Friday Night Fights

When I was little my parents fought. A lot. Fueled by their mutual love of drink. Understandable, since my grandmother claims she introduced them in a bar. There are old pictures of me sitting on bar stools and feasting on lemon wedges at various bars. Once, when my parents separated for a time, we moved in with my mom's boyfriend, in a little apartment above a bar. Yes, I do have issues now with bars and drinking, thanks for asking. Anyway, the parental units had plenty of house wrecking fights back in the day. They never hurt one another, just found it necessary to scream and break things. Maturity at it's best, I tell you. One Friday night many years ago, I was at my Grandmother's house and I begged her not to send me home. Told her my parents were just going to fight all night and it scared me. I begged and cried until I made myself sick. My mother was terribly embarrassed when she picked me up, because I was really making a scene. They didn't fight that night though.
What's it like to be the family members who watch this stuff, but don't feel like they can intervene? If you had a little kid clinging to you and begging you to let her stay, and not send her home to listen to the Friday Night Fights, wouldn't your natural instinct be to agree?
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I had a terrible childhood or anything. That was just one aspect of it that sucked, that's all. Overall, it was pretty darn happy.

Today is Friday, and my kids are excited that I get to stay home from work tomorrow, and that we're all going to the movies on Sunday when Daddy's off work. They think weekends at home are great.
And that makes me incredibly happy.

Ack! I Was Tagged!

Muahaha that means you must read about me, talking about... ME!

Eight Things For Which I Have A Passion: (in no particular order)
1. My boys (duh)
2. Hubs (duh)
3. Long, ridiculous conversations
4. Saving the babies
5. Tattoos, body art
6. Art, in general
7. Historican fiction
8. Shoes!

Eight Things I’d Like to do Before I Die:
1. See my children have children of their own.
2. After graduating from Ivy Leage schools.
3. Finish this dang book I started writing.
4. Act in a Shakespeare play.
5. Find my sister.
6. Retire.
7. Go back to school.
8. Visit Rome.

Eight Things I Say a Lot:
1. What??
2. Good morning, Clever Ideas....
3. Nope, fresh out of clever ideas.
4. Ummm, hello??
5. I love you more than pie...
6. I mean it! 1..2...
7. I love you, too, sweetheart
8. Aside from that, Mrs Lincoln, how did you like the play?

Eight Books I Have Read Recently:
1. Lamb by Christopher Moore
2. Change of Heart by Jodi Picoult
3. Skinny Dip by Carl Hiaasen
4. The Last Great Dance on Earth by Sandra Gulland
5. Next by Michael Crichton
6. I, Elizabeth by Rosalind Miles
7. Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
8. The Debutante Divorcee by Plum Sykes

Eight Movies I Have Seen (at least) Eight Times:
1. Braveheart
2. Pulp Fiction
3. Dawn of the Dead
4. Romeo + Juliet
5. Juice
6. Jerry Maguire
7. Ocean's Eleven
8. Seven

It's okay, Momma's Here

Last night after I'd tucked my little angels in for the night, I heard one of them get out of bed. I went down to check, and found my darling 10 year old climbing back into bed. Why? He said he needed tissue to blow his nose. Asked if he has a cold. He says no.
So I sent little Belly upstairs to sleep in his own room, and asked GB what was wrong. He says, of course, "nothing." I took his still small hand in mine and looked him in the eye. Told him that I know him better than anyone else in the world, and I know something's wrong. Asked him to come down off his bunk bed to talk to me.
As soon as he sat down next to me he started crying. Bawling. While he let that out, I held him and rocked him, stroked his hair. Finally he takes a few deep breaths and tell me that he hears of so many murders and bad things.... then he dissolves into tears again.
My big hearted child! Concerned for the world! I hugged him tight and said that's a very big concern for such a small person, to worry about the whole world.
Then he looks up and barely squeaks, "But I'm afraid it's going to happen to me"

That made my heart stop.

I gave every reassurance I could to explain to him that he was safe. We live in a quiet neighborhood, he goes to a private school. But I have an internal disclaimer button that makes me say things like, "Yes, bad things happen. But they get reported on the news because they're rare and extreme, NOT because they're common. Just because we have 24 hour news networks doesn't mean we should WATCH the news all the time." Just last week I asked my husband if it's possible they're too sheltered being in private school. The alternative is not even an option though, because it's the polar opposite. On Friday night I took the kids out at after 9pm to catch fire flies. (We have a strict catch and release policy) and I was commenting to hubs afterwards that I'm so happy we live in a relatively quiet area, and on a nice calm street so I can do these things and not worry about anyone's safety. And even with all these precautions, my son is afraid he's going to be killed? Is THIS what our world has become?

In the end, after telling him that mom and dad will always protect him, and that he must always rely on his instincts is something doesn't feel right or makes him nervous, I gave him one last bit of advice.
"Always live your life in such a way that you're one of the good guys. Be smart, watch out, and help others. Because the good guys always win."

Some days though, I wonder about that last part.