#i can see aaron being like... ok brother back up this kid has crazy eyes and a viscous smile

[spfswithchipotlemayo]

Seeing jeans POV of Neil has me understanding why Aaron took one look at him and went NO

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

I'll leave what I'm chasing - part 7

And it's finished. I really struggled with this final part and still I'm not sure about it but it's driving me crazy so here it is.

(AO3 link)

“Aaron!” The shout and the knocking at the door isn’t unexpected a week later, but Robert still gave Aaron a look saying ‘I told you so’ as he sighed. “Still can’t believe you asked your lot. I thought you said they’d all sided with your Mum.”

They’d gone round and round about whether to invite them. His protective streak had come out, telling Aaron it wasn’t worth the hassle, but Aaron was adamant he was sending invitations to them all.

“Well yeah, or at least they didn’t side with me. I’ve decided to be the bigger person, same reason I invited Mum. Besides, like I said, this way we’ll see just how many of ‘em actually are on her side. If they turn down free booze and grub then I know not to bother with them again, don’t I?” Aaron’s got that annoying grin on his face as he walks to the door.

“You’ve got a lot more devious since I’ve been away.”

“Mmm, learnt from the best didn’t I?” He opens the door, face schooled into indifference. “Mum.”

“What’s this?” Robert can’t see her from where he’s standing but he can imagine she’s waving the invitation around in Aaron’s face.

“What does it look like?”

“Don’t get smart with me. You don’t speak to me for months and then you send this, and Aaron and Robert Sugden-Dingle? What’s all that?” Robert sighed from his place in the kitchen, trying to keep out of it knowing his presence will only make things worse. “Bit posh this invitation isn’t it? And what’s with the Sugden-Dingle? His idea I suppose?”

“Mine actually. Mum what’s the problem?” Robert pushed himself away from the kitchen cupboard he was leaning on and walked over to Aaron, a hand on his shoulder in silent support.

“You’re a Dingle!”

“No I’m not. You said it yourself at our wedding, remember, and I changed it officially before Ana was born, and Robert is changing his. I’m a Sugden-Dingle.”

“But…”

“Are you coming or not because we need to know the numbers so Sarah can sort the food.” Aaron folds his arms and Robert sees the moment Chas’s mood changes and he knows what’s coming. “I’m done talking about this.”

“He’s no good for you Aaron. Look what he did.”

“Do you really want me to list our family’s long long list of prison stays or can we get on so I can eat some breakfast. What’s really the problem?”

“He hurt you.”

“Yeah. I’ve hurt him too over the years, but that’s our business.”

“I…you’re just letting him back in as if nothing has happened.”

“Mum...” Aaron sounds exhausted and Robert feels guilty all over again at him having to deal with this all alone for the past few months.

“I just don’t understand you Aaron. Everything he’s done to you, and you just keep going back for more and turning against your own family. It’s not right.”

“No. I’ve not turned against anybody. What’s not right is my family not respecting my choices. Neither you nor Paddy seem to realise that I’m an adult, that I can make my own decisions.”

“We just want what’s best for you, love.”

“No, no you don’t. What you want is what you think is best for me and I’m done putting up with it. So, as I said, we have things to do. You’re welcome at the christening if you can be civil to Robert, and stop slagging him off to everyone, but if you can’t then I want you to stay away.”

“And you, you’re alright with me turning up are you?” She turns her gaze onto him and he refuses to look away.

“Whatever Aaron wants. Just one thing, don’t you ever talk about us in front of our children the way you did.”

“I mean it Mum. I’m done putting up with it. So think long and hard yeah, and tell Paddy the same. I’m not that messed up kid anymore. I can make my own decisions and live my life how and with who I want. I’m happy, for the first time in months I’m truly happy.”

Chas doesn’t say another word, just glares at him once more before turning and walking away. Aaron doesn’t move until the door is closed and then he’s holding onto Robert.

“It’s ok. She’ll come round.”

“I don’t think so. She’ll never change.”

“You don’t have to lose her.”

“I do. I’ve thought about it a lot, and you know she’s been in my head about you right from the start, picking away every time I thought we were happy. I’m done with it. It’s just…I wish just once she’d choose me, choose to support what I want.”

“I know. She’s your Mum. Maybe if she has time to think she’ll come round. You never know.” Aaron nods.

“Whatever she says, I love you, that’s never going to change.”

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere, never again.” Aaron’s hold on him tightens as he kisses him. “Come on, I’m going to make you breakfast. I reckon we’ve got about an hour before Mum brings the kids back and chaos reigns again.”

When the food is on the plates and they’re sitting down Aaron speaks again after not saying anything the whole time he’d been cooking. “I spoke to Charles yesterday.”

“I thought Mum was doin’ all that.”

“This was about something else. I can’t do anything about her birth certificate, not without a whole lot of red tape, but he said he could include a name if you wanted.”

“I’m not changing her name Aaron. I love what you chose, you know that.”

“Obviously. But maybe, If you wanted you could give her a middle name. He said to just let him know and he’ll include it.” He can’t speak and Aaron’s watching him worriedly. “It’s fine if you don’t want to.”

“No...no I do. I don’t deserve you, you know that don’t you?”

“Well tough because you’re stuck with me.”

*****

On the morning of the christening he’s feeling uneasy. Nothing major, just a nagging feeling, eating at him all morning and before he knows it he’s walking down the path to the graveyard. He’d told Aaron he was just going to see Vic before the service because if he knew where he was going he would’ve insisted on coming with him.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there before he feels someone beside him and he smells his Mum’s perfume.

“Robert?”

“Am I like him? Dad?”

“In some ways. For all his faults your father did love his family, and you have to admit he could be a bit stubborn, like someone else I know. But that’s what you’re asking is it?”

“He cheated, on you, on Pat. I’ve cheated on pretty much everyone.”

“Yes, but as far as I know that’s not a gene that’s passed down love. My parents were faithful to each other and yet I cheated on your Dad.”

“He did it first.”

“That doesn’t make it right. You’re not him, Robert. You’ve made mistakes, some because of things that happened to you, others because everyone does. That’s not excusing you because you really can mess up when you try, but now I think you see that and you try and do things differently. You know there are people there now who love you for who you are, not who you think you ought to be. You don’t have to be perfect, so maybe stop trying, hmm?”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“I think you’re trying to make up for things the only way you know how. But Aaron doesn’t care how many breakfasts you make him, or that you’re perfect with Ana and Seb. He loves you just the way you are, like I do, like your sister does.”

“You sure about that? She could barely look me in the eye when I went round.” He’d tried, but Vic was still angry with him over everything, what happened, cutting everyone off, hurting Aaron and he didn’t know what to say to make it better with her. The distance between them was too big now and he had no idea how to fix it.

“Well your sister inherited his stubbornness too and some of mine for good measure. She loves you Robert, and it might take some time for the two of you to get back to how you are, but now you’re back you will, I know it. Now, where are my grandchildren?”

“Aaron was feeding Ana in the hope she won’t scream the church down. I was doing his head in, he reckoned so I told him I was going to check the church. Ended up here.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “What do you think he would’ve made of today?”

“I don’t know love and that’s the best answer I’ve got. But he’s not here, so stop letting him ruin all the good moments in your life. He can’t do that any more. He’s gone.”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t that simple. He can’t separate the Dad he loved, who would carry him on his shoulders and show him the animals with the man who hurt him, and he doesn’t want to lose the one he loved because there are good memories.

“Come on, no more maudlin thoughts. Today you get to show off your beautiful family. Have you decided on a middle name for Ana?”

“Yes. Last night.”

“And?”

“And you’ll find out at the church like everyone else except for Aaron.”

“You’re such a spoilsport. Ah there they are.” She rushes forward to meet Seb as she spots her, all dressed up in his little suit. They all match, after being ordered by his Mum to buy new suits because they were not under any circumstances to wear their court suits to the christening of her grandchildren.

“Do you like my suit, Ganma?” Robert can’t help chuckling as Seb attempts a twirl.

“You look very smart peanut! Very grown up! Are you going to come and sit with me inside?” Seb nods and with a grin at him and Aaron she heads inside the church.

“You didn’t go to Vic’s did you?” He shrugs at him, “She rang just after you left.”

“I ended up in the graveyard.”

“You ok?”

“I am now.” He runs a hand through Ana’s hair making her giggle. “How many people are inside?”

“A few, it’s still early.” Suddenly he looks behind him, frowning and Robert turns round to see a collection of Dingles making their way down Main Street. “I don’t need this today.”

“Wait...they’re all dressed up. Look.” Cain and Moira are leading the pack with someone Robert doesn’t know. He guesses that’s the brother, and they’re followed by the others. There’s no sign of Chas or Paddy and a part of him is glad.

“Alright.” Cain nods at him.

“What’s all this?”

“We were invited.” Sam pipes up.

“Yeah Sam, I know. I s’pose I didn’t think you’d turn up.” Aaron shrugs, disturbing Ana, so Robert takes her, using that as an excuse not to get into conversation. He’s still not sure how he feels about them all and the fact they just left Aaron to cope alone because it was easier than going against Chas. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“There won’t be any.” Cain tells him, and from the look on his face Robert can tell he had words with them all.

“Did you threaten them?” He can’t help himself.

“Didn’t have to. Just told ‘em to look beyond what Chas was saying. She’ll see sense in the end you know.”

“Might be too late by then.”

“Then she’ll have to deal with the consequences. For the record, I reckon you did the right thing, prison’s no place to be taking a baby.” He nods and takes his outstretched hand before standing aside to wait for Moira.

When they’ve all finally gone in, it’s just them, Ana fast asleep on his shoulder.

“You ready?”

“Just one more minute.” He nods. Aaron might say he’s sure about cutting his Mum off, but he knows a part of him is still hoping she and Paddy might turn up. “I just thought…”

“Yeah.”

“It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. She’s your Mum. I sometimes still wish my Dad was here, that he’d be happy for me.”

“Least we’ve got your Mum. Right, let’s go in.”

*****

Later that evening when everyone has gone home he’s sitting outside the house watching Seb play in his treehouse when Aaron sits beside him, Ana on his lap.

“Ok?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“Anythin’ good?”

“How lucky I am. Sometimes I wake up at night and for a second I think I’m back there, stuck in my cell away from you. Then I remember that I came home and you’re here and I’ve got a family. It’s just...I was so close to losing you forever. If he’d died…”

“He didn’t.”

“But he could’ve. Mum says I try and take everyone’s problems on as my own and don’t stop until I’ve solved them.”

“Maybe.”

“But she’s right. Look at...sorry but even with Gordon, I kept going. All that stuff with Ryan. I couldn’t stop because I had to fix it.”

“You make mistakes, everyone does. Ok so maybe yours are bigger than most, but at least you realise that they are mistakes. My Mum has been pushing me to do things her way ever since I came to live here and she’s never worked out that all she does is push me further away. She keeps making that mistake, she never learns. The difference though is you’ve learnt, at least…”

“I have, promise. I’m never going to put us at risk again.” He brushes a hand over Ana’s hair. “So, you’re sure about the name?”

“Bit late now, been said in front of God and all that.” He jiggles his knees making the little girl giggle. “You like it don’t you sweetheart. Ana Hope. It’s perfect.”

“Just like her. Just like we’re going to be.” He shuffles closer as Seb runs over to them, flopping down onto him. “Hey mate.”

“You don’t think that’s a bit boring?”

“Right now, boring sounds absolutely amazing.”

[follyoliver]

Ok so in the middle of a scene about Eugene betraying Everybody, once again, I started humming Heel Turn 2 by the mountain goats because Beat the Champ was what finally got me to understand the appeal of professional wrestling, and if i didn’t appreciate those tropes i would be missing out, honestly!

Anyway, here’s hoping Eugene turns it back around, but I will say: I haven’t seen a really delicious heel turn on TWD in a while. Sometimes Our Heroes do bad things, but I don’t think there’s been a real heel turn since Shane. That one was pretty good, in retrospect. I still don’t like it when the writers decide to get rapey, but Shane killing Otis, shaving his head, opening that barn, traumatizing the Greenes, trying to kill Rick - a good heel turn! It was cohesive, it made sense for his character, you believed him doing it, you knew he had to be dealt with, but you felt the others’ reluctance to do anything about him! You really felt the conflict! Rick especially really loved Shane, and was deeply hurt by Shane trying to kill him.

Who among the current gang would I pick to do a good heel turn?

Rosita has that scar on her face and could be a really good villain, both visually and in terms of her character motivations and general badassery. Picture her with her scar and her ponytail and her automatic weapons and her steely gaze, going rogue to avenge her people - but wait, her people are trying to keep her from her righteous revenge! How dare they! And in the crossfire she accidentally kills Jesus and gets shot in the shoulder and everything escalates from there! She creates a whole splinter group of guerrilla soldiers, ruthless and invisible, shadows in the night - anyway I can picture it.

Any of them could easily go rogue like that, honestly. It’s just a question of who would look the coolest and who would be the most believably competent adversary.

Rosita is definitely a strong candidate though, because she’s highly competent, independent, ruthless at times, and looks great with that facial scar.

Carol would also be good but they barely survive when she just takes a vacation from protecting them, they wouldn’t stand a chance against her as an enemy. Also it’s hard to buy Carol turning against them when her whole raison d’être is their well-being. She’s such a ruthless mother character. I love that. The only way I see Carol as a villain is if it’s somehow on behalf of the Main Gang. Like they all become the villains (which is where I thought we were headed when they killed that whole outpost in their sleep) or Carol feels pushed to do some villainy in secret to protect them - which she did do! She killed those sick people. That was her heel turn. It was definitely believable.

Michonne would be a badass villain I just don’t want that for her, I want her to heal :( poor Michonne! She’s going thru a lot right now.

I feel like Daryl doesn’t need a heel turn because he’s already subverting expectations by not being a villain to start with. Him and his brother are kind of introduced as these hotheaded racist rednecks with no care for anyone but themselves - and for Merle, the first impression is pretty complete (until his death when he sacrifices himself for the Main Gang/Michonne). But the twist that made Daryl such an interesting character is that he really defies expectations set by the type of character he is, without seeming inauthentic. Hes still a hotheaded redneck, and he says less racist shit over time but he still started by calling Glenn a Chinaman and insulting Asians in general by implication - these are true things. But he also looked for Sophia when no one else would. He took care of Rick’s kids when Rick was off having hallucinations of his dead wife. He looks for jasper to mark someone’s dead loved one’s grave. He risks his life for people again and again. Daryl is fascinating.

Tara could potentially be a good villain, but I need more convincing. Where is the proof of competence? Is she a one-woman army like Carol? At Oceanside she almost was. We’re close. But not there yet. Also I can’t see the motivation. Tara strikes me as the type of person who likes to smoke weed and chill out, and the apocalypse has really interfered with those plans. It’s hard to see her plotting violence even when she actually is plotting violence. However! I do like the idea of her cheerfully twirling a twizzler while she villainously monologues. Her villain outfits would be flamboyant and fun. Novelty sunglasses. Possibly a Hawaiian shirt. Possibly a feather boa. She could make it work. (Plus tbh the best villains are gay villains.)

Jesus would be a terrible villain. Too wishy washy. Worse than the time Gabriel was sort of a villain.

Maggie could be a great villain!!!!!! A pregnant villain!!!!! I can see it!!!!!!! It’s good!!!!!! I don’t know how you get from A to B but still I like it!!!!

Rick could be a great villain or an awful villain. It just depends. I think we’ve already kind of had both. He goes in these phases - Dorky Dad Rick and Dark Rick. Remember when they arrived in Alexandria and he had that crazy beard and those crazy eyes and started beating that guy up in the middle of the street? I mean I agree they had to do something about the abuse situation but that was wild.

Who else is there.....Morgan has already been a villain kind of, Ezekiel can never be a villain because we need him to be the Noble King, let us just have that, Aaron isn’t badass enough yet but he could get there, he’s got that beard and grief over a romantic partner thing happening, plus I always love villains with kids (as long as they genuinely care about the kids - I just think it adds depth and gives us someone to mourn them when they’re inevitably killed/overthrown), Enid is too young to be a villain, and I think that’s all the characters we’ve invested enough time in to care about whether or not they turned on the others. I feel like I’m forgetting several major characters but I can’t think who they are. Everyone is dead!!!!!! :(

[thetaboochristian]

Some Mother’s Day Musings

Ok, so this post is going to hit a few different angles, as it relates to motherhood. I’ll mention a little bit about my mom, but I’m also going to throw a couple other philosophical ideas in here too the most people might not think about when it comes to Mother’s Day.

I’m totally not going to mention anything about “Rebecca” in this post, nothing really positive or negative, even though yes technically I mean she is the mother of my son... she has a new husband to celebrate her in that regard and that’s fine. I still love my son “Aaron” and... “Rebecca” has still taught him some good things despite all of the conflict you’ve already heard about in my previous content, and I believe that my son will still learn some great things from her in the future.

Ok so moving on from that, I want to first say thanks to my mom for all of the crazy things she put up with as I was growing up and even during much of my 20′s, since I still had to be around her a lot for work even when I wasn’t living with her anymore. 

Even though my mom and I have certainly had our rough patches, my relationship with her is WAY better than my relationship with my dad. With my Autistic brother requiring most of her attention growing up, and my dad not around or doing stuff with me that often, I spent most of my childhood alone. I mean yeah, my mom fed me and took care of my basic needs, but I spent most of my day playing or researching stuff on my own, or day dreaming... lots of day dreaming and philosophizing, even as a little kid.

You see, my mom feels kind of bad that she couldn’t spend more time with me as a kid, and while I understand it, it shaped me in a way that has helped me a great deal in my life as an adult. All of that time spent alone helped me become the intrepid researcher, scientist and philosopher that I am today. Because of that upbringing, I don’t mind being alone most of the time, and aside from my current desire for a wife (a good one this time around), I don’t have much NEED for friends, though I don’t mind socializing with others as long as they aren’t @$$holes and the socialization isn’t impeding on some big important project that I want to get done for my business or personal development.

So thanks mom, for loving me and supporting me through all of the awkward stages of my teens and early twenties as I figured out what I wanted to do and become in life. {*I’m writing this in her honor, but I sure as heck would never let her read this, or my blog as a whole that is at least, because I DEFINITELY don’t want her seeing some of the other things I’ve written about... they’re just not things that parent’s and their children want to hear or know about each other.*}

Ok so now, I’m going to get into something a little bit more abstract, regarding the mothering instinct and heart.

This is going to get a little spiritual here.

In Christianity, God is referred to as Heavenly Father, and if you believe the Bible is true, then you know that God Himself spoke that to people, told them that He was a He... however, God made human kind in God’s likeness... both the male and the female. So, in reality, while God may assume the form of a man/father, God also contains the feminine nature and mother-heart. God has an equal amount of masculine and feminine qualities inside of Him, in His heart and soul and mind. 

Interestingly enough, though I’ve often times considered what I’m about to say next as a curse, I noticed something interesting about myself when I thought about this concept of God’s dual masculinity and femininity. So... I am a man who has a good amount of masculine nature inwardly and outwardly, but I also have... maybe a little bit more of a feminine nature within my heart than most men do. I’m not effeminate, as like a gay man would be, but I think I have an interesting blend of masculine and feminine traits that makes me much more like God and Jesus than I once thought.

You see, Astrologically speaking, I am an Aries/Pisces cusp... I’m a mix of the two signs based upon when I was born. Aries is the MOST Alpha (Type A) of all the signs, and Pisces is the MOST Beta (or Type B) of all the signs. Aries is the most Masculine in terms of personality and behavior, and Pisces is the most Feminine in terms of personality and behavior. I would say that if I had to really break it down, I’m 65% masculine and 35% feminine overall, in regards to my personality, world view and lifestyle.

When it comes to tackling tasks that need to get done, or trying to fix some urgent problem that could wreak havoc on me or my family if it isn’t resolved soon, I’m 100% Aries mode, I’m like a bulldozer with nitrous tanks and a turbo! I’m attacking that problem with everything I’ve got and people better stay the heck out of my way and not hinder me unnecessarily. 

When it comes to socialization, I either have nothing to say or I’m almost too chatty. I never know which one is going to come out of me when I’m in a given situation. I guess I’m more feminine when it comes to having conversations with people.

When it comes to romance, I start off VERY Pisces-like (feminine), very slow and gentle and wanting to rub, cuddle, nuzzle and slow kisses, etc. Then, once that has started, I start turning more and more Aries-like again (masculine), increasing in intensity regarding the forcefulness of my touching, kissing, and expressing my burning flame through my voice and words. This is where I need a girlfriend/fiancé/wife who’s OK with being told blatantly X-Rated things that I want to do to her OR for her, once we’ve reached the point in our relationship where we’ve had the talk and know each other’s “Yes and No” list. If she can’t handle and enjoy dirty talk during the right times, she’s not the one for me. I need a woman who will let me fully express my sexual energy to her through words, and who will do the same to me. 

Once it gets to sex (which is only within marriage according to the principles I practice), I will naturally repeat the cycle of Pisces-like first, and Aries-like a few minutes in, and I’ll alternate back and forth throughout the time together unless she asks specifically for one or the other primarily. It really though, boils down to “Vanilla” days and “Not-Very-Vanilla” days, regarding my desires and expressions of them within a marriage.  

When it comes to managing a house hold, parenting, finances, etc, I’m very masculine. While I care about people’s feelings, they don’t come before the structure, cleanliness and integrity of our house, car, bank account, etc. I will NOT let my kid make huge messes, or I will ONLY let him make messes in designated places. I don’t mind saying NO to something that my kid would find fun if it can’t be done without damaging something in my house/car or wracking up a bunch of debt for something that’s not a necessity.

Finally, when it comes to movies, TV shows and books, I kind of rapidly cycle between Masculine and Feminine. Basically, anything in a story, show or movie that typically makes most women cry, it will make me cry too. I can’t help it. I really can't! Sometimes I’ve even gotten more teary eyed and emotional over something than my mom or one of my exes did. While that might be kind of embarrassing in one way, it shows what a genuinely caring and empathetic person I am. If I see something on TV about a little girl in a hospital bed and they bring in a therapy dog for her to pet and she get’s all excited and emotional about it, I’ll usually get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. 

Same thing applies to tragic stuff in movies and shows. When there’s a 100 car pile up in the middle of a blizzard and people are trapped and freezing and rescuers have to go around and help people... that makes me tear up. When someones’ loved one is dying in a hospital bed... it makes me cry. I REALLY took it hard when I read 50 Shades of Grey and got to the end of the first book in the series and Christian Grey whipped Anastasia with a belt really hard over and over and she got so upset and cried and ran away and said to the effect of “WTF is wrong with you?! How can you enjoy doing something like this to a woman?!” I know that in the next story, Christian eventually learned his lesson and felt sorry and changed and became a better person, but my goodness... I understand LIGHT bondage/���Soft-Dom” and I’ve kinda grown into my interest in that (both to give and receive it in my next marriage if she’s willing), but I just can’t understand people who get pleasure out of INTENTIONALLY trying to inflict pain on other people. I guess I thought about it from the perspective of what I would or would never do to a woman who I loved. Arguments and hurt feelings are inevitable but physical harm... I could NEVER do.  

What’s so interesting about my Masculine/Feminine balance is, if you read the descriptions for Aries signs and Pisces signs, I’m like a 95% accurate match to BOTH of them, even though they are pretty opposing. This strange combination probably played a large part in what made me into a “Sigma Male”.

You’ve heard of “Alpha Males” and “Beta Males”, “Alpha Females” and “Beta Females”, but a SIGMA is one who has a unique balance of both Alpha and Beta characteristics, but this doesn’t make them “average”... it makes them incredibly special and unique. Most people are only either Alpha OR Beta (though there are some other types that are less common, like Omegas who just sit around all day goofing off and have no ambition or drive for anything except video games, internet and junk food.)

But anyway, SIGMA men and women are like lone wolves, they have some big grand mission in life that they want to accomplish, and they care little for the rules of Social Hierarchy. They can be friends with pretty much any clique but are rarely close to anyone except a romantic partner. They find socialization a waste of time many times, and prefer to spend most of their time doing something productive or pleasurable. Sigmas are the Christian Grey’s of the real world, in the sense that they prefer to be rich, mostly isolated people who are ABLE to socialize and be a people person but like to do so only when it fits their schedule. Minus the abuse part, I saw A LOT of similarities between Christian Grey and myself when it comes to how I would structure and manage my life if I had a lot of money. I’d be just like him, just with Christian moral values and no sadomasochism. If you look at all the other personality traits and world views, etc that he has, it’s probably 75-80% similarity to my thoughts and feelings and interests and world views.

While I couldn’t find any lists of famous people who are Sigmas, I did find some  links to webpages that explain Sigma’s in more detail. Even if it says it applies to Males, the characteristics pretty well cross over to women too, and I know because I used to date a Sigma girl, and she was the best girlfriend I ever had, even though we eventually broke up. 

Here are the links:

https://herway.net/life/11-traits-define-sigma-male/

https://hackspirit.com/sigma-male-11-things-they-do-and-how-you-can-become-one-too/

https://www.zoosk.com/date-mix/dating-advice/sigma-male/

https://www.aconsciousrethink.com/9304/sigma-males/

SO... in closing...

What does all this Sigma stuff have to do with Mother’s Day and mothering nature? Well... I believe that Sigma men (straight ones that is) have a particularly high amount of “mothering instinct” without being effeminate or seeming devoid of masculinity. I believe that Sigma men and women both exhibit the most “God-like” or “Christ-like” nature just how they naturally are. I believe that it’s probably fair to say that GOD is probably a Sigma... if He had to be classified as having one specific personality type. God is the epitome of Masculinity AND Femininity (in all of their good ways), and I think that Sigma men and women are also like that... the best balance of Masculine and Feminine in one being. 

Come to think of it, my mom seems an awful lot like a Sigma to me, now that I think about it... and while my dad is a little bit more “Beta”, he also has a good bit of “Alpha” traits too, so when I consider what both my mom and dad are like, maybe that’s where I got my Sigma traits from... but more so from my mom... I’m sure. 

My dad for the most part taught me what I did NOT want to do or be like, and my mom for the most part taught me what I DID want to be like. Come to think of it, now looking back I think that my mom’s dad (who recently passed) seemed a lot like a Sigma male too. Maybe that’s where my mom got her’s from. My grandpa on my mom’s side taught her how to be a good hearted person and how to not take advantage of people or be greedy. He taught her how to be financially responsible and care for those in need who can’t help themselves. While some of my mom’s siblings may have not adopted all of those good life lessons and characteristics, thank God that my mom did.

While I may not have much good to say about my Dad or most of the people on his side of the family, I am sure thankful to have had all of the good lessons, teachings, foundation and love that came from my mom’s side of the family, which my mom passed on to me and lavished upon me, even when nobody else had my back. 

:) <3

Until next time, take care and God Bless!

“Luke Davidson” - Author of The Taboo Christian book and blog 

[vidkid20ssimblrlair]

Episode 15: The Dinner (Part 2)

My mouth suddenly felt dry and I felt like every eye in the room was on me. I didn't know what to say. Tell them I stole cars for a living? Tell them I was a professional thief and convict? Lie? Shit."

"I'll go," piped Audrey raising her hand. She glanced over at me and winked. "Lady's first."

"Well if that's ok with Vince," Jones said sitting back in his chair.

"Yes. It's... it's fine," I said finding my voice. I smiled feeling relieved and grateful, but I knew it would come back around to me. She had only brought me more time.

"Well, I guess you can say I was nobody," she sighed she slouching in her chair now. "I stayed at home and mostly play videogames all day. Had a few minimum jobs, but they all ended up with me either quitting or getting fired. I wasn't exactly responsible. Actually, the last time I saw my dad we were arguing about my future. Funny, how that panned out. Now we don't even know if we have a future."

"We have one," DJ said winking. "You just got to have hope."

I snorted and Madison hit me in the arm giving me a disapproving look. She then turned her attention back to Audrey. "So do know what happened to your dad? Did he..?"

"He's out there. Somewhere. The morning this all happened I was at a friend's house. He...he wasn't anywhere to be found when I got home."

"How about your mom?"

Audrey furrowed her brow and sighed. "My mother's been gone for a while now. Way before this. Cancer took her."

"Aw, I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine," she said sorrowfully. She then forced a small smile. "Well, how about you, Grace? Omar?"

Grace grinned while Omar sat up at attention. He spoke for both of them. "Me and Grace. We were store owners. Owned a small corner store in our neighborhood. Was a popular little place. I still miss it."

Grace then chimed in. "Yes, we owned a store. In fact, we were watching our granddaughter when...when they came."

"Grace. Let's hear from Lin," he interrupted as his wife began to look visibly upset. "Lin."

She sat beside Omar across from Wade now. She flipped her hair and sighed. "Fine. I was a lawyer. An attorney, but my father was part owner of a big electronics firm in China. That makes me an heiress I guess. He recently died, so I own the company now. Well, what's left of it. Being a lawyer is more my thing though. I came here to America, so I can make a name for myself as one. Unfortunately, the dead don't need attorneys so I'm shit out of luck now. Be lucky to survive nowadays."

"My turn!" Tao exclaimed.

"Lin scoffed. "And what the hell have you ever done shit for brains?"

"I did plenty of things."

"Like what? Get in trouble for defacing property with graffiti? Petty theft and pickpocketing?"

"I can think of plenty of stuff!"

"Yeah, right. Why your sorry ass got stuck living with me," she growled leaving her brother brooding in his seat.

"Guess it's my turn," DJ said gleefully. "Listen here. I was an inspiring rapper and music producer. I got the skills man."

"Yeah, he can totally freestyle," Tao praised. “Wait. Wait. I can totally beatbox for you.”

"Yeah, you want to hear?"

Jones scoffed. "Spare us."

"But anyway, I was going to college when everything went down. Was supposed to be staying here for spring break and the summer. My dad and my mom went on some cruise to the Caribbeans, but never came back," he said suddenly looking sad.

"I doubt that this epidemic has reached that far. They're ok I'm sure," Matthew assured him getting approving nods from everyone.

DJ then seemed to regain his composure. He slouched back in his seat smiling and cut his eye at Wade. "How about you Wade, my man?"

"I was a truck driver. Delivering store goods all across America. It was just me, my rig, and the road. I was happy, but then everyone and everything went to shit. Was hightailing it to the Pentagon when I came across a little lady, named Lin. I saved her life," he said winking.

"As much I hate to admit that, yes you did," she said rolling her eyes.

"I saw her on the side of the road fighting and struggling with about three deadites. She was kicking and running all in high heels. Couldn't leave the poor little thing to die, so I stop my rig, grabbed my handy wrench and went to work on those things. Then I grabbed Ms. Lin here and put her on my rig. That's when we decided to go find her brother and her dad at the rescue center or sanctuary. Where we all met."

Lin smirked. "You just love telling that story don't you?"

"Yep. I do," he said winking again.

"Nathan. Nathan. Your turn", Matthew said as his brother remained silent as the table now focused on him now. He placed his hand on his shoulder affectionately. "Come on."

He sighed. "Fine. I was an orderly. I worked at a nursing home giving out pills and checking on the elderly. So I'm familiar with death. When some of the patients began coming down with some strange virus, I didn't bat an eye. I was probably too busy goofing off and seeing if I can make a profit off their meds. But some started bleeding from the nose and eyes. Some started acting crazy. I look back now and it makes sense now, but I was too stupid to see. Too childish. If I knew maybe our sister, Rachel could be sitting here."

Lin chuckled. "Maybe Aaron could be sitting here too."

"Lin!" Matthew snapped. He softened his tone. "Nate. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and last time I checked, you weren't psychic. If I knew I would be halfway to Tahiti by now."

The table laughed and he patted his brother on the shoulder. He then clasped his hands smiling. "Guess it's my turn. Well, I was an advertising executive. Hard to believe I know."

I chuckled. "You kidding right?"

"No."

"I doubt that. There must be something more. You? A boring ass exec? Please."

"You be surprised how much you change when you trying to survive," he said glaring at me. He softened his tone and gaze at Madison. "Anyway, that’s about it. I was visiting my parents with Nate and our sister when everything went down. We had just come from a wedding and everything was normal. I still can’t believe we’re in the situation we’re in now.’

Madison rubbed his shoulder and she pointed to herself acknowledging her turn. “So my story. Well, I was a bartender. Worked late nights at a bar with a bunch of filthy and drunk men. Not too different from the dead out there.”

We laughed and she continued. “I had planned to go back to school and become a school teacher, but that fell threw. Feeding my family became priority and my sister...my sister was going to become something. I just knew it. With the pay and the tips, I was going to help her follow her dreams and get my mom... our family away from my shithead step-dad.”

She then sighed. “That didn’t happen of course. One night doing one of my late-night shifts at the bar, everything went to hell. It was just me, three of my regulars, and the usual random biker passed out in the corner. Things started off quiet. Was expecting a pretty easy night actually, but then two guys came in screaming something about zombies and some nonsense. Young hipster-looking guys. I thought they were drunk already. I thought it was some sort of joke, but I looked closer and saw they were bloody. One of them was hurting pretty bad even. I told them to sit down and offered them something stiff. Then I heard a lot of commotion outside and I got scared. I locked the doors and turned the tv to the news. The newscaster seemed to be saying the same thing about some crazed bloodthirsty monsters, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Didn’t take long for me to find out though. If only I knew that I had locked me and the boys in with one of those monsters. That night. Pure hell.”

“Holy shit! I want to hear more!” Audrey squealed.

“No. It’s Vince turn,” Jones said plainly.

“Nah. I wouldn’t mind hearing more of that, myself,” I said quickly.

Matthew then shot me a look with a devilish grin. “No. There be plenty of time for that one. I want to hear Vince’s story. Go on Vince.”

Part 1

All Episodes

Next episode is part 3 and it shouldn’t be as time-consuming as this one, so it should be up faster. It’s the conclusion and it only has one flashback (that's if I don't include Vince's), so it’s easier for me to do. Plus it's shorter.

Hope you like this one tho. I build all the in-game sets you see myself. Even made my first working child pose and quite a few customs poses for this one. So yeah it was a lot of work!!!

[amandaj718]

Emmerdale Live and Organized - December 8, 2017

Welcome to the preshow! Well, I’m sure fandom is freaking out. People are upset. So, I’m here to be positive. Let me start by saying that I freaked out. I got upset. I said things that only certain people will hear. Your feelings are valid. Don’t think because I’m all ‘rah rah’ that I think people that are upset are wrong. Not at all. Everyone can feel how they feel about a television show. There is no right or wrong way to feel. Anyway, here is some positivity for you.

This is needed. Robert needs to get into a new frame of mind. He needs to grow stronger on his own and for his son. He needs to love and respect himself before he even considers loving and respecting someone else. As for Aaron, he needs to be with someone else. Yes, it hurts to hear and see, but it needs to happen. Aaron needs to be with someone and figure out for himself how he feels. How being with a different type of person (different temperament and different background) feels. He might find out more about himself (how he is stronger than he appears) and find out what his heart really wants.

The Whites are officially on a countdown. So is the doctor. I will be mocking them until their bitter ends, so you don’t have to worry about that. I still love Robron. That isn’t going to change. I may be frustrated and say things that upset people, its just me being human.

So, everyone. Shall we join forces to get through his final push? I think we should!

SO…lets crack on.

I wish I could write some adverts for the beginning of Emmerdale. I have so many ideas that would be funny to see play out on screen. Oh well.

I want my life to be like that one Chanel commercial where its all romance, Paris, and dramatics. I want. I need adventure and crazy in my life that isn’t self-destructive or hurts others.

The Bartons

Awww. Pete is doing what I want to do every time I think about my future and read the news! *SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS*

Harriet still has guilt over the Emma stuff. Interesting. I want this to stick around because I want Harriet to question her faith. That is good television.

OH GOD. Pete is down. The PETE IS DOWN. *Takes a Whiskey Drink. Takes a sour drink. Takes a lager drink. Takes a cider drink*

OH LOOK WHO IS BACK. Where the fuck have you been Ross?!?!

Did you leave your beard behind?

“I will not be responsible for your death as well.” – Ross *BIG EYES*

Oh. The Barton Brothers. Useless.

HERE WE GO. WHO KILLED EMMA WEEK HAS BEEN SET UP. *LETS DO THIS PEOPLE* *SPOIL ME AND I WILL BREAK YOUR LEGS*

Beauty shot of Adam. *HA*

Vadam/Harriet

Harriet is acting…weird. Very weird.

Can't talk ill of the dead. I mean, I don’t know when that started but yeah.

Adam: The Charm of Emmerdale. *sips tea*

Eric/David

Anytime I see David I think…BOYBAND. That hair man. Frosted tips. *Snort* He is still very good looking. *Hey David…What up?* *Gives a Danny Miller style wink*

Oh, Eric. Seeing Eric in love and heartbroken. It gets to my cold cold tiny heart.

Eric and Robert should hang out. GIVE ROBERT SUGDEN FRIENDS 2018.

The Café Crew

I love Faith's hair today. It's so retro and cute. Me love.

A nice scene with Faith and Chas. I’ve been waiting for more scenes between the mother and daughter.

BOB! I LOVE ME SOME BOB.

Vadam doesn’t have a house to have this interview in. Let’s point and laugh at them *POINT AND LAUGH*

The adoption stuff is confusing to me. We know Adam is leaving. Victoria won’t have a kid alone.

My dad’s birthday is this weekend. We never give him parties. He wants to go shopping for new pants and have a steak. *HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!*

Moira’s Farm

ISAAC! This kid is beyond cute.

Harriet. It’s ok. Back off Moira right now.

Harriet seems to be on tour right now. She isn’t doing so well.

OH. OOOOHHH….COIRA MOMENT. Kind of. Let me have this.

Bob at Moira’s? IM LOVING THE BOB CONTENT. I LOVE ME BOB CONTENT. BOB! *Chants*

BOB. Oh. Moira isn’t doing better. Oh, Moira. Honey. You need professional help. There is no shame in asking for help.

“I never appreciate what I got till its too late.” – Bob

Maybe she needed a 3rd party to talk to that is why Bob is working out better.

This is what I love about Emmerdale. Those quiet moments among the chaos. This is why I get confused when people say all of Emmerdale is crap. It's not. You can’t live for one couple. I love other characters and couples on the show so while Robron get their crap together I have Lydia. I have BOB! I have Faith. I love Coira and Sam/Lydia.

Bob and Moira crying and pouring their hearts out about their children. *WARMS MY HEART*

The show is using history! That’s good. *claps for the show*

“Got to forgive yourself.” – Bob “I can’t.” – Moira

This was a good start, but someone needs to get her some help! NOW.

David’s Grocery

Pete is on a world alcohol tour. *SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS*

Tracy is promoting Star Wars I see. WHY IS EVERYONE's HAIR SO AWESOME IN THIS VILLAGE. *cries to myself*

I know Leyla has to leave because of her ‘maternity leave, ’ but this makes me sad. I love Leyla.

I think Tracy and David have a clock on their relationship and its counting down.

The Pub Crew

Rhona doesn’t need a man. She needs to get herself on track and be awesome. Rhona and Vanessa: Best Friends AHOY!

I don’t find Paddy/Chas interesting. When will this end? When will this pairing die off?

Oh. At least Belle is safe.

‘It’s Just Speculation!’

On the fifth day of hell week, my Happy Robron Place gave to me...

As per usual: Stay off the message boards, respect each other’s opinions, breathe, reboot and eat a Snickers. If you want to talk theory or the show come on over to my twitter and Tumblr @AmandaJ718

Until next time, see you around in Emmerdale! 

[uniquequotesonlife]

rhondastephens To Catch A Falling Cactus

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Parenting: Are We Getting a Raw Deal?

Summer 1974. I’m 9 years old. By 7:30 am, I’m up and out of the house, or if it’s Saturday I’m up and doing exactly what my father, Big Jerry, has told me to do. Might be raking, mowing, digging holes, or washing cars. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Summer 2016. I’m tiptoeing out of the house, on my way to work, in an effort not to wake my children who will undoubtedly sleep until 11 am. They may complete a couple of the chores I’ve left in a list on the kitchen counter for them, or they may eat stale Cheez-its that were left in their rooms 3 days ago, in order to avoid the kitchen at all costs and “not see” the list. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); If you haven’t noticed, we’re getting a raw deal where this parenting gig is concerned. When did adults start caring whether or not their kids were safe, happy, or popular? I can assure you that Ginny and Big Jerry were not whiling away the hours wondering if my brother and I were fulfilled. Big Jerry was stoking the fires of his retirement savings and working, and working some more. Ginny was double bolting the door in order to keep us out of the house, and talking on the phone while she smoked a Kent. Meanwhile, we were three neighborhoods away, playing with some kids we’d never met, and we had crossed 2 major highways on bicycles with semi-flat tires to get there. Odds are, one of us had crashed at some point and was bleeding pretty impressively. No one cared. We were kids and if we weren’t acting as free labor, we were supposed to be out of the house and out of the way. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); My personal belief is that the same “woman with too little to do”, that decided it was necessary to give 4- year old guests a gift for coming to a birthday party, is the same loon who decided we were here to serve our kids and not the other way around. Think about it. As a kid, what was your costume for Halloween? If you were really lucky, your mom jabbed a pair of scissors in an old sheet, cut two eye holes, and you were a ghost. If her friend was coming over to frost her hair and showed up early, you got one eye hole cut and spent the next 45 minutes using a sharp stick to jab a second hole that was about two inches lower than its partner. I watched my cousin run directly into a parked car due to this very costume one year. He was still yelling, “Trick or Treat” as he slid down the rear quarter panel of a Buick, mildly concussed. When my son was 3 years old, we had a clown costume made by a seamstress, complete with pointy clown hat, and grease makeup. His grandmother spent more having that costume made than she did on my prom dress. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); At some point in the last 25 years, the tide shifted and the parents started getting the marginal cars and the cheap clothes while the kids live like rock stars. We spend enormous amounts of money on private instruction, the best sports gear money can buy, and adhere to psycho competition schedules. I’m as guilty as anyone. I’ve bought the $300 baseball bats with money that should have been invested in a retirement account, traveled from many an AAU basketball game, or travel baseball game, to a dance competition in the course of one day, and failed to even consider why. Remember Hank Aaron? He didn’t need a $300 bat to be great. Your kid isn’t going pro and neither is mine, but you are going to retire one day and dumpster diving isn’t for the elderly. My brother and I still laugh about how, when he played high school baseball, there was one good bat and the entire team used it. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Remember your clothes in the 70’s? Despite my best efforts to block it out, I can still remember my desperate need to have a pair of authentic Converse shoes. Did I get them? Negative. Oh, was it a punch in the gut when my mother presented me with the Archdale knock-offs she found somewhere between my hometown and Greensboro. Trust me. They weren’t even close. Did I complain? Hell, no. I’m still alive, aren’t I? We’ve got an entire generation of kids spitting up on outfits that cost more than my monthly electric bill. There were no designer baby clothes when we were kids. Why? Because our parents weren’t crazy enough to spend $60 on an outfit for us to have explosive diarrhea in or vomit on. Our parents were focused on saving for their retirement and paying their house off. The real beauty of it is that none of these kids are going to score a job straight out of college that will allow them to pay for the necessities of life, brand new cars, and $150 jeans, so guess who’s going to be getting the phone call when they can’t make rent? Yep, we are. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Think back; way, way back. Who cleaned the house and did the yard work when you were a kid? You did. In fact, that’s why some people had children. We were free labor. My mother served as supervisor for the indoor chores, and the house damn well better be spotless when my father came through the door at 5:35. The battle cry went something like this, “Oh, no! Your father will be home in 15 minutes! Get those toys put away nooooow!” The rest of our evening was spent getting up to turn the television on demand, and only to what Dad wanted to watch. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); On weekends Dad was in charge of outdoor work and if you were thirsty you drank out of the hose, because 2 minutes of air conditioning and a glass of water from the faucet might make you soft. Who does the housework and yardwork now? The cleaning lady that comes on Thursday, and the landscaping crew that comes every other Tuesday. Most teenage boys have never touched a mower, and if you asked my daughter to clean a toilet, she would come back with a four page paper on the various kinds of deadly bacteria present on toilet seats. Everyone is too busy doing stuff to take care of the stuff they already have. But don’t get confused, they aren’t working or anything crazy like that. Juggling school assignments, extracurricular activities, and spending our money could become stressful if they had to work. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); I don’t recall anyone being worried about my workload being stressful, or my mental health in general. Jerry and Ginny had grownup stuff to worry about. As teenagers, we managed our own social lives and school affairs. If Karen, while executing a hair flip, told me my new Rave perm made me look like shit and there was no way Kevin would ever go out with my scrawny ass, my mother wasn’t even going to know about it; much less call Karen’s mother and arrange a meeting where we could iron out our misunderstanding and take a selfie together. Additionally, no phone calls were ever made to any of my teachers or coaches. Ever. If we sat the bench, we sat the bench. Our dads were at work anyway. They only knew what we told them. I can’t even conceive of my dad leaving work to come watch a ballgame. If I made a 92.999 and got a B, I got a B. No thinly veiled threats were made and no money changed hands to get me that A. Ok, full disclosure, in my case we would be looking at an 84.9999. I was the poster child for underachievement. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Back in our day, high school was a testing ground for life. We were learning to be adults under the semi-vigilant supervision of our parents. We had jobs because we wanted cars, and we wanted to be able to put gas in our cars, and wear Jordache jeans and Candies. Without jobs, we had Archdale sneakers and Wranglers, and borrowed our mother’s Chevrolet Caprice, affectionately known as the “land yacht”, on Friday night. No one, I mean, no one, got a new car. I was considered fairly lucky because my parents bought me a car at all. I use the term “car” loosely. If I tell you it was a red convertible and stop right here, you might think me special. I wasn’t. My car was a red MG Midget, possibly a ’74 and certainly a death trap. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Look at your coffee table. Now imagine it having a steering wheel and driving it. I promise you, it’s bigger than my car was. The starter was bad, so after school I had the pleasure of popping the hood and using two screwdrivers to cross the solenoids or waiting for the football players to come out of the dressing room headed to practice. Those guys pushing my car while I popped the clutch, is a memory no 16-year old girl around here will ever have, and it’s a great one. Had I driven that car in high winds, it’s likely I would have ended up airborne, and there were probably some serious safety infractions committed the night I took 6 people in togas to a convenience store, but I wouldn’t go back and trade it out for a new 280Z, even if I had the chance. I was a challenging teenager, and in retrospect the fact that it was pretty impressive every time I made it home alive, may not have been an accident on the part of my parents. Go to the high school now. These kids are driving cars that grown men working 55 hours a week can’t afford, and they aren’t paying for them with their jobs. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); And those new cars don’t do a thing for telling a good story. I tell my kids all the time, the very best stories from my teen and college years involve Ann’s yellow Plymouth Duster with the “swirling dust” graphic, Randy’s Valiant with the broken gas gauge, and Carla’s burgundy Nissan that may or may not have had a complete floorboard. A story that starts, “Remember that time we were heading to the beach in Carla’s Nissan and your wallet fell through the floorboard onto the highway?” is so much more interesting than, “Remember that time we were going to the beach in your brand new SUV, filled up with gas that your parents paid for, and the…well, no, never mind. Nothing happened. We just drove down there.” To top it all off, most of them head off to college without a clue what it’s like to look for a job, apply for it, interview, and show up on time, as scheduled. If they have a job, it’s because someone owed their dad a favor…and then they work when it “fits their schedule”. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); We all love our kids, and we want to see them happy and fulfilled, but I fear we’re robbing them of the experiences that make life memorable and make them capable, responsible, confident adults. For the majority of us, the very nice things we had as teenagers, we purchased with money we earned after saving for some ungodly amount of time. Our children are given most everything, and sometimes I wonder whether it’s for them or to make us feel like good parents. The bottom line is that you never value something you were given, as much as something you worked for. There were lessons in our experiences, even though we didn’t know it at the time. All those high school cat fights, and battles with teachers we clashed with, were an opportunity for us to learn how to negotiate and how to compromise. It also taught us that the world isn’t fair. Sometimes people just don’t like you, and sometimes you’ll work your ass off and still get screwed. We left high school, problem solvers. I’m afraid our kids are leaving high school with mommy and daddy on speed dial. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); We just don’t have the cojones our parents had. We aren’t prepared to tell our kids that they won’t have it if they don’t work for it, because we can’t bear to see them go without and we can’t bear to see them fail. We’ve given them a whole lot of stuff; stuff that will break down, wear out, get lost, go out of style, and lose value. As parents, I suppose some of us feel pretty proud about how we’ve contributed in a material way to our kid’s popularity and paved an easy street for them. I don’t, and I know there are many of you that are just as frustrated by it as I am. I worry about what we’ve robbed them of, which I’ve listed below, in the process of giving them everything. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Delayed gratification is a really good thing. It teaches you perseverance and how to determine the true value of something. Our kids don’t know a damn thing about delayed gratification. To them, delayed gratification is waiting for their phone to charge.Problem-solving skills and the ability to manage emotion are crucial life skills. Kids now have every problem solved for them. Good luck calling their college professor to argue about how they should have another shot at that final because they had two other finals to study for and were stressed. Don’t laugh, parents have tried it.Independence allows you to discover who you really are, instead of being what someone else expects you to be. It was something I craved. These kids have traded independence for new cars and Citizen jeans. They will live under someone’s thumb forever, if it means cool stuff. I would have lived in borderline condemned housing, and survived off of crackers and popsicles to maintain my independence. Oh wait, I actually did that. It pisses me off. You’re supposed to WANT to grow up and forge your way in the world; not live on someone else’s dime, under someone else’s rule, and too often these days, under someone else’s roof.Common sense is that little something extra that allows you to figure out which direction is north, how to put air in your tires, or the best route to take at a certain time of day to avoid traffic. You develop common sense by making mistakes and learning from them. It’s a skill best acquired in a setting where it’s safe to fail, and is only mastered by actually doing things for yourself. By micromanaging our kids all the time, we’re setting them up for a lifetime of cluelessness and ineptitude. At a certain age, that cluelessness becomes dangerous. I’ve seen women marry to avoid thinking for themselves, and for some it was the wisest course of action.Mental toughness is what allows a person to keep going despite everything going wrong. People with mental toughness are the ones who come out on top. They battle through job losses, difficult relationships, illness, and failure. It is a quality born from adversity. Adversity is a GOOD thing. It teaches you what you’re made of. It puts into practice the old saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. It’s life’s teacher. Our bubble-wrapped kids are so sheltered from adversity, I wonder how the mental health professionals will handle them all after the world chews them up and spits them out a few times. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); I know you are calling me names right now, and mentally listing all the reasons this doesn’t apply to you and your kid, but remember I’m including myself in this. My kids aren’t as bad as some, because I’m too poor and too lazy to indulge them beyond a certain point. And I’m certainly not saying that our parents did everything right. God knows all that second hand smoke I was exposed to, and those Sunday afternoon drives where Dad was drinking a Schlitz and I was standing on the front seat like a human projectile, were less than ideal; but I do think parents in the 70’s defined their roles in a way we never have.I worry that our kids are leaving home with more intellectual ability than we did, but without the life skills that will give them the success and independence that we’ve enjoyed. Then again, maybe it’s not parents that are getting the raw end of this deal after all. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJQP7kiw5Fk Watch: most watched video on youtube source Read the full article

[dipulb3]

As a nation cries for justice, the siblings of Atatiana Jefferson ask she not be forgotten

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/as-a-nation-cries-for-justice-the-siblings-of-atatiana-jefferson-ask-she-not-be-forgotten/

As a nation cries for justice, the siblings of Atatiana Jefferson ask she not be forgotten

As Americans face a reckoning over the deaths of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and others, Jefferson’s three siblings sat down for a video conference with Appradab. They want to remind America that amid its demands for justice in police killings, protesters should not forget their sister.

“This literally was one of those situations where this could’ve been anybody,” Ashley Carr, 36, said.

‘We’re literally just doing normal, everyday things’

On October 12, Jefferson was babysitting Zion for Amber, who was recovering from heart surgery. She’d been released from rehabilitation two days prior. Jefferson was a caretaker. She adored family time, whether it was holidays or a game of spades.

Zion and his aunt were playing video games around 2 a.m. when two Fort Worth police officers arrived, responding to a concerned neighbor’s call about doors being open at Jefferson’s home.

Jefferson, 28, heard something outside and grabbed her gun. Officer Aaron Dean did not identify himself as police. He demanded, through the window, that Jefferson show her hands before opening fire, killing her, bodycam footage shows.

“That is a blessing that I think that we have for ours is that we have a video because how would that narrative have went?” asked Ashley Carr. “What we have noticed, even with the Ahmaud Arbery case, is that that narrative is not how the video went. … If the cameras weren’t there, all of a sudden it could’ve been, ‘It was a shootout and blah blah blah,’ and we would’ve had to take their word.”

The family has struggled watching videos of recent police killings.

“Revictimization: I didn’t think how serious it was until I really started watching other people get killed,” brother Adarius Carr, the father of a 7-month-old, said. “I definitely feel the passion, the hurt, the anger rebubble up — the need to do something, the need to fix our community, the need to figure out what can I do to make this world better for my son and for kids Zion’s age. … It happens every time that I watch it, so that’s why I said sometimes I just don’t watch it. You can’t.”

Ashley Carr never finished watching the Floyd video, in which a Minneapolis police officer knelt on his neck for almost eight minutes. “Longest video of my life,” she said. She’s familiar with other killings, and it makes her question the rules. At least during Jim Crow, she said, it was clearer what Black people could and couldn’t do. Now, it feels nebulous, she said.

“I can’t sit in my house and play video games. I can’t go out and run for a jog. I fell asleep at Wendy’s in my car, and now I’m losing my life. These are crazy things. I can’t walk from the store — Elijah McClain — and I’m telling you, he’s literally telling you he’s an introvert,” she said. “We’re literally just doing normal, everyday things and you can still be killed. That’s a crazy place to live in. That’s a scary place to live in, but that’s the reality of a Black person.”

Amber Carr did finish the Floyd video. Upon seeing the 46-year-old plead for his mama, she thought of her sister.

“I wouldn’t say I felt her or I saw her, but it made me wonder,” she paused for several seconds, tears welling in her eyes. “What were her last words? To hear them say their last words, did she cry out for her mom? Did she cry out for someone?”

‘He wasn’t even safe in the home’

Adarius Carr is already planning to have “the talk” — the Black boys’ rite where parents explain they will be treated differently for their skin — with his infant son, Thaddeus. He doesn’t know how the chat will go, but he’s locked down the theme.

“The best I can tell him is: Make it home to me,” he said. “Just make it home, son, as fast as you can. Whatever you have to do, make it home.”

It’s a sad reality Black children’s parents must prepare for these conversations before their children have reached maturity, said Amber Carr, who also has a 4-year-old, Zayden.

Zion is smart. He knows what’s happening. He knows why he’s attending protests and rallies, but he doesn’t understand the big picture, she said. He’s too young.

“The bigger picture is I don’t want you go outside and play because they don’t like you out there. I want you in the house because I can watch you. I feel like you’re safer in the house, but then I can’t even say that,” she said. “He wasn’t even safe in the home.”

At the same time, Zion witnessed and lived through something to which none of his relatives can relate. Zion will occasionally remember a game he played or a trip he took with Aunt Tay and start talking, but his mother doesn’t press him, she said.

“He actually lived the experience. We as his elders, we didn’t experience anything like he’s just experienced. I’ve only watched things like that on television,” she said. “I don’t ask him questions. I don’t know if I don’t ask him questions for him or me. Probably for the both of us.”

Life as a coping mechanism

Adarius, Amber and Ashley — whose mother had dubbed them the A-Team before her passing earlier this year — try mightily to live normal lives, despite the pall of their sister’s killing hanging over them.

Yolanda Carr, their matriarch, was ill when tragedy struck in October. Jefferson had moved home to Fort Worth to help care for her. Yolanda learned of Jefferson’s death in the hospital. She was too sick to attend the funeral and sent a eulogy for the pastor to read. Less than three months later, she passed.

“Being in the hospital and not being able to be herself and not being able to fight, that’s crazy,” Ashley Carr said. “It’s a lot of emotions that come back up, but through all of these emotions, we all have to still get up and go do jobs. We have to make sure that our kids are ready, that the household is still running — all while having this on our back. It becomes a lot.”

Amber Carr hears praise about how well she’s handling the loss, but there’s no magic to it, she said. She has no choice but to persevere.

“People ask all the time, ‘How do you do it? How do you smile through it all?’ It’s life, you know? You have to keep living,” she said. “I have my moments where I might not sleep for days or I might be in the car and I just start crying. You just have your moments.”

Like anyone, there are times when the siblings want to block out the world and forget their woes, but it isn’t realistic. They must fight for justice. They must keep their sister’s name alive, to ensure people understand she lived for something and died for nothing.

“Some days, you do want to just crawl up under a rock and pray that this all goes away. You think you’re living in a nightmare, but this is life. This is our new normal, as they call it. We’re trying to embrace this new life,” Ashley Carr said.

The Atatiana Project and Sisters of the Movement

Adarius Carr wishes he could do more. He left home about 12 years ago and now serves as a boatswain’s mate in the US Navy. Military obligations prevent him from being as involved as his sisters in activism.

One of the family initiatives of which he’s proudest is the Atatiana Project, which serves to bridge police and urban communities, and promotes STEM careers — with an emphasis on coding and gaming — for children. Jefferson, a biology graduate from Xavier University of Louisiana, worked in pharmaceutical equipment sales and wanted to become a doctor.

The Atatiana Project launched on Juneteenth.

Adarius, 32, loved playing video games with his little sister. Role-playing, fighting games — nothing was off limits. As kids, they’d play all night and be bushed when it came time to go to school, he said. The memory brings a bright smile to his face.

The last time the Navy chief petty officer came home from deployment, he and Jefferson played Warframe for four days — “all night giggling, laughing, telling jokes. She’s always a class act, always had me in stitches.”

Today, he keeps his sister’s pillow in his gaming room in San Diego, where he’s stationed. He catches himself asking her questions about the games he’s playing.

“Giving back is a big thing for us in general,” he said of the Atatiana Project. “When you’re hurting, it is sometimes better to just get people around you that understand the hurt, or you can help them with their hurt. We’ve been through a lot, and we want to see if we can help the next person.”

Amber and Ashley Carr have found solace in another initiative, Sisters of the Movement, an organization founded by women who lost siblings to police violence, including Sandra Bland‘s, Terence Crutcher‘s and Shantel Davis‘.

Another founder, Allisa Charles-Findley, the sister of Botham Jean — who, too, was killed in his own home by a Texas police officer — helped Ashley Carr navigate losing a sibling and “the different things that go on with family dynamics,” Carr said.

“We end up realizing we are part of a movement and we need to be heard and that we do matter — and that the people, they needed a voice and we want to be the voice,” Ashley Carr said. “That helped me show that I’m OK. … These are valid feelings to be feeling angry, to be feeling upset, to be feeling like, How in the world could this happen to somebody who was just literally at home?”

Amber Carr texts with Botham Jean’s mother, Allison, periodically. She’s hilarious and “a breath of fresh air,” Carr said. Taking Zion and Zayden to visit her in St. Lucia is on Amber Carr’s “vision board” for the future, she said.

“Those women, they’re relatable,” she said. “That part helps me, to know I’m not by myself.”

Waiting for justice

As the A-Team grapples with grief and justice, former Fort Worth police officer Aaron Dean awaits trial on a murder charge.

Yolanda Carr sobbed from her hospital bed upon learning Dean was indicted in December, but she died weeks later.

Dean had tendered his resignation and has been free on $200,000 bail. The state police union will help pay for his defense. Dean’s attorney, Jim Lane, declined to comment, citing the court’s gag order, but told Appradab last year, “My client is sorry and his family is in shock.”

Jefferson’s siblings don’t know much about the case. No one has given them a time line. When Amber Carr last spoke to prosecutors, she said, she was told there are other cases ahead of theirs.

“We just have to wait our turn,” she said. The Tarrant County district attorney’s spokeswoman was out of the office Tuesday and did not return Appradab’s call seeking an update.

The question the siblings keep asking, though, is: Why is this dragging out? It’s so clear-cut, so egregious in their minds, it should be open-and-shut, they say. Where’s the accountability?

Ashley Carr, a former educator, is a budget analyst for Houston schools. If she were to hurt or upset a child, there’d be questions to answer. Amber Carr is a cosmetologist. If she were accused of cutting a client or being unsanitary, Texas might pull her license. Adarius Carr is a sailor. Every time he pulls the trigger, he has to answer to someone. They feel they’re held to stiffer standards than police, they say.

“Rules of engagement is big in the military, and I don’t see how my rules of engagement are a lot stricter than theirs,” Adarius Carr said. “They defend us, so it baffles me.”

Memories buoy siblings

Until they get answers, they’ll keep championing Jefferson’s legacy. They find warmth in the memories of their beautiful, smiling sister who would do anything for them.

Ashley and Amber will remember when they flew out to San Diego to see Adarius and saw The O’Jays at the 2018 county fair. Video from the concert shows them laughing and dancing and having a ball.

Jefferson loved her tunes — all genres, from gospel to metal — and was a talented musician, earning first chair for clarinets at every school she attended, the siblings said.

Ashley Carr will always think fondly of the last show they saw together: Beyonce and Jay-Z during the 2018 On the Run II Tour — in Beyonce’s and Ashley’s hometown of Houston, no less. Jefferson had never been to a concert of that scale, her sister said, and Ashley didn’t realize Jefferson was such an enthusiastic member of the Beyhive until that day. They had such fun, Ashley looked forward to more shows with her sister.

“I was like, ‘Man, we’re doing this all the time.’ In my head, I was like, ‘This is going to be my new concert buddy,'” she said. “When I listen to Beyonce, I always think of her. I always say, ‘We had our moment.’ We did have our moment, and I’m going to cherish that moment.”

[uniquequotesonlife]

rhondastephens To Catch A Falling Cactus

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Parenting: Are We Getting a Raw Deal?

Summer 1974. I’m 9 years old. By 7:30 am, I’m up and out of the house, or if it’s Saturday I’m up and doing exactly what my father, Big Jerry, has told me to do. Might be raking, mowing, digging holes, or washing cars. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Summer 2016. I’m tiptoeing out of the house, on my way to work, in an effort not to wake my children who will undoubtedly sleep until 11 am. They may complete a couple of the chores I’ve left in a list on the kitchen counter for them, or they may eat stale Cheez-its that were left in their rooms 3 days ago, in order to avoid the kitchen at all costs and “not see” the list. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); If you haven’t noticed, we’re getting a raw deal where this parenting gig is concerned. When did adults start caring whether or not their kids were safe, happy, or popular? I can assure you that Ginny and Big Jerry were not whiling away the hours wondering if my brother and I were fulfilled. Big Jerry was stoking the fires of his retirement savings and working, and working some more. Ginny was double bolting the door in order to keep us out of the house, and talking on the phone while she smoked a Kent. Meanwhile, we were three neighborhoods away, playing with some kids we’d never met, and we had crossed 2 major highways on bicycles with semi-flat tires to get there. Odds are, one of us had crashed at some point and was bleeding pretty impressively. No one cared. We were kids and if we weren’t acting as free labor, we were supposed to be out of the house and out of the way. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); My personal belief is that the same “woman with too little to do”, that decided it was necessary to give 4- year old guests a gift for coming to a birthday party, is the same loon who decided we were here to serve our kids and not the other way around. Think about it. As a kid, what was your costume for Halloween? If you were really lucky, your mom jabbed a pair of scissors in an old sheet, cut two eye holes, and you were a ghost. If her friend was coming over to frost her hair and showed up early, you got one eye hole cut and spent the next 45 minutes using a sharp stick to jab a second hole that was about two inches lower than its partner. I watched my cousin run directly into a parked car due to this very costume one year. He was still yelling, “Trick or Treat” as he slid down the rear quarter panel of a Buick, mildly concussed. When my son was 3 years old, we had a clown costume made by a seamstress, complete with pointy clown hat, and grease makeup. His grandmother spent more having that costume made than she did on my prom dress. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); At some point in the last 25 years, the tide shifted and the parents started getting the marginal cars and the cheap clothes while the kids live like rock stars. We spend enormous amounts of money on private instruction, the best sports gear money can buy, and adhere to psycho competition schedules. I’m as guilty as anyone. I’ve bought the $300 baseball bats with money that should have been invested in a retirement account, traveled from many an AAU basketball game, or travel baseball game, to a dance competition in the course of one day, and failed to even consider why. Remember Hank Aaron? He didn’t need a $300 bat to be great. Your kid isn’t going pro and neither is mine, but you are going to retire one day and dumpster diving isn’t for the elderly. My brother and I still laugh about how, when he played high school baseball, there was one good bat and the entire team used it. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Remember your clothes in the 70’s? Despite my best efforts to block it out, I can still remember my desperate need to have a pair of authentic Converse shoes. Did I get them? Negative. Oh, was it a punch in the gut when my mother presented me with the Archdale knock-offs she found somewhere between my hometown and Greensboro. Trust me. They weren’t even close. Did I complain? Hell, no. I’m still alive, aren’t I? We’ve got an entire generation of kids spitting up on outfits that cost more than my monthly electric bill. There were no designer baby clothes when we were kids. Why? Because our parents weren’t crazy enough to spend $60 on an outfit for us to have explosive diarrhea in or vomit on. Our parents were focused on saving for their retirement and paying their house off. The real beauty of it is that none of these kids are going to score a job straight out of college that will allow them to pay for the necessities of life, brand new cars, and $150 jeans, so guess who’s going to be getting the phone call when they can’t make rent? Yep, we are. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Think back; way, way back. Who cleaned the house and did the yard work when you were a kid? You did. In fact, that’s why some people had children. We were free labor. My mother served as supervisor for the indoor chores, and the house damn well better be spotless when my father came through the door at 5:35. The battle cry went something like this, “Oh, no! Your father will be home in 15 minutes! Get those toys put away nooooow!” The rest of our evening was spent getting up to turn the television on demand, and only to what Dad wanted to watch. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); On weekends Dad was in charge of outdoor work and if you were thirsty you drank out of the hose, because 2 minutes of air conditioning and a glass of water from the faucet might make you soft. Who does the housework and yardwork now? The cleaning lady that comes on Thursday, and the landscaping crew that comes every other Tuesday. Most teenage boys have never touched a mower, and if you asked my daughter to clean a toilet, she would come back with a four page paper on the various kinds of deadly bacteria present on toilet seats. Everyone is too busy doing stuff to take care of the stuff they already have. But don’t get confused, they aren’t working or anything crazy like that. Juggling school assignments, extracurricular activities, and spending our money could become stressful if they had to work. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); I don’t recall anyone being worried about my workload being stressful, or my mental health in general. Jerry and Ginny had grownup stuff to worry about. As teenagers, we managed our own social lives and school affairs. If Karen, while executing a hair flip, told me my new Rave perm made me look like shit and there was no way Kevin would ever go out with my scrawny ass, my mother wasn’t even going to know about it; much less call Karen’s mother and arrange a meeting where we could iron out our misunderstanding and take a selfie together. Additionally, no phone calls were ever made to any of my teachers or coaches. Ever. If we sat the bench, we sat the bench. Our dads were at work anyway. They only knew what we told them. I can’t even conceive of my dad leaving work to come watch a ballgame. If I made a 92.999 and got a B, I got a B. No thinly veiled threats were made and no money changed hands to get me that A. Ok, full disclosure, in my case we would be looking at an 84.9999. I was the poster child for underachievement. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Back in our day, high school was a testing ground for life. We were learning to be adults under the semi-vigilant supervision of our parents. We had jobs because we wanted cars, and we wanted to be able to put gas in our cars, and wear Jordache jeans and Candies. Without jobs, we had Archdale sneakers and Wranglers, and borrowed our mother’s Chevrolet Caprice, affectionately known as the “land yacht”, on Friday night. No one, I mean, no one, got a new car. I was considered fairly lucky because my parents bought me a car at all. I use the term “car” loosely. If I tell you it was a red convertible and stop right here, you might think me special. I wasn’t. My car was a red MG Midget, possibly a ’74 and certainly a death trap. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Look at your coffee table. Now imagine it having a steering wheel and driving it. I promise you, it’s bigger than my car was. The starter was bad, so after school I had the pleasure of popping the hood and using two screwdrivers to cross the solenoids or waiting for the football players to come out of the dressing room headed to practice. Those guys pushing my car while I popped the clutch, is a memory no 16-year old girl around here will ever have, and it’s a great one. Had I driven that car in high winds, it’s likely I would have ended up airborne, and there were probably some serious safety infractions committed the night I took 6 people in togas to a convenience store, but I wouldn’t go back and trade it out for a new 280Z, even if I had the chance. I was a challenging teenager, and in retrospect the fact that it was pretty impressive every time I made it home alive, may not have been an accident on the part of my parents. Go to the high school now. These kids are driving cars that grown men working 55 hours a week can’t afford, and they aren’t paying for them with their jobs. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); And those new cars don’t do a thing for telling a good story. I tell my kids all the time, the very best stories from my teen and college years involve Ann’s yellow Plymouth Duster with the “swirling dust” graphic, Randy’s Valiant with the broken gas gauge, and Carla’s burgundy Nissan that may or may not have had a complete floorboard. A story that starts, “Remember that time we were heading to the beach in Carla’s Nissan and your wallet fell through the floorboard onto the highway?” is so much more interesting than, “Remember that time we were going to the beach in your brand new SUV, filled up with gas that your parents paid for, and the…well, no, never mind. Nothing happened. We just drove down there.” To top it all off, most of them head off to college without a clue what it’s like to look for a job, apply for it, interview, and show up on time, as scheduled. If they have a job, it’s because someone owed their dad a favor…and then they work when it “fits their schedule”. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); We all love our kids, and we want to see them happy and fulfilled, but I fear we’re robbing them of the experiences that make life memorable and make them capable, responsible, confident adults. For the majority of us, the very nice things we had as teenagers, we purchased with money we earned after saving for some ungodly amount of time. Our children are given most everything, and sometimes I wonder whether it’s for them or to make us feel like good parents. The bottom line is that you never value something you were given, as much as something you worked for. There were lessons in our experiences, even though we didn’t know it at the time. All those high school cat fights, and battles with teachers we clashed with, were an opportunity for us to learn how to negotiate and how to compromise. It also taught us that the world isn’t fair. Sometimes people just don’t like you, and sometimes you’ll work your ass off and still get screwed. We left high school, problem solvers. I’m afraid our kids are leaving high school with mommy and daddy on speed dial. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); We just don’t have the cojones our parents had. We aren’t prepared to tell our kids that they won’t have it if they don’t work for it, because we can’t bear to see them go without and we can’t bear to see them fail. We’ve given them a whole lot of stuff; stuff that will break down, wear out, get lost, go out of style, and lose value. As parents, I suppose some of us feel pretty proud about how we’ve contributed in a material way to our kid’s popularity and paved an easy street for them. I don’t, and I know there are many of you that are just as frustrated by it as I am. I worry about what we’ve robbed them of, which I’ve listed below, in the process of giving them everything. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Delayed gratification is a really good thing. It teaches you perseverance and how to determine the true value of something. Our kids don’t know a damn thing about delayed gratification. To them, delayed gratification is waiting for their phone to charge.Problem-solving skills and the ability to manage emotion are crucial life skills. Kids now have every problem solved for them. Good luck calling their college professor to argue about how they should have another shot at that final because they had two other finals to study for and were stressed. Don’t laugh, parents have tried it.Independence allows you to discover who you really are, instead of being what someone else expects you to be. It was something I craved. These kids have traded independence for new cars and Citizen jeans. They will live under someone’s thumb forever, if it means cool stuff. I would have lived in borderline condemned housing, and survived off of crackers and popsicles to maintain my independence. Oh wait, I actually did that. It pisses me off. You’re supposed to WANT to grow up and forge your way in the world; not live on someone else’s dime, under someone else’s rule, and too often these days, under someone else’s roof.Common sense is that little something extra that allows you to figure out which direction is north, how to put air in your tires, or the best route to take at a certain time of day to avoid traffic. You develop common sense by making mistakes and learning from them. It’s a skill best acquired in a setting where it’s safe to fail, and is only mastered by actually doing things for yourself. By micromanaging our kids all the time, we’re setting them up for a lifetime of cluelessness and ineptitude. At a certain age, that cluelessness becomes dangerous. I’ve seen women marry to avoid thinking for themselves, and for some it was the wisest course of action.Mental toughness is what allows a person to keep going despite everything going wrong. People with mental toughness are the ones who come out on top. They battle through job losses, difficult relationships, illness, and failure. It is a quality born from adversity. Adversity is a GOOD thing. It teaches you what you’re made of. It puts into practice the old saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. It’s life’s teacher. Our bubble-wrapped kids are so sheltered from adversity, I wonder how the mental health professionals will handle them all after the world chews them up and spits them out a few times. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); I know you are calling me names right now, and mentally listing all the reasons this doesn’t apply to you and your kid, but remember I’m including myself in this. My kids aren’t as bad as some, because I’m too poor and too lazy to indulge them beyond a certain point. And I’m certainly not saying that our parents did everything right. God knows all that second hand smoke I was exposed to, and those Sunday afternoon drives where Dad was drinking a Schlitz and I was standing on the front seat like a human projectile, were less than ideal; but I do think parents in the 70’s defined their roles in a way we never have.I worry that our kids are leaving home with more intellectual ability than we did, but without the life skills that will give them the success and independence that we’ve enjoyed. Then again, maybe it’s not parents that are getting the raw end of this deal after all. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJQP7kiw5Fk Watch: most watched video on youtube source Read the full article

[uniquequotesonlife]

rhondastephens To Catch A Falling Cactus

Parenting: Are We Getting a Raw Deal?

Summer 1974. I’m 9 years old. By 7:30 am, I’m up and out of the house, or if it’s Saturday I’m up and doing exactly what my father, Big Jerry, has told me to do. Might be raking, mowing, digging holes, or washing cars. Summer 2016. I’m tiptoeing out of the house, on my way to work, in an effort not to wake my children who will undoubtedly sleep until 11 am. They may complete a couple of the chores I’ve left in a list on the kitchen counter for them, or they may eat stale Cheez-its that were left in their rooms 3 days ago, in order to avoid the kitchen at all costs and “not see” the list. If you haven’t noticed, we’re getting a raw deal where this parenting gig is concerned. When did adults start caring whether or not their kids were safe, happy, or popular? I can assure you that Ginny and Big Jerry were not whiling away the hours wondering if my brother and I were fulfilled. Big Jerry was stoking the fires of his retirement savings and working, and working some more. Ginny was double bolting the door in order to keep us out of the house, and talking on the phone while she smoked a Kent. Meanwhile, we were three neighborhoods away, playing with some kids we’d never met, and we had crossed 2 major highways on bicycles with semi-flat tires to get there. Odds are, one of us had crashed at some point and was bleeding pretty impressively. No one cared. We were kids and if we weren’t acting as free labor, we were supposed to be out of the house and out of the way. My personal belief is that the same “woman with too little to do”, that decided it was necessary to give 4- year old guests a gift for coming to a birthday party, is the same loon who decided we were here to serve our kids and not the other way around. Think about it. As a kid, what was your costume for Halloween? If you were really lucky, your mom jabbed a pair of scissors in an old sheet, cut two eye holes, and you were a ghost. If her friend was coming over to frost her hair and showed up early, you got one eye hole cut and spent the next 45 minutes using a sharp stick to jab a second hole that was about two inches lower than its partner. I watched my cousin run directly into a parked car due to this very costume one year. He was still yelling, “Trick or Treat” as he slid down the rear quarter panel of a Buick, mildly concussed. When my son was 3 years old, we had a clown costume made by a seamstress, complete with pointy clown hat, and grease makeup. His grandmother spent more having that costume made than she did on my prom dress. At some point in the last 25 years, the tide shifted and the parents started getting the marginal cars and the cheap clothes while the kids live like rock stars. We spend enormous amounts of money on private instruction, the best sports gear money can buy, and adhere to psycho competition schedules. I’m as guilty as anyone. I’ve bought the $300 baseball bats with money that should have been invested in a retirement account, traveled from many an AAU basketball game, or travel baseball game, to a dance competition in the course of one day, and failed to even consider why. Remember Hank Aaron? He didn’t need a $300 bat to be great. Your kid isn’t going pro and neither is mine, but you are going to retire one day and dumpster diving isn’t for the elderly. My brother and I still laugh about how, when he played high school baseball, there was one good bat and the entire team used it. Remember your clothes in the 70’s? Despite my best efforts to block it out, I can still remember my desperate need to have a pair of authentic Converse shoes. Did I get them? Negative. Oh, was it a punch in the gut when my mother presented me with the Archdale knock-offs she found somewhere between my hometown and Greensboro. Trust me. They weren’t even close. Did I complain? Hell, no. I’m still alive, aren’t I? We’ve got an entire generation of kids spitting up on outfits that cost more than my monthly electric bill. There were no designer baby clothes when we were kids. Why? Because our parents weren’t crazy enough to spend $60 on an outfit for us to have explosive diarrhea in or vomit on. Our parents were focused on saving for their retirement and paying their house off. The real beauty of it is that none of these kids are going to score a job straight out of college that will allow them to pay for the necessities of life, brand new cars, and $150 jeans, so guess who’s going to be getting the phone call when they can’t make rent? Yep, we are. Think back; way, way back. Who cleaned the house and did the yard work when you were a kid? You did. In fact, that’s why some people had children. We were free labor. My mother served as supervisor for the indoor chores, and the house damn well better be spotless when my father came through the door at 5:35. The battle cry went something like this, “Oh, no! Your father will be home in 15 minutes! Get those toys put away nooooow!” The rest of our evening was spent getting up to turn the television on demand, and only to what Dad wanted to watch. On weekends Dad was in charge of outdoor work and if you were thirsty you drank out of the hose, because 2 minutes of air conditioning and a glass of water from the faucet might make you soft. Who does the housework and yardwork now? The cleaning lady that comes on Thursday, and the landscaping crew that comes every other Tuesday. Most teenage boys have never touched a mower, and if you asked my daughter to clean a toilet, she would come back with a four page paper on the various kinds of deadly bacteria present on toilet seats. Everyone is too busy doing stuff to take care of the stuff they already have. But don’t get confused, they aren’t working or anything crazy like that. Juggling school assignments, extracurricular activities, and spending our money could become stressful if they had to work. I don’t recall anyone being worried about my workload being stressful, or my mental health in general. Jerry and Ginny had grownup stuff to worry about. As teenagers, we managed our own social lives and school affairs. If Karen, while executing a hair flip, told me my new Rave perm made me look like shit and there was no way Kevin would ever go out with my scrawny ass, my mother wasn’t even going to know about it; much less call Karen’s mother and arrange a meeting where we could iron out our misunderstanding and take a selfie together. Additionally, no phone calls were ever made to any of my teachers or coaches. Ever. If we sat the bench, we sat the bench. Our dads were at work anyway. They only knew what we told them. I can’t even conceive of my dad leaving work to come watch a ballgame. If I made a 92.999 and got a B, I got a B. No thinly veiled threats were made and no money changed hands to get me that A. Ok, full disclosure, in my case we would be looking at an 84.9999. I was the poster child for underachievement. Back in our day, high school was a testing ground for life. We were learning to be adults under the semi-vigilant supervision of our parents. We had jobs because we wanted cars, and we wanted to be able to put gas in our cars, and wear Jordache jeans and Candies. Without jobs, we had Archdale sneakers and Wranglers, and borrowed our mother’s Chevrolet Caprice, affectionately known as the “land yacht”, on Friday night. No one, I mean, no one, got a new car. I was considered fairly lucky because my parents bought me a car at all. I use the term “car” loosely. If I tell you it was a red convertible and stop right here, you might think me special. I wasn’t. My car was a red MG Midget, possibly a ’74 and certainly a death trap. Look at your coffee table. Now imagine it having a steering wheel and driving it. I promise you, it’s bigger than my car was. The starter was bad, so after school I had the pleasure of popping the hood and using two screwdrivers to cross the solenoids or waiting for the football players to come out of the dressing room headed to practice. Those guys pushing my car while I popped the clutch, is a memory no 16-year old girl around here will ever have, and it’s a great one. Had I driven that car in high winds, it’s likely I would have ended up airborne, and there were probably some serious safety infractions committed the night I took 6 people in togas to a convenience store, but I wouldn’t go back and trade it out for a new 280Z, even if I had the chance. I was a challenging teenager, and in retrospect the fact that it was pretty impressive every time I made it home alive, may not have been an accident on the part of my parents. Go to the high school now. These kids are driving cars that grown men working 55 hours a week can’t afford, and they aren’t paying for them with their jobs. And those new cars don’t do a thing for telling a good story. I tell my kids all the time, the very best stories from my teen and college years involve Ann’s yellow Plymouth Duster with the “swirling dust” graphic, Randy’s Valiant with the broken gas gauge, and Carla’s burgundy Nissan that may or may not have had a complete floorboard. A story that starts, “Remember that time we were heading to the beach in Carla’s Nissan and your wallet fell through the floorboard onto the highway?” is so much more interesting than, “Remember that time we were going to the beach in your brand new SUV, filled up with gas that your parents paid for, and the…well, no, never mind. Nothing happened. We just drove down there.” To top it all off, most of them head off to college without a clue what it’s like to look for a job, apply for it, interview, and show up on time, as scheduled. If they have a job, it’s because someone owed their dad a favor…and then they work when it “fits their schedule”. We all love our kids, and we want to see them happy and fulfilled, but I fear we’re robbing them of the experiences that make life memorable and make them capable, responsible, confident adults. For the majority of us, the very nice things we had as teenagers, we purchased with money we earned after saving for some ungodly amount of time. Our children are given most everything, and sometimes I wonder whether it’s for them or to make us feel like good parents. The bottom line is that you never value something you were given, as much as something you worked for. There were lessons in our experiences, even though we didn’t know it at the time. All those high school cat fights, and battles with teachers we clashed with, were an opportunity for us to learn how to negotiate and how to compromise. It also taught us that the world isn’t fair. Sometimes people just don’t like you, and sometimes you’ll work your ass off and still get screwed. We left high school, problem solvers. I’m afraid our kids are leaving high school with mommy and daddy on speed dial. We just don’t have the cojones our parents had. We aren’t prepared to tell our kids that they won’t have it if they don’t work for it, because we can’t bear to see them go without and we can’t bear to see them fail. We’ve given them a whole lot of stuff; stuff that will break down, wear out, get lost, go out of style, and lose value. As parents, I suppose some of us feel pretty proud about how we’ve contributed in a material way to our kid’s popularity and paved an easy street for them. I don’t, and I know there are many of you that are just as frustrated by it as I am. I worry about what we’ve robbed them of, which I’ve listed below, in the process of giving them everything. Delayed gratification is a really good thing. It teaches you perseverance and how to determine the true value of something. Our kids don’t know a damn thing about delayed gratification. To them, delayed gratification is waiting for their phone to charge.Problem-solving skills and the ability to manage emotion are crucial life skills. Kids now have every problem solved for them. Good luck calling their college professor to argue about how they should have another shot at that final because they had two other finals to study for and were stressed. Don’t laugh, parents have tried it.Independence allows you to discover who you really are, instead of being what someone else expects you to be. It was something I craved. These kids have traded independence for new cars and Citizen jeans. They will live under someone’s thumb forever, if it means cool stuff. I would have lived in borderline condemned housing, and survived off of crackers and popsicles to maintain my independence. Oh wait, I actually did that. It pisses me off. You’re supposed to WANT to grow up and forge your way in the world; not live on someone else’s dime, under someone else’s rule, and too often these days, under someone else’s roof.Common sense is that little something extra that allows you to figure out which direction is north, how to put air in your tires, or the best route to take at a certain time of day to avoid traffic. You develop common sense by making mistakes and learning from them. It’s a skill best acquired in a setting where it’s safe to fail, and is only mastered by actually doing things for yourself. By micromanaging our kids all the time, we’re setting them up for a lifetime of cluelessness and ineptitude. At a certain age, that cluelessness becomes dangerous. I’ve seen women marry to avoid thinking for themselves, and for some it was the wisest course of action.Mental toughness is what allows a person to keep going despite everything going wrong. People with mental toughness are the ones who come out on top. They battle through job losses, difficult relationships, illness, and failure. It is a quality born from adversity. Adversity is a GOOD thing. It teaches you what you’re made of. It puts into practice the old saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. It’s life’s teacher. Our bubble-wrapped kids are so sheltered from adversity, I wonder how the mental health professionals will handle them all after the world chews them up and spits them out a few times. I know you are calling me names right now, and mentally listing all the reasons this doesn’t apply to you and your kid, but remember I’m including myself in this. My kids aren’t as bad as some, because I’m too poor and too lazy to indulge them beyond a certain point. And I’m certainly not saying that our parents did everything right. God knows all that second hand smoke I was exposed to, and those Sunday afternoon drives where Dad was drinking a Schlitz and I was standing on the front seat like a human projectile, were less than ideal; but I do think parents in the 70’s defined their roles in a way we never have.I worry that our kids are leaving home with more intellectual ability than we did, but without the life skills that will give them the success and independence that we’ve enjoyed. Then again, maybe it’s not parents that are getting the raw end of this deal after all. source Read the full article

[amandaj718]

Emmerdale Live and Organized - June 27, 2017

Here we are at a special Tuesday hour long episode.  Thanks, soccer! Anyway, let's see what is happening in the village today!

Rhona/Vanessa/Paddy/Lisa/Marlon

Oh geez. Everyone is treating her like this?  Just come up and say hi.

Rhona needs someone else to talk to. Mostly because Vanessa and Paddy are trying, but they could only do so much.  

Lisa could help. Let Lisa help.

Robert knows a hitman, guys. He would help out family. *wink wink*

Rhona! You have to fight. So many people will be on your side! I know it. I do. *wraps Rhona in more bubble wrap*

“Don’t listen to her. She is a crackpot.” HA! I love you, Lisa. Lisa is speaking the truth today.

This whole Rhona/Lisa scene is perfection. PERFECTION. *THROWS AWARDS AT ZOE HENRY*

“You are the same, Rhona.” – Lisa (YES. You are sweetie. You are.)

I think it’s interesting that Tracy believes Rhona but she didn’t believe Aaron.

HE LEFT THE LOCKET AND FLOWERS! Geez!

Where is Victoria? Why isn’t she at work anymore?

OH GOD. What is Paddy going to do?!?! *Go Paddy! Go Paddy!* *dances around*

YES! I WAS CHANTING FOR PADDY TO PUNCH HIM! *punches the air in victory!*

Doesn’t mean he didn’t hire someone to do the stalking! Come on, guys! Pierce is a slippery guy. He would do that!

Guys. Rhona isn’t crazy. I am on Rhona’s side!

Leo! I love Leo! Adorable little boy.  

OH GOD. NO. WHO IS THAT?!?! Pierce's mother?!?! WOAH.

*THROWS ALL THE AWARDS AT ZOE HENRY*

Rebecca/Debbie/Charity/Ross

Yellow! Always in yellow aren’t you, Rebecca.

Is she getting back into the business or just bringing them clients of pretty rich people?  Why not. Just keep her in the Dross circle.

Ross isn’t that lovely but sure…the village is a bit man dry right now.

You push too hard Rebecca. Way too hard. Also, is she wearing that dress Holly liked to wear? Are they using her old wardrobe with Rebecca or is it something more?

Here is a secret. I ship Rebecca and the McCain Bus. *wink*

Why is Rebecca in the middle of this? Why does she care? She barely had any time with Debbie. Shoehorning her in Ross’s business again?

Laurel and Family/Lydia

Laurel and Lydia friendship for life!

Also, Gabby isn’t answering because she is pregnant. (Just my guess)

Oh no. Laurel isn’t doing well. Please don’t hurt Laurel! I adore her.  

Nicola has been on a roll today. Look at you. I’m in like with you.

Why are we having all this talk of death and children? What odd topics.  

Poor Arthur. After my grandfather had died I had thoughts like that.  I get it. It is a typical reaction after going through a major family death.

Lydia is the best. That is all.

OH. The Emma stuff again. Is that coming back up? Finally? YES! FINALLY! THE VIDEO IS OUT.

Arthur! *pulls out the bubble wrap*

Jai/Priya/Nicola

Eek. Jai forgot about his sister. EEK.

I like Nicola and Priya being friends. It's quite adorable.

Well, that was easy. Cool Priya lets move on to Pete again, I guess.

Awwww, I love the Nicola

“People are either a blessing or a lesson.” – Nicola (I like that line)

I guess Priya has a new friend in tow. Since she is screwing over Leyla, she will need a new friend.

Priya. I mean, you don’t have a leg to stand on right now.  I like how Pete is the worst human being while she was just terrible for one day. Give me a break. I love how Priya who willingly slept with her best friends boyfriend is getting high and mighty. Screw her.

Nicola has a small share of the company! HA! LOVE IT.  I adore Nicola too. For now.

Debbie/Ross/Faith

Nope. NOPE. Make it stop. Ross flirting isn’t adorable at all.

“I’m not a piece of meat.” – SURE ROSS. SURE. *nods sarcastically*

I’m Faith. Rolling my eyes at the guy.  

Faith is adorable but Finn working at the pub? Ok then.

Ross is a piece of meat for the right price. Shocking.

Finn working in the pub?

Tracy/Josh

I guess I should address this now since it will be a big deal in two weeks.

He is Jason’s kid or brother, and they are going after Aaron/Cain.

That’s my guess.

Eric is terrified. *wraps Eric in bubble wrap*

I care more about Josh than Rebecca. Yeah. That’s a good sign for her. *eye roll*

David looks really good today. Just saying. Like, damn good.

'It's Just Speculation!'

Here is the thing. People are thinking the worst. They are in this echo chamber of sadness that I refuse to be apart of right now.  So, guess what? You can keep tweeting at me and calling me names or calling me stupid but I know soap operas, and I know that things will be ok.  

Breathe. Reboot. Eat a snickers.

As usual, stay away from the message boards they will only cause you misery you don't need. That is what Twitter is for.

What do you think? Feel free to tweet me @AmandaJ718 or leave a comment below.  Until next time, which is Friday, I will see you all around in Emmerdale.