I Do.

To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

These are the words that Craig and I spoke to each other three and a half years ago in front of family and friends, prompted by the husband of my best friend.  I have no problem admitting that at the time, these vows were just words - the things I had to say in order to sign my marriage license.  It wasn't that I didn't take them seriously, it's that I had the naivete and general blind confidence of a blushing bride and almost newlywed.  I walked down that aisle and said those vows with an air of "no big deal...we GOT this."  

I'm not sure what I thought marriage was going to be....an extension of the fairytale we lived in the months of dating that led up to our wedding?

But here I am.

It's three and a half years later and I'm trying to wrap my brain around that one little sentence we recited to each other on the day of our gorgeous outdoor wedding on a sunny day in March of 2010.

We've done the sickness and health bit.  I had an appendectomy, a c-section and a debilitating bout with Postpartum Depression.  Craig has had multiple knee scopes, a shoulder surgery and his gall bladder removed.  We have figured out how to nurse each other back to health pretty easy.

Then there is the better, worse, richer and poorer part.

That's where we are at right now.

I don't generally write about our marriage very much because, quite frankly...there's not a whole bunch to talk about.  We are generally agreeable with each other.  There aren't any major disagreements or outbursts.  We approach life as a team and rarely do we bicker or fight.

And we're definitely not bickering or fighting right now even though by all accounts, we certainly should be.

But we do have our backs against the wall.  We are the epitome of the old cliche, "between a rock and a hard place."  Tough decisions have been made and although it was the right choice...it was a difficult one.

One that affected my husband far more than it did me.

And that's where I'm learning about "for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer" part of marriage.  This is where I'm learning about my realm of control - I can't fight his battles for him, nor is it my job to do so.  But I can be supportive and appreciative.  I can listen when he needs to vent and I can give advice when asked.  I can remind him of the reasons I love him - his loyalty, generosity, sense of humor and dedication.

And of course, those sparkly blue eyes and gorgeous blond curls.

As with everything, this is simply a season in life and it too shall pass.  We will hold steadfastly to each other through this storm and then someday when the seas are calm, we will look back and understand that the storm was instrumental in creating a solid marriage.

Two + Three Months

I'm crossing my fingers as I type this but...so far, the age of two with Natalie hasn't been all that terrible.  Or bad.  Or tolerable.

I would even offer up the word delightful, joyful, hilarious and beautiful.

She is truly my beautiful child, both inside and out.  

She is sweet, caring and nurturing with her friends while still holding her ground.  She delights in the world around her - finding joy and hilarity in the bunny rabbits that hop nervously across our yard to the pairing of ducks who waddle up from the park down the street.  She thinks every truck is a BIG truck and is the first to alert us any time a jet comes streaming across the sky.  She jumps, hops, gallops and bear crawls across the floor.  She rattles off adorable prayers for her Nonna, Mike, Amy, all her day-care buddies...and chicken nuggets.  

We conversate over dinner and giggle at her funny faces.  We cuddle in the mornings with milk, coffee and Mickey Mouse.  We play hide and seek in the evenings and are working on the staying put part.  We do chores, sing songs and do gymnastics in the living room.

We are almost three months into two...and it's so, so WONDERFUL.

I dressed Natalie.  I dressed myself.  Separately.  Then I looked in the mirror.  

TWINSIES!

The prelude to her infamous shaving experiment.

Just a regular morning in bed watching Mouse, cuddling baby and reading books.

My big girl with her big pigtails.

The pretty dress Granddaddy bought her for her birthday.  She wore it to the baby shower of a friend of mine from high school.  She was approachable, sweet, helpful and left the party by giving tons of hugs.

Two.  Is.  Fun.

ALMOST Two

This is ALMOST two.

It is a raspberry mouth at dinner.

It is a cheese face while clutching a beloved baby.

It is sheer joy and excitement.

It is pretending to be just like Momma.

It is staying in zebra pajamas for far too long on a Saturday morning.

It is still being little and falling asleep after a long day.

It is messy hands and a chocolate face.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

A Serious Conversation

8:15 on a Tuesday night.

The toddler is sleeping.

I head downstairs where Craig is laid out on the couch.

I mute the television and turn to face him saying, "we need to have a serious conversation."

He squirms and sits up straighter. "Um....okay?"

I scoot his leg off the couch and take a seat next to him while looking him squarely in the eye. "I have something to tell you. It's going to affect our budget."

More squirming while a nervous smile curls on his lips.

"I found a few gray hairs and pretty soon I'll have to start dyeing my hair. This could get expensive."

Then he had the nerve to laugh in my face.

But it's true. They're sprouting at record pace and I'm well on my way to becoming besties with Loreal and Clairol.

This is disturbing on many levels.

When I was growing up my mother's mantra regarding hair dye was.....this is the color God gave you, you don't think God's decision was good enough?

Nothing like a little Catholic guilt to keep you out of the hair salon.

But all it took for me to renounce the "work of God" was one bad break-up and I found myself at 23 sitting in the hairstylists chair saying, "cut it short and dye it black."

My mother does not have any pictures up in her house of me from this era.

Except for this brief dabble on the dark side, my hair has remained untreated and chemical-free. I wash, blow-dry and run a quick straightener through it....but only visit the salon every six months (or less).

I started life with a mass of black hair of which my mother was so proud....finally a child with hair to match her own.



My mother and her virgin-never-been-colored curly-ish black locks.

But her visions of a dark-headed little girl were ruined when my hair fell out, I was bald for two years and then THIS happened:



A strawberry blonde (and very serious) toddler.

Over time my hair darkened and by middle school I was a full-on brunette....except not quite.
In his youth, my daddy had that same strawberry blonde hair....an off-shoot from his auburn haired mother, I suppose. My dad doesn't talk about his mother much - I didn't know her all that well and the focus in my family tends to center around the generations of women on my mother's side. But he did tell me something one time that stuck with me - my hair reminds my dad of his mother's. On the surface a regular brunette but in the sun glittering full of natural gold and red streaks.




Perhaps because of this I stopped coloring my hair and just started relying on what God and genetics have gifted me with. I've got a thick horse mane of hair that straightens easily which, according to my 13 year old athletes is SUPER important.

So why mess with a good thing?

Why dye?!

I'm not afraid of getting older. In fact its quite the opposite - I'm excited about turning thirty later this year!

But the silver strands I found bother me.

But so does the idea of coloring my hair.

Conundrum.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Bye Bye Baby

I've got an "end of the year" wrap-up started in my head but finding the time (okay....the motivation) to put it onto paper...uh....the internet is a little exhausting right now.  But what's easy is to look at the growth of my little girl over the past year.  

We've graduated from baby bottles to sippy cups.

From onesies with socks to leggings and boots.

From crawling to walking to running and galloping.

My what a change in one year.

Delighting in her rocking horse last year and her pop-up play area this year.

Teeth and curls have grown in but those blue eyes and big grin are still the same.

She sits with purpose and strength....and is fully aware of what awaits her wrapped in those packages.

The bottle might have disappeared but Daddy's lap is still her favorite seat in the house.

What's Next?

The other night my friend Amy and I were having one of those great conversations that only the oldest of friends can do. I was cleaning up dinner and surfing the internet while she was changing a dirty diaper and getting her babies ready for bed. We had lots to catch up on and we somehow ended up on the subject of good parenting which led to a conversation about my coaching philosophy because it's really my only point of parenting reference. I was telling Amy a story about how my 7th grade volleyball athletes earned their spandex and new jerseys through hard work and showing their dedication and discipline. There was one day when my assistant coach and I were discussing my blow-up argument with the band director...

"Wait. You got in a fight with the band director? That's a story I want to hear" Amy interrupted.

She's right...it is a pretty interesting story. Forget about my volleyball players - let's hear about Laura's temper and stubborness!

One day the band director called down to the coaching office and asked for me to release my 7th grade volleyball players from afternoon practice without having to make it up so they could have ample time to go home and change and eat before their band concert that night. I told her that I would compromise and let them out at 4:45 because I wasn't going to give them up for one entire after school practice. A few more words were exchanged on the phone and my closing statement was "I'll just go speak with the principal." So there.

After frantically searching the school for my principal, he was nowhere to be found and I was forced to return to my coaching office, still fuming at the audacity of the band director to try and boss me around. I could practically feel my heels digging into the ground - there was no way I was going to let her push me around!

To my surprise when I walked in the office, she was casually standing against the file cabinet and looked at me sweetly (a sweetness that didn't quite reach her eyes, I might add) and said "Laura, I felt like I upset you on the phone."

With arms crossed I answered her "You did." Although to be quite honestly, I am sure it came out more of a growl than a polite reply.

To make a long story short, she and I are on opposite sides of the ideological fence which is perfectly fine...but that doesn't mean she gets to decide how I run my program. I had no problem with letting my athletes out of practice 45 minutes early but she was never going to tell me that I shouldn't make the band students make up practice when they miss an entire after school practice. Our conversation went round and round with each of us staunchly defending our point of view and with me at one point responding to her comments of a previously unsuccessful volleyball team with "Yeah...that's why I'm here." Ooh...that didn't go over real well with her...but quite frankly, I didn't care that much. Eventually our conversation ended with me suggesting that we take it to the principal since she and I couldn't come to a conclusion that both of us would be pleased with.

After she left I fumed and fussed about exactly WHY I was being so stubborn. Was it because I truly believed that I needed that 45 minutes with my kids after school? Yes...I did because on the typical day most "team" activities and drills are done directly after school because our classtime is spent warming up passing and serving. Was I being so stubborn because I really didn't like how she approached me and I just didn't want her to get her way? Well...maybe a little bit. Or did I truly believe that I was indeed compromising and doing what was best for those cream of the crop kids that are involved in several activities? Absolutely.

So I took my concerns to my principal and I began the conversation this way:

"I'll be totally honest with you Mr. Principal. My mom is half Italian and Cajun and sometimes when I'm caught off guard I won't be the nicest of people and unfortunately I wasn't."

I totally owned up to my less than courteous behavior, but I also defended my point of view and spelled out the bottom line for my principal: I am trying to compromise with her but I won't allow someone to dictate the philosophy that drives my program. And he agreed so that was that. It wasn't until I walked away that I realized I was shaking.

After relaying this story to Amy we started the "what's next" discussion. All through life our maturity and progression has been measured by learning certain lessons or reaching a new goal. Getting through adolescence meant knowing right from wrong, choosing the right friends and managing time well. Becoming a young adult meant paying bills on time, RSVPing when asked and knowing yourself. I can check all that off...now what?

I think the story I just told is a good example of the next bit of wisdom or life lesson that is ready for me to tackle: not just knowing myself but standing up for what I believe in even when it's not "lady like" or "proper." There are certainly times when stomping your foot down and saying "NO" isn't socially acceptable, but necessary to defend what you deem is right. Did I make a new friend at work through this interaction? Um...no...probably not. But did I stand up for what was best for my program and for my athletes and teams? Absolutely and that's what is important.

Freedom at a Price

Drinking in college was what I considered "fun" at the time. Sunday through Wednesday was spent in recovery from the debauchery of the previous weekend and in anticipation of the surprises that the upcoming weekend held. It was carefree and careless. I can remember feeling so free at the time - like I could do anything at a moments notice or be whoever I chose for a particular night. From spontaneous road trips to Austin to four inch hot pink stilettos with a denim mini skirt...I thought I was living the ultimate life.

But little did I know that the freedom I felt during college was due to being chained to one thing. Alcohol was everyone's best friend and the ultimate party planner. No Alcohol? No party. He was a man of many names (Jose, Jack and McCormick were my favorites) and never let you down on a Friday night. He talked you into trying new things and becoming a new person. Alcohol convinced you he needed him to have a good time. And for most of the time with Alcohol as a classmate in college, nights with no memories just felt like innocent fun.

I'm not sure where or why my old friend turned on me or when our friendship went wrong, but shortly after college I realized that he no longer gave me the same feelings of freedom that he did during my four years on campus. Instead of relishing in the endless possibilities that life after college offered, I began focusing on the life that I didn't have but desperately wanted. Alcohol began convincing me that I needed him in my life even more because I was so incredibly unlovable that he was the only one who would always be there. He made me lie to my friends and put on a happy face while crumbling on the inside at the sight of their contentment with their own lives. No one knew how dangerous our relationship had become because we were still in the age of innocent fun. Twenty-three was still young, fresh and free! What worries were there to have on a Friday night with new friends and the ever present college buddy?

About a year and a half ago, I woke up and found myself looking at a person I didn't recognize. What had my old buddy done to the girl I once was? That confident, determined and vivacious girl my parent's had so lovingly raised had been swallowed whole by the false promises and deceptive lies told by Alcohol. For the first time in my life, my old friend wasn't looking so cool, so fun or so enticing.

My life has changed because of ending that friendship or maybe because I ended that friendship my life has changed. Either way it's really not a part of my life anymore because I have found contentment in myself. I don't have to rely on Alcohol to make me feel better about myself or to fill the void that was at one time so painfully present.

The break in our friendship hasn't always been easy. Although it has allowed me to form new friendships I think it might be creating divisions in old. I understand that Alcohol might not have this same relationship with everyone, but unfortunately this is the relationship that I had and regardless of any situation...I'm going to protect what I've built. Because from what I personally know of Alcohol, he likes to destroy who I am and anything good I believe about myself. I'm not willing to allow him into my life in that capacity ever again.

Because for the first time in many years...

I am content. I am happy. I am finally and truly free.

What...a change.

A few years ago a typical weekend for me consisted of a late and crazy Friday night in downtown Ft. Worth, sleeping til noon and then staying in jammies until time to repeat the whole process on Saturday night and into Sunday. But on Sunday, I usually felt the need to update my wardrobe after seeing other girls out the previous nights so I would drag myself out of bed and head to the mall. Needless to say, my apartment was never very clean and I never accomplished much more than depleting my checking account.

Fast forward to the present tense and read the details of this past weekend.
- Thursday night: Drove to Lamar Middle School to watch Craig coach Division I in the first round of the district tournament.
- Friday night: Worked the scorer's table at my school for the second round of the district tournament. Nearly had a fatal heart attack when Craig's team was down fourteen points at the end of the third quarter, but yet came back to win by eight.
- Saturday: Woke up when Craig left at nine to go to the tourney and I couldn't fall asleep again. I was at the tourney by 1:15 with my and Craig's family to watch the third round of the championship, which he won quite easily. I then had to sit through an intermediary game before the final Division I championship game but luckily I had Beri by me to keep me company. So finally the game starts and within two minutes of the start Craig has received a technical foul. Fantastic. I didn't really see the actual foul given because I had by then buried my head in my hands...I can't stand to see him be a jerk, despite his reasons of protecting his players from crap calls and refs. This game turned out to be another cardiac arrest inducing game with it coming down to a "down by one, two free throws and five seconds left in the game" situation. Good grief. I would love to say that I remember those two free throws vividly, but once again my head was buried in my hands out of sheer terror. Keep in mind, Craig won the district tournament last year and went 6-1 this season with these girls...and I had to go home with him if they lost. So after the majority of the stands cheered twice, I figured it was safe to look up and I did just in time to see the other team inbound the ball, push it down the court, and finally...right at the buzzer...a shot goes up---and in the basket---and then miraculously out again. Our girls had done it - back to back district championships. Now...I know that it's only middle school basketball, but our district alone has 15 middle schools so to be district champs two years in a row is a pretty amazing feat. Upon returning home and receiving my congratulations, Craig just shook his head and said that it wasn't him and he immediately put the kudos on the girls...after all they were the ones on the court. True. And from being a coach I know that you can have all the strategy in the world and have great knowledge of the game...but if the kids can't or won't perform all your efforts are wasted. BUT...I know that Craig is a great coach and knows how to manage his team, the players and the flow of the game well which resulted in allowing his girls to have the tools to win. Anyways. After he rested for about an hour, we went to Outback Steakhouse because, apparently winning makes him crave red meat. I didn't care and we ended up having a pretty good dinner sitting at the bar because we weren't wanting to wait an hour and a half just to sit at a table. On the way home we stopped at Baskin Robbins and had some ice cream. We were both exhausted from the day and sacked out asleep before the hour hand clicked to double digits.
- Sunday: We were both awake before nine, but not really moving so we were lazy and laid around in bed, catching up on the internet and on DVR before heading out to brunch around 11:00. When we got home Craig had to get ready for the second day of his select basketball team tryouts and he left shortly after noon to get the gyms set up at school. I was determined to have him proud of the work I accomplished during the day when he got home in the evening so I set about completing the four loads of laundry sitting in baskets in the closet as well as making a list for grocery shopping later. I'm not sure why (and maybe I'll feel differently in five years) but I absolutely love grocery shopping. I love going through the pantry and the refridgerator throwing stuff out and making a list of things we need. I love getting in the car and having an ancient neolithic feeling rise up in my body. "Must get food. Craig need food." You know, the hunter/gatherer type thing. I'm not spearing a mastodon with a handmade javelin or anything. But wading through the unlimited choices that Tom Thumb provides can be quite the jungle. And without my list I really am lost and will end up buying everything to make a lasagna...except the noodles. By the time Craig returned around 7:30 I had washed, dried, folded and put away four loads of laundry, grocery shopped and put them away and ALSO baked a dozen big, fat chocolate chip cookies as a congratulatory present to Craig.

I don't know if you're seeing a bit of a difference between my life "then" and "now" but there is. I'm more and more beginning to see my future and many of the weekends and nights will revolve around basketball and tournaments. Last week when I was a bit more emotional I had a minor breakdown about becoming just a "coaches wife" and losing my identity along the way of supporting him and raising children. He assured me that I could make myself into anything I wanted (or more importantly DIDN'T want) to be.

So, we've been in the house almost on month and I figured I'd give an update on how things have settled down so far.

On Thanksgiving, we headed over to Craig's mom's house for lunch with his family. Shortly after, while perusing the newspaper ads, Craig decided he wanted to get a Christmas tree - RIGHT THEN. So...off we went to Garden Ridge to get a 7 ft. Christmas tree for our living room. I took this opportunity to get some new silver, turquoise and baby blue Christmas ornaments. That evening, we went to my parent's house for dinner and the A&M/tu football game. I was wearing my Aggie shirt while Craig was in his Longhorn gear - needless to say, there were a few tense moments but I think that he'll still be allowed in my parent's house in the future.

So, we have the Christmas tree set up in all it's perfectly matching ornamental glory. There are several presents underneath, all wrapped in turquoise, baby blue and silver wrapping paper, courtesy of Target. We have stockings that have been hung by the fire with care - mine being brown velvet and fur that matches the living room, while Craig chose a red and green stocking with a teddy bear in a Santa hat sticking out of the top. I made a mistake when I told him he could choose the stocking...but whatever makes him happy. In addition to our stockings and tree, we also have two 3D Advent calendars (also courtesy of Target) which are filled with clues that lead to treats each day. So far, I've gotten lots of candy, ornaments and two tickets to the Meyerson Christmas concert on Sunday evening! I must say...being this close to Christmas vacation, the promise of a treat hiding somewhere in the house has definitely gotten me out of bed and moving on some of these cold mornings!

As far as the rest of the house goes, there are only a few more boxes to unpack and they're all hidden in a closet or the mancave, waiting for Craig to unpack them. All the rooms are set up, with the exception of the mancave and the trophy room...because as previously stated, they are still waiting for Craig. I managed to get everything put in it's proper place by the time my brother Mike and his wife Laura Renee came in for their annual holiday visit last weekend. It was very important for me to have the house in order when they and the rest of my family came over after a satisfying dinner of Anamia's mexican food.

Sadly though, I can feel the novelty of living together already wearing off. I think the honeymoon period is officially over...with the constant schedule of basketball practices, games and tournaments, as well as Cross Country season looming all combined with lesson planning and Christmas shopping?! We definitely come home exhausted and needing our "alone" time - me up in the bedroom watching tv and reading celebrity gossip and him downstairs on the couch, zoned out watching any sort of sporting event. I truly did have aspirations of home cooked meals, but we just don't have that many free evenings...or energy for that matter. Hopefully over Christmas vacation, I'll be able to try out some new recipes for us to eat. Wish me luck!

I did ask him the other day if there were any moments when he was really reminded of why or how much he loves me. (Yes...I fish for compliments. I'm okay with it and he complies...most of the time.) He answered with "waking up to you in the morning." It took me back to that time when he answered my question of why he loves me with the simple "because of who you are." So simple...but yet so telling. Although he doesn't always express it in the way that I do, I know that he is truly happy and content in this house with me. I really have tried to provide a "homey" atmosphere for him - I just want him to be happy.

Honey! I'm Home!!

In the words of my favorite late night comedianne Chelsea Lately, "What---a whirlwind!" After a month of waiting, packing and stressing the moving process is complete. We have been in possession of the house for almost two weeks and it already is already feeling like our home. But it came with a hefty amount of time and energy invested. With the help of our friends and family, this house has truly been made into a home. From Mom cleaning out the shelves and taping off rooms to Dad diligently detailing the paint around the ceiling to Craig's Mom cleaning and painting baseboards and even to MeMa butt scrubbing the floors...we could not have done it without everyone's help. We now have a houseful of furniture and a turquoise and silver decorated Christmas tree - complete with turquoise tree skirt and blue and silver presents wrapped neatly and lying underneath. Many pictures have been hung, new bedding has been bought and the mammoth baseball card collection has found a home in the new "trophy" room.

And through this entire stream of highly stressful housing events compounded by a tragic death in my family, the ending of volleyball and beginning of basketball and two sinus infections...not once did we fight. Sure, I got stressed and vented - even some tears were shed. But there were no blow-ups and I'm very proud of us. But not surprised really. We're not that kind of couple - maybe it comes from being on so many sports teams growing up, but we really have a "team" mindset when it comes to being with each other. We both trust each other and take turns leading and following, as well as knowing that we're stronger if we work together and compromise.

I really do love the house...it's just the right size for us. When first faced with the prospect of "cohabitating" with him, I was scared to death - to nightmares actually. Nightmares that boiled down to my fear of losing my independence. Everyone has those times when they just want to be alone doing whatever they want to do. Whether it's watching mindless TV, playing video games or blogging...it's important to take the time to maintain your own space. And in this house, I definitely feel that we have the space to be ourselves and on our own...but he's not that far away from me and that's the way I like it. Tonight after cooking a great dinner (Yes!!! I cooked!!!) I kissed him and left him happily settled on the couch mesmerized by the History Channel. I came upstairs and after taking one look at my beautiful jet bathtub I knew exactly what I was going to do after a hard day of raising the youth of America and cooking dinner. I lit my favorite candles, turned on my most relaxing Beatles playlist from the iTunes, grabbed a glass of wine and the latest issue of Glamour and I settled into the most fantastic bath ever. I know that these times will not last - we will eventually have little rugrats running around and I will be thankful for five mintues to myself to put on makeup and brush my hair. But I also know that there will be nights when he will know that I need an hour for a bath and relaxation and corner the kids into some sort of game or activity.

I am not nervous at all about us living together anymore because I think that it truly is the best thing for both of us. I'm so excited to provide a "home" for him - he's been living in apartments and between my apartment and his mother's house for so long. I know that he feels so accomplished in the fact that he "provided" a beautiful home for us (even though it's all 50/50...but the caveman in him needs to feel that he has provided for his lady...whatever). And I just want to take care of him and provide the sanctuary from the world that he desperately needs sometimes.

Generation Gap

I'm sitting in my bed, feeling a little bit under the weather, watching the VMA's...and I'm just a little bit confused.

What do young women find attractive in the Jonas Brothers? I just don't understand the skinny girl jeans, out of control and overly styled curly hair, and their slight traces of eyeliner. What is attractive about that?! They're so....androgynous...weird.

And then, what comes up next? A young man jumping around on the stage dancing half naked with his pants around his knees. I don't want to see his boxer-briefs! And then the worst part - half of his song had to be muted out because it was full of cursing. What's the point of even performing if your song is lost on all the viewers nationwide?

Yeah. I know, I know. It's not like the pop stars and performers of my generation did much better. Remember Britney and the snake?! Or Britney and Madonna?! Or Britney at all in the past few years?! I mean, maybe there was something a little ridiculous about five guys in a boy band dancing around in unison to slightly cheesy pop songs...but at least they were fully dressed and their lyrics could be enjoyed by everyone and not censored because of foul language.

In essence what I'm trying to say is...where's the wholesomeness?!

Okay. I know that I'm talking about MTV - not exactly breeding ground for the Conservative Christian Coalition, but I KNOW that my impressionable middle school students are sitting around watching the very same VMA's that I am and I must wonder - how is this affecting their idea of fashion and what they deem is acceptable behavior?

On a different topic, but somewhat related...I watched the new 90210 last week, as well as the season premiere of Gossip Girl. Not because I'm really "into" either show, but I had to see what all the hype was about. On the subject of 90210, I wasn't interested in watching it when it first came out because I was still mostly in the Full House age demographic. As I grew older, Brenda and Kelly became a staple in my Wednesday night television repetoire. I was wholly anticipating a completely crap version of an old classic. And I was not let down! I must admit - a little shiver of anticipation and nostalgia ran down my back when the signature "dun nuh nuh nuh...dun nuh nuh nuh" came on. But...the rest of the show - take it or leave it. The strangest thing is that the kids that are in middle or high school watching this version of the show have absolutely NO idea the impact that 90210 had on the older generation.

On a side note of the generation gap between me and my students...as far as they're concerned and according to one onry young man - Green Day has been around since 2000 or so. Oh. And they're from Ireland because of the "green" in the name. He looked throroughly confused when I corrected him and informed him of Green Day's birth in southern California in the late 1980s and fame in the early 1990s...as well as their musical journey from hard core West Coast punk to the more mainstream rock-punk breed.

So, then a few days later I watched the season premiere of Gossip Girl. Having never watched a single episode, I had to see what all those steamy ads are about. At the end of the hour, I was convinced I had seen this show somewhere before. After some thinking it came to me. Cruel Intentions + The OC!

So...basically the teenage drama has never gone away. 90210 (the original), Dawson's Creek, The OC and now Gossip Girl. And I also guess that

I know that I'm sounding conservative right now and I have to be clear on things. I work with kids and I see the negative effects of the advanced teen culture...some of them seem like little adults and not the 13 year olds that they are. I hate the fact that they have to grow up so fast - there are so many experiences that they will get to have...but in time and when they are old enough and have the maturity to truly handle it in the best way possible. I think back to what kids my age were doing when I was in middle and high school and all I can remember is how "old" we thought we were at 14 and 15 years old. We got into things that we didn't know how to handle and we didn't understand the future consequences of our actions. Not just the tangible and physical consequences...but the emotional impact it made. I became so cynical and jaded by the age of 20..that's ridiculous and unnecessary! I just want to shake some of them, especially the 8th grade girls, and wipe their pretty little faces of all the ill applied make-up, and put some better fitting and more covering clothing on them. I almost feel, well not sorry for them, but I do pity them in a way. Having to feel so much pressure at such a young age to live up to what society is shoving at them. I don't remember having that pressure from the media at that age. We didn't have the Miley's, the Serena's and the Demi's...yeah, there was N'Sync and Britney, but they were when I was a bit older - high school at least. I don't know. I just don't remember being like such a little adult while I was in middle school.

It kills me to admit that I'm feeling something soooo conservative when, for the past few years, I have prided myself on being an open-minded person and fairly liberal when it comes to my political views. But this goes beyond being left or right - it's about protecting children from things they don't understand or aren't ready for.

BUT, having said that about teenagers and their current culture, I don't believe that it's ALL bad news and influences...I must admit that I totally love the family friendly High School Musical. Plus. Who didn't wish their high school classmates would spontaneously burst into song?!