<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586</id><updated>2011-07-30T21:30:36.920-07:00</updated><category term='popularity'/><category term='Games'/><category term='health'/><category term='discipline'/><category term='traditions'/><category term='after school'/><title type='text'>THE TWEEN...and me.</title><subtitle type='html'>Helping square-pegged kids thrive in a round-holed world.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586.post-6804610959883797955</id><published>2010-10-21T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T14:11:50.083-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traditions'/><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8DnLVPzips/TMCl1UGcTiI/AAAAAAAAACs/d6O_hjVG9kc/s1600/100_1361.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8DnLVPzips/TMCl1UGcTiI/AAAAAAAAACs/d6O_hjVG9kc/s320/100_1361.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530602677758348834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Halloween is a big tradition here in Koblerland. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started when Finn was a baby.  I wanted all three of us to dress the same theme.  I figured that until Finn was around three or four, I would choose - mu ha ha - and then he'd have to take over - urgh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So year baby, Flip and I wore our Star Trek uniforms (Hi, my name is Cindy and I'm a trekkie - "Hi Cindy") and we asked Finn's Godmother Kobbie - who wanted to do his Halloween costume - to make Finn an ensign costume.  We were so cute we had to take a family photo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that someone says is that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year, we three - and whoever else we can rope in - dress up thematically:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Year One - Star Trek&lt;br /&gt;Year Two - Winnie the Pooh (He was Tigger, I was Winnie, Flip was Christopher Robbin)&lt;br /&gt;Year Three - Barney (He was the purple dinosaur, I was Baby Bop - Flip was in his rebel period and went as a Wiggle???)&lt;br /&gt;Year Four - The Wiggles (Finn was Greg)&lt;br /&gt;Year Five - Vege Tales (Finn was the giant pickle someone, I was Bob and Flip was Larry)&lt;br /&gt;Year Six - Code De Leoco (I can't spell it nor I can remember who was who, but this was when I began my "wouldn't you like to be a ghost phase...you'll see why as you read along)&lt;br /&gt;Year Seven - Naruto&lt;br /&gt;Year Eight - Finn took pity on us. We were ninjas&lt;br /&gt;Year Nine - Mario Cart (I got to be Peach or is it Strawberry?)&lt;br /&gt;Year Ten - Finn went as an actor (comedy and tragedy masks)&lt;br /&gt;Year Eleven - Micheal Grimm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we get our portrait done.  Yep, we trudge into Sears, dressed in some crazy concoction and have our photo taken.  The portrait people know us by now as "That family who dresses up." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But was it enough to just dress up and do the portrait?  Oh silly you, of course not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To this tradition we've added spaghetti dinner.  We all trick or treat together for a time, and then we come home, Finn and his buddy Max play the Wii while they dole out candy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cherish Halloween.  Some years we've gone to lunch after the portrait; other times not.  But it's our day.  Our thing that we do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year Finn has begun to change.  He's not sure about dressing up and do we need to all do the same?  To that I say a resounding, "na huh!"  But in the very near year, this chapter will have closed.  My heart aches at the mere thought of it.  I'm not ready for him to go this day alone.  Can I find a new twist on it to keep the tradition alive yet true to who we are?  Not sure. For now, I've clamped down and insisted.  We'll see. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for this years theme we're America's Got Talent.  Finn wants to go as Micheal Grimm.  Actually he wants to go as himself and I said "No!"  Halloween rule number 72C sub paragraph 3, no trick or treater may receive candy unless attired in some derivation of a costume.  Finn bought that - phew! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That still leaves - what do I go as?  A MG groupie?  Another Michael?  We can all go as Micheal Grimm?  Hmmmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1972548532868247586-6804610959883797955?l=mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/6804610959883797955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1972548532868247586&amp;postID=6804610959883797955' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/6804610959883797955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/6804610959883797955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/2010/10/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8DnLVPzips/TMCl1UGcTiI/AAAAAAAAACs/d6O_hjVG9kc/s72-c/100_1361.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586.post-2646602494193447113</id><published>2010-10-16T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T11:59:57.737-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><title type='text'>Finn Got Braces</title><content type='html'>Aaach!  On Monday Finn got braces.  Aside from my total mommy anxiety and his utter pain - the event went very smoothly.  He was in the chair for two hours.  I waited outside and gnashed my teeth and cried as I recalled him being a baby in my arms just five seconds ago.  Criminy they grow up so fast.  Really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he has steel railroad tracks in his mouth.  I whimpered a bit at the loss of his cut out smile.  And the goofy ten year old smile with the mismatched teeth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then he smiled at me with the braces and it was if he always had them. And I was surprised that his cuteness didn't waiver.  Not a smitch.  In fact his courage only made him more beautiful.  God, he's a graceful soul.  So much grace. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We opted to make this journey fun.  I've learned from facing Flip's cancer that the only way to deal with the harsherness of life is to squeeze out the laughter and joy. So that's how we handled this.  No funny hat parties for my Finn, instead the day before braces he was allowed to eat as much chewy candy as he could.  My only stipulation, don't make yourself sick. So off to the market dad went and bought every kind of yank out your teeth sugary substance in the store.  We had Starburst, JuJu Be's, gummy sharks and every other kind of animal, candy fruit slices, gum. If it could cast terror upon thy dental work, we had it. And Finn dug in.  Ate with kid abandon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the braces.  Ouch.  The first day did not hurt as much as the second.  The second is the worst.  But the pain lessens after that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so we had a happy remedy for brace day as well.  Finn was allowed to get any kind of shake he wanted.  All day.  He wanted a Strawberry Frapacino.  He got it.  One of mom's special smoothies, it was his.  Frozen creamy treats were the name of the game.  And lots and lots of cuddles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the week, for lunch, I trundled up to the school and brought him frozen libations.  (This has an added bonus cause I got to peek in on the life of my sixth grader's lunch).  I was not allowed to stay for long cause you know like I'm mooooommmmm.  But still for a brief moment they let me say "Hello."  And I got to see the "guys" he speaks about.  And it brought a silver smile to my little ones face. Win and win and win again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday, we wrapped up this magical journey of teeth with giving away all the uneaten candy to his buddies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the week ended on a high note.  Cause he was the hero.  Not just to me and dad but his buddies and to himself cause he said, "I was able to watch them eat it mom, and not have a bit myself."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1972548532868247586-2646602494193447113?l=mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/2646602494193447113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1972548532868247586&amp;postID=2646602494193447113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/2646602494193447113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/2646602494193447113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/2010/10/finn-got-braces.html' title='Finn Got Braces'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586.post-7981189890913097508</id><published>2010-09-16T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T11:40:24.465-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='after school'/><title type='text'>After School Stuff</title><content type='html'>We want Finn to take basketball cause he doesn't have a sport and somewhere I read that boys who participate in sports actually do better in the corporate world cause they speak "sportese?"  And being a mom who knows how important it is to guide him in the ways of the round holed world, know he must try out.  But...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(oh you knew that but was coming didn't you???)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want him to take singing lessons.  He has a natural musical ability and he loves theater and if he decides to pursue this in later years (not sure how I feel about that), he's going to need to be well versed or well sung as the case may be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm.  Finn is not a busy kind of kid.  There are people who thrive on the multitude of stuff to do, this is not my child.  He loves being a slug.  And to him a perfect weekend is to slump on the couch, actually meld with it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, do we do both this semester?  Plus he has art enrichment.  And he may or may not want to do the drama program at boys and girls club run by Dennis who throws in a dinner at subway most weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are abiding by Finn's decision.  It's not that he doesn't want to try basketball, he does.  But he only wants to focus on one new thing a semester.  This felt like a fairly wise choice to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we start his singing lessons the beginning of October and the sports will wait till winter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1972548532868247586-7981189890913097508?l=mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/7981189890913097508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1972548532868247586&amp;postID=7981189890913097508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/7981189890913097508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/7981189890913097508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/2010/09/after-school-stuff.html' title='After School Stuff'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586.post-3529768337710891432</id><published>2010-09-09T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T10:31:44.070-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traditions'/><title type='text'>Winter Fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8DnLVPzips/TIkZYhs54wI/AAAAAAAAACk/GAG89XP3Tik/s1600/101_1084.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8DnLVPzips/TIkZYhs54wI/AAAAAAAAACk/GAG89XP3Tik/s320/101_1084.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514967127846150914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me.  Finn and Waiter.  Winter 2009.  Flip is the one behind the camera.  We go every Winter.  One day.  It's so fun to watch our Waiter chase snow balls cause as they melt as he runs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stop at the same little store every year to have lunch - bbq feast.  It's a weird mom and pop shop that sells food, fruit, books, candy and ugly trinkets that you would only think are cute on vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1972548532868247586-3529768337710891432?l=mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/3529768337710891432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1972548532868247586&amp;postID=3529768337710891432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/3529768337710891432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/3529768337710891432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/2010/09/winter-fun.html' title='Winter Fun'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d8DnLVPzips/TIkZYhs54wI/AAAAAAAAACk/GAG89XP3Tik/s72-c/101_1084.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586.post-6413665262534087640</id><published>2010-09-08T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T10:00:28.469-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traditions'/><title type='text'>One on One Days</title><content type='html'>So Finn has been wanting to go to &lt;a href="http://www.magicmountain.com"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.sixflags.com"&gt;Hurricane Harbor&lt;/a&gt; all summer.  And finally, the weather and our wallet permitted and twas time.  The problem?  I don't like water parks.  All those slides and such freak me out.  Over the years, I have learned to love the water, but it was an acquired taste like wine or exercise.  It doesn't come naturally to me.  The thought of going to HH was in a word - scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what to do? What to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opted out.  And &lt;a href="http://www.showdownstageco.com"&gt;Flip&lt;/a&gt; and Finn have now claimed Hurricane Harbor as their special thing.  I have gone in the past, but they have gone alone. And Finn confessed his favorite day he went was the day he went with dad.  So the boys go to Hurricane Harbor.  The boys do breakfast at &lt;a href="http://www.dennys.com"&gt;Denny's&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This leaves, what do mom and son do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We go out to lunch.  We go for ice cream.  We go away for overnights just he and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finn loves that he has special traditions with just mom.  And just dad.  It gives him  a special connection to each of us and us to him.  And they are his claiming - not ours'.  Though I confess, I have built them up to be special traditions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think special parent and child time has to be expensive either.  Every night, after dinner, the three of us climb into the jacuzzi in our backyard.   For twenty minutes - the time it takes to keep the jets running - the world stops, we torment the dog and just talk about nothing.  Yes, I pay for the cost of extra electricity every month, but man is it worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1972548532868247586-6413665262534087640?l=mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/6413665262534087640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1972548532868247586&amp;postID=6413665262534087640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/6413665262534087640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/6413665262534087640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/2010/09/one-on-one-days.html' title='One on One Days'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586.post-2369827208759482983</id><published>2010-08-30T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T11:29:57.890-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Games'/><title type='text'>The Ball's In Your Court</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8DnLVPzips/THv4MEMGdxI/AAAAAAAAACU/xz5WWFrMDdI/s1600/Panama+Cruise+155.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511271455184549650" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8DnLVPzips/THv4MEMGdxI/AAAAAAAAACU/xz5WWFrMDdI/s320/Panama+Cruise+155.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Long drive. Finn and me. Oy. Then Finn introduced me to this game that some of the teens are playing. It's called The Ball's In Your Court and it's a question and answer game. Think Truth or Dare. But you only have to take a dare if you won't answer the question - so answer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes this game so awesome, is I and my kid are both equal participants cause he can ask me whatever he wants. Even the icky questions like, "Who do you think is hot?" "Did you do drugs in school?" "What makes you most angry about dad?" Any question. But what I've discovered is that he likes this game cause he gets to talk about himself. Yay! In fact he'd rather answer then ask. How perfect is this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so here's how the game works. You say, "The Ball is in your court." That means it's his turn to ask me anything he likes. I have two choices. I can answer or I can say pass or foul and not answer, but then I only get three passes during the game. After that I have to answer his questions, no matter what - or I can take a dare. The dare is his choice. I answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the ball is in my court and I ask him a question. He can pass or answer. Three passes on his end and he has to answer or take a dare - Ew! Like hug me in public. He answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Playing this game I not only learned about who is who in his life, but I learned about him. When I unintentionally asked him to betray a friend's secret with my question who does so and so like, he said, "Sorry mom. I can't tell you." He didn't turn over his friend for a game. Yay. My child is Klingon - he has honor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finn and I have since played this many a time - at night before he goes to bed and over dinner. Mostly, I end up learning things I already knew. But we're talking, and that's all that matters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1972548532868247586-2369827208759482983?l=mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/2369827208759482983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1972548532868247586&amp;postID=2369827208759482983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/2369827208759482983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/2369827208759482983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/2010/08/balls-in-your-court.html' title='The Ball&apos;s In Your Court'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d8DnLVPzips/THv4MEMGdxI/AAAAAAAAACU/xz5WWFrMDdI/s72-c/Panama+Cruise+155.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586.post-9177818441645135005</id><published>2010-08-21T15:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-21T16:17:32.062-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='popularity'/><title type='text'>The popular girls</title><content type='html'>The popular girls' eye rolls can slice you like a cold blade.  Their smiles send you soaring to amazing heights. Be in with them and you rule the world.  Be outside their realm of pleasure and you want to die. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do some girls achieve the status of popular and others don't? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it about survival of the fittest?  Are the popular girls descended  from the really hot cave women who got the best guys and then these girls went on to run the gene pool? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean from a purely analytical POV they are not prettier than the other girls.  Often they're not richer.  Nor are they smarter or funnier or braver.  Yet, they are popular.  Why?   And they exist in every age, don't they?  I dealt with them, my mother dealt with them and now poor Finn is having to deal with them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he is the "artist."  He thinks too far outside the box so I don't see "popular" as his realm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how to help?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can offer up the "well, just ignore them," but really?  That never works; it's like saying don't think about an elephant, of course you'll think of an elephant.  If I tell him to try to break a hole in the wall of their inner sanctum he will just hate himself cause he'll have to be something he's not.  And that would be awful.  He's wonderful.  He is water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are oil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And both are necessary for the world to spin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he must be who he is.  And love that.  And maybe if he learns to love himself, then not being popular won't matter.  When self esteem rolls in, every other doubt steps aside doesn't it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Their" opinion will always matter, but "they" will change as he gets older and "they" will vary depending on where he is.  And so to try to fit in with the popular crowd is never ending. He'll never achieve popularity cause the popular kid changes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Better to just be popular with himself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1972548532868247586-9177818441645135005?l=mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/9177818441645135005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1972548532868247586&amp;postID=9177818441645135005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/9177818441645135005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/9177818441645135005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/2010/08/popular-girls.html' title='The popular girls'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586.post-8752005476299544024</id><published>2010-08-18T16:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T16:58:22.845-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='discipline'/><title type='text'>OMG he's started sixth grade</title><content type='html'>This is it.  My son's last year before he starts middle school.  He's taller than me now.  How do I dispense my precarious wisdom to a child I must look up to? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His current worry is the dreaded Piece of Paper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In sixth grade, discipline is done with slips of paper.  They are read the rules once, count them, once ,and then if they blow it they are given a slip of paper - like a ticket I guess.  More then ten pieces of paper in a quarter and they are no longer allowed to do the fun stuff that quarter.  He's worried about getting a piece of paper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, here in lies the rub for me.  Do I nurture the system follower in him, or do I nurture the independent thinker?  Both are valid.  He is a creative boy.  Always thinking outside the box.  Actually creating his own box.  But he lives in this world.  This world that has silly rules and smart rules and unwritten rules which nobody talks about but you're supposed to know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, he's afraid of standing out.  Standing alone.  Yet, that is who he is.  How ironic that creative children thrive when they are inspired to explore on their own yet they hate the isolation.  They are gifted with a unique perspective of the world, but beat themselves up for seeing things differently. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We roll played what would happen should he get a slip.  It would feel icky, but he'd survive and he'd learn.  And life would still go on.  In fact, maybe we could celebrate that he made a mistake and learned from it.  Yay?!  Mistakes are good.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's not sure about this.  Humiliation looms.  But he's willing to consider it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1972548532868247586-8752005476299544024?l=mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/8752005476299544024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1972548532868247586&amp;postID=8752005476299544024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/8752005476299544024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/8752005476299544024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/2010/08/omg-hes-started-sixth-grade.html' title='OMG he&apos;s started sixth grade'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972548532868247586.post-8661329642273484730</id><published>2008-11-21T15:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T15:21:58.055-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To blog or not to blog</title><content type='html'>Scott, my brother,  has been on me for years to do this.  "Blog!" He says, like it's the Eleventh Commandment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I write about?  Ah, therein lies the rub.  What to say?  What to say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently trying to create a marketing platform for my book.  What happened to the good old days when you just sold the darn thing and let the publisher do all the work?  In today's corporate world you have to sell the book to sell the book.   So I'm learning all about the different ways to reach an audience.   There's big market appeal - tv stations, radio ads, that kind of thing - or grassroots, which I'm doing; that's finding the organizations that will like my book and want to read it and how to reach out to them.  It's mind numbing and a bit overwhelming, but I think that's cause I complicate things.  Will I get the ultimate goal...a book deal...that is the quesiton isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1972548532868247586-8661329642273484730?l=mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/feeds/8661329642273484730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1972548532868247586&amp;postID=8661329642273484730' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/8661329642273484730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1972548532868247586/posts/default/8661329642273484730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommyisme-cindy.blogspot.com/2008/11/to-blog-or-not-to-blog.html' title='To blog or not to blog'/><author><name>cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06649234923628921716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
