I learned early on that good things do follow bad and I thought I would share this learning with the boys. So I say on the way to town after a slight change of plans and boiling dissapointment.
“We may not have gotten to do what we wanted to today, but something good will happen, just wait and see. Good things always follow bad.”
The response from Korey, “What do you mean? That doesn’t even make any sense. What are you taking about? Mom, you’re stupid.”
I’ll just let that sink in.
Being an over 60 male is not much better than being a 40 something female. Except, the tummys that are promised to be flatter are rock-hard 6 pack male abdominals. I could leave my profile as is, just for the eye-candy, but I think I like being myself too much. I’ll just stop looking to the left.
No viagra Stemo.
New Kids on the Block, Rihanna, free gadgets…wow, life sure is different. Not one mention of the words flatter or tummy. Can’t say the music does much for me though.
That was almost way too easy. I’m a transgender 20 year old on Facebook and the flat tummy ads have ceased. Now I’m being hit with ads to save the world. I’m going to change to an 18 year old boy and see what I get. I know, I need a life.
I’m Facebook savy enough to know how the advertisements work. I’ve actually placed Facebook ads so I’m well aware of the amazing minute targetting you can do to get your ad in front of a relevant audience. What then is on my profile that keeps me bombarded with ads for products promising a flat, firm, tummy. I sure hope they aren’t scanning my photos. I think I’ll remove my birth year and sex to see if they stop.
Korey turned seven yesterday and Justin is two weeks at five. I can remember being five and seven, so I’ve been thinking that from here on in my footprint on their lives is permanent.
In fact, I remember some pretty important moments from my early childhood. Many have stayed with me. Some for the better and some it’s taken me nearly 40 years to erase. I better choose my words carefully and make sure they understand how important their self-esteem is to creating a wonderful life for themselves.
When I was five my grandmother passed away and I saw my father cry for the first time. I remember him standing at the back door window, his face shielded from his daughters, but his shoulders told the tale. I didn’t see him cry again until he suffered a stroke when I was 20. I grew up with no appreciation for the fraility of the male heart.
When I was seven, there were two elementary schools in my area. Our house sat right on the cut-off line which meant I was separated from my street friends during my first year. But, in grade one they sent me to the “cool” school. After the first week, however, they moved me back. I was crushed. That day, the boy next door came over and we played crazy eights, crazy nines and crazy tens at my back door until our Dads came home for supper. I learned how important friendship is and how simply sharing yourself with someone can lighten their load. It made me compassionate.
That year I had my favourite teacher. She taught me how delicious reading is. More pivotal, I learned that good things do follow bad.
I’m also reminded how important my back door was.
Friday JB has orientation for big school. His sitter (aunt) said she would take him because she is taking another child, but that news made me cry. I want to be the one to drop him off, lick his hair down, straighten his shirt, give him a good luck hug and kiss and then turn away with tears streaming down my face. I also want to be there to see his big grin when he bounces through those doors an hour later. He’ll be full of wonder and excitement and he’ll rush to my arms for a tender hug from Mommy, who showed up with a little less mascara.
Some things belong to me.