Dealing with Bullies

Tonight at dinner I heard my children call someone from their school a “cool cat.”  This term is a little old school, so I was unsure if I heard them correctly.  They repeated it for me and burst into laughter, which confused me even more. They shared a glance.

“Should we tell her?” my oldest son asks the youngest.

Coming to an agreement, they commence to tell me there are a lot of bullies on the playground and the two of them have started calling the bullies “cool cats” whenever they see them.  They inform me that, to them, “cool cat” is code for “dirty cow’s butt.”

There is another roar of laughter–which I take part in–and my oldest continues:

Today I walked by one of them and said, “Hey cool cat.  How’s it goin’?” and he looked at me and smiled.  I think he likes the attention.  Too bad he’s a dirty cow’s butt.

Well, that’s one way to deal with a bully.

Confession: I’m Not the Best Teacher

Over the past week, I’ve realized we make the 30 minute drive to school at a bad time as far as radio stations go.  We’re lucky if we get a song or two in before the dj’s high pitch whiny voice takes over followed by weather, news, and commercials.  We’re even luckier if the song we hear is not the same song we heard the day before.

The end of last week, I scanned stations, reluctantly stopping on the country station when my son shouted, “Oh, this is a good song!”

I have an extreme disliking for country music.  I grew up listening to it, and recall loving it, but that was Johnny Cash, Jim Reeves and Merle Haggard.  The last time I recall being captivated by country music was when the Dixie Chicks hit the charts for the first time.  That was a while ago.

The song began a little alternative,  immediately shrouded by Toby Keith’s twangy voice.

I cringed.

My oldest announced, “It sounded like a good song.  You can change it now.”

To which I replied, “It was–until his voice ruined it.”

We all laughed and changed the station back to news.

Today, on our beautiful morning drive, I turned on the radio to hear the start of What Would You Say by Dave Matthews Band.  I love Dave Matthews Band, but Ox doesn’t so I’ve never gone out to replace the albums I used to have.  Asking the boys if they like the song, they both tell me they don’t.  Sometimes I swear they are not mine.

They begin to comment on how they like the sound of the band and then, out of no where, my oldest shouts, “The music sounds great until the guy’s voice ruins it!”

Some how I’m getting that punch-in-the-gut feeling that I’ve taught my children to be unappreciative of good music.

Way Back When I Was a Cowgirl in the Old West

Have you ever heard your pulse amplified through your pillow?

As I closed my eyes the other night, my final thought was of how my pulse sounded similar to the hoof beats of a galloping horse.  I find horses to be beautiful, magnificent creatures, but you’ll never catch me riding one because, to me, they seem unpredictable and a little frightening.

I awoke around 2 am to the realization that I was not on the back of my horse at a dead run through the dusty streets of an old western town while firing my pistol into the air.  I couldn’t see what I was wearing, so I don’t know how well I looked the part, but I would like to think I looked a little something like this

Blanche Messier Foster

. . . and that my bum was planted firmly in the saddle.

Little Words of Wisdom

Today my son started his first day of third grade in a new school.  This evening he informed me that he’s doing really good in math because they are working with money.  In his own words:

Mom, I know a lot about money.  My teacher asked if having money is better than having friends and we all said no.  When she asked why, I said,  “You can have your friends forever, but you can’t have money forever.”

I learn something amazing from my children every day.