The Games we play: Google Plus versus Facebook

Games.  I must confess that I do play some games.  Not as many as I used to, but I do play games on both Facebook and Google Plus.  Or maybe I should say did play them in both locations.

I recently stopped playing actively on Google Plus.

I played some of the same games on both sites.  Some were different too.  Now while I avoid playing Zynga games, there is still a lot of others to try playing.  So what was the difference?  After all, if the games are the same, they are the same, right?

Wrong.

There is actually a big difference.  Facebook has already had their growing pains with the addition of the games.  Games run smoothly, on the average, and have few problems loading.  The same isn’t true for Google Plus.  Games would frequently freeze, refuse to load, or have numerous other glitches that made playing difficult at times.

Facebook games not only run smoother with fewer glitches, they often have extra features not found on the Google Plus games.  They seem more finished and less “beta” than G+ games.  It may be easier to circle other players on G+, but…adding them as “neighbors” may not be so easy, as that is a common glitch in the games.  In addition, games have been leaving the Google Plus platform.

So why is there the differences?  Only a game company insider could really answer that question, but the most obvious answer is that Facebook requires some kind of exclusive feature added to the games playing there.  Game companies are probably willing to comply with few complaints too, after all, Facebook as a portal has fewer overall problems than Google Plus does.

I really like Google Plus as a social network.  I use it often in doing research, finding interesting people and information through G+.  (That’s not to say my Facebook friends are boring though!)  It is just easier to find topic specific posts and their advocates through G+ than with Facebook.  I can then circle them or not, without worrying about whether I will offend anyone.  I don’t have to know them to do that–it’s the whole concept behind the circles that makes it so easy to use for research on a topic.  Those features are not available on Facebook at all.

At one point, I thought I may largely abandon Facebook in favor of the more dynamic interface on Google Plus, but in reality, it would be like choosing to only eat bananas rather than bananas AND strawberries!  They are different, but they both have a very useful purpose for me.  On the other hand, if merely interacting with others to play games was my goal, Google Plus wouldn’t have much of my attention.  It’s just too aggravating to try and play the games, especially knowing that many of them are fleeing as fast as they flocked on board.

So what are my favorite games? 

My long term favorite has been Hit Grab’s MouseHunt.  I love the imagery, and I love the play and go nature of the game.  I can be active without devoting hours and hours of attention to it.

Other games seem to come and go over time with me, but I do like Zuma Blitz, Bejeweled Blitz, Monster World, and Township currently.  The blitz games have been favored for some time, although the other two are relatively new to my list of games I play.  I don’t like games that require extensive “begging” from friends for bits and pieces to “build” things, and while Township has some of those features, it hasn’t annoyed me excessively yet.  I also don’t like games that require me to recruit friends to play–being a game evangelist doesn’t appeal to me!

Too many of the games on social networks seem to occupy excessive amounts of time and attention.  I want a game to play for a few minutes, and then go on to other things.  I don’t want it to take over my life–the whole point of a game is that it should be FUN, not a new occupation.  Sometimes, I enjoy competing with friends, other times, I prefer something I can just do in my solitary fashion too.

So why are social network games free?

Plain and simple, they are paid for via advertisements that players click on.  Game developers hope that players buy the extra features, whether they are special powers or game-specific “play money.”  That’s how they earn money, not by being paid by the social network to provide the games to them.  If you ever wondered why so many games have these pay-only extra features, you can stop wondering now.  One of the biggest phenomena in the modern marketplace is the amount of money traded for fictional goods in games.

That means that you can also vote with your dollars too.  Don’t spend money on games or with game companies that you dislike, and you are casting a vote that IS counted.  By spending money with your favorites, you are casting a positive vote as well.

So enjoy, and see which you prefer for your gaming entertainment.

Tags: blitz, Facebook, G+, Google Plus, MouseHunt

Independent thinking

Years ago, I was called into the school for a session with the school psychologist.  My daughter, then in primary grades, had just been through a battery of tests.  The school was armed with a long list of learning disabilities, and I was a bit overwhelmed by their “diagnosis” and demands.

In the course of our conversation, the psychologist announces in a disdainful voice, as though we had some type of social disease, that my daughter was an “independent thinker” and that I obviously was too.  I was shocked.

Wasn’t independent thinking something that all parents hope their children exhibit?

Apparently not, and it was also something that the school system did not encourage either.  To me, the opposite of independent thinking is essentially a herd mentality.

Is this what the public school system is encouraging?

I’ll admit, I made some serious mistakes in terms of her education and the public school system.  I didn’t take her out and home school her until she was in the 8th grade, at the same time that I discovered that she was functionally illiterate, and it wasn’t due to any cognitive deficiencies either.  She had been outsmarting the “professionals” in the school system for years.

With a family that put high value on books and reading, it was an appalling situation.  She had to learn to read and write effectively, or she was going to face a life severely handicapped by her inability to do so.

To make a long story short, she did learn to read and write.  It wasn’t easy, and as any mother knows…mothers and daughters at that age have enough conflicts to begin with, and adding this issue made the equation very difficult.  She didn’t like me very much for a while, but I’m thrilled that today, as a mother herself, she can not only read and write effectively, she reads for enjoyment.

That’s a long ways from the 8th grader that couldn’t tell time on a clock face or read a menu in a restaurant or take a phone message that was understandable by anyone (even herself.)  Her learning disabilities didn’t vanish, they still existed, the difference was in how they were being managed when she was faced with a teacher that was also Mom.  Busy work vanished, instead she got practical practice at reading and writing.  Excuses also vanished, because instead of dealing with tests and I-can’t-do-that or I-don’t-know, there was okay, it’s hard, but if you do it like this, maybe it will be easier.

I didn’t care if she read from a reading book, a comic book, a novel, or the latest dog show catalog…I just wanted her to be able to read!

After being home schooled, at seventeen she took a GED course and obtained her GED.  

Do I think she missed out on things?

Yes, but she was frequently hospitalized from age 15-18 due to Type 1 diabetes complications.  She would have had a lot of trouble passing classes in the traditional public high school because of these frequent absences as well.  She would have also been dealing with more peer pressure, continued mismanagement of her learning disabilities, and her functional illiteracy would have been continually masked.  In addition, since she had been raised to question things that she found contradictory, unfair, unreasonable, or wrong, she would have been regarded as a “problem student.”

Not that she was an angel.  She was a challenge her entire life.  She can still be “hard headed” and “stubborn” about some things, and on occasion, I’ll even accuse her of being narrow minded.  I am still immensely proud of her and the person she has become.  I not only love her intensely, but I like her too.  I really enjoy doing things with her.  I know she isn’t perfect, but I haven’t met a perfect person yet.

But back to the independent thinking thing.

Why would a public school encourage a “herd mentality” versus the independent thinking?

Herds are easier to manage.  They don’t question authority, they just do as they are told.  The teacher and other staff are always right, and the status quo is maintained.  These students grow up and go on to college, technical schools, and the work force, carrying along their sheep-like herding tendencies. They pay taxes, vote, and raise their family to also stay within the herd.

It’s a conspiracy to erase the independent thinking and ingenuity that has created this country.  We are now facing the second generation of widespread encouragement of this herd mentality and what do we have?

A disastrous economy, politicians that are more corrupt than ever, increasingly restrictive laws, virtually no privacy, increasing instances of censorship,  rampant crime, high rates of debt, lack of industry…

And a whole lot of sheeple.

Don’t let “them” turn your kids into sheeple.  Don’t join the herd yourself.  Practice independent thinking, follow your own conscience and heart.  Reward your kids for doing what my dad always called “using your head for something besides a hat rack.”  Wood makes a better hat rack anyhow!

 

Tags: children, kids, schools, sheeple

GMOs, food allergies, gluten intolerance, health and people

I have been thinking a lot lately.  Some may claim this is a dangerous activity.  Maybe it is, but it certainly allows dots to be connected in new and innovative ways.  Maybe some of the topics of my mind have been on the mark, and maybe they haven’t been.  It’s certainly ideas to give further consideration.

First, let’s turn back the hands of the clock to another era, one that was quite some time ago, when the group of people we know today as the Amish were a new “cult.”

Many of these people emigrated to the United States, where they took up new lives and established communities and farms.  Initially, they didn’t appear much different than their neighbors.  Almost everyone in a rural community was a farmer, so their farms were the norm of the era.

Their clothing wasn’t much different either.  Everyone dressed fairly similar to the way the Amish dressed.  The men’s beards weren’t notably different either, nor was the hair styles worn by the women.  Everyone used horses and buggies.  No one had telephones or electricity.  Everyone ate fairly similar foods.  Children usually only went to school through the eighth grade, if they went to school at all, in a one room schoolhouse which they walked to.  Probably the sole difference was in the services themselves, for the Quakers also usually held their services in members’ homes.

The differences between the Amish only began to appear as industrialization began.  With each step forward in terms of technology, the Amish evaluated it in terms of their belief system and decided whether or not to accept it as being a reasonable addition to their lives.  They slowed the process of change in their society, which made their differences begin to become more noticeable.  Now, nearly a hundred years after electricity became commonly available, the differences are easily seen between the Amish society and mainstream society.

That’s not to say that the Amish haven’t paid a high price for their choice to remain separate from mainstream America.  It’s meant that their gene pool is much more condensed, as marriages to outsiders have become increasingly rare.  That’s allowed certain genetic diseases to appear with a higher than normal frequency.  That has also allowed medical science a chance to approach these almost unknown diseases with more confidence about treatment, better testing, and long term prognosis.  While it’s difficult for those that have inherited this surprise genetic package, it’s also meant that society as a whole has also benefited from their long term choices to remain apart.

If we continue to look back to the era in which the Amish originated, we also will find that medical science didn’t have much to offer anyone.  It was pretty ignorant of a number of things, ranging from sanitation to genetics.  While it doesn’t have all of the answers and often doesn’t like some of the modern questions about our health, we also couldn’t accurately diagnose some things, such as diabetes, cancer, food allergies, etc.

Even so, it seems that the average person was far healthier and more robust than the average person today.  Gluten intolerance, something that seems to be hitting our population in epidemic proportions, along with obesity and diabetes, were all unheard of conditions.  Food allergies in general were fairly rare, and were most likely to occur if someone ate an “exotic” food that was different from the foods they normally consumed.  These same statements are largely true if we even look back to just fifty or a hundred years ago.

So what do I think this means?

Maybe the problem is not so much that people are changing, but it is because of the diet we have today.  It’s filled with processed foods, fast foods, artificially flavored/colored/sweetened products, and foods from around the world.  We can eat fresh strawberries at Christmas, and fresh oranges in July.  Our bread, nothing like anything that would have been on the average dinner table a hundred years ago, is soft, sweet, and whiter than our bed sheets.

In the meantime, we suffer from digestive issues, allergies, lack of energy, diabetes, and obesity, all while on our special low calorie diet.  We get progressively sicker rather than regaining our health.

Look at the diet of a hundred years ago in comparison.  There was a lot more food on the dinner table, but it was a lot simpler too.  Meals were usually produced from locally available foods in season.  They featured a lot of complex carbohydrates, animal fats, and home cured meats.

All that cholesterol, and yet if a person managed to survive through childhood, they were likely to live as long or longer than the average person does today.  My own family tree features many people, even in the 1700s, that lived well past their 80s.  Census records often list them as “farm laborer” or “house servant” even after age 60.  (I don’t descend from anyone famous, for the record.  Everyone was pretty much an ‘average joe’ even though many of my ancestors emigrated to America prior to the Revolutionary War.)  Most families would have regarded things such as pure salt, sugar, and white flour as “luxury” items.  Corn, beans, potatoes, and other garden produce would have been on the table in many forms most meals, along with things such as butter, eggs, milk, and cured meats.

Doctors would have also been a rarity, which may have helped ensure long lifespans, since many of the medicines and treatments commonly used were of dubious nature.  Most injuries, diseases and illnesses would have been treated at home, using either patent medicines (which had to be bought with money) or herbs that were raised in the garden for that purpose.  Childbirth would have occurred at home, with the assistance of a family member or a local midwife.  Dentistry, when it was necessary, was also a do-it-yourself project or one that may have even been conducted by the local barber!  Actual dentists, as we know them today, weren’t common until the late 1800s or later, depending on the area.

Unless you lived by a port on a river or the ocean, truly exotic foods such as pineapples and bananas, would have been unheard of.  Exotic spices, such as cinnamon, vanilla, allspice, nutmeg and black pepper, would have been expensive items bought from a local merchant or a peddler.  Even white flour would have been out-of-the-ordinary, although many families would use unbleached or a semi-white flour for baking.

There was no such thing as vegetable oil, unless it was olive oil, which had to be imported to the USA until fairly recently.  There was no high fructose corn syrup, artificial sweeteners, GMOs, etc. either.  Even soy products such as tofu or TVP didn’t exist.  Few farmers even raised soybeans yet, as it wasn’t a crop with much of a market or use at home either.

This isn’t to say they had boring meals without any sweets.  There was candy, pies, cakes, cookies, muffins, etc. and they were commonly made at home.  The difference was that they were sweetened with molasses, honey, maple syrup or sugar, cane syrup or a coarse, tan cane sugar that was more commonly available in the local store.  (Probably more similar to what we call turbinado sugar today.)  Foods were seasoned with herbs from the garden too.

Foods were also preserved by drying, curing, pickling or preserving with sugar.  Home canning, in glass jars, became commonplace in the early 1900s, with home freezing moving in during the 1950s.  Even in the 1960s, many small towns still had a butcher shop with a walk in freezer where a family’s meat (from cattle or pigs they paid to have butchered) were stored in the “locker”.  Wrapped in white butcher paper, with a stamped label, this storage was part of the price paid for the meat’s butchering and packaging.

The meat, eggs, and dairy products consumed were typically fed local grasses and grains.  All chickens were “free range” in a way that few chickens know today, coming to the coop to roost from protection from predators.  Hogs and cattle were typically pasture raised as well, and hogs were often allowed to roam the woods of the area for the entire year, fending for themselves, and being rounded up and killed in the fall when it was easier to hang, butcher, and cure the meat in the cooler temperatures.

For city folk, life was a little bit different.  While some city families had a milk cow, many bought their milk from the “milk man” who delivered daily.  This dairy was still nearby, as transportation was not fast enough to encourage distant dairies.  Vegetables and fruits sold in the local markets were also likely to be produced in the  area.  Butcher shops supplied families with fresh and cured meats, which typically had also been raised nearby.  Most families had a “kitchen garden” where much, if not all, of their produce and herbs were raised.

Nobody ate fresh foods out of season unless they had someone with a very green thumb and could afford a fancy (and expensive) greenhouse to raise it in.  This was true of everyone, regardless of their economic and social status.

We can’t say the same things today.  Today, we have no clue where our food originated from usually.

That may not be a good thing, but I’m also not the only one who is questioning that concept.  First, there is what is called “Slow Food.”  There is also another concept called permaculture.  (Permaculture Institute is here, and my audio interview with its founder is here.)  There are also countless organizations promoting heirloom food crops, organic farming, and back-to-nature living.

What I am questioning now is whether or not these choices are choices made because of dietary desires, lifestyle goals, or a belief system.

Maybe we need  The New Church of Wholistic Living (as far as I know, this does not actually exist), encompassing community, society, diet, lifestyle, ideology, and belief system into a comprehensive system that essentially turns their members into something not unlike the “Amish of the New Millenia.”  It’s not that people who are practicing this type of life are separating themselves entirely from technology, but that they are questioning society’s current lack of values regarding many things, with the most visible point being the food we consume.  Other commonly questioned items in this arena are things such as excessive use of motor vehicles, television, and modern mainstream medicine.

What do you think about all of this?  Have I lost my mind?  Am I becoming excessively suspicious of the offerings from the giant corporations and big box stores?

Tags: alternative, homesteading, wholistic living

Marijuana, medical uses, and the pharmaceutical industry

Marijuana isn’t a legal substance to grow or possess in much of the United States.  Some states have legalized its medical use, but continue to face issues with the federal government disregarding their state laws.  In Mississippi, where I currently live, it is definitely not a legal substance.

In talking to various friends and acquaintances lately in regards to long term pain management, the differences between states became blatantly apparent in regards to the use of marijuana for this purpose.  Using it for pain management is in some ways far different than using it for recreational reasons.  Many people who had never experimented with it in their “younger days” use it in their middle age for pain management.  Even those who have used it for recreational reasons tell me that the type of  marijuana available in “medical grade” is far different from the street version, as well as more expensive.

The reasons people have for not supporting the legalization of marijuana are all things that they believe to be true.  But, when you really look at the reason, is it really true?

One reason is that people believe that many doctors will frivolously pass out prescriptions for marijuana.  This is true, otherwise we wouldn’t have any doctors ever disciplined for their prescribing habits through state medical boards.  On the other hand, is it really so common that it is going to be a wide spread problem?  How does frivolous marijuana prescriptions compare to the other types of frivolously prescribed medication compare?  I don’t think that it is going to be as big of a problem as many people fear, mostly because of the restrictions that are placed on when and where marijuana is used by the patient.  These typically are things like not using it before driving or while in a motor vehicle, not in public, etc.   Possessing it ceases to be a crime with the prescription, which allows them to take it with them while traveling, have it in their home, etc.

Other people believe that it will result in widespread addiction to marijuana.  Marijuana isn’t an addictive substance, this has been well documented in scientific research.  It is, however, like almost everything on earth, potentially psychologically addictive.  It’s a lot less addictive than most prescription painkillers, as well as having far fewer side effects.

Others fear that it will increase the number of people who use it as a recreational drug.  There isn’t anything to support this, and many people who currently indulge in marijuana use may stop using it entirely because of the loss of the thrill of escaping detection.  For those that already use it as a recreational drug, buying it through a legal source would mean that it is taxed, increasing revenue for local, state and federal programs of all kinds, from education to road construction.

Others believe that it is going to increase crime.  In reality, this has been proven incorrect by American history.  The Prohibition Era saw the rise of organized crime to unprecedented levels as the sale of alcohol funded their entire organization.  The same thing is true today with marijuana and other drugs.  By removing marijuana from their product offerings, we are removing one of their biggest income sources and turning it into a legitimate crop that both large and small farmers can raise and market legally.  These farmers, processing companies, and even marketing companies will then employ more people, pay more taxes, and help fuel a stagnating economy with a product that is legally produced and sold.  It is highly doubtful that we’ll see a sudden arrival of “marijuana booths” in local farmer’s markets any more than we see “tobacco booths” today, for largely the same reasons.

Others regard legalizing marijuana as tantamount to admitting defeat in the “War on Drugs” as marijuana has always been regarded as a drug.  Whether we admit defeat or not, it’s blatantly obvious that our “War on Drugs” has been a dismal failure as organized criminal gangs continue their home invasions, robberies, murders, assassinations, and kidnappings along the Mexican border, on both sides of that border.  Once again, by removing one of their primary sources of income, we will succeed in making business more difficult for them to conduct.  Besides, wouldn’t it be nice to have another legal “Made in America” product, in this case, raised in America product?

Marijuana production, especially for the medical trade, is perfectly suited to the small family farm as well, since it is a much more labor intensive crop than raising most current agricultural crops.  It would also yield higher profits per acre, making the family farm a profitable enterprise, and saving the family farms from extinction in the current climate of agribusiness and corporate farms.  Saving the family farm would preserve the same family values that our entire country was founded on, rather than destroying them, which is what many people’s fears of the legalization of marijuana are.    Creating more jobs in rural areas where it is produced by locating the plants to process and package the marijuana for sale would also help preserve this same traditional family value concept, as rural areas are always struggling to keep jobs and their economies alive.

People are not going to become marijuana addicts just because it is legal to buy, possess and use marijuana any more than everyone over 21 is an alcoholic or smokes tobacco, both of which are legal and have far more known side effects to their use than marijuana does.  Far fewer people, according to current research, are likely to become belligerent, aggressive, or violent when using marijuana when compared to using alcohol.  While most research indicates that marijuana does not contain carcinogens, even if it does, it contains far fewer than tobacco does, and tobacco is also addictive.

So why IS there so much opposition to the legalizing of marijuana?

I believe that the Big Pharma companies are one of the sources behind it.  If a simple solution such as marijuana use, which can also be grown at home by the patient and easily processed into the usable form without a laboratory, pharmaceutical companies will lose a substantial portion of their current giant-sized income on the sale and marketing of prescription pain killers and the drugs that are used to counteract their side effects.

These giant corporations can lobby Congress and state legislatures in opposition of the legalization process.  It’s simply good business to them, while thousands of people are left in a position to use other solutions to long term pain management, nausea, etc. that make them even more money while providing less effective relief and more side effects for the patient. It’s the same lobbying effect that makes herbal and wholistic treatment of medical conditions difficult, if not impossible, as these entities lean on the FDA for more regulations each year.  What better way to ensure that your company makes more money than by eliminating the competition from the scenario?

These same companies prey on the public, turning the issue from a  simple herbal solution to a loud protest about the idea, encouraging their opposition.  They paint pictures of derelict addicts neglecting their children, spouses, and jobs to smoke one joint after another.  They encourage the vision of drivers killing people because they are “high” on marijuana.  They lead the public to believe that every doctor will be on the street, hawking their prescriptions for marijuana like it’s the latest edition of the newspaper.

The complete legalizing of marijuana would move it from the jail house evidence room to liquor stores, where it would be available in a variety of brands and varieties.  There, it would be sold in packages of twenty like cigarettes with a hefty tax, just like cigarettes and alcohol.  Sure, some times, it might be your mechanic, co-worker, or doctor that buys a package to take home on a Friday night, and they may smoke the entire package over the weekend too.  But what does that mean on Monday when they come to work again?

It means a lot less than working with someone that has spent the weekend drinking currently legal alcohol.  There is no ‘hangover’ effect from marijuana, another research proven fact.  That means that they aren’t going to be inattentive and suffering from a headache and nausea.  They are less likely to call in “sick” to work on Monday, as well as less likely to make an error while on the job as a result of their weekend’s recreation.  Once the “high” effect of marijuana wears off, that is all that results from the previous use of alcohol.  There is also research indicating that it has far fewer long term effects than even occasional alcohol use.

So what does this mean for me personally?

Not a whole lot, other than advocating the legalization of marijuana.  It isn’t legal in Mississippi where I live, and I do believe in obeying the law.  I don’t know if it would be something that would work for me in terms of medical pain management or not.  I don’t really have an interest in using it recreationally, but I also don’t drink alcohol very often.  I personally don’t see it becoming something that is in widespread use by other people in terms of recreation either, although many people may buy a package just to see what it was all about, smoke one or two, and leave them on the shelf until the dust gathers on them.  I would far rather have my car repaired or see a doctor that used marijuana rather than one that was recovering from a weekend party.

What do you think?  Do you see marijuana as the downfall of our society, a good source of tax money, a potential “cash crop” or something else?

Tags: marijuana

My heart exploded

The other day, we made a rare trip to visit our daughter and her family.  With the price of gasoline, we really hadn’t been going much of anywhere, and combine trips whenever possible.  This trip combined ordering eye glasses, looking at some property (very disappointing) and then the highlight of the trip.

One  seventeen month old girl with blonde curls and big blue eyes.

It’s not that we hadn’t seen her at all.  We had seen her several times each month.  We just hadn’t gone to their house to have our visit, instead combining it when they drove closer to where we live.  (We live about an hour apart.)  I felt like I had sacrificed some quality time with our granddaughter though, since we used to go spend the weekend about once a month.  In addition, as kids go through their phases, she had become clingier to her parents, and displayed an obvious preference to her older half siblings to hanging out with Grandma and Grandpa.

I understand the phases, and didn’t take her preferences as some sort of personal affront.  She is still a baby in many ways, and is still exploring what the world has to offer.

That didn’t mean that my heart didn’t explode when we pulled into their driveway and parked our van, their door opened, and one small girl came charging out with her mom in hot pursuit.  As she ran towards the van, obviously excited and happy, she babbled away in her childish voice.  It didn’t matter to me if we weren’t who she was expecting to see, she was still happy to see us, and in that moment, I swear, I fell even deeper in love with one small child.

She wanted my attention, she wanted to sit in my lap, she wanted me to hold her.

I adore that little girl.

To her it doesn’t matter if my hair is gray, if I don’t come with gifts (we rarely do bring her presents, mostly because we really can’t afford to and secondly, she really does have anything she could want or need).  To her, the important thing is my attention.  I listen, even if I recognize few words she’s trying to say.  I talk to her, even if it’s about the airplane in the sky or the birds or the squirt gun or the swimming pool or how dogs drink out of it.  I let her eat off of my hamburger, because Grandma’s hamburger apparently tastes better.  I’m thankful for poor vision as I let her have some of my drink (that means I won’t see any floaties in the glass.)  I don’t mind if she crawls into my lap a hundred times, only to stay for thirty seconds before babbling something and scooting off to do something.  I don’t even mind it when she’s wearing a wet bathing suit and gets me all wet in the process.

I’m just thankful for her existence and the chance I have to spend time with her.

Okay, I’ll admit it, when she comes running to me and reeks because her diaper is dirty…I holler for parental assistance.  I hate dirty diapers.  I dislike it when she stinks.  Thankfully, she’s getting closer every day to that beautiful point when she is potty trained.  Nobody could be looking forward to that day more than Grandma either.

I have big plans for future time sharing with that little girl too.  She’s going to go camping with Grandma and Grandpa.  We’re going to go fishing.  We are going to bake cookies and decorate them too.  I’m going to teach her how to paint.  There will be lazy afternoons at the park, when she begs us to push her higher on the swing, and she’s frantically running from slide bottom to the stairs to do it again.  We’ll have tea parties and play with dolls, and do all of the other things that Grandmas do with their granddaughters.

So why is it that Grandmas do these things and mothers don’t?  Mothers DO do them, as a matter of fact.  I did those things with my own daughter, although not as often as I could have or should have even.  Too often, I was focused on the day to day routine, on discipline, and what we SHOULD be doing.  Grandmas aren’t.  Grandmas have (hopefully) learned the art of being in the moment.  That granddaughter will never be this age again.  Grandmas know how fast they really do go from being a baby to having their own baby, and the importance of NOW.

The whole now thing is really important.  Now is a fading memory already, and we have to grab it with both hands and use it to the fullest potential it has, because tomorrow may never be, and yesterday is already gone.  Maybe I realize how important now is because I lost one of my own children, and I know that I would give anything to have some of those “wasted” moments back.

Being a grandparent is something that I never dreamed about.  Maybe it was just too slim of a hope.  My daughter has health problems, and it wasn’t looking likely she was going to be able to be a mom herself.  Therefore, the arrival of our oh-so-tiny-and-premature granddaughter was a minor miracle.  We were at the hospital when she was born, via an emergency c-section after her mother developed pre-eclampsia.  I was with her when she went to the doctor that fateful Friday and they ordered her into the hospital, something I had actually anticipated.  She was in a lot of pain and utterly miserable from the severe swelling she was enduring and had been enduring.  I saw her crying and asking if they couldn’t wait, to give the baby a better chance, because of how early it was in the pregnancy.  She was terrified, afraid that something wouldn’t go well for the baby, even though it was her own life they were doing the c-section for.

But, everything went surprisingly well.  She had few complications despite her rather hurried arrival.  She was good sized too, at well over four pounds, even though she was (at that point) the smallest baby I had ever seen.  I got to hold her a few days after she was born, cradling her carefully after the nurse handed her to me.  She was tiny perfection.  She was also equipped with some powerful lungs, and developed an ear splitting scream that got immediate attention.  She still has that scream, and I laugh and say she is practicing with the intention of becoming an opera singer.

I’ll also confess…I told her that “Grandma doesn’t play that game” when it comes to screaming to get her way.  Apparently, she realizes it, because so far, I haven’t had it.  We will see how far it goes when we take her out for the day or when we go to stay with her next month.

We have a big event, as we’re going to go stay with her for an entire week in April.  Her parents are off on some short jaunt, and we’ll be hanging out with their dogs, cats, and the amazing granddaughter.  It will be a very interesting week too, as we juggle a total of five dogs, with some of them hating some of the others, and a child too.

Thank goodness for Grandpa, who slays dragons, conquers spiders, and soothes distraught granddaughters with a single touch, right?

From Grandma, with love (some old fashioned advice)

Okay, so I’m not an “expert.”  I don’t have a degree.  My kid isn’t president of the United States either, but all things considered, having your going-on-thirty kid announce that you were a good parent isn’t a bad recommendation, I don’t think.  I wasn’t perfect, but beware of anyone who ever claims that they were perfect!

I will also freely admit, it’s a lot easier to see behavioral problems from the outside rather than when you are living them too.  Distance offers perspective, it seems.  At the same time, my best parenting instructor was my daughter herself.

I remember when she was around 2, I noticed she spent a lot of time yelling at her dolls, spanking them, being angry with them, and it was a wake up call that I couldn’t ignore.  I had obviously been very negative towards her and the slightest infraction.  Finding out what I was doing wrong allowed me to “fix” the problem, which was mostly just relax about a lot of things.  I wasn’t a perfect mom, but she sure didn’t have to be a perfect child either.  We were both happier in no time.

So, I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to realize my own behaviors would be reflected in my child’s behavior.  I had long since learned that reflecting negative behavior could often get a toddler’s attention too.  I had a friend who had a toddler that screamed…nonstop, full volume, for hours on end, if she didn’t get her way.  NOBODY wanted that kid without her mother, as it meant a certain non-stop screamfest until she returned, not even the child’s own grandmother would babysit her.  As fate would have it, the mother needed to have a tooth pulled, and with no one willing to tolerate this child for any length of time, I agreed to go along and watch THIS child, while my own child was with this screamer’s grandmother.

We arrived at the dentist office and I looked up at it.  It was on the second floor, in a very open floor plan, with a balcony.  We were in Central Arizona, and it was August.  I didn’t care how hot it was, there was no way I was going to be responsible for this beast of a child there.  We would wait in the car.  The mother was uncertain, but decided to go ahead.  I guess she figured if we neared heat stroke levels, I had the sense to drag a semi-conscious kid into the building.

Sure enough, as soon as the mother was out of sight, the screams began.  It went on for about fifteen minutes before I got to the end of that last nerve we all know so well.  Those screams were echoing through the parking lot, ringing like bells in my ears, and my entire skull was vibrating with each new audio level she achieved.  I expected glass to start shattering in our vicinity soon.  I wanted to throttle her until she shut up, I’ll admit it.

Throttling her wasn’t going to do me any good in the long run though.  So, I just took a couple of deep breaths, reached across where she was sitting, deeply involved in her screaming activity, and rolled up her window.  I swore the temperature jumped ten degrees in the car instantly.  I then rolled up my window, and as the sweat is popping out of my pores, I took another deep breath of the oven-like air and let go with a yell of my own that would have done any warrior proud.

She stopped and looked at me, her hands over her ears.

“Don’t do that,” she demanded.  ”It hurts my ears.”

We aren’t going to find out exactly what my thoughts were at that moment, but I’m sure you can imagine them.  I just smiled and told her very calmly that if she screamed again, I was going to scream again too.

“Okay,” she said.

I rolled down our windows.  We had a cool breeze now, or so it seemed.  The rest of the hour we waited went quietly.  She talked like a normal toddler, she sat in the seat, and I didn’t have people staring as she let out one scream after another.

It seems that all she needed was a dose of her own medicine, and she was done.  I never did have any more trouble ever when I babysat her with the screaming, mystifying everyone as to what my magic touch had been.  I would laugh and say that I merely out-screamed her and they never did believe me.

Kids aren’t complicated, they don’t have deep, devious motives, at least as toddlers.  They are merely asserting their individuality, while still wanting comfort and security.  They aren’t ready to venture out into the world without a parent and that is the problem.  Lots of parents don’t want to be parents, especially in public.

Kids are also not dumb.  They know this pretty quickly, and they learn how to use it to their advantage.  When I was a kid, no mother thought twice about pulling down a kid’s pants and blistering a bare bottom in the grocery store, and nobody said anything about it.  Maybe some parents abused their kids, but most were simply putting a stop to a behavior that ultimately would escalate into things that were seriously illegal or dangerous.  Shoplifting? Busted butt.  Touching things after being told to keep your hands to yourself?  Busted butt.  Wandering off or not paying attention? Busted butt.  Acting like a brat?  Busted butt double fold.

My mother had a warning phrase that told us to cool our jets.  It was pretty blunt, something along the lines of “if you don’t stop that, I’m going to beat you black and blue.”  By the time my own daughter was old enough to need a warning phrase, saying something like that in public was apt to earn you a visit from the state child protection services.  Obviously, I needed something different that carried the same message.  Now keep in mind, this wasn’t a literal threat from my mother back in the 60s…and my threat in the 80s wasn’t literal either.  It just was a way of telling the kid that they were pushing their luck and they better cool their jets before they didn’t like what happened.  My phrase was “If you don’t stop that, I’m going to turn you into a toad and feed you to the dogs.”  It was preposterous, but they knew what I meant.  It also couldn’t be taken too literally by anyone.

Warnings don’t always work.  That was also the case of my daughter.  Twice, in the same restaurant, but years apart, she had to be carried out.  Both times, she started screaming like a banshee and trying to bite me as she squirmed and kicked all the way to the door, knowing she had gone way too far this time.  Both times (of course!) we were seated as far as physically possible from the door, making sure everyone got to watch me carrying this dreadful child out to the parking lot, where I’m sure they all expected me to beat her unmercifully.  By the time I got outside, I was furious, and there was no way she was going to get a spanking from me and she knew it.  She also had added the final clincher (both times!) as we went through the door of “Mama, don’t BEAT me!!!!”  which was pure theatrics on her part, as she had never been beaten and was rarely even swatted.

The first time, she was going-on-two.  It was evening, after a day of shopping, and she just wouldn’t sit down and behave, no matter how many times she was told to.  I had told her grandmother that I was going to take her out and we’d best just go.  (We hadn’t even ordered yet, just drinks at that point.)  I hauled out the now screaming, kicking, biting child…and strapped her very unceremoniously into her car seat in the back of the Jeep CJ-5 we were traveling in without saying a word as she began sobbing.  I knew she was tired and hungry, but she also knew how to behave.  There were no other alternatives to the restaurant we’d stopped at, so now…she would have to just wait until we got home, which was about an hour away.  I was so mad I could have spit nails, and wouldn’t even look at her.  She knew it too.

The second time, she was far older and she knew she had gone too far the minute I stood up and snatched her up.  Still, she couldn’t seem to resist the urge for some more childish theatrics, with plenty of kicking, screaming, and biting.  Once again, she was plunked very unceremoniously into the same CJ-5, in the same car seat.  (She was about four, but not very big for her age…she still fit with plenty of room in the car seat.)  Once again, I wouldn’t look at her, talk to her, or even acknowledge her now sobbing apologies and promises of better behavior.  Those were the only two times she ever pulled it, so it was odd it was the exact same restaurant.

Now my granddaughter is old enough to begin asserting her own personality, and she shows plenty of her parents’ temper, stubbornness and determination.  I love her to death, but she has a shriek that makes me jump back to that hot car in August in Casa Grande, Arizona all over again.  She has also learned to use it quite well, manipulating her parents into immediately giving her exactly what she wants.  Do I think this is good? Nope.  It needs to come to an end.  It was cute for about one nanosecond.  I’ve also already told her that “Grandma doesn’t play that game, girl-io.”  So far, she hasn’t tried it on for size when it’s just her with Grandma & Grandpa either, but it has been a while since we have taken her for the day.

Now as far as the screaming-kids-in-the-restaurant business goes, I’ll admit.  I hate it.  She rarely does it for long with us, but I’m sure she has done it or will do it at some point with her parents.  Most kids do.  Some kids learn how to act in public sooner than others, but the most important thing is to expect certain standards of behavior from them when in public, take them in public often, and reward them for behaving well as well as disciplining them for misbehavior.  For some kids, there may be reasons why achieving “good” behavior in public is a nearly impossible standard.  I know this–I’ve been there too.

When you have a kid on medication that causes strange appearing (to others) behavior, or that has issues that mean that complete control aren’t going to happen too often, it doesn’t mean that you need to give up going out with them and hide them away.  We did the same things as always, we just shifted a few things.

Dine earlier, before the “dinner rush.”  It may not be convenient for you, but it means a lot less pressure from staring and disapproving faces.

Choose a casual, family buffet restaurant to suit shifting moods when it comes to what a kid will eat.  You have more options.  Don’t load a plate with food for them, let them choose 3-4 items and see whether they eat any of it.  Don’t go overboard with catering to their food moods, but make it relaxed to reduce everyone’s stress.  Behavior is better.

If they aren’t able to actually sit quietly for the duration of everyone eating, be a bit relaxed about it.  I used the rule of getting them to sit long enough to eat, then if they wanted to move around, they could stand up, etc. but never getting more than arm’s length from me.  Under the table was not a bad place either.  Yes, I know it’s not sanitary, but believe me, they find non-sanitary everywhere.  A small, quiet toy was often hidden in my pocket or purse, specifically to keep them occupied or to bribe them into sitting and eating.  It wasn’t new–it was just a small toy from home.  Cars were a frequent pocket toy with me.  Inexpensive (sometimes they get left behind) and quiet, they were entertaining.  The goal here is that staff and other diners are neither inconvenienced nor annoyed, and that we were the only ones who were occupied with monitoring Lil Mr. Go-Go.

Dessert NEVER happens without a reasonable attempt at eating dinner.  Period.  Non-negotiable.

If you make a threat, ALWAYS carry it through, even if it isn’t very pleasant. This can be hard–once I had promised the kids an ice cream cone if they behaved until we saw a place to get one.  The three year old wasn’t, continually escaping from his car seat, kicking the seats, and being generally a pain.  I had warned him repeatedly, but he didn’t seem to care.  Sure enough, there came a Dairy Queen and I stopped and went in and got one ice cream cone.  I gave it to his sister…who did NOT want to eat a cone when her brother couldn’t have one, especially with his now tearful apologies.  I felt sorry for her, but they both learned a hard lesson.  I meant what I said.  She still remembers that ice cream cone, and said it tasted like ashes.  I know exactly what she means too.

• Kids want to be loved.
• They want clearly defined boundaries.
• They want to be accepted for who they are.
• They want to explore.
• They want to learn new things.
• They want to feel safe.
• They want to feel secure.

None of that stuff is rocket science.  None of it requires a college degree either.  Those things aren’t even expensive things, kids living with Stone Age parents in the Amazon jungle have the exact same needs as kids from New York City or Los Angeles.  None of them NEED the latest battery operated kiddy car.  They don’t NEED video games.  They need parents who are willing to love them, establish limits, help them explore, make them feel safe and secure, and let them be kids.

Baby Einstein?  Nah…but a happy and well adjusted child is a joy for everyone…most of the time.  The rest of the time, we want the parents to manage them.

Tags: behavior, kids, public, toddlers

What the ponderosa pines told me

I used to get some funny looks from people.  Well, actually, I get them a lot.  Mostly because I tend to occupy my own universe where a lot of society’s so-called norms don’t apply.  I dress how I want to, for comfort and function, and I’m prone to forget what I’m wearing when it’s necessary to make a trip to the store.

Hence, I may someday appear as one of the People of Walmart.

Sigh

But that aside, the subject really is plants, specifically the ponderosa pines that grow on the Mogollon Rim of Arizona.  I used to love to spend time on the rim, hiking and camping and just reveling in the smells and sounds of the region.  Once, during a trip through Sunset Crater, my son had gotten an activity book from the ranger station.  One of the activities listed was to smell the ponderosa pine tree itself, and I mean go up and stick your nose in the bark and give it a good sniff.

It smells of chocolate or vanilla, actually.  It varies between trees and between people, but those two scents are distinctive.  We were amazed, and after that experience, we added sniffing to our outings everywhere.  I guess I have a long history of not worrying about what other people think, because we probably appeared a little odd to any casual observer to our activities when hiking or walking anywhere and everywhere.  We sniffed trees.  At least we didn’t pee on them too, which I suppose is a good thing.  (We also sniffed at the height of our heads, just in case you are wondering.)

For us, this tree sniffing was normal, and part of our regular observation of the natural world around us.  We liked it, we smiled at each other as we did it too.  It was a shared thing, almost a secret joy, and we didn’t have to say a word unless we wanted to.

Then, one day, in one of our favorite parts of the national forest, loggers came and cut down many trees near a spot we often stopped for a break beside the road.  It was also a spot we’d often collect hardened chunks of resin from the trees, both ponderosa pine and pinon pine, as there was one big lone pinon there too.  The logged area was about two hundred yards away, and it did look like a disaster zone with skinned logs stacked and waiting for trucks to carry them away, and vast piles of discarded branches just laying there.  Those brush piles, found through out the forest, were our usual source of firewood when we would camp in the forest too.  There was always a lot of it there.  We were talking about the things we’d seen that day, as well as making comments about the logging, wondering how much of an area was slated to be cut, as we began our tree sniffing.

Lo and behold, the trees smelled wrong.  Really wrong.  The whole vanilla/chocolate thing was gone, instead, we smelled a sickly sweet aroma, rather like very fermented fruit.  We changed trees, sniffing each others trees, but it was undeniable.  The trees smelled entirely different.

None of the trees we were sniffing had been touched by the loggers or their equipment.  Nothing had been disturbed on the forest floor at their feet, yet somehow, the logging activity had changed them.  What had changed?  Why?  How did these trees know that those trees had been cut down.

We didn’t have any answers, but we knew without a doubt.  Trees have some kind of consciousness, some way of communicating.

It gave us all a bit more respect for them too.

As we told others of our observation, they would roll their eyes.  It was disregarded as me being a little “touched” and going overboard with the whole nature thing, they would tell me.  There is no way, they’d remind me.

It didn’t matter, I still KNEW they knew, somehow.  I knew they were reacting, and to have a reaction, they had to have had some kind of communication about what was going on.  It also took about six months after our observation (unknown exactly how long after the logging ceased, but they had finished cutting when we made our first observation) before the scents returned to normal.  They had been traumatized.

After years of scoffing, my statement has finally got some scientific proof that these trees may have actually “known” about the logging and actually reacted.   (Here’s the article)  Plants emit gasses when they are damaged, warning their neighbors that trouble is brewing and providing an opportunity to react to protect themselves.  In our case, the changes caused a change in the scent of the bark of the tree that our human noses could detect, even if it didn’t deter us from being near them.

So before you roll  your eyes the next time someone else tells you of their observations of the natural world…remember.  Science doesn’t have all the answers yet, and the event may well be based on actual fact.

And, the next time you are in the woods…remember to not cut down living trees.  They have feelings too.

Tags: plants, consciousness, ponderosa, pine, mogollon, rim, arizona