Our Life, My Way

What Happened To The Village?

They say it takes a village to raise a child. I seem to be one of those lucky few who have surrounded myself with friends and family who feel the same way. But as I look at our society as a whole I see kids who don't have adult supervision, have no respect for authority, and either don't know right from wrong or just don't care. I have a village of supportive people around me, but what happened to the larger village of our society?

When I was a kid, I grew up in an area where every adult woman in the neighborhood was my "Auntie". People who were not considered my Auntie were either "Grandparents" or Mr. and Mrs. (enter last name). Although I was out playing all day long, I was never unsupervised. The whole neighborhood supervised me. I could wander over to one Auntie's house for cookies and stories. Then I would wander to another Auntie's house to play with the animals they had. And you could bet I have been disciplined by various Auntie's. They never spanked me, but they did let me know when I screwed up. In fact, it was more scary getting chewed out by an Auntie than it was to get disciplined by my parents (and my parents didn't take any crap). 

Simply knowing that anyone I came into contact with felt free to let me know when I had done something wrong made me think twice before doing something stupid. Our kids need that now. I understand that parents can't be everywhere, but our society needs to step up and take responsibility for teaching kids right and wrong. And parents need to give society that authority. The way things are now, adults are afraid to correct children that are not their own (remember I am not talking about spanking, but correcting) or if they do, the kids run home to over permitting parents that get angry at the adult who tried to correct destructive behavior. Then the parents can't figure out what went wrong when the kid grows up to be a disrespectful trouble maker.

I have been dumbfounded to see how people allow their children to talk to them. I have even stepped in and told children not to talk to their mother this way (I knew the kid and the mom...I guess that makes me the Auntie). Its amazing that neighborhood kids that don't listen to their parents will listen to me, and beg to come over and play. That just tells me that the village is more powerful than a family unit alone. Children understand that, and prefer the village. Let's build our society into a village, for our children's sake.

Daddyhood - a post by the Husband

You know, one of the most interesting things about being a new father is the emasculating changes. 

I used to listen to Metallica, MegaDeth, Slayer, Morbid Angel, Fear Factory...a bunch of even more "heavy" bands. These were always on rotation in my car tape deck...and eventually CD player (hey, at least I'm not back from the 8 track days!). 

When my son was first born, I didn't know any lullibies. So I would sing (in a soft, slow way), my favorite metal tunes. 

Do you know the song's that are now constantly playing in my head? Mostly little ditties from Sesame Street. "Sunny days, chasing the clouds away...on my way to where the air is sweet...". There's tons more too. I also find myself humming the theme song to Spongebob Squarepants. 

Just this weekend alone, I've seen more Sesame Street than I have since I was 2. Even considering flipping through the channels. I mean...where's "Electric Company" to break up the monotony?

I mean, I know that metal is slim pickin's nowadays. The shutdown of KNAC was a somber day. But I can't even think of a modern metal band that I like (I loathe new Metallica...even their latest). Sure, I dug Slipknot, but I haven't heard much from them lately. And honestly, I feel weird about listening to the good metal now. What does it look like for a greying man driving a "family SUV" (the equivalent of a mini-van) cranking metal. I guess its less weird than when I crank some video of Elmo singing for the toddler. Sigh... Elmo's World. I've sung/hummed that more in the last week, than any metal tunes in the last few months. 

Now don't get me wrong. I love fatherhood and husbandhood. I just hate oldhood. Getting old sucks! "Its better than the alternative"... Hey! I'm griping! Give me my gripe time! There are no right answers. Just grumbling, some talking under the breath, evil looks, and accidentally humming the theme to "Dora the Explorer'.

Broken Treasures

While shopping for the endless supply of diapers and baby snacks that has become our life, I saw the most incredible toy. Our little one didn't notice it yet, but it was just too awesome to let him miss out. I reached toward the red, fuzzy doll when I suddenly saw our little guy look my way. His eyes lit up to see a real live Elmo doll right before him. One of the biggest smiles I've ever seen came across his face as he reached excitingly toward Elmo. Then I pushed the button on Elmo's back, and our baby laughed and eagerly grabbed Elmo while he watched the doll move and talk. This was the perfect toy. Yes, it was expensive. With a $60 price tag, this would be the most expensive toy he has had in his short life, but how could I not get it? I don't remember ever seeing him this excited about a toy. I briefly thought about putting Elmo back on the shelf, but then our little one gave Elmo, and the box he came in, a huge hug. He looked up at me with an excited smile on his face as if to say "Thank you Mommy". That was the deciding factor. Elmo Live came home with us that day.

Our toddler and Elmo became pretty good friends. He would drag Elmo to Daddy, then to Mommy, and back to Daddy. He held the mechanical arm as Elmo tried to give him hugs. While Elmo was telling stories, he pried open Elmo's mouth to see how wide it would open. I was quite amazed at Elmo's durability, but he just couldn't stand up to our toddler. Eventually Elmo couldn't finish his stories. He forgot what he was trying to say mid sentence. He froze while dancing, then stood up tall and stared straight ahead as if he forgot where he was and what he was doing. He would freak out and throw himself on the ground. Elmo had developed Alzheimer's disease. There was nothing we could do for him except let him live out the remainder of his battery life in our home.  As the days passed, Elmo sat alone for increasingly longer stretches of time. Eventually, we forgot about Elmo. Life went on, and lonely Elmo watched on. 

One morning, while our little one was napping, I went through his toys to decide what he doesn't play with anymore and should be donated, and what we should keep. I came across Elmo and stared into his vacant eyes as I recalled the utter joy he brought our family. But alas, he was a broken toy and was causing clutter. I reached to put Elmo in the bag and my mind wandered to my Grandma.

My Grandma was the foundation my life was built on. Whenever I had trouble, Grandma was there and she always knew just how to make me feel better. She sacrificed her life to make me happy. She stayed up all night when I was sick. She never followed her dreams in order to be there for her children and grandchildren. She stopped whatever she was doing to play with me. And then, one day she just couldn't play any more. She spent a lot of time staring vacantly at the wall, and sometimes forgot who I was. Grandma stayed home as long as the family could care for her, but eventually she needed more help than we could give and was moved into a skilled nursing facility.

Grandma was a lot like Elmo. She didn't have Alzheimer's, but did have bouts of dementia and as time went by became weaker and weaker. Did we give her away simply because she was broken? When did the one I love become clutter in our house? Rationally, I know we made the right decision. Grandma received care in the home that none of us could provide. It was the best thing for her. But that doesn't alleviate the guilt. Whether or not Grandma can play anymore, I still love her. Do I want to teach my child that we throw out the ones we love just because they don't work like they used to? How is he going to treat his Grandparents, or even his parents when we become broken? Will we be thought of as clutter? With tears streaming down my face I lovingly placed Elmo on the shelf among my boy's most cherished toys. I'm sure he will be happy to hold Elmo in his arms once again. Elmo may be broken, but he is still treasured.