than a small handful.
Happy weekend!
….my last posted sounded like I believe my daughter is perfect and the neighbor’s daughter is evil incarnate - I don’t. Natalie is a nice girl, but she isn’t perfect, and I don’t want to come off as one of those moms who thinks the other kids are always at fault. I realize that all kids can be mean at times - Natalie picks on her brothers like the best (or worst) of them - but where this girl is concerned, Natalie always seems to get the worst part of the deal. Anyway, enough about that. I feel better for having got it off my chest.
Busy day! But it’s still Friday here on the west coast for a few more hours, so I guess I’m not too late. Our van was in the shop today, but the repair only cost $59, which was a huge relief! I was half-way expecting one of those oh-by-the-way-the-transmission-is-going-and-it’s-going-to-cost-at-least-a-thousand-dollars-to-fix calls.
Before I get to the announcement and venting, I have a few links to share:
This article at Christianity Today made me wonder how we relate to non-Christians. Do we approach them as the enemy?
This post at Antique Mommy’s about the myth that older-age parents have more patience made me laugh. Hard.
This comic also tickled my funny bone.
Now, the big announcement:
I have two more Barbie in the Twelve Dancing Princesses DVDs for giveaway! My daughter drew two more names from the commenters on this post, and the winners are….
Gem
…and…
Scrappitydoodah!
Congratulations, ladies! Check the e-mail that you use when commenting for a message from me so I can get your mailing address.
Also, a message for Pennsylvania Progressive: I haven’t received a reply to my e-mail for your mailing address. Please respond by Sunday night or I’ll have to draw another name for your copy of the DVD.
Now for the venting. I am having a very hard time being charitable and Christian toward our neighbors. My daughter Natalie is 9 and likes to play with their daughter (I”ll call her K), who is almost 11. I don’t really like it, but it doesn’t happen very often, so I haven’t made a big deal about it. The age difference has always been a touchy issue, and now that K is in 5th grade in public school, where kids seem to mature so much faster, it’s becoming a huge problem.
Nan was outside playing with K and two other neighborhood girls this evening after dinner. She came running in, upset, because K saw her undershirt strap (which Nan wears when it’s chilly out) peeking out from her shirt and asked if she was wearing a bra. Natalie responded with, “No, I don’t need a bra yet.” K said, “Well, I started wearing a training bra when I was seven because it makes you develop breasts faster.” So Natalie came in to ask us if this is true. This is the last thing I want my 9 year old daughter thinking. She’s 9! She shouldn’t have to worry about things like this. So, I responded with, “No, your body will develop when it’s the right time for you, and nothing you do will make it go any faster.”
She was satisified with my answer and went back outside and told K what we said. K responded with, “Well, that’s not what my doctor and the news says!” Now, K has lied to Natalie before, so this is nothing new. Natalie comes in, crying, because now K is mad at her and is stomping in the house, refusing to play any longer.
We comforted Natalie and told her not to worry about it, as long as she knew what was true. Natalie went back outside to play, only to have one of the other little girls tell her that K said that her mom thought we were (expletive)s and that Natalie stole things from her all the time.
This neighbor is nice and friendly to my face, but I’ve always wonder what her real feelings were. She speaks negatively about most of the other people in our neighborhood, and I always try to change the subject and not listen to it. But I’ve seen her turn around and be sweet as sugar to the very same people she was speaking so horribly about. I take what she says with a grain of salt. But now my daughter is upset and crying in my living room because of it. Natalie was more upset with the fact that K’s mom had called us a bad word than the fact that she accused Natalie of stealing.
Part of me wants to march next door and let the old Mama-bear out, and the other part of me wants to move to the country where we have no neighbors and don’t have to deal with this garbage anymore. Why do people have to be so mean? We homeschool, so I really thought we could avoid stuff like this. It just makes my heart break to have my daughter sobbing in my arms because her feelings are so hurt. When I ask her why she didn’t stand up for herself, she said she’s too worried about hurting K’s feelings! She’s such a sweet girl, who would never purposely hurt someone, and I just want to put a wall around her heart and keep her from experiencing anything like this. But I can’t. And that makes me feel so helpless.
Well, I hate to end on such a downer. I do have a review of Curious George to do, so the next post should be happier. Have a good weekend.
~Vintage Jesus: Timeless Answers to Timely Questions
