Vampires 1: Zombies 0 (wherein this is actually about parenting)

twilight breaking dawn

oh those pesky teenage vampires again…

Awhile back, I mentioned Chaeli’s interest in both the Twilight movies and Twilight books.

Since then, it’s all she asks to watch. Fortunately, as a family, we don’t have that much time for movie nights anymore. We’ve been privileged to spend time outdoors together – all seasons – doing various physical activities. And when we’re stuck at home, there’s just so much to do – including game night and hobbies night. Movie nights are becoming a rarer treat. So when it comes time for crashing in front of the TV, it’s a nice change of pace (plus an excuse to have popcorn).

I also mentioned my plan to withhold the last book, Breaking Dawn, from her until we had more conversations about sex.

Well, just some series of events which lead to my failure as a parent here – these are not excuses, mind you, but they do explain how it all just sort of unraveled on me:

  1. My workplace has gone through tremendous changes, including new ownership; I am still employed but the overtime has been pretty steady.
  2. We went to donate some of our old belongings to Variety Village where Chaeli spotted Breaking Dawn, the hardcover, for only $5.
  3. When we got home, due to being drained from event no. 1, and many other crazy things that have happened to us which I won’t bore you with here, I completely forgot to take the book from her room.

I suppose my greatest fault is no. 3 above. A part of my brain did remember it was there from time to time, but then another part of my brain, the one that’s famous for procrastinating, kept on saying that she was still in the beginning of reading Eclipse, the book before. It will be awhile before she gets to Breaking Dawn.

This reasoning seemed to satisfy the part of my brain that usually is pretty good at taking charge. Until one day, I see my 10 year old walking around carrying the Breaking Dawn book.

With her bookmark sticking out from the middle pages.

This past Saturday was one of the rare moments we had time for a movie. Of course, she asked to watch Twilight. And of course, she asked to watch Breaking Dawn, Part 2, her favourite.

When it got to the scene where Edward and Bella were implied to have a 2nd honeymoon (nothing graphic but it was suggestive that they were making love even though nothing is shown), my kid turns to me and says, “You know in the book? They do this for like a whole day.”

I was stunned. And silent. At least at first. Then I started to laugh as I worked out a semi-audible, “Oh yeah – I forgot about that part of the book” to cover up my real reason for laughing.

Meanwhile, I’m thinking, Oh great. Not only did I fail to discuss with her about sex, I’m now laughing like an immature dweeb.

“Yeah, and the only reason why they stop is because they wanted to check up on their baby. If they didn’t have a kid, they would be doing this for days. Maybe weeks!”

Well, not all is at a loss. Chaeli is not completely ignorant about where babies come from. And she has been introduced to sex but I’m not sure if she understood that what they were doing, was sex. Or if she thinks they just spent an entire day kissing and holding each other. (<- my wishful thinking)

It’s a discussion I’ll be having with her soon. *Sigh*

Why can’t she just like zombies? You don’t have to worry about zombies getting down and dirty. They’re too busy being disgusting as they tear into live, human victims.

i do love my coffee

guilty pleasures no. 67.

i’ve had enough with people who walk around with tim horton’s or mcdonald’s coffee, sprouting out things that makes them look like they understand what coffee is about. saying things like, “coffee is coffee. they’re all the same.”

THEY ARE SO NOT THE SAME!

news flash people – it’s okay if you like that low-grade coffee. it’s okay if you’re not picky. but you don’t know shit about coffee when you’re drinking coffee that’s shit… continue reading.”

why “the bachelor” makes me uneasy…

the bachelor 2014

last women standing

awhile ago, i confessed that i was hooked in this season’s the bachelor (juan pablo).

as we make our way to the season finale of team nikki v.s. team clare, of which spoiler news are already spilling the beans about who wins (and that it’s about the shortest relationship in bachelor history), i’ve been wondering what it is about the bachelor, aside from the obvious reasons, that just doesn’t sit well with me.

don’t get me wrong – i had fun. i really did. it’s guiltless pleasure to gossip about people you don’t really know.

but what gets me is how badly it portrays women. yes, yes – i know. some of these women are badly portrayed because they are, well, simply just bad themselves. surely, though, not all the women on this show are as catty as the producers and editors make them out to be. and i’m tired of how this show simply just gratifies AND glorifies the stereotype of women being so full of drama and ruthlessness with each other.

some are like that. but most of us, aren’t. and most of us would like to live in a world with less stereotypes, please.

week after week, i watch this show and i cringe at these catty moments. i do this because i know it’s feeding into these ideas society as a whole, showcases us women to be.

that said, i have to admit that it’s slim pickings now that it’s down to the final two. i’m not a fan of either of these two contestants but surprisingly, i actually prefer nikki.

clare’s one sister alone, the crazy one that wouldn’t let clare talk to her own mother during the hometown dates (what the hell was that about?) would have me running for the hills. who wants to marry into that family?

in the end, neither of these remaining two seem compatible with JP, though.

old navy sizes – smaller than normal

i just went to old navy to take advantage of their $15 jean sale (only for today) and decided to take some time in the fitting room. i knew i needed a smaller size since i’ve been belting up my size 10 (also from old navy) for awhile now.

so i figured, “size 8… that’s what i’m looking for.”

i picked up two different types of leg opening – skinny and boot cut. both size 8.

i walked out to the mirrors where doug and chaeli were waiting for me. doug asked, “so how are they?”

looking in the mirrors, i frowned as a replied, “i don’t know. they’re comfortable. but awfully baggy around the hips/thighs. and i can definitely pull the waistband away from my stomach that it may be too loose.”

“so go and get a size smaller and see.”

size 6, this time. i came back out and modelled the smaller size for both to see. i asked, “so? how do they look?”

chaeli responded quickly, “they still look baggy.”

“what? how can that be! i’m a size 9/10 for other brands. i know old navy label their sizes smaller than the rest of the fashion world, but this is ridiculous! i’m not a size 6. i’m not even a size 8! and for cryin’ out loud, i’m SO not a size 4!”

well, i didn’t bother trying on a size 4. i do like my jeans on the more confortable size so i stuck with THEIR size 6. it’s still a bit loose but at least won’t fall off with just a tug (unlike the ones i currently own in my closet).

the thing is, i think it’s sad. that they have to lie to us women who shouldn’t be lied to about their size. what we should be told is that we’re okay the size that we are. that the size of our pants should not define who we are and that no two bodies will be the same so there is no ideal size.

i have the same issue with many scales at a few goodlife fitness centres i’ve been to. i can weigh anywhere from 5-10 lbs LESS than i know i weigh (i trust the scale at my doctor’s and at my dieticians – they have no need to lie and calibrate their scales regularly).

we don’t need to be lied to – in the end, that’s not doing us a favour. but more awareness on REAL body image is definitely a must!

thank god one company out there understands the importance of this.

artificial nocturne

I’m just as fucked up as they say
I can’t fake the daytime
Found an entrance to escape into the dark
Got false lights for the sun
It’s an artificial nocturne
It’s an outsider’s escape for a broken heart

the past.

my memory takes me back to when i was about chaeli’s age – 10 or 11. there i was sitting in the kitchen of our old house. my father, standing there beside me – hovering over me.

math. it stared back at me. numbers. something that always confused me.

he was talking impatiently, asking me to solve the problem. but i couldn’t. i barely could see the problem from the notebook anymore. and as i sat there, sweating and staring in silence, his voice started to get louder… and more anxious.

fear started to creep in as i desparately stared harder and harder – hoping, praying the answer would come to me.

there was a long period of silence before a thud was heard.

i don’t know if that thud came from his hand hitting my behind, or when i landed on the kitchen tiles after flying off my chair and under the kitchen table.

the pain of the impact his hand made on me was very real and very scary. but i was in so much more pain from not being able to please him. not being able to solve that math problem.

why couldn’t i solve it? was it true? was i stupid like he’s told me i was before?

why couldn’t i have just solved it?

the present

we’re sitting at my aunt’s and uncle’s place after dinner.

my uncle has diabetes type 2. just like me though he’s had his for 25 years. but he’s managing it. and i go to him, and my aunt as she’s been a big part of helping him manage it, for not just advice and knowledge…. but mainly for support.

and for empathy.

empathy has become a theme in my therapy sessions. i have learned that my childhood lacked empathy. and as a result, i give myself very little empathy – and through that, i have a lot of guilt. mostly from things i had no control over. it is this pain from this inner turmoil – this guilt – which has caused anxiety over every decision that i make, not just in the present, but struggle of past decisions and fear of making wrong decisions of the future. everything i do, i fear if it’s the best way.

the best way – my mother always made me see what was the best way. if some one hurt me at school, i was told which was the best way to have avoided being in that situation. if i planned to take the public transit downtown, i was instructed to the best way. on my best friend’s wedding day, when i was maid of honour (which was with such great honour, i might add, as it was one of the best days of my life), i was told my hair was not the best way for the day. the list goes on.

my father – he never told me what the best way was. he just expected me to know and i suffered his wrath if i simply did not know.

basically, a lot of people/parents will give a statement of empathy such as, i’m sorry you are going through such pain, BUT…

the ‘but’ usually negates the empathy. and that’s okay to some extent. we care and love our family and friends so much that we want to fix their problem, forgetting that the first reason they came to us was not for a fix, but simply for empathy. as humans, we’ve probably all made this mistake.

the issue with me, however, was that it was rare, in the past mostly and sometimes in the present, where i even recieved that first startement of empathy. and so, a lot of what i came home with, my problems, my struggles, was made apparent that i was responsible for everything. not accountable in some way, shape or form, but completely responsible. even if it was not my doing, somehow, i could have prevented it.

and so, i sat there at the dining table expressing my concern over my glucose levels as for the past 2 weeks, there were very high spikes i could not account for (nothing changed in my diet or exercise – yet, my levels would got up sometimes as high as 3 units after a similar lunch i had 2 weeks before with very normal readings afterwards).

i was very upset, i mentioned. and frustrated.

my dad then interjected and told me, “yeah, but, you have to take control of your sress and not obsess over this.” it wasn’t what he said. it was how he said it – a manner that expressed, this is your own-doing. there was frustration in his voice – and while i understand now that it’s his own anxiety and worry over my health, that he has no time for empathy and just wants to fix my problem for me, i was just so angry at him for not being more sensitive.

and so i responded, “yes, well, easier said than done.” in other words, okay… thanks for the piece of unwanted advice. perhaps you would like to tell me HOW to do this since you seem to have all the answers?

he was not happy with my one liner. and started to raise his voice, arguing with me that he KNOWS it’s not easy, etc. i ignored him then and returned to my conversation with my uncle who was, at least, giving me the reassurance and support i was searching for.

all the time, i thought to myself, if i wasn’t so depressed, i would be laughing. here is a person telling me to take control of my stress and yet he’s arguing with me and stressing me out even more. how is this helping, i wonder?

the summary

the above is simply an exercise of my thoughts from this past week, which links to what i posted yesterday.

i understand it is up to me to tell my parents how i require the support yet at this point, i’m not sure i’m ready to try this step as it would be a very big step. anyone who knows my parents, would understand how big it is.

the issue is that i could tell them but they would either argue back and say that they’ve always been supportive of me. or that they simply would refuse to reflect on their own path of self-improvement due to what i had already mentioned in my previous post, their lack of self-awareness.

the above video and song by metric, is a song that is close to my heart at this moment. i do not know exactly what the intentions were behind the meaning of this song, but it seems to mirror how i feel these days.