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....