We have all experienced days when at the end of the day we are starving, but we don't want to cook. Writers have those days too. We want to create something with words but we don't feel like writing. There are also those days when we cook something that our family doesn't want to eat. Tonight I am afraid that if I write what is on my mind and in my heart you wouldn't want to read it.
Pain is a jealous companion. It does not want to share you and once it has you, it seeks only to destroy you.
See what I mean? So like a tired cook raiding the fridge for left overs, I give you something I wrote a long time ago. It is for my book (if I ever finish it):
Everything I Needed to Know About Parenting, I Learned in Prison
Enjoy!
Dreams and Kalidescopes
Recreation time (rec) is the time the inmates have to come out of their cells and exercise, and hang out, talk to their friends etc. Officers are expected to mingle with the population during this time, and basically maintain a presence.
One day during rec I stopped to talk to a couple inmates and one of them, supposing he was a quite a Romeo asked, "So, did you dream about me last night?"
"Yeah, I did actually." Suddenly I could feel a several pairs of eyes. I had not only his attention, but that of everyone standing within ear shot. Pleased with my audience, I continued.
"I had a dream that I was working on the perimeter again."
The perimeter is one of the jobs in prison where officers drive, in our case little Toyota trucks, slowly, no faster than 10 miles per hour, around the perimeter of the prison. As they drive they inspect the fence for any flaws and check the sand-traps for foot prints. They have a shotgun and a handgun to be used as needed.
"In my dream, I was driving along and I saw an inmate climbing down the outside of the fence. I shouted, 'Halt', three times, but the guy didn't stop. So I shot him.
"When I ran over to the body, it was you. I'm sorry about that, but you should have stopped when I asked you to."
Laughter exploded around us. "Man, she really dissed you!" his friends chided. That inmate and his friends never made lewd remarks to me again.
As parents we have certain dreams for our children. Quite often those dreams are influenced by our own unfulfilled goals and dreams. Sometimes they are simply dreams about the kind of parent we want to be, and the way our children will behave.
My children all have seemed determined from the beginning to tell me to keep my dreams to myself! Well, not all my dreams, but enough of them. For example, I love to sing. One of my dreams was to sing lullabies to my babies. I had this picture in my mind of a mother singing and rocking her baby to sleep. I was mesmerized with the idea but when my first child was fussing and I started to sing, he cried harder! I tried different songs, but the only thing I accomplished was to infuriate him more. When I stopped he cried less. So I quit singing for a few months. Then I tried again. As soon as he was old enough, he would reach up and put his hand over my mouth if I started singing. I didn't think my singing was that bad! I surrendered and stopped trying to sing to him. Later when I had my second child, I tried again, with similar disappointing results. Sheesh. Even today it is a joke in our family. If I start singing my favorite Broadway tune, "I am I Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha" at the top of my lungs, the whole family gangs up on me trying in to make me stop. Spoil sports!!!
There were other dashed dreams as well. For example, my dream to teach them to speak Spanish, which I had the wonderful opportunity to learn and wanted to pass on is still unrealized. Another disappointment came when I signed a couple of the older kids up for a program called Destination Imagination. I thought they would love and it would be a terrific experience for them. When they both informed me that they were "bored" and wanted to drop out, I was dismayed. Not only because I thought it was such a great opportunity, but it is a team effort and I didn't want them to let down their team. I didn't think boredom was a reasonable excuse to quit either. I did the best "Mom Guilt Trip" I could muster, I even sic'd their dad on them, but to no avail. In the end, they still wanted to quit, and realizing that if their heart wasn't in it, they would not be able to give their best effort to the team, I gave them permission to quit. Their team did fine without them winning their State competition and going to the National competition. I'm thrilled for the team, but still bummed that my kids didn't 'share the dream'.
I realize these are minor things, but having experienced them, I dread the day when they all start dating, and, heaven forbid, get married. Will I be disappointed again when they choose a spouse who is different than I would have chosen? And what about school? I always wanted to go to college. I planned for college. I had the grades, but not the money. Naturally, I want my children to go to college, but will they? So many other dreams, waiting to be fulfilled or deflated.
I have to say though, even though some of my dreams for my children have been unrealized, they have also surprised and pleased me in so many other ways. As they grow and develop, their talents are becoming evident, certain personality traits are beginning to emerge. Sometimes it feels like parenting is a kaleidoscope. As you hold it to the light and twist it amazing patterns emerge. You can't control the patterns, but each one is beautiful and leaves you wanting more.
I like to think of my dreams for my children now, not so much in details as in "they will do this" or "they will do that", but that each child is a kaleidoscope of possibilities, and my part is to show them the light and love them then to enjoy the beautiful patterns as they emerge.
Showing posts with label PPL. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PPL. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Living, breathing flesh. . .Count Time
I've been thinking that I should finish my book, Everything I Needed to Know about Parenting, I Learned in Prison. So, here is another excerpt for you (to help motivate me).
Comments: complimentary or constructive are more than welcome!!!
Living, Breathing Flesh. . .Count Time
Count time is what it sounds like...the time we check to see if all the inmates are "present and accounted for". Kind of like the "roll-call" we remember from school. During count time all movement stops. Inmates are sent to their cells. Yes, I used to tell grown men to "go to their rooms!"
When inmates are checked at night while they sleep, we, officers, are taught to look for "living, breathing flesh". As you might have guessed, this is has evolved due to problems in the past such as inmates leaving stuffed pillows under their covers. Inmates are not very happy when a guard opens their door and awakens them because they couldn't see them breathing, but such is life in prison.
Parents instinctively know about checking for "living, breathing flesh". From the time we bring that first babe into our home we can't stop checking the sleeping baby so make sure he or she is still breathing!!! My oldest is almost 14 and I admit I still check in on him when he is asleep. It's just what moms do!
Count time is similar to parenting in another way. Almost every time we get in the car I look in the rearview mirror, "one, two, three, four, five, OK we can go." I had heard stories of moms forgetting their children at the store or the laundry mat. Once waited for a mom to return after she left one of her children at an activity we both attended. I never wanted this to happen to me. And yet, it seems it is inevitable!
One day we were visiting with my friend, Charice, and her family at their home. On impulse we decided to go to another house around the corner to pick something up and then return. Charice and her kids, and I and my kids (or so I thought) piled into her van and drove around the block. I hadn't seen Charice for quite sometime because she lives in a different state, so I was really absorbed in our conversation while she got the things together we had come for. Then it hit me! One of my children was missing. Oh my stars! How could I have left one of my children behind at a home that was unfamiliar to him?! Charice assured me that he would be fine. There were adults to care for him and children to play with. Still I was on tenter hooks until we returned to the other house. When we got there I expected to him to melt in a puddle of tears, and I would have to apologize with many hugs and kisses, but he hadn't even noticed we were gone. Makes you feel so indispensible as a parent. . .
Unfortunately that wasn't the last time that happened either. Another time we were at a Church Christmas party and we had sat down to eat when my husband asked me where one of our children was (ironically it was the same child! Poor kid!). I was mortified, not only had I not noticed that he was missing, but I had no idea where he was. Fortunately, my daughter, who is a little mom, said, "I know where he is." He was with Santa. Oh yeah, I remember now, I told him he could get in line to see Santa.
One, two, three, four, five...I need to keep working on that one.
Comments: complimentary or constructive are more than welcome!!!
Living, Breathing Flesh. . .Count Time
Count time is what it sounds like...the time we check to see if all the inmates are "present and accounted for". Kind of like the "roll-call" we remember from school. During count time all movement stops. Inmates are sent to their cells. Yes, I used to tell grown men to "go to their rooms!"
When inmates are checked at night while they sleep, we, officers, are taught to look for "living, breathing flesh". As you might have guessed, this is has evolved due to problems in the past such as inmates leaving stuffed pillows under their covers. Inmates are not very happy when a guard opens their door and awakens them because they couldn't see them breathing, but such is life in prison.
Parents instinctively know about checking for "living, breathing flesh". From the time we bring that first babe into our home we can't stop checking the sleeping baby so make sure he or she is still breathing!!! My oldest is almost 14 and I admit I still check in on him when he is asleep. It's just what moms do!
Count time is similar to parenting in another way. Almost every time we get in the car I look in the rearview mirror, "one, two, three, four, five, OK we can go." I had heard stories of moms forgetting their children at the store or the laundry mat. Once waited for a mom to return after she left one of her children at an activity we both attended. I never wanted this to happen to me. And yet, it seems it is inevitable!
One day we were visiting with my friend, Charice, and her family at their home. On impulse we decided to go to another house around the corner to pick something up and then return. Charice and her kids, and I and my kids (or so I thought) piled into her van and drove around the block. I hadn't seen Charice for quite sometime because she lives in a different state, so I was really absorbed in our conversation while she got the things together we had come for. Then it hit me! One of my children was missing. Oh my stars! How could I have left one of my children behind at a home that was unfamiliar to him?! Charice assured me that he would be fine. There were adults to care for him and children to play with. Still I was on tenter hooks until we returned to the other house. When we got there I expected to him to melt in a puddle of tears, and I would have to apologize with many hugs and kisses, but he hadn't even noticed we were gone. Makes you feel so indispensible as a parent. . .
Unfortunately that wasn't the last time that happened either. Another time we were at a Church Christmas party and we had sat down to eat when my husband asked me where one of our children was (ironically it was the same child! Poor kid!). I was mortified, not only had I not noticed that he was missing, but I had no idea where he was. Fortunately, my daughter, who is a little mom, said, "I know where he is." He was with Santa. Oh yeah, I remember now, I told him he could get in line to see Santa.
One, two, three, four, five...I need to keep working on that one.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Hootch and Shanks
Before there was a blog, there was a book. I mean I was working on a book. It is called, Everything I Needed to Know About Parenting, I Learned in Prison.
The idea was/is to share stories from when I used to work as a Correctional Officer in prisons (yes, hard to believe I know), and relate that to parenting.
But what can I say? Blogging gives me greater latitude for subjects to write about, and more immediate gratification. I'm still planning to finish the book, it is just going a little slowly.
Hootch and Shanks
Inmates are very resourceful, too often not in healthy ways. They have been known to hoard kitchen scraps like bread and fruit to make an alcoholic beverage called Hootch. Worse, they find scraps of metal and sharpen them in to makeshift knives called Shanks. They are only allowed to use plastic silverware for this reason. Once when I was working, an inmate was killed in some gang rivalry, the murder weapon? The sharp edges of a shovel.
Naturally, there are rules against this sort of thing, but inmates are notorious for not keeping the rules. Officers conduct routine cell searches for this very reason. In a cell search the inmate is required to stand outside the cell, or he may not even be in the area. The officers, always two at a time, go in and search the cell inch by inch for any contraband. Contraband, of course, is anything against the rules, which includes food, pornography, shanks, etc. Once Officers found a list of names and credit card numbers in an inmate's cell, that was obviously confiscated!
Children are very resourceful also, fortunately not with the same mal intent as inmates. To a child, any bed, couch or chair is a mini-trampoline; any surface more than 12-inches off the floor, a jumping off point; any stick, branch, wrapping paper roll, becomes a sword. Sometimes these activities are just fun, but they can have unanticipated consequences.
An old friend of mine, Todd, related to me his boyhood story of how he and his brothers had been jumping off the roof of a shed on their property. Unfortunately, his brother slipped, fell and sliced his stomach open on a nail on the way down. Slowly he made his way to the house, hunched over and bleeding. His mother, who having boys, had seen a lot didn't even look up from her mopping. She just said, "Go back outside and don't drip blood on the floor." There's a practical mom for you! Of course, once she realized the gravity of the situation, she responded appropriately.
In prison, there are many, many volumes of rules and regulations, the main purpose of these volumes of restrictions is to keep the officers, and the inmates safe. Officers, of course, cannot possibly remember all the rules, but they remember their favorites. Probably the most frequently used is "disobeying a direct order."
As a parent, I decided it would be better to keep things simple. After all what good are would volumes of family rules be if half of your subjects can't even read yet?
So instead of numerous rules such as:
1. Don't jump on the bed.
2. Don't jump off the bed.
3. Don't climb on the table and jump off.
4. Don't play with knives.
5. Don't throw rocks.
6. Don't...
7. Don't...
8. Don't...
We have one rule that covers all of the above. "Proper Use" I explained to the children that when things are used in a manner different than what they were intended for property can be damaged, or worse people can get hurt. So when they do something inappropriate like jumping on the couch, I just look at them and say, "Proper Use". They know just what I mean.
We have a one rule for teasing too. We are a family that loves to tease and joke with each other. If a day goes by that my husband does not tease me about something, I think he is mad at me. With children however sometimes teasing can get out of hand. Our solution is a one-size-fits all rule, "Both people must be having fun." At any point in the teasing if one person doesn't like it any more it must stop.
Success in teaching our children to obey simple rules now i.e. respecting themselves, others and property will protect them from ever having to learn volumes of prison rules. . .unless they want to learn them as an Officer.
The idea was/is to share stories from when I used to work as a Correctional Officer in prisons (yes, hard to believe I know), and relate that to parenting.
But what can I say? Blogging gives me greater latitude for subjects to write about, and more immediate gratification. I'm still planning to finish the book, it is just going a little slowly.
Hootch and Shanks
Inmates are very resourceful, too often not in healthy ways. They have been known to hoard kitchen scraps like bread and fruit to make an alcoholic beverage called Hootch. Worse, they find scraps of metal and sharpen them in to makeshift knives called Shanks. They are only allowed to use plastic silverware for this reason. Once when I was working, an inmate was killed in some gang rivalry, the murder weapon? The sharp edges of a shovel.
Naturally, there are rules against this sort of thing, but inmates are notorious for not keeping the rules. Officers conduct routine cell searches for this very reason. In a cell search the inmate is required to stand outside the cell, or he may not even be in the area. The officers, always two at a time, go in and search the cell inch by inch for any contraband. Contraband, of course, is anything against the rules, which includes food, pornography, shanks, etc. Once Officers found a list of names and credit card numbers in an inmate's cell, that was obviously confiscated!
Children are very resourceful also, fortunately not with the same mal intent as inmates. To a child, any bed, couch or chair is a mini-trampoline; any surface more than 12-inches off the floor, a jumping off point; any stick, branch, wrapping paper roll, becomes a sword. Sometimes these activities are just fun, but they can have unanticipated consequences.
An old friend of mine, Todd, related to me his boyhood story of how he and his brothers had been jumping off the roof of a shed on their property. Unfortunately, his brother slipped, fell and sliced his stomach open on a nail on the way down. Slowly he made his way to the house, hunched over and bleeding. His mother, who having boys, had seen a lot didn't even look up from her mopping. She just said, "Go back outside and don't drip blood on the floor." There's a practical mom for you! Of course, once she realized the gravity of the situation, she responded appropriately.
In prison, there are many, many volumes of rules and regulations, the main purpose of these volumes of restrictions is to keep the officers, and the inmates safe. Officers, of course, cannot possibly remember all the rules, but they remember their favorites. Probably the most frequently used is "disobeying a direct order."
As a parent, I decided it would be better to keep things simple. After all what good are would volumes of family rules be if half of your subjects can't even read yet?
So instead of numerous rules such as:
1. Don't jump on the bed.
2. Don't jump off the bed.
3. Don't climb on the table and jump off.
4. Don't play with knives.
5. Don't throw rocks.
6. Don't...
7. Don't...
8. Don't...
We have one rule that covers all of the above. "Proper Use" I explained to the children that when things are used in a manner different than what they were intended for property can be damaged, or worse people can get hurt. So when they do something inappropriate like jumping on the couch, I just look at them and say, "Proper Use". They know just what I mean.
We have a one rule for teasing too. We are a family that loves to tease and joke with each other. If a day goes by that my husband does not tease me about something, I think he is mad at me. With children however sometimes teasing can get out of hand. Our solution is a one-size-fits all rule, "Both people must be having fun." At any point in the teasing if one person doesn't like it any more it must stop.
Success in teaching our children to obey simple rules now i.e. respecting themselves, others and property will protect them from ever having to learn volumes of prison rules. . .unless they want to learn them as an Officer.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)