The Easter Bunny has made his deliveries, and the sun is up so bright and glorious already. It’s still cold outside, but it promises to be an absolute perfect day for the egg hunt.
I’ve already finished my first cup of coffee. It’s been more than two weeks since I was able to really sit down and enjoy the morning. I’m not saying I really have the time to do it this morning, but I’m taking the time, anyway.
Spring break is over after today, and I hate to admit it, but I’m glad about that. Entertaining everyone all week has been exhausting. They’re all such different kids. We didn’t go anywhere for break because we just have too much going on.
For instance, today isn’t just Easter Sunday, it’s the day the man child officially becomes a man. He’s eighteen today. I can’t type it without shaking. Almost any screw up before today had great chances of being fixed, being blamed on the innocence of youth. From this day forward, he’s held accountable and responsible for every single decision he makes. He could be drafted.
His innocence astounds me. Very few boys turn eighteen with the same outlook. He’s still a virgin. Certainly not because he hasn’t had options. A handsome jock, popular… he actually broke up with his last girlfriend because he didn’t want to screw her and she wouldn’t shut up about it. He has plans, goals to reach, and that’s where his mind is. But now he’s at the age where, with one wrong move, everything can go south, and it so often does. I’ve seen it so many times. Young men and women get one taste of freedom, one taste of the real world, and it overloads every ounce of logic they have. This is the time when they need us to shelter them the most, yet it’s the time when they’ll allow it the least.
How did you handle this? If you haven’t yet, how do you plan to handle it? If you’re a man, how do you wish your parents had handled it? It’s overwhelming.
18 and Life
April 12th, 2009
Happy St. Patrick’s Day
March 17th, 2009
It wasn’t so long ago that I celebrated St. Patrick’s Day with all the pride of a displaced Irishwoman! Until, of course, I got interested in my heritage for real and found out I have absolutely no Irish in me whatsoever! At least not in what I’ve researched thus far, and I really only have one grandparent left to investigate. My hopes are not high because I’m almost positive her entire family was Cherokee. I do seem to recall a tad of Irish blood, quite diluted, way back on one side, but that’s it. Oh hell, happy St. Patrick’s Day, anyway! I look good in green.
Not that I’m disappointed in being an even mix of Scottish/Cherokee lineage. I’m not upset about that at all, quite proud, actually. It just chaps my ass that I spent my entire life up until the past year or so thinking I’m Irish! My mother denies that she’s the one who told me that, but I’m sure it was her. It was quite easy to believe, after all. Red hair and freckles are all over my family. Not that many lushes, though. (Isn’t it crazy how easily we stereotype entire regions of people?!)
I think I mentioned that while tracing back my dad’s side of the family, I got as far back as 1754 when our ancestor hopped a ship with his brother in Scotland. I’d love to be able to go back far enough to find the clan/region where we began, but the Scottish sites I’ve found are pay sites, and I’m just not interested in paying when I can offer them no more to go on than what I have. Besides, my aunt paid a couple online sites to trace us and neither of them got her back as far as I got on my own, for free.
I feel a little guilty for not finding this out sooner because now that I want to know, the people who could have helped me are all gone. I’m sure my grandmother could assist if her mind would allow it, but unfortunately I’ve waited too late for that, as well.
It’s all just too confusing to think about this morning, anyway. That might be due to the fact that I’m recovering from a terrible battle with what I’m sure was an alien trying to take over my body during the last week. It does appear that I’ve won because the congestion is finally easing up, and I feel fairly human again.
Now let’s just see if I can make it through St. Patrick’s Day wearing green and not coughing it up.