The Pretty Flower and the Apple Tree

A pretty flower and an apple tree were side by side on a hill one spring.

The flower had a very thin stem and her petals were large and colorful. She was quite delicate and any change in the weather had a chance at damaging her, but anytime there was a visitor to their hill, everyone gravitated to the flower. She drew them in with her voluptuous (and enhanced) petals and her delicate nature made people want to take care of her. The flower thought to herself, "Why should I do anything for myself when I can have people take care of me?"  The flower became filled with unwarranted self importance. She took an immense amount of pleasure in being only visual appealing. She didn't even try to grow her roots deeper. She didn't even try to grow. She was happy being the tiny, pretty flower. Just that and nothing more.

The apple tree looked down at the flower and was confused that no one wanted to come and sit near her. The apple tree was obviously much sturdier. She was taller and thicker, and while she didn't have large petals, she was very happy with the apples her tree made naturally. She had long, thick, strong limbs that could provide shelter and an abundance of leaves that provided glorious shade on those hotter days which also made perfect kindling for those colder nights. The apple tree was proud of herself for being able to take care of herself. She liked having substance. She liked knowing that she had more to offer than a thin stem and pretty petals. But still, she thought to herself, "Why am I alone when I have so much to offer? Why can't I be more like the flower? Everyone seems to love the flower."

The flower had several visitors.

Some stayed for just moments while others stayed for days.

When the visitors were gone, the flower failed miserably as it didn't know how to just be a normal flower. It never learned how to grow. It never learned the importance of roots to gain stability and it never learned how to nourish itself.

The apple tree always tried to tell the flower during these moments how important it was to be more than just pretty. The apple tree wanted the flower to expand and grow. The apple tree wanted the flower to place its roots on more than a superficial level. The flower always leaned towards the apple tree's words in these off moments and the apple tree always hoped that this time the flower would finally see the wisdom in her words, but then, a new visitor would come, and the flower would go back to her old ways and ignore the apple tree's advice.

The apple tree just shook her leaves and thought to herself, "Someone soon will see all that I have to offer and that person will stay with me always. Someone will see that I am more than a pretty face and that I can, not only take care of myself, but them as well. I will just have to be patient."

Spring turned to summer and summer turned to fall.

The apple tree had perfect apples that she wanted to share and her leaves were a beautiful color that she wished someone would notice, but still, all eyes were on the flower.

The flower hadn't changed with the seasons. She remained the same frail, vain flower she always was. She smiled smugly up at the apple tree and said, "This man wants to take me from this hill and move me to his house. He says that this hill is no place for a beauty such as me, especially with winter coming. He wants to take care of me."

The apple tree, now full of gorgeous apples and her leaves gleaming all shades of golden and russet in the fall sunset, looked down at the flower and attempted to give her one last piece of advice. "Please learn to take care of yourself because eventually your petals will fall and you will have nothing to offer even yourself."

As the flower never let her roots grow deep, the man easily extracted the flower from the hill and took her home.

The apple tree remained on the hill and was now all alone.

It was now winter.

The cold was biting and the apple tree longed to have someone come and rescue her from the cold, but as the days drifted by, she began to lose hope.

There were no more visitors to the hill as the flower was no longer there and the apple tree had lost her leaves and her apples in the harsh weather, but her roots were deep so even as the wind ripped through her, it could not move her. The weather was ever changing, from rain, to hail, to snow, freezing her down to her core, but she relished in the water that the elements provided and it made her stronger despite how bad it hurt her.

The snow began to thaw and it started to get warmer again.

The snow dripped off the apple tree's branches and her leaves began to tentatively bloom...each a beautiful flower in its own right... but no one was there to see how beautiful her flowers were. No one saw how strong she was. No one cared that she took care of herself. No one cared that she was made of substance. No one cared. The apple tree was alone.

She had withstood the winter, but spring did not bring hope.

Spring reinforced that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and if there is no one there to behold the beauty, it does not exist.

The apple tree was alone on a hill...

A House Sigil

So maybe it's the Game of Thrones talking, but I want to have a House Sigil.

We have gotten so absorbed with individuality, that I fear we have lost that sense of family, that we have lost that desire to have something that speaks not just for ourselves.

A sigil for those of you who aren't up to speed on your medivalness is defined as the following:

sig·il/ˈsijəl/

Noun:

An inscribed or painted symbol considered to have magical power. A seal.

Sigils are normally some sort of animal (wolf, stag, lion) or natural element (lightening, flowers, rivers) that are symbolic of the region that your family lives in and was normally coupled with House words, a saying representing the family. It was something that  inspired great pride. People would incorporate their sigil into their style of clothing so that they would be easily distinguishable. (Their cloaks, their accessories, even weapon styling) Their sigil told their families story. It reminded them who they were. Their House words were meant to show their strength and were words the family lived by.

My family already has a family crest, as do most families that can be traced back to any sort of European origin, but that doesn't satisfy my  immense desire to have a banner that I would so totally rock if there was ever a great battle that for some reason I was in or a Zombie Apocalypse, for example. I don't plan on going all Joan of Arc, but it never hurts to be prepared just in case....

The first few things that popped into my head when I started cultivating this idea ranged from random to ridiculous.

A sushi roll - "All I Can Eat"

A toy size dog - "It's the Bark, not the Bite"

A picture of Puck from Glee - "I Pucking Love You"

(Sadly, that is how my brain works...)

But then, I really started to think. A bird. Yes, a bird would work. They represent freedom, peace, a link between heaven and earth... all sorts of good things, depending on the bird of course. Which led me to my next question... What kind of bird? Not any old kind of bird would do. It would need to be something powerful, something that I can relate to my family, something with longevity. 

And then it dawned on me... A Phoenix. My family has gone through so much and every time, we come back stronger. We are born again from the ashes of that which may have destroyed us.

So yes, a Phoenix it is - "We will Rise". Not in the Christ like way, but you get the picture...

 

Spoiling your child leads to head injuries

My son is spoiled. Plain and simple. I have extreme guilt for working as much as I do and to mitigate those feelings, I replace my time lost with him with toys and other monetary replacements....to which I feel even more guilty about, but that is another story and a very vicious circle.

However, that explanation was needed as a lead in for the horrible and painful evening I had last night.

My son's room looks like a Toys-R-Us. He has 30 Skylanders, all of the Imaginext Batman sets, Ninja sets and Dragon Castle sets, Superhero Squad toys, Captain America, Thor, Ironman, Spiderman, ever Mario character you can think of, Sonic the Hedgehog's whole squad, etc...etc...etc. His room is every boy child's dream and a good portion of grown men's too. Mommy's OCD keeps the room clean and organized, so it wasn't disarray that led to last night's events.

No, it was simply, my son is spoiled and has taken on a sense of entitlement that was so sad and also infuriating for me to witness. I am more mad at myself for allowing him to become so ungrateful then I am at him for acting that way, but regardless, it takes two to tango and dance we did.

It was dinner time. A simple enough task, and he decided that he didn't like the dinner that my step father took two hours to make for us all. He was starting to throw a fit so I swooped in and put him in bed. Normally, that action rectifies his behavior because heaven forbid he can't play with his immense amount of toys, but last night, the rules changed and he decided that he was going to get sassy with me. I tolerate a lot, but sassy mouth is a thin line to cross with me and leads to slapped mouth on his part. Bring on the water works... my four year old boy was crying like a little girl whose favorite doll was just destroyed. Annoyed does not even begin to describe my feelings. I was OUTRAGED that my son would A.) Speak to me in such a disrespectful manner and B.) Think that crying and screaming like a Banshee would make me change my mind. I then advised him through gritted teeth that if he did not stop his hollering, I would most certainly take away his toys. His response, and I quote, "Do it. I don't want my toys. They're old."

Danger! Mother has reached Nuclear Reactive Level! All personnel are advised to stand back!

Not needing to be told twice, I went and got trash bags and started reenacting a tornado and toys went a-flying into those trash bags. My mother heard the racket and while she is normally the voice of reason, she could not make either of us calm down, so she decided to help me bag up toys since my ungrateful child was still insisting he did not want his toys.

This is where the head injury comes into play.

She is bagging up his coloring books and dinosaurs from atop his TV cabinet and I am bending down next to the TV cabinet trying to unplug the TV. On top of his TV cabinet is also a military helmet from my Dad that was his when he was in the Marine Corps. It weighs about 10lbs and is made from some pretty heavy metal. While she is clearing books, the helmet becomes dislodged from its position on the TV cabinet and decides to make a jump for it and lands on my head.

Tears instantly form in my eyes as the pain sets in. My son then starts crying AGAIN. My mom asks him why on earth he is crying to which he says, "Because my mommy got hurt!" Really?? My head injury brings you to tears, but the heartbreak your horrible attitude caused me means nothing???

My mom helps me to bed and finishes bagging all of his toys. She placed all of the big black trash bags in his closet and leaves him in his empty room. He is now, finally, silent.

This morning, he wakes me up at 6am and asks me when he can earn his privileges back for his Skylanders.

I don't even open my eyes.

He then proceeds to tap my arm repeatedly and then asks when can he have his Batman toys back.

This time, I open my eyes and just stare at him incredulously.

I tell him, "You can start earning your toys back when mommy has learned her lesson and when you start learning to be grateful and appreciative."

His response..."OK. So, can I have my toys back now?"

Damn, my head hurts....

Fandom

I love my fandoms that I partake in. Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Vampire Diaries, Twilight, Glee...the whole nerd tweendom gambit. I love how a book or a show can just bring together people of all walks of life and something as simple as the word "Always" translates to so much more.

I am hard core about my fandomness...probably to the embarrassing point when I get older, but for now, I wear my Muggle Shirt with pride. I have the Twilight book covers tattooed on my back. I have the Hunger Games hanging tree tattooed on my arm. My son is named Zander after Buffy.... you get the picture...

I love staying up late and watching marathons of my shows that I can practically quote line for line or re-reading a book that I have read so many times that the pages are all dog-eared from where I once upon a time left off. They are my comfort zones. My security blankets. When all is crazy in my world, I can dive into one of their worlds and have that feeling of familiarity and fall in love all over again.

My favorite series (whether they are visual or literary) have taught me that the hero can be the underdog, that a couple friends who would go to the end of the world and back with you are worth their weight in gold, that the average girl can find her prince charming and that are choices and actions define who we really are. Those are life lessons that I want to pass on to my son. Those are values that actually matter.

So yes, I am a fan. A hard core, nerdy, ridiculous, some what embarrassing fan and I am quite proud of that.

Oh Frustration, How You Grasp Me So...

I am a working single mom and I have tried to maintain some sort of a normal life outside of those titles, but I have finally come to terms with the fact that my life has been forfeited.

I work 10 hours a day, at least, and then I finally get to be with my son till it is bed time for both of us. Repeat. Day in and day out. The monotony of it all is so frustrating. My work is so consuming that I feel like I am there even when I am not there. It was never my intent to become a workaholic. In fact, that little description makes me rather depressed. I wanted to be a writer, a creative type of person. Instead, I an over analytical, over worked, over stressed, desk jockey full of bitterness.

I don't want my life to keep escaping me. I want to start doing something that I enjoy doing. So today is that today. Sometimes, you just have to do a cannon ball into the pool instead of dipping your toe in... Sometimes, you just have to live....