Living in a PG-13 World

You can't run, and you can't hide.

If you have children, you've probably been where I've been: in the check-out line at the store - the ONLY line without candy or chips - and you find yourself face-to-face with the giant words "SEX" and "ORGASM" and "PLEASURE". And please understand, usually I'm all about getting sex, having an orgasm, and feeling pleasured. But I'm not so comfortable discussing it with my 8-year-old son at 2:15 in the afternoon.

Nothin' better than unloading the shopping cart, trying to keep cold foods together and cleaning products together, when your child's voice pierces your concentration with, "Mom, what does it mean to do a 69?"

I have seriously thought about what measures I would have to go to in order to keep my children from being exposed to everything and anything before I'm ready for them to see or hear it. Go Amish? What about Mennonite? In our society, no longer are the parents the ones who decide what their children should see or hear. Now we are at the mercy of television, print media, radio, the internet, and even school.

What is the big deal about letting a kid just be a kid? Why are department stores selling midriff-bearing t-shirts and low-rise jeans for girls in size 8? Does an 8-year-old really need to show her belly button? Why is it so popular and acceptable to have cartoon characters on TV being disrespectful to parents, teachers, and policemen? When did we (suddenly? gradually?) become okay with society dictating to us how we should be raising our children?

It's getting harder and harder. Now my kids can read so I can no longer assume my kids don't know what Cosmo and Glamour say. And really, I want my kids to ask me questions and feel comfortable doing so, but I guess I'm just not ready for someone else to decide when I have to have that conversation.

And is it just me, or does anyone else think it's a little bit freaky that the sex-ed class at school keeps being bumped earlier and earlier. When I was in Junior High, we had health class and the "here's what happens to your body" talk in 7th or 8th grade. NO discussion of oral sex, condoms, or STDs. Now, I've heard that all those topics and MORE are discussed in 4th grade for girls, 5th for boys. My daughter is going into 4th grade in the fall and she is very much a mature but innocent 9-year-old. She just told me the other day that she still likes to watch Sesame Street. So having some teacher who she met 2 months previous tell her all about fellatio? Aw, HELL NO.

I guess I better go dig myself a giant hole and climb in if that's the only way I can escape it.

I'm BAAAAACCCCKKKKK

Well I cannot believe I survived the hellishly long trip in the car. I know, I know... so many of you warned me. And yet, I remained insanely cautiously optimistic. Let me tell you, optimism is HIGHLY overrated.

On the ride up, the baby was pretty good in the car on day 1. Day 2, not so much. While we were in St. Louis, we basically used my parents' house as a landing pad while we jumped from location to location: Florida, Northern IL, Southern rural IL, Six Flags, St. Louis city, etc. We were in the car a LOT. The older kids could handle it. But Baby Sally? Well, let's just say that she wasn't showing her usual happy lovely self every time we clicked that carseat restraint closed.

By the time we were headed home, I tried giving her pack after pack of fruit snacks. When I finally was afraid that her teeth would fall right out of her head from decay, I broke down and put my MP3 player on, and let her scream. The older 3 kids just turned the volume on the DVD player WAAAAYYY up. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

And, now that I'm home, I am shocked at what I've seen. I can't believe the huge difference in behavior from Linus, my 6-year-old. He's like a new kid. On our vacation, he was an unpredictable, uncontrollable wild animal. I was ready to leave him at the nearest rest stop. Now, he's back to behaving and showing remorse when he's been naughty. All I can say is, hallelujah. Also, my kids are loving reading. Maybe it was the overdose of Zack and Cody or Phinneas and Ferb, or maybe it's the incentives they can earn at the local library for completing 5 hours of reading, but since we've been home they've spent more time reading than even wanting to watch t.v. And, finally, the heat. Did you know it was 101 in Texas yesterday? And I thought it was... very pleasant. Yes, it was hot, but not like St. Louis. And definitely not like Florida. I'm not going to say "It was a dry heat" but at least I could walk around outside without feeling like I would faint. I don't know... maybe it's the pregnancy hormones playing a trick on my head, but it sure didn't feel like 101.

I'm so glad to be back to my same old house, same old bed, same old pillow, same old chores. I even missed the chores! Maybe because doing chores means familiarity, maybe because it gives me that sense of accomplishment in my day. Whatever it is, I know I am enjoying being back where I belong.

Oh, and if you're still reading this far, maybe you won't mind a few pictures from our trip

And Away We Go....

On the Beach in Ft. Myers.
Riding a Wave-Runner

Petting a Man-o-Ray (sp?) at the Imaginarium in Ft. Myers, FL.

No Explanation Necessary.

Six Flags St. Louis Hurricane Harbor

On the Carousel at Six Flags

OMG this car of people was STUCK AT THE TOP OF THE SUPERMAN RIDE AT SIX FLAGS. And LINUS WAS IN LINE TO GET ON!!!! (Major heart attack averted).

St. Louis Science Center - some Lego building class that we got into FREE with our museum membership - totally awesome.

The baby even enjoyed herself at the Science Center.

Family party for my niece's high school graduation. That's my sister on the left and my cousin on the right.

My niece in the center with her two friends.

A typical scene while I was in rural IL - being stuck behind a grain trailer, on its way to the grain silo, stopped while waiting for a train to pass. Life is slow in the country, but good.

At the Petting Zoo in northern IL while visiting Granny.

Real America

Do you ever picture what a stereotypical American is? Like, when people from France or Russia or China or Nigeria or Iceland think about America, what do they think?

Do they think of the Statue of Liberty, and crazy taxi drivers, and Broadway shows, and the New York Stock Exchange, and hot dog cart vendors on every street corner?

Or do they think of surfers, grilling hot dogs, chilling out on the beach, listening to their i-Pods?

Or, do they think of southern-drawl sounding people with cowboy hats and boots, saying "Howdy Y'All" and offering you a piece of apple pie?

I have no idea what a stereotypical American is. I think our country is such a melting pot of customs and cultures that it's hard to define what a stereotypical American could be.

However, I know what I love about America, and I experienced it this week. I went to visit the little country town in rural IL where we used to live. This town represents everything I love about people and is exactly how I would describe "America" to a person from a foreign country, if they ever asked me.

People are humble. They are willing to do more for others than they'd do for themselves.

Military people are celebrated and respected members of the community. If one is lost, the community mourns together.

Hard work is a virtue and people who try to sidestep an honest day's sweat are not called "industrious" or "entrepreneurial", but instead considered untrustworthy.

American flags line the street every Memorial Day, Flag Day, 4th of July, Labor Day, and Veteran's Day.

Stopping by a person's house unannounced is not an inconvenience; it is a reason to sit on the porch with some lemonade and catch up on who's getting married, who's taking a vacation, or how the crops are coming in.

A typical traffic jam might include a tractor or a cow, or both.

Everyone waves at everyone else as they pass each other on the street.

The community church still has an ice-cream social every summer and Christmas Eve service wouldn't be the same without a crowd of toothless children singing "Silent Night" around Mary, Joseph, and the dolly Jesus, all of whom are wearing bathrobes for costumes.

On a clear night, when you go outside to walk your dog, there are truly more stars in the sky than you could ever count and the song of crickets is a lullaby.

THAT is what I picture when I think of America. I miss it so much. It was actually a bit painful to leave today, not knowing when I'd be back again. Living in that small community for 4 years taught me so much. I grew as a person, and I'd like to believe it was for the better. This little town that I thought I would never grow to accept, grew on me. I didn't have a choice. It became a part of me. The people, the sounds, the smells, it all became a part of who I am now. I grew up in St. Louis. I thought I could never survive in a town that didn't have a mall. The idea of living in a community without it's own stop sign was out of the question. The concept of the nearest "big town" being 3500 seemed insane.

And yet as I passed the Dairy Queen on the town square, the little league ball field, and the town library contained in one floor of a tiny house, I began to cry. I love the simplicity of life in a small town. I learned to embrace the ease of moving at a slower pace. And it was a real joy to learn how NOT to keep up with the Joneses, especially since the Joneses, the Smiths, and the Taylors all were pretty much in the same boat as everyone else. People live simply and are proud of it.

I realize that maybe the reason I like it so much is because it's safe. I would never have to worry about maxing out my credit cards from a shopping spree at the mall, or gang members influencing my kids at school, or carjacking, or murders, or terrorist attacks. I also know my kids would never be exposed to people of other cultures or religions, and I was concerned about that too, but it just felt so right to put my arms around my kids (an myself) and say, "Don't worry, nothing is going to hurt you" and feel reasonable sure that I was telling the truth.

Any change is hard. Moving away from my protection was pretty scary. There are so many parts about Texas that I love, but there are also parts of Illinois that I miss. But I think that if I had to live in any part of America, I'd probably go back to that little speck-on-the-map-without-even-a-gas-station in Illinois. It's part of me now.