I am on twitter, and I tweet a lot. I have over 2000 followers & I'm following almost an equal amount. I try to engage those I see in my timeline, because I know from experience that people want to feel important and like somebody notices them and cares about them. At varying times on twitter I've had people tell me I'm smart, funny, hot, a good mom, sexy, caring.
Today I mentioned I didn't get to call my dr. because I didn't have alone-time, and a new follower but apparent twitter expert said of course that's hard to do if you're tweeting all the time.
Today I spent 5 hrs in the car, taking one in for repairs and doing errands. I had one kid with me, then all 5 still at home with me. When I wasn't in the car, I was at home, with all the kids. I didn't even get my usual walk today, which at least affords me a short motorcycle ride & 40 freeking minutes alone. There are things you don't talk to your woman-doctor about while surrounded by your kids.
The comment struck a sore nerve, because this person doesn't know me at all. He doesn't know that I tweet, then kiss my 3yo's stubbed toe, or wipe her butt, or help her brush her teeth. Or maybe I tweet, and make 5 sandwiches for lunch, put in a load of laundry, sort mail, & tweet.
He doesn't know that I'm smart, yes, I even have a genius IQ, but my husband talks to me like I am so stupid I can't think to look for a kid's shoes until he comes home so I can ask him. Or that he's talked to me like that, with words that cut me to the core, for more than 20 years.
He doesn't know that I'm funny because people appreciate humor and because nobody wants to hear me whining about all the weird crap that happens at my house, or how bad my marriage is, or about trying to keep our heads above water on 30K a year with no aid and 13K in medical bills and about $15 a day grocery budget to feed 7 ppl (12 if all the kids/grands are here).
Maybe he doesn't realize that I'm "hot" literally because we only turn our air on for 4 hours a day in our 90-degree climate so that we can afford the bill. And he doesn't see that in the heat, I'm trying to maintain a clean and organized VERY small home with 7 people's stuff in it but no place to put anything, even bins of stored out-of-season clothing, blankets, etc. because my hoarder husband has every available storage space stuffed to the gills.
He doesn't know that I'm a good mom, homeschooling my kids and teaching the distracted 9yo to read again EVERY DAMN DAY, helping one kid with algebra at the same time as helping one kid with division (in between tweets, of course, since that's really all I do).
One of my kids graduated a year early, with honors... another just swore in with the Marines and the one currently graduating is going to Culinary Institute of America in January in NY, if we can get a Pell grant. I have four more kids yet to go through school. But Mr. Twitter Critic doesn't know that, doesn't see that. He doesn't know how much sacrifice it has been to raise 7 kids on one very small salary so that I could have intelligent, witty, sensible, hard-working kids.
He doesn't know that I'm sexy because I have worked damn hard to keep myself in good shape, to hold myself together physically to as high a standard as I can. And I have done that because the ONLY time in my life that I feel validated, wanted, worthy, sexy or loved is in bed, because that is the ONLY time my husband doesn't talk down to me like a non-person.
He doesn't know that I am a caring person because I crave someone to care about me, for me, and not because I am so-and-so's mom or Richard's wife or the lady who brought them fresh muffins or just the lady with too many kids.
The truth is, so many people like me and don't even know me. If you're on social media, please think twice before you comment something that you think is funny but is actually cutting and unkind. You may not know who that person really is.
Showing posts with label homeschool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeschool. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Who the HECK is Squanto anyway?
My latest yarn series is Squanto and The First Thanksgiving. Why would I choose that? I have some GREAT ideas for yarn series for Christmas... why not go on and get those up? Some reasons:
I LOVE Autumn! For those of us who are Olfactory learners, it is a Smell-O-Rama! I LOVE Thanksgiving. Not only is it a uniquely American holiday, but how can you go wrong with an entire holiday devoted to eating? Break out the Maternity pants and pass the yams with marshmallows, I say! I LOVE the idea behind Thanksgiving. Most of us aren't NEARLY thankful enough. No, let me rephrase that. Most of us don't give a minute of thought to anything we have to be thankful for. In fact I would venture to bet there are a lot of us out there who think we don't really have anything to be thankful for.
It irks me that our Major Retailers skip right from Halloween (news flash, not all of us "do" hell-oween) to that Major Moneymaker, Christmas. Every one of my kids so far has loved the book Squanto and The First Thanksgiving.
So who was Squanto anyway? He was an Pawtuxet Indian brave (hey, I know the Politically Correct term is Native American, but as a partial Native American, I don't take offense to the term I grew up with, Indian. Besides, you expect a woman with 7 kids to be politically correct? HA!) under the leadership of Samoset. Their tribe befriended our totally discombobulated Pilgrim ancestors and kept them from starving... teaching them to hunt like snipers, plant a dead fish in with their corn and bean seeds to fertilize them, showing them how to survive the drastic climate changes of our Northern Atlantic coast. (For more info, visit http://www.nativeamericans.com/Squanto.htm )
Because of these, some of my yarns are called:
Squanto - a lovely wool in self-striping reds, oranges, and tans Venison - earthy tan and brown wpp;cashmere/acrylic
Planting Fish with Corn and Beans - pale gray wool hand dyed with yellow and green Cornucopia - deep rich colors! Log Cabin - deep red, tan, brown, black in 100% rustic silk Johnnycake - looks like homemade bread! A nice thick chunky yarn. and Pumpkin...
Well what can I say? Pumpkin is a very fine 80% wool/20% nylon yarn in pumpkin tweed with slubs of cream, tan, and blue. The entire sweater this came from weighed a mere 204 grams... not even 7 oz. At 800 yards to a 100 gram skein, this would make great lace or the softest socks. I said to Richie (my dh, who for years went by Dick, until one of our pastors' wife couldn't bring herself to say it), "Shall I hand dye this yarn?"
" No, honey... it looks great just like that. "
And I tried to listen to him. Really. In fact most of the time I do listen to him. No REALLY! But after being up several days, poor lil' Pumpkin has no one to heart it. So today my itchy fingers, that haven't had a good coat of dye in a week, got hold of Pumpkin. I overdyed some areas a nice earthy olive green, and some areas a nice dirty brown. Now Pumpkin will be Pumpkin On The Vine, and I think it is much happier.
Speaking of pumpkin, I have a funny story. We built a scarecrow with a Cashmere sweater (don't gasp, someone partially felted it so I can't unravel it) for a head, a flannel shirt, my old jeans, and my dh's ancient boots that he wore on a 22,000 mile motorcycle trip. No really. We set him (the scarecrow, not my dh) up on a haybale with some pots of begonias and some pumpkins, out under this totally ridiculous shelter that some previous owner of our house built out near the road.
I came home from my daily walk escape a day later to find the scarecrow lying on the haybale with his "head" on a pumpkin, a newspaper as a blanket and his boots off and setting next to the haybale like he took them off for a little nap. I figured the Neighborhood Vandals got to him. But no, one of my kids said to me, "Mom, the scarecrow kept falling over so I gave him a little res
t." Hmmm. My kid is the Neighborhood Vandal.
Tomorrow is busy... I have handmade double-pointed knitting needles to mail, my daily walk, three of us have quilty objects to finish for a challenge, by Wednesday. School for the kids, two more yarns to unravel/dye/put up in the shop and I have some merino batts I am nearly dying to try to spin. But finally I got a chanceto take a picture to share, of the scarecrow.
So who was Squanto anyway? He was an Pawtuxet Indian brave (hey, I know the Politically Correct term is Native American, but as a partial Native American, I don't take offense to the term I grew up with, Indian. Besides, you expect a woman with 7 kids to be politically correct? HA!) under the leadership of Samoset. Their tribe befriended our totally discombobulated Pilgrim ancestors and kept them from starving... teaching them to hunt like snipers, plant a dead fish in with their corn and bean seeds to fertilize them, showing them how to survive the drastic climate changes of our Northern Atlantic coast. (For more info, visit http://www.nativeamericans.com/Squanto.htm )
Because of these, some of my yarns are called:
Well what can I say? Pumpkin is a very fine 80% wool/20% nylon yarn in pumpkin tweed with slubs of cream, tan, and blue. The entire sweater this came from weighed a mere 204 grams... not even 7 oz. At 800 yards to a 100 gram skein, this would make great lace or the softest socks. I said to Richie (my dh, who for years went by Dick, until one of our pastors' wife couldn't bring herself to say it), "Shall I hand dye this yarn?"
" No, honey... it looks great just like that. "
And I tried to listen to him. Really. In fact most of the time I do listen to him. No REALLY! But after being up several days, poor lil' Pumpkin has no one to heart it. So today my itchy fingers, that haven't had a good coat of dye in a week, got hold of Pumpkin. I overdyed some areas a nice earthy olive green, and some areas a nice dirty brown. Now Pumpkin will be Pumpkin On The Vine, and I think it is much happier.
Speaking of pumpkin, I have a funny story. We built a scarecrow with a Cashmere sweater (don't gasp, someone partially felted it so I can't unravel it) for a head, a flannel shirt, my old jeans, and my dh's ancient boots that he wore on a 22,000 mile motorcycle trip. No really. We set him (the scarecrow, not my dh) up on a haybale with some pots of begonias and some pumpkins, out under this totally ridiculous shelter that some previous owner of our house built out near the road.
I came home from my daily walk escape a day later to find the scarecrow lying on the haybale with his "head" on a pumpkin, a newspaper as a blanket and his boots off and setting next to the haybale like he took them off for a little nap. I figured the Neighborhood Vandals got to him. But no, one of my kids said to me, "Mom, the scarecrow kept falling over so I gave him a little res
t." Hmmm. My kid is the Neighborhood Vandal.Tomorrow is busy... I have handmade double-pointed knitting needles to mail, my daily walk, three of us have quilty objects to finish for a challenge, by Wednesday. School for the kids, two more yarns to unravel/dye/put up in the shop and I have some merino batts I am nearly dying to try to spin. But finally I got a chanceto take a picture to share, of the scarecrow.
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